The Arliss

by Ann Bakshis

  “What about those?” I ask, pointing to silver suits hanging from hooks.

  “That’s our hazmat gear, in case anyone was thinking of exposing us to a lethal amount of radiation.” Again he pauses and stares at me, but I don’t respond.

  This kind of treatment is going to get old real fast.

  We step to the control panel near some conveyors at the center of the room. Grimm enters a sequence of numbers for the left conveyor and a few moments later it rises, carrying two guns and several clips of ammunition. He takes one of the survival packs, slipping the clips inside before placing it on his back.

  “What’s this other conveyor for?”

  Grimm glances back at me. “Medical supplies, but we won’t be needing any since we won’t be going outside. Or, should I say, I’m not going to go outside. If you bolt again, you’re on your own. I’m not crazy like Wavern.”

  I want to snap back at him but my brain is coming up empty, so instead I roll my eyes.

  We enter the tunnel that’ll take us to the control center, then once we’re inside we make a quick left and head down another long, dank hallway. This one is void of the plasma screens that display the Daily Slate, which makes the passageway even darker and more ominous. We come to an intersection with another tunnel that links the decon chamber to the medical ward. I’m surprised I didn’t notice the intersection the other day when Wavern was taking me back, but I guess I was too focused on the plasma screens to really notice. The floor has a sharp upward slant, forcing us to climb, thankfully not at a steep angle. After twenty minutes, we finally emerge into a vast hangar-like structure filled with vehicle parts, a few mechanics, and the smell of oil. The ceiling goes up at least five stories, with heavy iron doors blocking each end from the harsh climate outside. There are four large transports and two four-seater ATVs sitting on individual pads scattered about the concrete floor. As I glance around, I notice that two pads are empty. The place is dirty, poorly lit, and smells like popcorn.

  “What’s with the odor?” I ask when Grimm stops in the center of the floor.

  “Because all our natural resources were obliterated in the war, we’ve had to get creative. We use plant byproducts from the hydroponics bay to create the fuel needed to run these things. It’s a sweet-smelling substance that works, but can give you an awful headache if you’re around it all day.”

  I follow him over to one of the four-seater ATVs along the back wall. He goes to a key rack, removes a set, and then gestures for me to get into the passenger side. Since there aren’t any doors, I just simply climb in. Once we’re in motion, we head for the massive iron door on our left, but just before we hit it Grimm veers to the right and we plunge down a steep tunnel for several minutes before finally leveling off on a two-lane road cut into the tunnel below the surface. Lights are secured in the rock walls and ceiling. There are heavily encased fans every few feet over our heads, probably to vent the exhaust from the vehicles.

  “Where are we going?” I finally ask after ten minutes of silence.

  “Demos—or the Factory, to be more specific,” Grimm answers without taking his eyes off the road.

  “How long will it take us to get there?”

  “Almost two and a half hours,” he replies.

  “How far away is it?”

  “About one-hundred-and-seventy-five miles west of here. Why, did you think it was closer? Rinku is the outermost compound. We were designed to protect the Aslu Territory, for all the good that did.”

  “And the other two compounds? Where are they?”

  “Other side of the Nove Mountain range in the Ulun Territory. They’re a ten-minute and thirty-minute trek to Demos, respectively.”

  “But Virtus was destroyed, wasn’t it? Leaving just the one compound?”

  “Just Quarn, yes. It’s the only one that’s still inhabited.”

  “Cody told me what happened in Virtus.”

  Grimm’s manner grows dark as he furrows his brow. “Did he now? And what exactly did he say?”

  I quickly debate what to admit to Grimm. “He said there was an explosion in the hydroponics bay. Many were killed and only thirty survivors. He told me you were one of them.”

  Grimm doesn’t respond.

  “Where in the compound were you when everything happened?”

  “Why?” he asks, becoming guarded.

  “I’m just curious.”

  He slams on the brakes. Thankfully I’d strapped myself into the seat, because at the speed we’re going I would’ve gone through the windshield otherwise. “What exactly did Cody tell you?”

  “Only that he was in the kitchen when it happened.”

  “He didn’t mention anything about his crackpot idea that the explosion initiated from one of the levels below the control center?”

  “No,” I say, lying. “Why? Do you believe it happened under the control center?”

  Grimm presses the accelerator, shooting us down the pavement. “I wouldn’t know. I was heading back from Demos when it happened. I was only a few miles away when the explosion ripped everything to hell. Luckily the tunnel didn’t collapse, otherwise I wouldn’t be here.”

  “Then how’d you get the scar on your arm?”

  He glares at me for a few moments, then turns his attention back to the road. “From pulling Cody out of what was left of the kitchen.”

  “He’s lying,” a voice whispers in my head, but I can’t tell if it’s the Arliss’ or my own. “He doesn’t believe it happened in the hydroponics bay either. You should push him on the topic.”

  I ignore the voice and try to get a look at Grimm’s left wrist, since he doesn’t have it covered. I can’t see the image clearly, but there’s definitely something there.

  “Keegan told me you have an interesting mark on your left wrist,” I say.

