Iris

by Nick Whitesides

  No signs of other vehicles coming this way. But I’ve learned not to underestimate IRIS or the Council. Slowly, I take off the brown pack and pull out a compact first aid kit. The Kevlar shirt clings to my skin, soaked through with blood.

  Exploring the pack, I find a bottle of the white SIO pills. They go down easy with a mouthful of water. I pull up my shirt just enough to expose the wounds and attempt to clean the bullet holes. The shots went straight through.

  At least I won’t have to worry about shrapnel. Also inside the pack, is a black bottle of disinfectant. Just a few drops burn intensely as the raw skin bubbles, turning white.

  I bite down on the gun hoping it will help the pain pass. It doesn’t. Next, I dress the wounds with gauze and replace my shirt. Lucky for me, Jathom packed another set of those prototype clothes. By the time I’m ready to head out again, the adrenaline has worn off.

  As I stand, my body loses strength. I lean forward, forcing myself to continue, though my legs buckle, nearly causing me to collapse. I stop a few more times during the first hour to replenish what remains of my stamina.

  I drink an entire bottle of water then take two more SIO pills. Agony pulses through every vein with each heartbeat. After another hour of staggering, I fall to my knees and surrender to fatigue. I begin to lose awareness.

  The next thing I know my eyes burst open. I jolt awake and try to sit up. The sudden movement worsens the already-awful pain. “Idiot!” I scream, angry at myself. After a minute, it peters out as I move into a sitting position.

  It’s the middle of the night now. The flickering lights of Pura twinkle in the silence behind me. “I’ll be thirty miles away now at least.” Hearing my own voice helps to quell the anxiety, though it does nothing for my bruised muscles.

  Stabbing pain in my chest forces me to take short, shallow breaths. I may have cracked a few ribs. I wait a few minutes for the vertigo to pass before continuing my journey. Each step takes so much energy as I drag my feet forward; stumbling over rocks and dead plants.

  After a few minutes I fall again, gasping from the lack of oxygen. I slip off the pack and lay flat, hoping this will free my airway.

  I breathe carefully through my nose to fill my lungs to capacity before the pain coaxes me to exhale. The dark grey sky prompts my thoughts to wander as apathy dominates my state of mind.

  Daydreams appear one after another like swiping images across a pad. The only thing breaking my mental trance, is the pulsating pain in my shoulder. My eyelids close wearily, getting heavier and heavier until I have no more strength to open them.

  Nightmares plague me, distorted faces with black, hollow eyes stare lifelessly. In shame, I cover my face and sob. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry. I couldn’t save any of you.” The dark world evaporates into the hard desert floor as I lift my head, looking side to the side.

  It’s early morning now. Stale tears leave a salty aftertaste as I lick my cracking lips. I check my wounds again, bright pink skin had begun covering up the holes. I take a few more SIO pills to take the edge off. Still, the slightest movement costs an exhausting amount of energy. Hunger hits me hard as I scour the pack for something to eat, my vigor vanishing. The SIO pills will provide the minerals essential to survival, but I still need food.

  Jathom packed me a bag of apples, a box of dried wheat cakes, a few strawberries, a loaf of bread, bananas, the second pair of Kevlar clothes, the black knife from Kalen, and eight large bottles of water are left.

  He must have used months’ worth of savings to get all this extra stuff. Guilt surfaces for a moment but is overcome by hunger. I grab two bananas, an apple, and rip off a piece of bread. I devour them all within minutes, and an entire bottle of water before laying back down on the ground. The meal boosts my spirits regardless of the constant aching.

  After wrestling with unconsciousness for however long, my energy returns. The golden hue of the Sphere emits a sense of euphoria. I look back again towards Pura. Someone would have caught up to me by now.

  The Council might expect the desert to kill me. Even though the sun’s rays aren’t harmful, it still gets plenty hot. Out of habit, I check my BAND for the current temperature.

  “That’s right, I forgot.” It could be 90 degrees out by now. After taking inventory of my remaining supplies, I have a week’s worth of food but only three days of water left. There are thirty vitamin pills left in the container; enough to help my body heal and keep my immune system strong.

