Chapter 29 (Aronade: age 17/ Mark: age 19 — The Escape)
It is city on many hills — stacked high above. The houses surrounding the city have an off-white or tan façade. Their roofs are a solid brown. The shutters are also brown, and there is a gingerbread façade. There are many narrow cobblestones paths winding between the buildings … so many dark spaces that it detracts from the warmth of the buildings’ façades. It had once been a city of much suffering and torment, but now all those people were gone. The city had been cleared out and was now ready for a new group with new horrors to experience.
I wake up on my first night to the sound of someone banging on one of the doors. Apparently, it had been locked, and this person, whoever it is, doesn’t like that. Can anything good come from opening the door when someone bangs on it and demands entry? They can always break it in — they probably will regardless. But to get you to comply — to buy into the idea that they have the right, the moral authority to demand you open the door to them — it gives them too much power over you. Hmm … it’s amazing the games people play to gain dominance over others.
I conclude there’s no way to survive long term in the system. You can’t work within it and hope to survive. For one thing, they have a quota — a certain number of people who are slated to die every day. Death is the goal — the purpose. Therefore, there are only two ways to survive: either the system ends or you escape from it.
I have been grieved as the expectations on me kept increasing. I feared not being able to meet them. I knew the consequence would be being expelled from the world-system, and it had been hammered into my head that that meant death. Only I now realize what their standard has become. I can never minimize myself enough for them — never reduce my consumption and my impact enough. For what they are trying to coerce me into accepting is a level of use beneath that of a living person. They are comparing my use to that of a dead body and are finding my living self wanting.
Not long after I arrive here, I have what I can only describe as a waking nightmare. At first, I feel as though the entire room is violently shaking. Then, I hear a shrill noise overhead as though some plane is flying too low and is about to crash into the building.
I feel frozen, and my heart pounds within me. I look around the room — at the other people lying in the rows of beds. None of them is moving. Are they dead? I jolt up to get a better look around me. How can they be dead when we haven’t been hit yet? And yet, it is clear they aren’t stirring. Then suddenly, the flashes of light begin. It is strange. It almost appears to be a visual projection overlaying what I see in front of me. But it still feels so real. I can see the plaster from the walls and the beams from the windows begin to crumble down. The windows burst forth from the wooden planks that had been used to secure them. I can see the glass coming toward me, and I shriek. I start to pull at my blanket in order to protect myself from the flying shards. But it is then that I notice that some of the people around me are beginning to move. Only they aren’t reacting to what I’m seeing and hearing. Instead, they are reacting to me and my screaming aloud!
They begin to grumble aloud and to moan. One calls for a nurse. I am shivering by the time the nurse arrives, and I don’t know what to say when she asks what’s wrong with me. What’s wrong with me? I am trapped in a hospital that was purposefully designed to look exactly like its predecessor — that had occupied the same spot of ground. And now I am having flashbacks to the trauma I had experienced that day.
But I can’t admit to that — to any of that, for then they will know who I am. And then, they will kill me.
“I had a nightmare.” I tell her.
And I had. Only it is a nightmare I am living, and it just won’t end.
They sedate me, and I fall back to sleep …
“Aronade! Aronade! Wake up!”
I open my eyes and see a woman standing beside my bed. She brushes the dust away from my forehead.
“You got quite the knot on your head.” she informs me, smiling with relief.
“Wait a minute.” I think. “This isn’t where I’m supposed to be.”
And yet it feels as though it is really happening now. I turn and look at the woman again.
“Aronade, sweetheart.” she tells me. “I’m glad you’re okay.”
She reaches forward and takes up my hand. I stare down at her hand clasping my own. I feel moved … but I’m unsure as to why. I want to ask her if she knows me … but I don’t ask, for I already know the answer is yes.
I feel anxiety all of a sudden. I feel like something bad is about to happen.
“We should get out of here.” I manage … at least I think I said that out loud. But then again, maybe I hadn’t, for the words don’t seem to register on the woman’s face.
“Mom.” I say this out loud, and the woman smiles even brighter.
“I’ll go get the doctor for you … to check you out.”
I catch her by the hand and look at her solemnly.
“Is it safe here?” I ask her. My voice sounds rather high-pitched to me.
She brushes the hair from my face.
“That was just an accident.” she assures me. “A pilot got confused as to where he was. It won’t happen again.”
“No.” I think. “No!!”
I want to stop her from leaving, but I find I cannot move. I am just a watcher. I wait for her to return. All the while, I listen for the sound I know is coming. I look about the large room filled with mostly empty beds. Other people had been here recently, but they are gone now. Where had they gone? And how do I know that they had been here? I can’t remember. Nor can I figure out how I know that something bad is about to happen.
