The Tetradome Run

by Spencer Baum

  I quit the planning committee in March. When I quit, I told everyone I was “preposterously busy,” which was true, but not the whole story. Maybe I’ll write the whole story another time. What’s important to mention now isn’t why I quit but rather what happened when I did.

  What happened was Sunny told me not to worry, Sunny told the Brigade that someone else could take over my duties, and Seth immediately volunteered for the role.

  Was Seth already conspiring with Sunny to assassinate a United States Senator at that point? I have no way to know for sure, but if I had to guess, I would say yes. Seth was so quick to take my spot on the planning committee, where he remained from March through October. He was the one who suggested Sedillo Hall for Barbara Lomax’s speech.

  He was the one who shot the cops who were standing guard, clearing the path for Sunny’s escape.

  When I look back on how Sunny pulled this off, how she turned her enemies in the Rule of Law society into unwitting accomplices in the plot, I’m in awe of what she’s done. Tricking her enemies into doing her bidding is so her. Pulling off the plan in a way that she escapes even if her accomplice does not is so her. Sunny is a woman who dreams big, who has a vision, who is resourceful and clever and capable, so capable. She could have done anything she wanted to do in life.

  What a tragedy for the world that she chose to use her talents for murder.

  CHAPTER 41

  While Jenna climbed inside the walls at one end of the complex, at the other end, Bart Devlin stepped off an elevator and into the lobby of Tetradome Labs. A lab tech named Owen led him through the security doors and into the exotic zoo where creatures of The Tetradome Run lived when they weren’t on television.

  Giant terrariums, one next to another, row upon row of them, their forward edges lining up to create corridors with continuous walls of plexiglass. Owen took Bart past the Needlenoses, who lived in a terrarium of dense foliage and standing water. Next to their enclosure was one for the Dragon Hawks. Their space stretched back two hundred yards or more, giving them ample room to run. Giant arachnids were in the next space. These creatures, a larger cousin to the popular Terrapiters, were a project that was as-yet unfinished. They were a little too good at killing at the moment. If Bart put them on a live course right now nobody would make it out.

  Across from the arachnids, in one of the largest enclosures in the space, were the Barghests, who remained the gold standard for Tetradome monsters. One of the first creations of Tetradome Labs, these genetically enhanced wolves were reliable on any type of course, from the sprints in the Qualifier to the marathon that was the Finale. Easily trained, smart and capable, you could count on the Barghests to make one kill if you needed one, two kills if you needed two, or a full-on bloodbath if too many contestants were alive near the end. As Bart passed their cage, a pack of them approached the wall, panting and happy.

  “Hey there, puppies,” Bart said.

  Owen led Bart around a corner and into the fortified space that held the biggest, heaviest creatures. They passed the enclosure for the Minotaur, who was standing in the back, munching on hay near a pile of his own shit. Across from the Minotaur was the Behemoth, the heaviest creature in the lab, one that required an enclosure that bottomed out on the dirt, so massive was this beast, so potentially destructive was its weight.

  Thus far, the Behemoth project had been a hundred-million dollar bust, but Bart held out hope that someday the giant creature would have a place on the show.

  The final enclosure in the lab was an enormous salt-water aquarium more than fifty feet deep, where one of the Tetradome’s most popular monsters lived.

  A giant squid, modified for size and aggression, whose ten tentacles were each twenty-four feet long, this creature was going to be named the Kraken, but a lab employee started calling him Mortimer when he was still in development, and the name stuck.

  Mortimer was the first underwater creation of the company, a creature whose arrival signified a level of technological sophistication at Devlin that no potential competitor could match. Mortimer allowed them to add underwater cameras to the course. He turned The Tetradome Run from a big budget show to a mega-budget show. Upon his debut, more than twenty years ago, Mortimer was every bit as sensational as Jenna was today. He became the talk of the nation. He brought unheard of ratings to the program. Mortimer was one of a kind. Thus far, all attempts to replicate him had failed. Squids that died before they finished growing, squids that were ugly and deformed, squids that hid at the bottoms of their tanks, unwilling to come out and play—that’s all they would have left when Mortimer was gone.