  “Yeah, so? You knew that. It’s no secret.”

  “What is it?”

  “Why?”

  “Does it look anything like this?” I ask, pulling off the wristband and showing him the tattoo.

  Again, he slams on the brakes, this time to seize my hand and examine the spider. He sets his left arm next to mine to compare the two. The images are almost identical, except mine is black whereas his has no coloring at all. His looks more like a branding than a tattoo.

  “Where’d you get it?” he asks, his eyes transfixed on the mark.

  “I don’t know,” I respond as I pull my arm away and slip the wristband back on. “I came back from Lymont with it. Where’d you get yours?”

  “It was branded on me when I was a kid. Some asshole thought it’d be funny to scar me with the Nathair mark.”

  “What an interesting development. I must know more,” the Arliss hisses in my head.

  “Who are the Nathair?”

  “They were a group of men and women who thought bringing an ancient creature back to life would save the world as it was on the verge of dying. Instead, they brought nothing but death and destruction to millions. Anyone caught with the Nathair symbol was subject to execution while the war raged on. When it was over the mark was banned, but by then all the Nathair were dead as was the creature they brought to life. The fucker who branded me with the mark thought it would be hilarious to scar me as a traitor for life.”

  “Who was it?”

  Grimm hesitates in responding, so I have to keep prodding him for the answer.

  “It was Keegan,” he finally blurts out.

  “Seriously?” I ask, stunned.

  “Yes, seriously,” Grimm says heatedly. “I told you the guy is an asshole.”

  “Did he get into trouble for it?”

  “Of course not,” Grimm answers with resentment.

  “How come?”

  “His family was held in high regard before the war, so it translated over even after it had ended. I think the notoriety has gone to his head. He thinks he can get away with anything,” Grimm says angrily. “And I bet your husband blames me for your tattoo.”

  “Wh
at makes you think that?”

  “Because he’s a jealous fucker,” Grimm says, jerking the vehicle forward. “He won’t care how this mark wound up on your body. He’ll attribute it to me anyway because he’s under the delusion that I’m trying to steal you away from him. He’ll look at it as an act of revenge for when he branded me. I swear that guy is going to wind up with my fist down his throat one day. I still can’t understand what you see in him.”

  I now remember why I married Keegan, but decide to keep my mouth shut. I don’t need to be in another argument if I can avoid it—especially with someone I care about. My relationship with Grimm is starting to rise to the surface, which is making me both anxious and uncomfortable, so we ride the remainder of the way in silence. I fill the time by trying to determine how to locate the others for the Arliss, which is going to be difficult because I don’t even know how many people I’m looking for.

  I wonder if Grimm is one of them, but I doubt it since Keegan marked him and not the Arliss. The tattoo must be a way for us to identify each other. I’m not sure what he wants with them, or even me exactly, yet I feel if I don’t do this I’ll get pulled back into his nest for more torment and pain. I know the woman from the Factory commercial is one, and it’s fortunate that we’re heading there now, but….

  “Why are we going to the Factory?” I ask.

  “To get provisions for tomorrow’s memorial,” Grimm responds, his voice much calmer now.

  “How come it’s just the two of us?”

  “I sent the rest of the squad ahead right before I came and got you. They’re in two large transports, so they can move everything around. As I’m just carting you, I don’t need such a big vehicle.”

  We finally begin to ascend, albeit gradually, when a low rumble catches my attention. The closer we move towards the sound, the louder it gets and changes in pitch.

  “What is that?” I ask.

  “That, my dear, is the Occlyn Ring. It’s housed inside the mountain and spins continuously to provide the force field Demos requires. All tunnels were dug underneath it since you can’t actually penetrate the ring itself.”

  Surprisingly, the ring isn’t shaking the tunnel even though it’s almost deafening when we drive right under it. The road rises again about twenty feet later and leads us into another hangar, which has an assortment of parking pads with only a few vehicles on them. Grimm stops along the wall closest to a pair of tall sliding glass doors that appear to lead to a city full of color, light, and smiling faces. I follow him through the doors and into the warm, welcoming atmosphere.

  The air in Demos smells clean and fresh, a pleasant change from Rinku’s. The walkway is made up of tightly-packed stone pavers and is at least the same width as the road in the tunnel. On either side of us are lofty structures constructed of glass, stone, and steel, rising nearly to the top of the force field, which shimmers in blue against the reddish sky. Some of the buildings have balconies, while others have wide terraces, each ornately decorated. Grimm tells me as we make our way down the road that they’re the apartments for the citizens of Demos. As we pass them I notice pebbled paths weaving around the buildings, linking them together in a sort of labyrinth, which extends deeply on either side of the road.

  It takes several minutes for us to reach the city’s center, which consists of an open-air plaza around a massive pool with a very elaborate fountain in the middle. I pause to take in the sights as Grimm continues walking.

  There are five roads extending out from the center, making the layout of the city resemble that of a tire, with the roads being the spokes. To the left of the pool is an area dedicated to what look to be educational buildings, hospitals, government offices, and maintenance bays. To the right of that are groups of shops in various styles and colors, all leading towards a tall wooden structure that looks out of place in the city. To the right of the pool is an entire area filled with parks and reflecting ponds. I can’t help but stare as families gather on the grass and children play nearby.

