Escape from Harrizel

by C. G. Coppola

  Inching my way up, I carefully peer past the top step and take in the scene.

  Two Dofinikes stand in a threatening embrace. The larger, intimidating one, who dragged the girl—what did Raj call her? Hinson?—assumes the dominant role, while Ergiloff, the scientist, is the submissive. The first points to the jerking body on the floor between them, stabbing his black talon into Ergiloff’s chest. The girl habitually convulses, waking to a new scream every few seconds before stilling again.

  “What are you doing here?”

  I snap back, ready to run when I see him a few steps below me.

  “Jeb,” I slump my shoulders, silently forcing my heart back to its routine beat. Remain impassive. Quick—what’s the most logical reason for being here? “I was heading for my room when I heard something… ” I start to peer toward the Dofinikes when Jeb rushes past me, blocking my view with his body. “I wasn’t sure what was happening.”

  “You’re not supposed to be here. Why are you away from your work station?”

  “I felt sick. I was going to lie down before I passed out.”

  Another scream bursts behind him and he yanks me by the arm, swinging me the other direction, “Come. You must leave at once.”

  “Everything okay?” I try to peer beyond my shoulder.

  “Berry poison. Very terrible. They’re treating her now.”

  “What kind of berry?”

  “It’s um…” Jeb says, his sights on the descending stairwell, “…very poisonous. Devastating effects. Here you go,” he deposits me down a floor, motioning me to continue on. “Get some water. Stay hydrated and break when you need to. Don’t go back to your room,” he offers a brief, insincere smile.“Goodbye, Fallon.”

  Scampering back the way we came, he disappears into the shadows above before I have a chance to respond.

  ***

  Reminders.

  I’m in the Auditorium, weaving toward the outer rim of the crowd which surrounds the glowing trunk. Best to stay out of any specific area in general. In with the thicket and I’ll get swallowed when the music starts. Lining the walls and I’ll be somebody’s fondling buddy. Neither sounds particularly appealing, so I stick to the sparse bit of space between the two, scanning the low-lit room.

  Near the entrance to the West Wall, I immediately find a pair that stick out—a good looking blonde who could be a model and his surly, dark featured friend. They were the same guys talking to Tucker last night.

  Rogues.

  They pass a joint between them, seemingly oblivious to the others crowded around. Blondie is laughing through a story while his partner listens inattentively. A third joins them, throwing his arms around both pairs of shoulders. The frowner shrugs him off but Blondie doesn’t seem to mind. He passes the joint to the new guy and the two take over conversation. Further down, Walker has some girl pinned against the wall and down from them, couples line themselves up, ready for serious action once the Reminders have concluded. Scanning the room, I keep the Rogues in view but then my heart stops when I see their newest addition.

  Reid keeps his arms crossed, surveying as he meanders closer, a young boy—thirteen or fourteen— eagerly on his tail.

  Shit. He’s a Rogue?

  He quickly mouths something to the boy, barely motioning with a slight jerk of his head and the boy takes off, weaving through the packed herd, which tightens together at Jeb’s request. Reid watches him until he’s gone, scanning the crowd with little interest… until stumbling upon me.

  It only lasts a second, but something in my stomach ignites, like a small fireball growing roots in my abdomen. I focus on the trunk, on the Gizella trees climbing the walls or the hanging babeebs—anything other than him.

  Shit.

  Shit. Shit. Shit.

  And I approached him. That’s exactly what Raj told me not to do. There goes my chance for freedom and food. Now I’m fucked. Royally fucked. How am I going to fix this? Pushed by something—maybe desperation—I need one last look to see. Maybe I’m just hoping he’ll change his mind and talk to me. He’ll give in and share what he knows. The fireball grows stronger as I consider this and after a moment of quick debate, I allow myself one last glance.

  My breath catches—he’s still watching me.