  I store everything back into the pack but I don’t know where I’m supposed to go. Sooner or later I’m going to run out of provisions. No matter what I do, the result is inevitable. The Council wins.

  I rummage through the outer pocket of the backpack, pulling out the pad Jathom gave me. I stare at the blank screen, expecting the answer to strike me like electricity. I power on the device and begin reading the contents.

  The dusty air makes it hard to keep my eyes focused. I read for a few minutes but I’m underwhelmed by the information. As far as I can tell, it’s a collection of old Council reports. Documents relating to BAND work, dependent count, and other assorted subjects. I start to lose interest until I come to a section with Kalen’s name at the top. This piques my curiosity. It reads:

  “7th day, 10th month, year 2,319. Since the death of the child’s birth-giver, Kalen has been exhibiting strange and suspicious behavior. He came to me last night asking for an official release of his position and special permission to raise the boy himself. Naturally I denied his request and assured him that his responsibilities to the city and sustaining our way of life are of greater importance than the upbringing of one person. But he would not be dissuaded. After days of debate, seeking to extinguish his bizarre crusade, the council had no choice but to grant his request and allow his service to be broken and reborn into that of a harsher way of life.”

  I scroll through to the very last entry.

  “16th day, 8th month, year 2,331. It’s been eleven years since his removal from IRIS. The Council was gracious before, but now he’s gone too far. Kalen illegally obtained pre-war schematics of the Sphere, its construction, and accessibility to the outside world. I told him that this forbidden information in his possession would be enough to send him to Cleansing. I then insisted that he destroy them. He then struck me. When I woke, I ran to the Council immediately and requested a warrant for his arrest. It took two days to track him down in the desert. His illegal knowledge of how the BAND GPS works kept him from instant capture. Once apprehended, I searched him but the designs were nowhere to be found. His refusal to cooperate called for immediate action. I dispatched him myself with a firearm. While the documents were never found, I believe strongly that they will never again pose any threat to IRIS, Pura or any of its dependents. Let the record show that my actions were taken in good faith, for the greater good of our fair and beautiful city which shall forever stand resolute. We thrive together or die together. Faithfully signed, Councilor Artemis”

  An uncontrollable tempest boils under my skin. I squeeze the pad as angry gasps escape my mouth. It was him. Artemis. The one who recruited me into the SIO’s. It’s because of him that Kalen is dead.

  If only I had known, if only I believed who Jathom said he was. I lost that faith when I saw him lying dead in the wasteland. He tried so hard to fight, to stay in my life and in return I spouted back the Three Laws.

  I deprived myself of the love he gave me. What he sacrificed himself for. The storm burns through my chest. A wave crashes against my conditioned logic. I don’t have to suppress it anymore. IRIS, Pura, the dependents, I hate them. I hate them all.

  I fight the urge to bury my emotions. I deserve to be angry. I deserve to hate them. So many people died or sacrificed themselves because of me. Maxis, Leina, Adaam, Vae, Lucilla, Jathom, and now Kalen, my life-giver—no! My Father.

  Chapter 8 Hidden Tomb

  Filled with wrath I get to my feet, using pain and anger to motivate me. An emotional liberty that I’ve never known before.
I let myself feel it. Feel it all. Let it soak in.

  The rage, the pain, the sorrow, the joy. No longer would I be bound to their laws. I’m free. For the first time in my life I am free. I keep that fire in my soul burning all day long as I soldier onward.

  Come early evening I stop to rest. I’m so far away from Pura now, I have to squint to see it. With the sharp end of the knife, I dig a small pit to build a fire. Dried piles of dead plants should burn with ease. I remove one of the bullets from the clip, saw it in half and pour the powder onto the wood.

  Using a rock as a flint, I create a spark and set the pile on fire. The warmth is comforting, almost homey. Holding the knife firmly, I weigh it in my hand. It’s heavier than other knives but still is easy to use.

  I slice an apple in half, letting out a sigh as I eat by the light of the flames. I go through the files again, trying to formulate a plan. What was Jathom expecting me to do if I got away? I’m guessing he hoped I’d get to the desert or else he wouldn’t have packed this much water.