  “Oh, what paradise,” the Arliss whispers. “Such beautiful creatures. Alas, their fate has already been determined, and not by me I might add.”

  “Hurry up,” Grimm says, coming back to retrieve me.

  He grabs my arm and drags me away from the splendor. We round the pool and continue straight ahead, down the road with the shops. Grimm stops at the entrance to the odd-looking building. The structure looks to be haphazardly constructed, almost like segments have been added on to it over the years. The exterior is covered in dark wood shingles, and as we make our way through the double doors I notice the interior wall coverings are made up of the same material. The furnishings, however, are constructed of polished wood and wrought iron, giving the place a rustic atmosphere.

  We stop at a counter which blocks us from getting further inside, as wrought iron rails obstruct the lone aisle in. An older man in a white suit smiles when we approach. His teeth are perfectly straight, his salt and pepper hair is cut short along the temples, and his posture is impeccable. I feel like a hunchback compared to him.

  “How may I assist you, Grimm?” the man asks, placing his hands on the counter, palms down.

  “I was checking where we are with the provisions for tomorrow. My squad should’ve arrived a bit ago to collect them,” Grimm replies, sounding very authoritative.

  “The items are almost finished being assembled below. Your squad is by the back exit, waiting. It shouldn’t be too much longer.”

  Grimm smiles, but he seems tense. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to have a look around to see if there’s anything additional we may need for the compounds and the plaza.”

  “Of course,” the man says as he reaches for a latch, which unhinges a gate to our right. “Just let our employees know if you find anything else you may need.”

  Grimm pushes me gently through the gate, as I’m too entranced by the odd smile the man is providing. He looks stoned, yet appears to have all his faculties. I find him somewhat unpleasant and the whole encounter disturbing, but I don’t know why. Grimm guides me a little deeper into the shop before finally letting me go.

  “Don’t touch anything,” he says, waving a finger in my face. “I need to go check in with my squad, but I’ll be back momentarily. You can look around, but don’t wander from the main floor. I don’t want to spend the rest of my day hunting for you in this maze.” He disappears into the racks of food stuffs.

  I feel as if I’m being treated like a child and bullied into obeying orders. I shake my head and decide to take a look around while I have the chance.

  The place is crammed with shelves of varying sizes and heights, all housing something different. The entire main floor is dedicated to food stuffs, so there isn’t much to see. In the center are two elevators, along with two spiral staircases leading upward. I look up, noticing the center of the building has no ceiling, and I can see a vast second level. The stairs and elevators are made of the same polished wood as the shelving units, but the elevators have wrought-iron gates for their entrances. I know Grimm said to stay on the main floor, but I want to see what the rest of the establishment looks like, so I head up one of the staircases.

  The second floor is cluttered with just about anything you could want. Colorful trinkets dangle from wires hooked into the vaulted ceiling. Glass ornaments hang precariously over the opening to the main floor. I have to constantly watch where I’m putting my feet since the floor is severely uneven. I catch glimpses of other people milling about the area, all with their hands behind their backs as if not to tempt themselves into touching something. A young man in white quickly approaches me when I reach the furniture section of the floor.

  “Looking for anything in particular, Sara?” he asks in a very jovial tone, giving off the same creepy vibe as the greeter downstairs.

  “No, thank you,” I respond, startled by the fact this man knows my name. “I’m just waiting for a friend.”

  “Ah, I see. Well, may I suggest that while you’re waiti
ng you might perhaps be interested in the party decorations and supplies we carry for the memorial. They’re located in the back-right corner on the main floor,” he says, smiling.

  “Um, sure, I’ll go take a look.”

  He stays in his spot, staring at me while I hurry over to one of the staircases in order to get away from him and his disturbing manner. Once I’m back on the main floor, I turn left and enter the party section. Only I wouldn’t say the items here are suitable for a party. Black and dark blue streamers dangle down from the shelving units, which are stocked with plates, cups, wreaths and garlands, memorial plaques that you can write on, hand-painted wooden tombstones, dolls with crosses as eyes, and paper lanterns that have a mushroom cloud etched on their sides. The whole display is morbid and unsettling.

  I turn my back to it and begin to go towards the front of the store, when a tall, dark-skinned man blocks my path. His features are hidden by a thick, heavy hood, but when he looks down at me I catch a glimpse of his face, which seems somehow familiar. My mind races to place a name with the face as he abruptly turns and walks quickly to the rear of the store.

  It can’t be him, I think to myself. That can’t be Tennison. He died when Virtus was destroyed.

  I start to follow the man, when a woman with strawberry-blond hair and wearing an orange dress catches my eye. She’s heading deeper into the party supplies section. I hesitate to follow her, but something tells me I need to. She changes direction when she notices me and begins moving towards the front of the store. I continue to follow her, but at a greater distance. The bracelets on her arms chime with every step, as if calling to me. We’re almost to the counter when she doubles back to the stairs. When I get closer she stops, turns, and smiles at me.