Wasteland: Sirain Rises

by Ann Bakshis

  “You look nice,” he says to me stepping back, only a towel wrapped around his waist.

  I feel myself blush as I turn away and walk back into the women’s residence, Grainne waiting for me on the other side of the door.

  “We can visit Jagger now. They just posted the visitation schedule on the screens.”

  “He won’t want to see me,” I comment, hanging my wet towel over the bedrail to dry.

  Grainne is about to protest, but her voice is cut short when children begin filing into the room and marching over to their doorway, a woman in a yellow tunic bringing up the rear.

  “Hi, Grainne,” several of the small ones cry out as they pass by.

  The woman quickly ushers them into the washroom and reminds them they need to leave the mouthwash in their mouths for three minutes to help keep their teeth clean and healthy.

  I look over at Grainne and notice a sad look come upon her face, tears beginning to well in her eyes. She catches me watching her and quickly exits through the door that leads to the lift. The room feels suddenly cramped and I feel alone. I sit down on the lower bunk. The mattress is thin and flimsy, so I’m able to feel every spring. I pick up the lumpy pillow and squeeze it against my chest in a hug.

  I miss Quin, and Devlan and it hurts.

  How did I get here? Everything has changed so drastically, that I feel like my life is falling apart. I wish I could just run, run back to the Wasteland and hide.

  The children exit the washroom, squealing with delight as they go into their room for the night. After several minutes, the woman in the yellow tunic exits the children’s room and leaves for the lift. I set my pillow down, pull my legs up, and curl up in a fetal position.

  “Trea, are you in here?” Bevan calls from his doorway.

  At first I don’t answer him, hoping he’ll leave, but he doesn’t, and notices me lounging on the mattress. He walks over to me, uniform with added gold stripes perfectly fitted to his tight frame.

  “Do you not feel well?” he asks, sitting down at the foot of my bed.

  “I’m just tired,” I answer, lying.

  “Holunder wants to see you. Vier is over there now with him.”

  I breathe out a deep sigh, sit up, and place my feet on the floor. Under the bed is a pair of black shoes along with socks tucked inside. I slip them on, Bevan helps me stand, and we exit the room, taking the lift down to the ground level, and boarding a carrier.

  Once back in the vehicle hangar, we cross the floor towards the lift I’d seen Bevan get into earlier. The gates are open, but close once he selects the button marked “Three”. We rise slowly, and the gates unlock when we reach the top floor, opening onto an expanse that stretches from a closed off room to the right all the way to the rock wall on the left. A high, domed ceiling encapsulates the area, accentuating the size of the room.

  Bevan steps off the lift and turns right. I follow with my head down as if I’m in trouble, dreading what type of man this leader is compared to the other three I’ve already had the pleasure of meeting. A knock on the outer door announces our presence and we’re greeted by a barefooted older man wearing lounge pants and a black shirt.

  “Come in, Bevan,” the man announces. He sounds genuinely pleased to see him. “Trea, it’s great to finally meet you. Please, have a seat. Vier, would you mind pouring our guests a drink?”

  I’m not sure what I thought Holunder would look like, but when he extends his hand to greet me, I feel more comfortable than I’d expected. He’s an older man, with sad gray eyes that wrinkle at the corners, and hair that’s mostly gray with just a hint of the auburn he once had.

  Vier is standing on the far side of the room behind a bar similar to the one Artemis had in his flat in Tyre. I take a seat on the u-shaped couch, and Bevan sits on the other end. There’s an identical couch covered in cream-colored webbing opposite a stone fireplace resting in the center of the room, with a monitor fastened above the mantel currently displaying nothing.

  “Here,” Vier says, handing me a tumbler half full of a caramel colored liquid. He gives the same concoction to Bevan then sits between the two of us.

  I’m struck by the fact that Vier is still wearing the same clothes from the assault on the Dormitories many days ago. He’s in desperate need of a shower. I feel slightly repulsed to be sitting next to him.