  I sit in silence and wait to understand. What am I going to do? I take a few more SIO pills. The pain has lessened in the last two days, though my left arm is still far from usable. I hold out the knife again and examine it thoroughly.

  Standard military issue made from tempered steel. I twirl it around, feeling the blade with my fingertips. At the end of the hilt is a tiny circle, almost like a latch. I twist it and pull. The end falls off. Excitedly, I examine the small compartment.

  I raise my eyebrows as a small silver tube slides out into my open palm. It’s a miniature flashlight.

  Near the top is a white button and as I press it, a thin beam of light shoots out. But instead of shining straight like a normal light would, it seems to be directing itself to a spot by the far end of the Sphere.

  I move it to the left and then to the right. The end of the light sticks to the destination, making the beam curve. I turn around completely and sure enough the beam circles around me and back into the darkness. I align myself with the target, turn off the light, and hold it up.

  Whatever this leads to is the best course of action I have. So I settle in by the fire, inhaling the mix of smoke and dirt, and drift off. Throughout the night, I move closer to the embers as they die away.

  Morning comes swiftly, my dreamless sleep interrupted by the sound of distant voices. I gasp and push myself up onto my knees with my good arm. I can’t make out what they say, but I hear them. I crane my head in every direction, urgent to spot my pursuers.

  I’m not dreaming, am I? Unable to control my rapid breathing, I wait. I swallow, tasting the dust in my mouth. Hastily, I kick away the ashes of the fire.

  Idiot, they must have seen it last night! I walk fast, trying to ignore the terror surging through me. I reassure myself every few seconds as I look over my shoulder. I still don’t see anyone around. I know I have to move on quickly so I turn on the light, following it once more.

  Another hour passes, I look behind only every so often now. The city is completely out of my view. It’s been nearly three days. I had no idea the Sphere was actually this large.

  I think on Artemis’s report. He mentioned the blueprints to the Sphere, a way out. All IRIS told us about the outside world and its people, was that they destroyed themselves; leaving Pura as the only remaining civilization.

  The light glows more brightly as the sun sets. The thin white line becomes thicker and I hope it means I’m getting closer to wherever it’s leading me. When it gets dark enough, I stop to tend to myself and eat my rations.

  First, I disinfect my wounds again and replace the bindings. The holes are almost completely closed up, but the skin is still tender and red. Hopefully in another week, I should be able to use my left arm again.

  I reach into the main pocket for something to eat. The dread creeps up on me when I realize I’m missing more than half my supplies. I turn the pack upside down and spill all the contents out.

  “What?! No no no no no!” Then, it dawns on me. . . I left them out last night. I was in such a hurry that I left the rest at my last campsite. Which I have no way of finding now! I pound on my head “Stupid stupid stupid! How could you do something so dumb?”

  I throw the pack down in frustration. Feelings linger more than they did; festering inside me. It’s harder to control. My anger has become wild and barbaric.

  I let out a scream, cursing while I pace back and forth. I never imagined living without my BAND could be so difficult. It takes a while before I regain my senses.

  Sorting out the remaining supplies, I have only a water bottle, two bananas, and one small piece of bread left. Everything else was left behind.

  Disappointment seeps in, my skin pulled tight from the stress. My hands tense into fists, wishing I was in the old SIO training room with a training dummies. Or better yet on one of the SIO’s themselves.

  With my severely diminished rations, I decide it’s best to keep moving until morning. Each footstep thunders under the weight of my frustration. I hum to help pass the time. The low frequencies in my voice keep the maddening resentment at bay.

  Jathom’s death replays over and over again. The sorrow keeps me awake through the night. In the early morning hours, the thick beam starts to flicker wildly. I must be close but I don’t see anything.

  The beam widens more and more until, with a mechanical tink, the light goes out completely. I shake the flashlight then resort to hitting it when there’s no response.

  “So what now?” The exhaustion of my all night travel overwhelms me. Sleep comes almost instantly, only now dreams are mine again.

