by Ann Bakshis
I’m jarred awake when I hit the bottom in my dream. I have no idea what time it is, or even if it’s still the same day. I try to shake off the discomfort I feel from the images that plague my mind. I use the facilities, but when I exit the small room next to the shower Wavern is standing at the foot of my bed.
“Andra has approved your release, so I’m going to escort you to your room in the barracks,” he says, then gestures for me to follow him.
“Where’s Keegan?”
“He’s in the one of the lookouts. You’ll see him when his shift is over.”
We leave the isolation room and head left. Our progress is stalled by a thick glass wall between us and another section of the medical ward. Wavern goes over to the wall and places his palm on an imager, just like the one used to enter the compound. The glass doors part, allowing us passage. This half of the ward is similar to the one we just exited, except the rooms here have curtains blocking their entrances instead of glass doors. The hallway between the ward and the barracks is a small one. We move from smooth, cool stone floors to skin-biting metal grating. The entire floor is covered in it, so it makes walking barefoot extremely difficult.
We round the corner and are greeted by an elongated section that houses sets of metal stairs in the middle of the floor, which go to the levels below. Showers, bathrooms, and locker rooms for men and a separate one for women take up the sides of the floor, and two individual tunnels lay at the far end. They look vaguely familiar, but I can’t remember where each one goes. Wavern takes me down the length of the section, explaining that the tunnel on the right goes to the mess hall while the tunnel on the left heads towards the rec room. Andra has her personal quarters on this floor, right between the tunnel for the rec room and the women’s locker room. We go back around then head down the stairs. The level below is identical to the one above, but the lighting here isn’t as bright.
“Most of the other squads are in for the night, so we minimize the lighting to save on power,” Wavern says. “There are ten decks in the barracks. This deck houses the quarters for Squads One through Eight. Currently there are only two hundred residents in the compound, but the barracks was built to hold approximately five thousand.”
“How many people per squad?”
“Twenty at the moment. I had the rest of our squad stay behind when we went searching for you because they still had a job to perform. Our squad is back here.” He gestures towards the far-right corner. I glance around the area and notice that each door is labeled with the squad number and the name of the leader. “However, you and Keegan are down here.”
We descend to the next deck. The lighting is still minimal and the grate-style floor has followed us, but there are only six quarters on this level.
“Every third level has laundry facilities, which are over there,” he says, pointing to the section of doors behind us. “Squads Nine and Ten, along with you and Keegan, are the only ones down here. We have family housing on this floor, which are located in the corners. You and Keegan are the only married couple in the compound, so you have one of the family quarters.”
I take another look through the grating, but this time it’s blocked off. The stairs are even cut off in the middle of their descent. I can’t tell what type of substance is covering the deck below, but it looks to have been there for some time as a thin coating of dust covers the top.
“What’s that?” I ask, pointing to it.
“We keep the empty decks closed off to preserve power and life support. If we ever needed to expand, the seal can be easily removed.”
He taps my shoulder and guides me to a door in the back right corner. He turns the knob easily and I’m surprised that it’s not locked. I ask him if any of the doors lock and he replies no, except for the isolation rooms in the medical ward, and Andra’s apartment. The family quarters is by no means large, but it’s adequate for a family of four. We enter the living room, which is furnished with several couches, a coffee table, and floor lamps that all sit on heavily scratched wood flooring. Against the wall by the door is a long plasma screen, similar to the one I saw in the tunnel on our way to the medical ward, only this one is in a horizontal position. The screen is divided the same way as the others but Wavern tells me that I can change the channel on this one, which you can’t do with the others. On the left behind the living room is one of two bedrooms. In between them sits a small bathroom with a toilet, sink, and tub. There aren’t any closets to be found, but there are a number of wall-mounted lockers.
I can tell from the items in the room on the left that it’s the master bedroom. A queen-sized bed sits against the center of the far wall, flanked on either side by end tables topped with small lamps. A six-drawer dresser is opposite the lockers. There seem to be very few personal items, but the few there are in the room have been lovingly affixed to the wall or placed on top of the dresser. A lone picture sits on one of the end tables. I pick up the flimsy frame and study the image. It looks to have been taken when Keegan and I got married. A long banner hangs in the background, congratulating us on our nuptials.
“Keegan will be in the lookout until oh-six-hundred hours. You can visit the mess hall and the rec room, but for now that’s as far as Andra wants you to go. Breakfast is served at oh-four-hundred hours. I would suggest getting to the mess hall early, otherwise you’ll get stuck with the remnants, which are usually cold,” Wavern says as we make our way back into the living room.
“What if I need to get a hold of someone? I don’t see any communication devices.”
“They’re not in the quarters, but there is one per deck in the barracks as well as in the mess hall, rec room, control center, medical ward, and each lookout. You just need to pick up the receiver and hold down the white button to make an announcement over the universal paging system. There’s a panel alongside the receiver that allows you to call a specific location if you want. That way it’s not broadcast to the whole compound. Now, is there anything else you need?”
