Looper

by Ann Bakshis

  The only thing left to do on the press machines is to work on the ink injectors for the second unit. They’re not as clogged as the first one, so it doesn’t take me as long to clean them. Brink doesn’t come out to assist, but he did most of the work yesterday, so I’m not mad that he’s not here. I’m looking for a wrench in my shop when the back gate opens. Six Aedox with heavy rifles march through the grove, heading towards the back of the house. I tuck myself deeper, trying to stay out of their line of sight. The kitchen woman opens the door, almost like she is expecting them. Shouts from inside seep out into the cold still air. Brink is thrown out the door, landing hard below the steps.

  “Where is she?” one of the Aedox screams at him, kicking Brink in the ribs as he speaks.

  “I told you, I don’t know,” Brink says, curling up slightly, trying to protect himself.

  The Aedox points to two others and they begin to tear apart the grove. Brink is being pulled to his feet, shackles placed around his wrists. The gate squeaks as Vernon walks in. His face is one of shock. The Aedox that was questioning Brink marches over to the elderly man, grabs him by the shoulder, and shoves Vernon to his knees.

  “Caretaker,” the Aedox calls Vernon, “Where is the orphan known as Max?”

  “I haven’t seen her, sir,” Vernon replies, pain creasing his face. “This is my first visit of the day. Have you checked inside?”

  The Aedox takes his rifle and hits Vernon across the face with the grip, breaking his nose. “Don’t get smart, Caretaker, or you will share the same fate as her.”

  What the hell did I do? I’ve been obedient, serving, and quiet. Why are they looking for me?

  I catch Vernon looking in my general direction. The Aedox follows his gaze, spotting me amongst the scraps. I bolt up, but my shoe catches on a loose nail in the floor preventing me from escaping. I fight with the Aedox when they try to touch me, but it’s not a smart move. I’m hit in the back, knocking the wind out of my lungs, then shackled and marched towards the back door of the house. I’m shoved through it, Brink behind me, and we’re escorted to the foyer. Everyone has gathered in the common room to see what the commotion is about. None of the staff ask questions about our arrest, they simply open the front door, allowing the Aedox to take us.

  Three

  Two carriages await us in the middle of the brick paved street. Brink and I are placed in the back of the first car, two Aedox will be in the front. Since the carriages can only carry four people, the remainder of the Aedox have to get into the second car. Before we leave, our shackles are secured to bolts in the floor, and blindfolds placed over our heads. I feel the car sway as the two Aedox climb in front and we begin to move. There aren’t any windows or protective covers for the openings, so we’re exposed to the elements. The cold air stings our faces as we travel.

  The journey seems never-ending. I can tell we’re passing by smelting factories, rubber mills, and sewage plants by the smells. They are at times overpowering, causing my head to hurt and my nostrils to burn. We swing through a loop, manageable only because we’re practically sideways, then straighten out again. We slow, but don’t stop. Clanking noises are over our heads as the carriage jerks violently up and down. The ride becomes smoother once the noises stop. The air is a little warmer and I now smell pleasant aromas. The car stops, our blindfolds are removed, and our shackles detached from our wrists. The room we’re in is vast, well lit, and smells of balsam and cedar. Carriages line the wall along the side. Many have fancy scroll marks along the doors. The mark of the Head Master.

  “This way,” one of the Aedox says to us, pointing towards a stone archway with a staircase behind it.

  We follow them, my heart pounding heavily in my chest. I glance at Brink, sweat covering his brow, hair wet at the base of his neck. We exit into a large entryway. Clunky chandeliers dangle precariously from the ceiling. We’re lead across the hall to a study paneled in dark wood, heavy maroon colored carpeting pushed up to the baseboards, and a stone fireplace resting in the middle of the far wall. The room is furnished in copious amounts of ratty furniture that must have once been glamorous in its time.