  “I’ve spoken with the head of the medics about Lehen’s condition,” Holunder begins, as he stands in front of the fireplace, his hands clenched behind his back. “He has improved, but they’ll be keeping him for a day or two, mainly to get him acclimated to his new condition. When he’s released, he’ll be placed with the Cerul faction. Vier, you’re going to be housed in the Byrrus residence. I see Grainne has already made you feel at home,” he says to me.

  I nod.

  “Bevan, would you mind taking Vier out to the main floor, and page Ares to come and get him?”

  The two get up, place their empty glasses on a small table resting behind the couch, and leave. The sudden tension in the air is very apparent, only I can’t tell if it is coming from Holunder or me. I sip my drink, cringing at the smoky taste.

  “I’m sorry to hear the loss of your protector, Devlan,” Holunder finally speaks after an uncomfortable silence, sitting in the spot Bevan vacated.

  “You knew him?” my voice cracking at the question, hands trembling slightly. “How could have you possibly known Devlan?”

  “He was once an enemy of ours, but after watching him care for you over the years I grew fond of the man.”

  “Watching him? You’ve been watching us?” I spit out, anger rising in my voice.

  “It’s not what you think, Trea,” he begins, trying to ease the strain that has developed. “Devlan asked us to.”

  “What?”

  He gets up from his seat, pours himself a glass of water, and sits back down. “It’s true, but before I tell you why, let me tell you some history about the Hostem.” He brings the glass to his lips, hands shaking. “They were born out of the attack on Asphodel, the last tent city in Sirain. Those who survived capture fled east, reaching an old outpost perched over a volcanic fissure. I was one of the original survivors, though I was a small child then. Seventy of us made it here. The ground outside is rich in nutrients so we were able to grow crops and take care of a few fowl that were running wild. The population began to grow and the Hostem began to rebuild their lives. Several residents began to design defenses in case anyone from Sirain decided to venture this far outside of the country’s limits. They turned the building located in the northern face of the rocks overlooking the fissure into a research facility, and went to work on weapons creation. They’d been able to steal some discarded artillery from the forces that invaded Asphodel and reverse-engineered them, eventually designing the Levin gun.”

  He takes a gulp of water, finishing it.

  “The Hostem had been living in peace for well over twenty years when their fears finally became reality. A new High Ruler by the name of Aldus Vladim had taken control of Tyre, the controlling city of Sirain at that time. His main goal was to unite the cities of Sirain under one government. He had an extremely hard time accomplishing this since the High Ruler of Acheron was constantly changing, and Nuceira was bent on destroying anyone who didn’t follow Parson Mathan’s path as a zealot. The Hostem had sent out a scouting party to Sirain so they could gather more information on Vladim and the current High Ruler of Acheron, at that time, due to the increase in chatter Tartarus’ security force had been hearing over signals they were intercepting. But the group was captured, tortured, and many were killed by Regulators controlled by Vladim. Only one hostage was sent back to Tartarus. The others were kept imprisoned. But he wasn’t sent back alone.”

  He gets up, refills his glass, and sits back down. Skin tone a little too pale for my liking.

  “It was you, wasn’t it?” I ask, setting the remnants of my drink down onto the table behind me.

  “Yes, I was the only one they captur
ed who was allowed to return.”

  “Who was sent back with you?”

  “Your protector, Devlan. He volunteered for the mission, which was to infiltrate Tartarus and obtain our new weapon. We’d been carrying several Levin guns for protection when we were captured. I managed to fire off a couple of shots into a Regulator. Vladim was made aware of this new weapon and ordered someone to infiltrate Tartarus, obtain as much information about it and the designs as possible. Devlan was the only one who said he’d go, but he made one stipulation. He wanted Vladim to release me, so I could return with him. He argued that he would need someone to vouch for him so he could safely enter the city. The real reason was because I was his little brother’s friend in Asphodel. He recognized me the moment he saw me. For that, I owe him my life.”

  “None of that explains why you were watching us.”