  Sadly, it appeared that Mortimer would be gone soon.

  “How is he?” Bart said.

  “The same,” said Pavel. “Sluggish, discolored, frail, but fighting.”

  Bart put his face close to the plexiglass. Mortimer was resting at the bottom, his tentacles curling across the concrete like gnarled roots on the forest floor.

  “We have a test subject ready,” Pavel said. “I know you’d like for Mortimer to do one more show.”

  “Yes, I need him in the Finale.”

  “We were saving the test until you could come watch,” Pavel said, waving his hand at a lab tech on a catwalk above them.

  The lab tech, a young woman with a mane of red hair, nodded at Pavel, and then spoke into a walkie-talkie. Above the tank, a system of pullies and chains began moving, lifting the heavy plastic doors that sat closed a few feet over the water. As the doors opened, Mortimer began to move.

  Slowly.

  “Oh, gosh, breaks my heart,” Bart said as he watched the once fiery creature struggle to propel itself to the surface.

  “He hasn’t forgotten his training,” Pavel said. “The question is, do you think he’s suitable for the struggles of a live course? It’s entirely possible he won’t make any kills.”

  As Mortimer squeezed his gelatinous frame open and shut, lumbering up to the surface at half the speed they all were accustomed to seeing, Bart felt affection for the creature and its many years of service to the company.

  “We’ll have to tell the viewers what’s going on,” he said. “We’ll let everyone know that this is Mortimer’s final show. We’ll do a tribute in the pregame.”

  Above the tank, the shrieking sound of an angry primate—such a common noise in the lab—forced everyone to quit talking. The electric hum of a sliding door, the scratching sound of an animal fighting for its life, then a splash as a chimpanzee fell into the tank.

  Mortimer moved with alacrity, finding some purpose, and in seconds, he had a tentacle around the chimp. As he had done so many times before, he pulled the animal underwater.

  “Oh, he’s still plenty strong,” said Bart.

  The chimp was thrashing wildly now as Mortimer pulled it deeper into the tank.

  “Can you do an interview with Chad about Morty’s illness for the pregame?” said Bart.

  “Certainly,” said Pavel.

  “We’ll give the old guy the red-carpet treatment on the pregame. I think if the audience is prepared, if we treat this as a last hurrah for Morty, people will be forgiving of whatever happens. The way this course is designed, it’s okay if he misses his target kills. We can make them up in the next stage of the race.”

  “Okay,” said Pavel. “We’ll prep him for one final transport.”

  “Is there anything else you need from me?”

  “No, that’s all for tonight,” Pavel said.

  They stood in silence for a few seconds, watching the chimp weaken, its arms slowing down, the life leaving its eyes.

  “Come on,” Pavel said. “I’ll walk you out.”

  Back on the elevator, the long ride up to the surface, Bart pulled out his phone and went through his emails.

  Meeting minutes from the marketing group. Delete.

  Notice from Facilities that the bathroom remodel on Level 2 was about to begin and…

  Delete.

  An email from Set Design with last
-second notes on the course. Bart had already been briefed. Delete.

  An email from Arnold Detwick with the subject line, “Abnormality with Jenna’s TAC.”

  “Shit,” he said. They’d tried to click her and discovered she didn’t have an implant, didn’t they?

  He skimmed over the email, grunting with anger as he read about Jenna’s grid status going red even though she was alive and well on the security cameras. Clearly a malfunction of some kind. Odds were good that, in pulling out her implant, Bart had messed up the way Jenna’s TAC system communicated with the grid.

  “Dammit,” he muttered.

  He had hoped to limit the number of people who knew about Jenna’s missing implant, but he couldn’t leave this email unanswered. He’d have to tell them. That, or get Jenna back into the medical ward for a new implant tomorrow. Maybe that’s what he needed to do. Maybe he just needed to put a chip back in the girl and keep an eye on her.