  “Wait outside,” a tall man in cotton pants and a bulky dark red robe says. His back is to us, watching a large display attached above the fireplace. It’s not The Litarian Battles, but rather a news program. I guess it’s the kind of thing only viewable by those in the government.

  Once the doors are closed, he turns to us, a glass tumbler in his hand filled with a dark liquid. He takes small steps forward, sizing us up as he moves. It’s been a while since I last saw the Head Master, and he hasn’t aged well. His thick gray mane has thinned. His once fit and muscular frame is now frail. His skin feels rough when he touches my face. I try and pull away, but he grabs me around the neck.

  “What trouble you’ve been, Max,” Edom says, practically spitting in my face.

  “I haven’t done anything,” I protest. “What the hell is wrong with everyone?”

  He removes his hand and slaps me hard across the face. “Don’t you dare talk to me like that. I could have the Aedox remove you to be tortured if I so desired.” He steps backwards, almost tripping over his own feet. “I do have a reason for bringing you two here.” He gestures for us to have a seat on one of the couches. He sits across from us, placing his glass on the table between us. “You’ve been selected by Tarsus to participate in The Litarian Battles.”

  “What?” I practically shout.

  “Really?” Brink says, cheering up slightly.

  “You will be transported there tomorrow morning, after my staff gets you two properly scrubbed and presentable.”

  “You can’t be serious?” I say. “They already drew the two from the Outer Limits a couple of days ago. Why would they do it again?”

  “Since the government has implemented a change to The Litarian Battles, they need more participants.”

  “You mean those that are disposable,” Brink adds.

  “You aren’t the only ones from the Outer Limits going,” Edom responds, picking up his drink. “Some of those in the second-level housing will be joining you.”

  “I’m not of age,” I voice.

  “It doesn’t matter, Max, you were selected, so you don’t have a choice.” He presses a button on the table and the Aedox return. We’re grabbed, practically yanked out of our seats. We’re almost out the door when Edom stops the Aedox. “It’s best if you don’t act out. The government has made it clear that anyone who purposefully undermines any segment of The Litarian Battles will be formally executed on live television.”

  The door closes as Brink and I are escorted up two different flights of stairs located in the entryway. Three Aedox take me up to the first landing, down a lavish hall, and to a room on the left. I’m shoved inside and the door locked behind me. The door is too thick to try and break, unlike the doors at the orphanage. I walk over to the four-poster bed that sits in the middle of the room, and collapse. I’m uncomfortable in such lavish surroundings. How can so much opulence be allowed to the Head Master, but not the rest of us? As I look closer at the furnishings, the bedspread and curtains, however, I notice that the lavish is decaying. Everything’s old, chipped, faded, and raggedy. Almost like the carriages when they come to the grove for repair.

  I close my eyes, trying to figure out what to do. A sharp noise causes me to bolt upright. Three woman, around the age of sixty, enter from a secondary door on the right. They escort me into a large bathroom, complete with sunken tub. For the next hour, they scrub me until I’m raw. I shy away from their grasps, but they’re surprisingly quick and strong. As soon as I’m dry, they dress me in satin pajamas, have me brush my teeth, and send me off to bed. The mattress is lumpy, but it’s still better than the one at the orphanage.

  I pull the thick bedspread as far over my head as possible, trying to hide myself from the world. I wish I knew why I was chosen. I know the government monitors us daily, but why pick me? Nothing will get done at the orphanage now, w
hich means the Aedox will be raiding the building frequently, torturing those inside till work resumes. Okay, that last part I don’t feel so bad about. Maybe it’ll do them good. They’re nothing but lazy asses anyway.

  My door unlocks in what seems like minutes later, but from the light creeping in around the heavy curtains it’s morning. The three women pull me from bed, brush my hair, and clean the crap that was missed from under my nails. One woman hands me an outfit, telling me an Aedox will be by shortly to escort me down to the dining room. They leave, locking the door. Undergarments are hidden under the hanger carrying the clothes. I put those on first, followed by the brown leather pants, black tank top, brown leather jacket, black socks, and knee high brown leather boots. A mirror hangs by the door, so I glance at myself, struck by my high cheekbones and thick lips. I had never really looked at myself like this before since there aren’t any mirrors in the orphanage. They say that would lead to vanity.