  “I’m getting to that.” He takes a deep breath before continuing. “After the attack on the Dormitories, Devlan managed to find his way back here. He lived with the Byrrus faction, even devised some of our defenses. He was a very smart man. The images we’re now able to capture from the satellites that orbit the planet are thanks to him. That’s how he knew he needed to return to Sirain. We intercepted a Nuceiran communication, which is very rare. Parson Mathan had learned from his spies of the possibility of an Antaean residing in a little community called Siedler Village. I offered to send some of my people with Devlan, but he refused. Instead he took some of our transmitting equipment and asked me to make him a promise.” Holunder sips some water before continuing. “If anything was to happen to him, the Hostem were to enter Sirain and retrieve you. He’d equipped the house you lived in with small cameras. We watched when the Morrigan raided your home. My people have been living and dying in Sirain for almost six months looking for you.”

  There’s a knock at the door, and a moment latter Bevan walks in, before being asked to enter.

  “Sorry to interrupt,” Bevan begins, hovering in the doorway, “but it’s almost lights out and I need to get Trea back to the residence.”

  “Of course,” Holunder says, rising from his seat.

  I follow suit.

  “We’ll talk more tomorrow, as I’m sure there’s a lot you may have questions about, but that will come during your time with us. For now, you need plenty of rest.”

  He retreats behind a white door across the room from us.

  The trip back to the housing complex is quiet, as is the ride up the lift. I’m too caught up in the story Holunder has told me. His people dying for me. Risking everything because of one person wanting to keep me safe.

  Safe from what? Why am I so important that all these strangers have risked everything to protect me? What do I still not know?

  CHAPTER 4

  Once inside, Bevan goes into the men’s quarters while I walk into the women’s. It’s just after 2300 according to the clock above the washroom door. On my bed are black shorts and a matching top for sleeping. Other women around me are in various stages of undress, changing into this very same outfit. The material of the clothing is soft, in stark contrast to the uniform. I try to conceal myself by the wall as I change. As I put my uniform back in its drawer, I peek around the corner and see Grainne fast asleep on her bunk.

  “Lights out,” an older woman with waist-long, braided gray hair announces to the room, before turning the knob by her bed.

  Bevan is still awake; lights from his chamber fill in the gaps between the wall and the door frame. It sounds like he’s pacing, perhaps too restless to sleep. A few minutes later, though, his lights are darkened. I lay with my eyes open, staring up at the springs for the bed above my head, which is unoccupied. A name plate on the cupboard corresponding to the bed above makes me wonder if my bunk mate was one we lost.

  This thought keeps me awake. The realization that people who were in this very room may have died trying to find me…to rescue me from Sirain, from how Grainne makes it sound, causes me to shudder.

  Holunder is right. It’s been almost six months since my life drastically changed, and I feel more lost now than ever. So many lies to unravel, truths to seek out, and there probably isn’t enough time to put all the pieces together. I know I’m different than the other Antaeans, but how and why?

  Does Holunder have the answers? Does anyone?

  This feeling of unease won’t subside, and I’m trapped in a metal box with no way to escape. My life feels out of control, yet was I ever really in control of my destiny?

  What plans were meant for my creation? What were the Antaeans really designed for? Why do I matter more than Vier, Lehen, or Kedua? What makes me so damn different?

  An alarm begins to chime over by the old woman’s bed. She reaches up to the knob, illuminating the bed chamber. Everyone begins to wake, some jumping out of their beds, others practically falling out. I hadn’t realized I’d spent all night thinking about what’s transpired. I flip my body around, placing my head at the foot so I can take a look at the clock, which reads 0700. A couple of the women head into the children’s room to tend to their needs, with some of them being rushed into the washroom before they have accidents. There appear to be about twenty children living in that space, none below the age of three.

  Grainne is in a better mood this morning, and bounces over to me, pulling on my hand, wanting to go down to the dining hall and get breakfast. I swing my legs over the side and am in the process of getting up when I catch a middle-aged woman’s eye. Her face in a scowl, obviously displeased with Grainne’s behavior, until I notice it’s not Grainne she’s looking at, but me and my right arm.