  “Welcome, friends,” Jeb’s voice echoes, breaking our magnetic stare. I forget about Reid and inch closer to the trunk. “Tonight, we are once again honored with the presence of your heroic leader who selflessly initiated the courageous endeavor of rescuing and restoring the once mighty human race.”

  With a swift leap, Jeb flies from the trunk, exchanging places with a man much older than him, dressed similarly in the same red robe and black sash. His stark white hair shines like a beacon atop a brow of thick ridged wrinkles. Jade, beady eyes pierce from the center of his crinkled smirking face.

  Beshib.

  “Welcome,” he lifts his arms, waiting for the echo of his voice to die down. When it does, he assumes a solemn expression, his head lowering as if in prayer. “When I first came to your planet, I thought it all a dream...” he speaks in soft, breakable words, “a nightmare. How could a species do this to themselves? Destroy themselves? Give up everything and for what?” he poses with a sharp flash of his emerald eyes. “For what?

  “In the beginning,” he starts pacing, his hands clasped behind his back, “your atrocities didn’t seem entirely heinous. A barbaric attempt, of course, but what culture exists without some form of natural selection? Some form of population control? With our limited information, we assumed this was normal. Your daily slayings as part of a habitual, human routine. But could this be all there was? All you had? Self-induced genocide?” he stops, scanning us with an accusing glare. After a moment, he begins pacing in short strides around the trunk, calm again.

  “After studying you, we began to understand it wasn’t always this way. There was a time that you lived in peace with one another—some of you may even recall. An era of prosperity, family, friendship and love,” he stops, scanning us with heated eyes. “But this was before you corrupted it. Before you cursed it. Before your children cried in the streets, orphaned by parents butchering one another. A time before brothers and sisters burned in homes while friends and neighbors swindled riches from the ashes. A time before you massacred your handicapped and slaughtered your elderly, all while your beautiful Earth lay in ruins…

  “I tried to understand. Tried to see reason beneath the madness but there was none. Greed,” his voice projects, echoing, “I later came to know as the cause. Greed—the inevitable downfall to any civilization, especially one as primitive as yours. You allowed it to suck you in, to take you over. To destroy everything that mattered.” He points a long finger at us, sweeping it across the audience as he turns about. “Greed has brought you here. It’s taken your homes, your families, your lives—everything you hold dear—and given you nothing in return,” Beshib slows to a stop, turning to us. “But we have given you a replacement life.

  “Once we understood, once we saw what was left—what would be left had there been no intervention—we saved who we could. At first, there were many of you. We’d find entire families still intact, hiding in burrows and caves or borrowing homes of the deceased or the abandoned, all awaiting a salvation unlikely to arrive. We brought back as many as we could—whole shiploads, in the beginning—but with each returning voyage, less and less were found. Your small clans turned to dwindling packs of two or more and before long, we were lucky to find one wandering soul to save. Had the inevitable happened? Had Earth finally killed herself?

  “We gave you what we could—food, shelter, a new beginning. A restored faith in yourselves,” Beshib shakes his head in solemn concern, “but your numbers quickly dwindled once more. Your bodies, so unique and unlike that of the Dofinike, didn’t acclimate to Harrizel as we’d hoped. How could we know? How could we plan for any of it?” he closes his eyes. “Bibbie pollen, a golden dust that coats the blue flower of its name, while aromatically appealing,
can cause a series of spasms in humans before turning their organs into a jelly-like substance. Vizzle roots, a soothing medicinal rub for almost any ailment but on humans, will cause the skin to erode itself,” Beshib opens his eyes. “So many had been saved… and for what? To die tragically of foreign diseases? Were we really saving your civilization or casting upon you a new curse? It’s for these reasons,” his voice turns lethal, a sharp finger sweeping the audience as he circles, “these dangers that we keep you inside the gate, away from the wild where so many have perished before you.”