  The door opens a few minutes later and I’m taken from my room, down the stairs, and to a room across the hall from the study. In the center is a long table, five seats along each side, with one at the head. I take the only unoccupied chair next to Brink, with Edom seated at the head. We’re served scrambled eggs, bacon, fruit, and orange juice. It tastes just like the food at the orphanage, so I guess having luxuries only goes so far. We eat in silence, all too probably nervous or scared to speak. Once the meal has been eaten, Edom calls for our attention.

  “You will be leaving for Tarsus in a half-hour,” he says, leaning forward in his chair. “Two Aedox per carriage along with the two of you. The journey to Tarsus will take approximately three hours as you will need to pass through the Dead Zone to get there.”

  “What? You can’t be serious?” a young man off to my left shouts. “Those carriages will not protect us from the radiation. We’ll be dead before we even get there.”

  “The Aedox have specialized cars they use when moving through the Dead Zone. You will be well protected.”

  “What’s this all about anyway?” a young woman on my right asks.

  “Tarsus is becoming overcrowded, so the government has decided to build a new collective next to it. To prevent clashes outside the ruling party, it was decreed that whomever wins this event in The Litarian Battles will be awarded the new city. The winner will be reporting directly to Leader Fallon, but in order for the contestants to be narrowed down, they must first show their willingness to truly fight. Normally the young men and women who volunteer for The Litarian Battles are doing it for fun, or to prove they’re better than their compatriots. Many of the winners receive luxurious living quarters, wealth, and freedom in Icarian.”

  “They already have all those things, why would they need to compete for it?” Brink asks.

  “You have to understand the type of culture that is fed to the people in Tarsus. It’s hard to explain since everyone here has had a much different upbringing than they have. The rules for the event are that no one under fifty thousand points may participate. The contestants will have eight weeks to get to that amount, or higher.”

  “And they need us for this?” someone at the far end asks.

  “Yes, to slaughter,” the young man from earlier replies.

  “Garrett, everyone here will be given the same opportunity as those who’ve already been participating for months or years. But yes, the damage and kill points will be a lot higher for you, giving them the edge.”

  Everyone begins to shout in protest, but I retreat into my own thoughts.

  Kill points? People actually die in this game? Why didn’t I pay closer attention? I’m probably the only one in this room who’s never watched more than a few minutes of it, which means I’m going in at even more of a disadvantage than I realized. I think I’m going to be sick.

  “Enough,” Edom says loudly to be heard over the others. “The government has made their choice, and there isn’t anything you all can do to change this circumstance. You either follow through with the commitment made of you, or be executed.” He storms out of the room.

  “I wonder how they decided who from the Outer Limits was going,” Brink says to me, leaning in so I can hear him.

  I look around the table, not recognizing any of the faces. Of the three women and seven men, only Brink and I are from the orphanage, originally anyway. Which means the others have been living with their parents in the shanties at the base of the hill the orphanage sits on top of. Second-level housing is for singles, so when, or if, you pledge your commitment to someone else, you’re moved to the shanties.

  “That’s a good question,” I finally respond.

  The Aedox come for us a few moments later. We’re gathered in pairs, doled out to two Aedox, and leave out the front door. Twenty carriages await us, but they’re ones I’ve never seen before, with thick lead plating, heavy paned glass covering all openings, and wheels underneath, which the normal carriages don’t have. Brink and I are escorted to the first car. Before I get in, I notice a thin iron gate set between two stone columns next to the large mansion we just exited. Men and women in tattered clothes, dirty faces, and mournful eyes gather on the other side, watching us. I can’t help but stare at them, mesmerized by their sudden appearance. An Aedox pushes me forward, away from them. The doors swing up and out, then lock back into place once we’re seated. When the Aedox take the front, their doors close and hissing sounds escape from the joints and connectors holding the vehicle together. We roll forward, turn left at the end of the paved road, and start our journey east.