I shake my head.
“Then I’ll see you later in the day.”
He gently closes the door behind him, leaving me in partial darkness since we’d only turned on a couple of the lights. I return to the bedroom and rummage through the lockers, trying to determine which one is mine. When I find it, I change out of my white hospital garb and into khaki pants, gray cotton socks, and a black shirt. My boots, still with the blood spatter on them, sit at the bottom of my locker. I don’t feel like venturing out at the moment, so I leave them there. I hop into the bathroom to quickly work out the knots in my hair before returning to the living room. I feel a little chilled as I try to get comfortable on the plush couch, so I pull the blanket off the back and wrap myself in it.
I glance at the screen, finally noticing the time, which is twenty-three-fourteen. The current temperature outside is sixty-five degrees, with heavy rains expected to begin in the next hour. Below that is the list of squadrons and their current posts. Two, Four, and Eight are the only ones scheduled at the moment for various tasks throughout the compound. The others are off duty. The bottom portion of the screen shows that it’s eighty degrees in Demos, with no rain predicted. No events scheduled for today flashes beneath the temperature.
I reach for the remote, which almost blends in with the coffee table because of its clear design. It’s thin, extremely lightweight, and I only need to roll my finger over one of the sides to change the channel. The other side operates the volume. I’m not sure how many channel selections I have, so I go through them all until I come back to the main screen. Luckily, there are only a handful. Most of them are showing children’s shows such as cartoons or puppet programs. I finally settle on a talk show, but unfortunately I don’t understand anything the two people are discussing. They seem more focused on throwing insults at each other than having a true discussion. I’m in the midst of dozing off when alert chimes bring me around.
“When was the last time you were at the Factory?” a young woman in orange gently
says as she mugs for the camera. Her strawberry-blond hair hangs loosely around her bare shoulders as she works on selling her wares. “We have new items every day and can fill all your supply needs whether you live in Demos or one of the compounds.”
The camera slowly backs away, elongating her figure. The outfit she has on is a sleeveless dress that flows around her ankles, with slits up both sides, exposing her thighs and almost her hips as well. Her arms are covered in gold bracelets, from her wrists to her elbows. She looks about my age, and has perfectly tanned skin—whereas I’m pale from lack of sunlight.
She also has an air of familiarity about her.
“Do you have everything you need for the upcoming memorial?” she continues, even though I’ve lost interest and am about to change the channel.
My eye catches something on her left wrist. The bracelets have slipped slightly since she’s holding up a menu to select catering options for the memorial. I sit up and move closer to the screen to study the image since it’s so small. From what I can see of the tattoo it’s identical to mine.
“You only have a few days, so get over to the Factory before it’s too late,” the woman says with a smile.
I feel her comment is aimed at me.
She has to be the one I saw in that dream. There’s too much of a coincidence to think otherwise. Who is she and why does she have the tattoo? I eagerly wait for the commercial to air again, but it doesn’t. I want another look at the woman’s face, so I can memorize it since the only thing my mind captured was the spider tattoo. I flip through the different channels, hoping to catch the commercial again, but I don’t. I grow tired and anxious sitting on the couch doing nothing, so I go into the bedroom, put on my boots, slip on another set of leather wristbands, and head out. I don’t want people asking about the tattoo as I’m not supposed to have it, and covering it up with the wristbands will prevent that. I know I’m restricted to visiting only two areas but staying in my quarters isn’t making me feel any better.
Once I’m on the top deck, I take the tunnel leading to the rec room. It’s about half the size of the medical ward with a large sectional couch, a pool table, bar, and three dartboards stationed at the back. Two plasma screens displaying the Daily Slate are hanging from opposite walls, so they can be seen no matter where in the room you’re standing. The couch faces a portion of the wall that’s covered with what looks like a white linen sheet, which is pulled tight along its edges and is currently showing an old-style movie that’s being projected onto it from a device dangling from the ceiling a couple of feet away. Only a few people occupy the space and are mainly on the couch watching the movie. I stroll over to one of the dartboards, extract several darts, then go to the mark on the floor indicating where you need to stand when throwing.
I’m not sure why I choose to play, but it seems like something that’ll keep both my mind and body occupied. It takes me a couple of rounds before my first dart actually makes contact with the board. My arm is sore an hour later, but I keep playing. I want the distraction even though my mind has started to wander. All I can think about is the spider tattoo and the remains in Lymont.
The two have to fit together somehow. I’m here, yet dead at the same time, which is an impossibility. Will I ever find the answers? Should I even go looking for them to begin with? The faster the questions pop into my head, the harder I throw the darts. I hurl one so fast and hard that it hits the bullseye dead on, but when I go to retrieve it I notice it’s sunk into the board’s wooden backing a good inch or two. I don’t think I have the strength to do that, but somehow I managed it.
“Hey!” someone from behind me shouts.
I ignore him until he calls me by name.
“You all right, Sara?” the man asks as he cautiously approaches.