  It wasn’t like he was any closer to figuring out who was trying to kill her anyway.

  He was about to type a response when a new email appeared.

  From: Foster Smith

  RE: Abnormality with Jenna’s TAC

  I’m the floor supervisor on duty tonight. I’ll go down to the guard station and see what’s going on. Probably just an issue with the Status Grid. It’s an old unit. I’ll call someone if we have a problem that requires further attention.

  Foster

  “Interesting,” Bart said aloud as he looked at Foster’s name on the email.

  Foster, the cute girl with purple bangs from the supply room, the girl who had flirted with him so deliciously the day before. If he went to the guard station now, he’d have an excuse to talk to her. They were, after all, on the same email chain.

  Talk about work might lead to talk about other things might lead to playful glances might lead to all the games a pretty young woman might like to play with her boss’s boss’s boss in an empty office complex at night.

  Bart pressed the button for the second floor and watched the elevator doors close in front of him.

  *****

  Jenna stepped off the steel beam and onto a concrete footpath. In front of her, taped to the wall, was a letter with a hand-drawn purple flower. Jenna pulled it down.

  A few minutes, Jenna. That’s all that’s left before you’re on the road to freedom.

  Our next step is to get you out of the prison area and onto corporate HQ, where security isn’t nearly as tight.

  To get to HQ, you must go through a door at the bottom of the stairs. The door is locked, but I’ve left you a keycard, and some other things you’ll need. Look under the circuit box to your left, and have fun!

  Jenna aimed her headlamp at the floor beneath the circuit box. She found a white cardboard box with a purple flower sketched on its face.

  *****

  “Hi guys,” said Foster. “I hear you’re having trouble with the status grid.”

  Arnold smiled at her. He’d always liked Foster.

  And hated her. Theirs was a complicated relationship.

  “Jenna’s LED turned red,” said Chris.

  “I see that,” said Foster. She leaned down to look at the back panel of the grid. What she was looking for, Arnold had no idea.

  How she’d become so competent on every system and tool and process in the building, Arnold had no idea either.

  Three years Arnold had been at the company, all of them at the Security Desk. Three years and three failed attempts at promotion. One of those failed attempts was the spring before last, when he put in for Floor Supervisor, and lost out to the girl in Maintenance.

  The girl with purple bangs now standing in front of him.

  “Yes, this janketty old machine is just wigging out,” Foster said. “There’s nothing wrong with Jenna’s TAC.”

  “Are you sure?” said Chris, “because there’s some weird stuff going on with her video feed too.”

  “Hang on a sec,” said Foster, who was now using a paper clip to fiddle around on the back panel of the Status Grid. There was a beeping sound, then Jenna’s red LED turned green.

  “What did you do?” said Arnold.

  “I reset the inputs,” said Foster. “This machine is like the Wi-Fi router at your house. Sometimes it loses a signal and needs a reset.”

  Arnold pursed his lips. He knew nothing about how to troubleshoot the Wi-Fi router at his house.

  He knew nothing about the TAC Status Grid. Or about the clickers and their mechanics. The badge-activated locks on the doors, the wireless camera systems, the computer servers that ran them, the monitors, the alarm systems, the invisible laser barriers and infrared sensors and everything else that made up the sophisticated security in the cellblocks—but Foster was master of it all.

  Which was why, even though she was nothing but smiles and kindness to him, he hated her.

  “So everything’s fine now?” said Chris.

  “Yep. Everything’s fine.”

  She said the words with the bright and beautiful smile of a young woman who was on the fast track to management.

  “Let me tell you about what I saw on the cameras, though,” said Chris.

  “What’d you see?” said Foster.

  “We didn’t see anything of note,” said Arnold.

  Chris gave him a confused look. Arnold plowed ahead.

  “Jenna’s been pacing around all day,” he said. “If the TAC System’s good, then we’re good too.”

  “Oh, okay,” said Foster. “If you’re sure.”