  Through the haze of guilt, shame, and sadness I feel a hand placed on my shoulder. I know who it is without having to turn around. “Kalen,” I say as my eyes begin to open. The comfort and serenity of the vision evaporates, leaving me behind to rot in a barren wilderness.

  Desperately, I try to keep the dream from caving into the reality of the decaying terrain once again. The silver tube lays inches away from me. I clutch it then throw it down in spite.

  CLANK! The indistinguishable ring of metal hitting metal. I wipe away a little dirt with my hands, finding the edge of a door and brush the rest away.

  What was once a patch of dried soil takes a new shape as the words BIOHAZARD SHELTER appear. On the right side is an indentation with a handle. I pull it up and open a door. Rusted hinges squeak as the compressed air escapes with a loud whoosh.

  The door reverberates with a heavy thud. This is it! This is where the light was leading me.

  Excitedly, I step down to a set of cement stairs, then pause to turn around and close the entrance. The light vanishes as I’m fully shrouded in the shadow of the blackened stairwell. I’ve never felt anything like this.

  Terrifying and exhilarating all at once, with no restrictions to hinder my experience. Every sensation is heightened. Each step echoes as I descend gradually, my arms out in front of me, every breath hanging in the air infinitely.

  I jerk forward as my foot misses the next step. My voice distorts as my yelp of surprise bounces back to me. Petrified, I sit until I get the nerve to stand again. I move even slower until I finally reach the bottom, my eyes starting to adjust.

  A crinkling sound comes from under my feet as I prod the wall looking for something to help me see. After a few minutes of fumbling, my fingers trace over a large clunky lever. As I pull it up, light rains down from the space overhead intensity.

  Stacks of boxes stand close to the ceiling as papers litter the room, covering the floor. In the far corner is a bed also covered with piles of documents. The pack slams in front of the bed as my body plunges onto the mattress face first, sinking down into another deep sleep.

  I awaken only for a minute to cough from the stale, cool air. Something beyond exhaustion overpowers me. The world spins and suddenly I’m shivering violently while sweat pours off my forehead.

  I need my SIO pills. Reaching for them causes a horrible twinge in my shoulder. Pulling down my s
hirt I see the gauze drenched in blood. I must have reopened the wound when I swung open the door.

  Unable to stop myself, I vomit onto the floor, just barely missing my supplies. The pain returns as I attempt to remove the wraps, the nausea still hanging over me. It lessens from the sting of disinfectant as I redress the gashes.

  With shaky hands, I take four more pills. The fever and chills disappear soon after. I let myself sleep, not knowing how much time has passed. Even with the medication I continue to hurt all over. Every muscle groans, my bones feel like glass.

  I’ve never been shot before and I hope to never be again. Curiosity eventually overrides my physical need to rest. I lean my back against the wall, “What is this place?”

  Automatically my brain replays the events of the last few months to get me in this underground shelter. Jathom knew exactly what to pack for me. “He knew the light was inside,” I think aloud, massaging my side.

  The walls are covered in dust and practically untouched. Perfectly preserved. I pick up a random handful of papers, skimming over the headlines. WORLD AT WAR! BOMBS HIT AMERICA. CITIES DESTROYED. U.S. BECOMES ATOMIC VICTIM. Then something else catches my eye. A small black and white article which reads SPHERE CITY BUILT FOR DOOMSDAY “January 31st, 2024. After a nuclear bomb was dropped over the United States four years ago, the country called upon its greatest scientists, engineers, and architects to begin working on projects to protect the remaining cities. Today we get to witness firsthand what this nation is capable of. Five cities will be constructed to house U.S. dependents and a large glass Sphere to encase each of them. The first Sphere should be finished in just short of a decade. Funding for its construction was budgeted at 6.7 trillion dollars per unit.

  At the base of each Sphere is a metal foundation standing twenty stories high and two stories thick. Strong enough to hold up the multi layered ‘smart glass’ which was designed to block out the effects of nuclear fallout. The smart glass is made up of seven different layers that when put together becomes harder than steel and ten times more bullet proof than Kevlar. For access into the Sphere, there are 1,000 different entrances that have been built along its edges.”