“I just… I’m… yes, I’m fine.”
The man looks to be around Keegan’s age, but a little taller and with bigger muscles. He resembles the person I saw in the one photo back in the medical ward. His clothing is the same as mine. I think that’s all we have to wear down here—drab military fatigues. His dark hair is cut extremely close to the scalp and he has a massive scar running down the length of his right arm. He stops inches from me, but keeps his hands behind his back even though I sense he wants to reach out and touch me.
“You don’t look fine,” he says. “Let me get you a drink.”
He goes over to the bar, pulls out a tall thin bottle, and pours its contents into two shot glasses. I join him and swallow the liquid before he has a chance to claim his drink. I refill the glass, but after the fourth drink I start to feel lightheaded.
“You’ve never been very good at holding your liquor,” the man says, taking the glass away from me before I can fill it again.
“Then I need more practice,” I respond, reaching for it.
“Yeah, I let you get drunk and Keegan will have my head.” The man gently shoves me down onto one of the fabric-covered barstools, then proceeds to pour himself another drink.
“He’s working, so he’ll never find out.”
“Wow, Sara, deceiving your husband? That’s not like you,” he says, chuckling.
“I’m not the same person,” I snap back.
“So we’ve heard.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask, my temper rising.
“That you have no real memories because of the bomb blast. Or at least that’s what they’re telling us,” he answers, setting his glass down and leaning against the bar.
“You don’t believe it?” I ask.
“Now, I didn’t say that—”
“But you implied it,” I interrupt.
“It seems like your near-death experience has made you testy,” he says with a smile and a wink. “I’ve missed that in you.”
“Who the hell are you?” I ask, sliding down from the stool.
“Grimm Thomas. I’m the leader of Squad Two.” He holds out his grease-stained hand for me to shake, but I only stare at it. He pulls it back when he realizes I’m not going to touch it, which causes him to shudder slightly. “Has Keegan realized how much you’ve changed?” he asks, his tone cold.
“How have I changed?”
“You used to be fun, easy to tease, and always had a smile on your face. We would harass each other to no end, but laugh about it. It’s like your whole personality has been altered. You’re coming off as rigid, which isn’t like you.”
“Maybe I’m still in shock from the blast,” I say, feeling defensive.
He pours another drink and swallows it in one gulp. “Yeah, let’s go with that. I’ll see you later.” He doesn’t look at me when he leaves, but I follow his departure.
I wish there was a way I could recall what I was like before I came to in the rubble. Am I really that different? I need answers and quickly.
Screw Andra’s rules.
I exit the rec room through the tunnel next to the dartboards, enter what looks to be the mess hall, and wind my way around the many tables until I reach another tunnel that empties into a vast room. The walls and floors are covered in metal grating, with four large consoles spread over the space, two long conference tables on either side of a large central station, a communication console in front of that, and seven exits along the back wall. Each station is occupied, but the only faces I recognize are Cody’s and Wavern’s. The latter looks startled when he notices me. He climbs down from the large center station and waves those staring at me back to work.
“Sara, you can’t be in here,” he says, putting his hand on my back and trying to turn me around.
“I need answers,” I respond without moving. “I want to talk to Keegan.”
“You can’t right now. He’s in one of the lookouts and can’t come down until the next rotation.”
“Please, Wavern, I can’t stay cooped up in that apartment. Let me go outside. Maybe back to Lymont so I can take another look around. Maybe we missed something.”
“You know very well that I can’t let you do that. Th
e Mulgrim will be hiding in our tunnel to avoid the acid rain that’s falling, which will burn clear down to your bones if you stay in it too long.” I simply continue to stand there, waiting. He can tell I’m not going to let up so he calls for Cody, who’s sitting at one of the back consoles. “Cody, take Sara into the mess hall. She needs some company and you’re the only one I can spare at the moment. Keep her in there until breakfast, then I’ll send Keegan down.”
“Sure, Wavern,” Cody responds, shrugging his shoulders.
The two of us head into the mess hall and take seats in the far corner of the room. Cody is the last person I want to talk to because he’s the youngest of everyone and I’m not sure how well he knows me. Keegan would be better as he’s my husband, so I’m not sure why Wavern is suddenly concerned with him staying in the lookout. He had all those in the lookouts leave to go searching for me, so why the change? Maybe Andra reprimanded him for the action and now Wavern is being overly cautious.
“What do you want to talk about?” Cody asks, placing his hands in his lap after we’ve sat down. He seems a little nervous, but I can’t figure out why.
“How long have you known me?”
“A few months, why?”
“What was I like before the other day?”
“Fun, sarcastic, always smiling. Quick-witted, dependable, scary smart.”
“Have I been known to lose my temper or get frustrated easily?”
“No, not really. It would usually take a lot to get you pissed off. As for the frustration, I’ve never actually seen it. I only know that you won’t give up on anything until you’ve learned it or fixed it. You’re tenacious. Why, did someone say something?”