  I guess not everyone is happy the Antaeans have arrived.

  Ignoring the woman, I don my outfit and shoes while Grainne does the same. While in the washroom, I pull back what hair I can into a ponytail, the front section falling around my face and into my eyes. We join several others in the lift heading down to eat, a line already forming when we reach ground level.

  The queue moves quickly like it did the night before. Breakfast consists of a small roll, a mixture of chopped fruit, and oatmeal with orange juice. Grainne mixes her fruit into her oatmeal as soon as we sit down, and shovels it in her mouth as fast as possible. She doesn’t touch the roll, but instead places it into a pocket in her pants. I hand her mine after I finish eating, to which she smiles and stuffs it into her other pocket. As we set our trays down onto the shelf, I hear Grainne’s name being called from the entrance.

  A tall dark young man, probably just a few years younger than me, is waving for Grainne to join him.

  “I want to introduce you,” she announces, grabbing my hand and pulling me through the crowds.

  “Grainne,” he says again in a deep voice, “its training day. Go back up to your residence and change your clothes. Meet Mair and Thane in the vehicle hangar. We’ll be leaving down the bridge in an hour.”

  “I was hoping I could spend the day with the children,” Grainne whines. “I haven’t seen them in months.”

  “Do as you’re told, Grainne, that’s an order.” He turns abruptly and retreats before Grainne can introduce me.

  “Who was that?”

  “Piran. He belongs to the Verdant faction. He’s like you and me.”

  She drops my hand and goes back to the lifts to change while I walk over to the medical ward, noticing Jagger has been discharged into the Verdant faction, Keller is still in the critical ward, and Lehen has been moved from critical to observation. The door swings open as I enter and I’m greeted immediately by a medic in a yellow tunic.

  “Trea, how can I assist you today?” the young woman asks, a smile plastered to her gleaming face.

  “I was hoping I could see Lehen.”

  “Of course, come with me.”

  She chauffeurs me to a curtain near the surgical rooms and pushes me inside, making sure to keep the curtain closed for our privacy. Lehen is lying flat on his back, wounds healed with the exception of the flexible metal in his chest and down his legs, both glo
wing bright blue. He rolls his head over, looking sorrowful as he hears me approach.

  “Hi,” I whisper to him, keeping my distance.

  “Hi,” he murmurs back, eyes locked onto me.

  “How are you?”

  “I’ve been better,” he states with a half-smile. “We made it to Tartarus, I guess.” He pushes a button on the side of his arm rest, raising the back of his head a few degrees. “How’s Jagger?”

  “I haven’t seen him since we arrived. He’s been released, but I don’t know where he is.” I take a few steps closer to the bed, standing up against the rail that separates the two of us. “I’m sorry.”

  “For what? You didn’t do this to me. I blame Vladim or whoever Acheron’s new High Ruler is. They put the mortars in the ground. I would’ve thought they were detonators too. They looked like detonators.” Lehen begins to drift off, eyes closing, then quickly reopening. “Sorry, my body is still trying to get rid of whatever Braxton gave me to sleep.”

  “Did someone say my name,” Braxton utters, poking his head around the curtain, wearing a Tartarus uniform with a red tunic. He steps inside, gives me a hug, and gently pats Lehen on the hand. “How are you doing?”

  “I’m ready to get out of here, that’s for sure.”

  “Not for at least another day or two. The medics want to make sure you’re fully healed and have one hundred percent mobility before placing you into one of these lovely outfits.” Braxton gestures to his and mine, laughing, which brings a much-needed smile to Lehen’s face. “I actually came looking for Trea. Holunder wants to see you.”

  I squeeze Lehen’s hand and exit the ward with Braxton. Once we’re in the main building we take the stairs up to the vehicle hangar, and then the lift up to the third level. I get off the elevator, but Braxton stays.

  “Go wait outside the doors over there,” he says, pointing towards a set of partially closed doors on the other side of the room. “Holunder will call you when he’s ready.”