  Chris was thinking about saying something more, Arnold could tell. He’d say something more and next thing you knew the floor supervisor would have to spend a big chunk of her night babysitting them.

  “Everything’s good,” said Arnold, forcefully. Definitively. “Have a good night.”

  *****

  Inside the box, Jenna found a dark brown jump suit with an insignia for the production crew on the left breast. She also found a brown cap and a pair of black work boots.

  There was a Devlin ID badge with the name “Tara Lex” underneath a picture of Jenna’s smiling face.

  “Wow,” Jenna whispered, turning the ID badge around in her hand. Up to this point, she had been skeptical that any of this could work, but if she had an ID badge, a working badge, with her own picture on it…

  She set the clothes and the badge on the ground next to her and continued digging through the box. A pair of scissors—she pulled them out. A handheld mirror, pink with a plastic handle, the kind you’d buy at the drug store—she pulled that out too. A pair of glasses. A cell phone. Another mirror, why did she need two handheld mirrors? A small zip-up tote—Jenna opened it to find a makeup kit inside.

  And a note, folded into an origami rectangle.

  Hi Again!

  Pull everything from this box and get a good idea of what you’ve got. You’ll need all of it. At this point, you probably know what the uniform and badge are for, but I bet you’re puzzled about the scissors and the mirrors.

  It’s a bummer to tell you this, Jenna. You have to cut your hair.

  In a few minutes, you’re going to be roaming the halls of the Tetradome Complex wearing a crew uniform. People are going to see you. The uniform alone will be enough to fool most of them. With a little makeup, and some glasses, we’ll fool even more.

  But the biggest change we can make, the one that will pull it all together and get you out of here, is cutting your hair. Believe me on this, Jenna. I’m more practiced at hiding in plain sight than I’d care to admit. People see what they think they’re supposed to see, so the name of this game is to look different than they expect you to look. When they see you with a little pixie cut hanging out of your hat, even if they recognize your face, your hair will short-circuit their brains, and they’ll walk right past.

  Use the scissors and mirrors to cut it all off. Bring it above your shoulders. Leave your lovely locks on the floor. And do it with confidence that the hair you’re losing is pris
on hair, and when it grows back, it will be the hair of a free woman.

  CHAPTER 42

  Freshman year. Third weekend of April.

  Jenna, Rudy, Kyle, Seth, and Sunny blew off their Friday classes to take a weekend road trip. Stepping into the car without a plan, they eventually ended up on I-40 east, headed for Texas.

  That road trip would loom large in all their memories because of how it ended, with three of the five of them sneaking into an auditorium on the campus of Mary Nolan College to play a prank that grew into a national news story.

  But all of that was still in Jenna’s future when they hit the road Friday morning. Five of them in Sunny’s Accord, windows down, music playing. They bought oversized drinks at gas station soda fountains, they ate convenience store snacks, they stopped at fast food joints in small towns, they gossiped about people they knew, they talked politics and religion and life, and they laughed.

  They made a stop in Clovis at Mamma’s Burgers and Ice Cream. Sunny, Seth, and Kyle went inside to use the bathroom. Jenna and Rudy stretched their legs in the parking lot, moseying towards a sidewalk that was bursting with weeds.

  Rudy had his arm draped over Jenna’s shoulders. They said nothing, choosing instead to listen to the wind and gaze at the sky. It was a moment of pure bliss. Jenna thought about grabbing her phone and taking a selfie, but decided a mental snapshot was even better.

  The feel of her boyfriend’s hand on her shoulder. The smell of the surrounding prairie carried in on the winds. The knowledge that she was with the man she would marry, that more road trips like this were in their future, that an indescribably marvelous adventure was ahead of them, an adventure that included a house, a car, children, and music. So much music.

  Her hair was short that day. She’d been growing it out ever since.

  A lot happened on that jaunt to Central Texas, some of it more significant in the arc of Jenna’s life than that moment in front of Mamma’s Burgers.