  He withdraws his finger and continues to pace in the little bit of room he has. “The human race is a young one. We recognize this and accept it as part of your nature. But there’s only so much we can do. Look into your past and see the heinous crimes you’ve committed. Remember it. There was some debate about whether you should even keep your memories,” he continues to pace, as if considering the question still, “but had we taken those images from you, what hope could there be for change? How to learn from your mistakes if you don’t know them? We’ve sacrificed too much time, too much energy ensuring the survival of your race and for what? So you can repeat the error of your ways?

  “No,” his voice booms, “the Dofinikes have done their part. Even Clarence continues to look for more survivors but he can’t resurrect your race alone. It’s up to you now, to ensure the survival of your species,” he stops pacing, scanning us all one final time. “The past is gone and the present is here. It’s time for you to act,” Beshib opens his arms, raising them, “it’s time for your Rebirth.”

  The routine melody rushes through the darkness, giving birth to Leisure Time and the suddenly thriving mob. The couples against the wall are already lost to each other, doing exactly as requested but I’m stuck, unable to shake Beshib’s words.

  Had we taken those images from you, what hope could there be for change?

  I haven’t thought about home, only because I’ve been too preoccupied with escape. But now that I try, now that I really think about it, it’s clear as day… or as clear as it used to be, before the sky darkened with ash. Before the rivers and ponds swam with debris, drenched with rotting fish and swollen, floating limbs, hair clumps and various waterlogged pieces of flesh, all muddied together in the murky brown. Before the yellow grass grew in places still lucky enough to see it, while sidewalks sat littered with bones like leaves in the fall. And the cold. I can still feel it. As though the sun’s been absent forever. For as long as I can remember.

  Is this really my old life?

  I look around, a tight knot growing in my stomach at the erotic movements surrounding me. And this is the new? Manual labor and repopulating? Is there another choice? There is! The ruins. I choose the ruins, whatever they mean. I’ll find a way back to them, with or without Reid’s help. But I can’t stay here.

  I won’t.

  Heading upstairs, I pass through the Courtyard and am overcome with the familiar feeling of being watched again. Looking around, I immediately find her propped against the same black tree, the strange food in hand. Something purchased from the Market? I stop, my eyes fixating on hers which barrel into me with the same puzzling stare. Without a second more to consider, she tosses me the maroon fruit and I catch it with both hands. She peels herself from the tree and heads for the Auditorium and I watch her go until she’s gone.

  I bring the food to my nose and inhale deeply. It smells sweet, like watermelon, with a subtle hint of tartness. I want to rip into it right here but don’t. I race the rest of the way to my room and once inside, I dig my teeth in, tearing into the soft, moist flesh as red juice spills down my chin. I don’t care. It’s so sweet, so delicious compared to the mush I’ve been eating that all thoughts of earlier vanish with the honey nectar sliding down my throat. I take another bite, and another, completely insatiable.

  That’s it.

  Tomorrow I’ll find her. Her or Raj or Reid or whomever can get me more of this food. It’s settled. Tomorrow I’m going shopping.

  Chapter Seven: Maze

  I’m waiting in the Courtyard for her.

  Jeb’s already finished Reminders and released us for Leisure Time. This is my second full day and it’s getting harder to talk myself out of fleeing. Just plain fleeing. I’ve been dying to ask Raj how they tag you once you’re through the gate, but I haven’t seen her all day. And I didn’t catch her at Leisure Time either. I won’t leave until I get a few more answers but two days is two days too long, and whatever’s out there has to be better than in here. But until I can figure it out, I’ll have to survive and it won’t be on that mush. I need real food.

  “Looking for me?”

  She’s right behind me, her golden brown locks pulled into a sharp pony tail and her eyes, two hazel spheres, barrel into me with the same complex stare. Up close, it’s obvious how young she is. No more than eleven, she has to be one of the youngest ones here. Standing with her arms crossed, she narrows her eyes, analyzing, untrusting.

  “I am, actually,” I inch forward, towering above her. “What’s your name?”

  She barely steps back. “Pratt.”

  “Okay, Pratt. Why’d you give me that food?”

  “Gupple—it’s a Gupple.”

  I nod. “Why’d you give me that Gupple?”