  We leave smokestacks and poverty in the distance as we make our way into a small forest. It’s the first piece of real nature that I’ve seen in my life. Plants don’t survive in the harsh environment of the Outer Limits. If it does, it’s always brown. These plants, however, look well-tended. Thick leaves scrape along the top and sides of the carriage. The foliage is vast and variant. I look through the glass covering our heads, but can’t see the sky above the canopy. Moisture drips down the windows and I can hear birds chirping in the distance.

  We slow down as we approach a guard post. In front of us is a large dome, reaching as high as I can see. The Aedox opens his window, reaches out to a keypad, and types in a code, then closes the window and double checks the seals around the vehicle using a diagnostic panel in front of him. A hidden entrance in the dome opens and we move forward, the entrance quickly closing behind us. Each carriage has to stop at the post and punch in their own code before the gates will open, so the process to move all twenty into the tiny holding area is tedious. Once everyone is in, another gate opens, allowing us access into the Dead Zone.

  I always thought the stories of this area were created to scare us. I had no idea that it actually existed. No one knows exactly who bombed this location, or even when the dome was placed on top of it to prevent the radiation from escaping into Tarsus and the Outer Limits. The only thing ever told to us was that there was a great war many years ago, perhaps more than one hundred. The country was sent into a small dark ages after the war, which led to the loss of all our historical records. The Dead Zone is so polluted with radiation from the nuclear fallout after the bombs fell that it had to be capped. The dome rises at least three miles high.

  I’m in awe of the destruction. Homes blown into splinters, while other structures have melted, or are burned beyond recognition. The land is covered in debris. The only clean space is where the carriages are traveling. It’s almost like time stopped here, perfectly preserving the moment that millions of lives came to an end. I’m sure having the dome is helping in that preservation, since fresh air can’t get in and deteriorate the materials. We turn the corner and pass an old style crane holding the façade of a home. The rest of the house is gone.

  Brink nudges me in the side and points above our heads. A small spider-like apparatus hovers overhead, then flies off. Two more enter our field of vision, then move away. I look off and see several more of the devices close to the ground far off in the distance.

&nb
sp; “What are those things?” Brink asks, as one comes awfully close to the carriage.

  “Drones,” the Aedox in front of me responds. “We have to closely monitor the Dead Zone for any violators who may be trying to hide here.”

  “People can actually get into this place?” I ask.

  “Unfortunately, yes. We usually don’t find them until they’ve succumbed to radiation poisoning. At which point, we just leave the body where it fell. No reason to get it if they were dumb enough to enter.”

  An hour later and the Aedox tell us we’re half-way through. My ass has gone numb from sitting on the metal bench. I try and adjust my position, but it’s no use, my body is starting to ache everywhere. I actually find myself leaning on Brink’s shoulder. He puts his arm around me and pulls me in against him. He doesn’t try anything, which actually still bothers me since this is not his true nature.

  My eyes hurt from the sun’s rays that are filtering in through the dome. I’ve never see so much sunlight before, since the air in the Outer Limits is extremely polluted. I adjust my head so it’s not pointing up, to where I’m looking out the front windshield. A building in the distance catches my eye, mainly because it’s the only one still standing. It’s constructed out of metal and purple tinted windows, and is intact. It stands fifty stories high and is in the shape of a squared soda bottle with a pointed roof. Just below the roofline is a sign in large looming letters, also perfectly intact. The word “Pentras” hangs solidly against the structure. We pass the building on our right and I see the sign is on this side, and the back.

  “What is that?” I ask.

  “A building, Max,” the Aedox in front responds, laughing a little.