  She shrugs, “You looked like you were hungry.”

  “Well perceived,” I advance another step, keeping my voice low. “Honestly, I don’t plan on staying here long. But I’m going to need better sustenance than what they’re providing. I’ve already heard about the Market, so I’m well aware of the system. I also think I’ve pissed off one of the Rogues so I’m not sure if this is even possible…”

  “Fallon—”

  I hold up a finger. “But I still need to eat. And I’m assuming you’re a Scout. I’m not sure which Clan you’re working with but for the love of all that is good, please help me out.”

  She takes a moment, considering my offer before her shoulders slump in defeat. “Come with me.”

  “Where?”

  “I’m not sure this is going to work,” she glances over her shoulder as she leads me back to the Auditorium, “it probably won’t, but it’s worth a try.”

  “I’m not getting you in trouble, am I?”

  “Hopefully not. We’ll see how he reacts.”

  Once we’re back in the Auditorium, we make for the West Wall where the golden scripted W hangs. Without so much as a pause, she heads straight through the entrance and into the darkness. My heart races, but there is no time to stop and think or panic. There’s no time to do anything except follow her, which is what I do.

  Straight into the darkness.

  Leaving the soft glow of the babeebs behind, blackness consumes everything, my eyes struggling to adjust. But Pratt takes off, weaving without hesitation, knowing every turn, every alley, and I focus on her outline ahead, keeping pace, almost to her heel.

  Can’t lose her. Can’t lose her in here.

  We move swiftly through narrow corridors, Pratt leading us deeper into the labyrinth and after a few precise turns, we end up at our own dead end where a shadowed body paces, waiting. It’s too dark to make out his face but Pratt darts over, whispering fiercely before the stranger has time to question my appearance.

  Reid is more than surprised to see me—he’s astonished, as if I were some ghost come to haunt him. He offers me only a moment’s consideration, immediately silencing Pratt’s rushed ramblings to justify my presence.

  “Why’d you bring her here?”

  “I just thought…” she begins, fumbling.

  “You know Raj’s been tailing her. She’ll talk. No,” Reid shakes his head, silencing the matter for good. He turns to me, hands on his hips. “Sorry, but you’ve got to forget about this. If you’re hungry, we’ll get you something but you can’t be back here,” he turns to Pratt again. “Talk to Able…rummage something up. He usually has a few extra tokens but don’t bring anyone back here. You know better.”

/>   “Wait,” I move closer, a sudden urge to protect Pratt rising. “It’s not her fault. I asked for help. She thought you might be able to.”

  “Again, she should know better.”

  “Reid…” Pratt starts but he silences her with a finger.

  “I told you to let it alone,” he’s speaking to her, his voice growing heated. “When I say no, I mean no.”

  “But…”

  Reid shakes his head and looks at me, motioning for the exit. “Sorry but you need to leave.”

  “Hey, I just want to get out of here—after that, I’ll be out of your hair. I promise.”

  “Look,” he exhales, “I don’t know you. Which means I can’t trust you. I’d love to help out—honestly—but it’s not something I’m able to do at the moment,” he rubs the back of his neck. “Best I can do is get you a few Gupples. That’s it.”

  “But I need the way out,” I move for him and he grows rigid, his body stiffening at my approach. I stop and bite my lip. “Please?”

  He’s considering it, his eyes scanning me. Maybe he wants to. But just as I start celebrating his change of heart, he shakes his head. “I’m sorry, I can’t help you. Pratt,” he turns to her, “a few Gupples, okay? And this is done.”

  She reluctantly nods, offering me an apologetic frown. “Sorry.”

  “Its fine,” I glance to Reid who’s trying his best not to see me, “thanks anyway.”

  I turn from them, backing out of the corridor. Well, I guess I’m really on my own. And now, knowing Pratt’s on his side, I’m really alone. What am I going to do after those first few Gupples? Go back to the mush? Maybe I can get some more information out of Walker, or perhaps Raj…