I feel at the bandage on my head. I look over at one of the windows that had been boarded up nearby. There is no glass underneath it; it had apparently been cleaned up. I now think that maybe I had been injured at the same time that the window had been blown in. Maybe I had even seen the people leaving here. If so, why hadn’t I gone with them? Again, I can’t remember.
Where is my mother, and why hasn’t she returned? I have the feeling I’m running out of time. Soon it will be too late to spend any more time with her. Again I wonder why I feel this way. And then I hear it: a high-pitched buzzing noise fills the air. I wring my hands. It is too late. There is a moment right before disaster strikes when I realize there is nothing I can do to stop it. I am trapped; I can’t get out. I want to desperately, but I’m stuck here. I have to watch as the scene implodes around me. A loud explosion resounds. Placing my hands upon my ears does little to lessen the impact. Then, there’s a great persistent ringing in my ears. I look around me in a daze. A white chalky powder covers me. I begin to cough, though I can’t hear myself cough.
“Mom!” I call out, but I can’t hear my voice either.
I feel compelled to move — to get out of bed. So I do. Only it feels as though I’m watching myself doing it.
I wander as though in a daze out the front door of the building. It’s strange to see the scene that is unfolding in front of me. I stand in the midst of a wasteland of crumbling buildings and mounds and mounds of the dust I am covered in. It is then that I realize there are people on the streets who have been buried under the rubble. They had been treating people outside of the hospital until it had been cleared. Now they are worse off than I am. They call out. But what can I do? I will run. I will get help …
I am picked up in the next town over. It had rained on the way there, so most of the dust that had been on me is gone. They question me. I give them my name. I tell them about the rubble. They give each other looks. They say they will do something.
I am left alone in the darkness. At some point, I hear voices. They are discussing me. I can’t see the men’s faces. One offers to take me in; the other is grateful.
“We’ll keep the first name. If they can figure that out, it’s all over anyway.”
“I’m surprised the hospital wasn’t hit.”
“They probably saw the patients in the yard and aimed at them instead. Doubtless they’ll do a full search for survivors. We’re fortunate we found this one.”
“One?” I repeat inside my head.
I begin to cry.
“Get her cleaned up, will you? The man I work for won’t tolerate her presence if she looks like this when she’s presented to him.”
“Oh … all right.” the man hesitates. “But he knows … I mean, he’s agreed to hide her …”
“Yes. He’s not like us, but apparently he has his reasons.”
I am in tears when I wake up.
Then, one day I am brought into a room used for isolation purposes. Apparently, there are many such rooms utilized for this purpose at this place. I get the impression that experiments are run on the sick people here quite often. Of course, I am an unusual case and am of particular importance to these people. I can be turned from a threat into a solution. After all, they can neutralize the threat of the disease I am carrying if they are able to produce a vaccine from my blood.
I figure it will only be a matter of time before they succeed. The time is running out for the weapon I have become to be of any use. Still, I wonder what their main concern is in regards to my disease. Is it fear of death? Or, are they just eager to be able to unleash their sadistic urges onto the common masses without retaliation?
Somehow I get another visitor … an unexpected visitor. I don’t know how he got in here. It is my brother again. He somehow tracked me down to this new hospital. He is highly agitated. He is dressed as an orderly. Why is he here?
He warbles on and on about the importance of his mission.
“Are we going to leave here soon?” I ask him in my delirium.
“Oh, we’re not going anywhere … at least you’re not.”
I shudder.
“It’s getting to the point that if we wait any longer then it won’t be worth anything. They’ll have a cure, and they’ll come right for us. At least if we act now, we can take out some of them plus there will be enough of a distraction in the chaos for us to escape into friendly territories.”
“Us? Who is ‘us.’ ”
Mitchell looks at me with anger. We both know … or at least should have known … what he meant. His plans for the future do not include me. I will have no future in this world.
“Believe it or not, in a lot of ways I’m on your side.”
“Please …” I retort. “You’ve turned away from God, so you are no friend to me. I’m just a pawn to you.”
“Now you’re just taking it personally. You’re much more important than a pawn; you could take them all out.”
I am unnerved when my brother throws something towards me, which lands at the foot of my bed. I know instantly what it is, and yet I pick it up in disbelief anyway.
“A dagger?” I utter.
“It’s better if you do it to yourself. Consider it a sacrifice.”
I throw to the floor just to get it away from me. My tears are of bitterness. Still, despite my emotion, it doesn’t take me long to realize my mistake — I had tossed away my weapon.
“Go ahead and cry if you need to. Then, when you’re done, we’ll move on.”
I was stunned and insulted by his tone.
Mitchell then reclaims the knife. My eyes stare without really seeing at the blade he is holding confidently in his hand. My first thought is that if I can just keep him talking … Then, I wonder how it came to this.
“It’s too much temptation … the world. They need things now … the things they are used to having. The elite used that to gain power over them. Some are even willing to risk death … to die. I saw that first hand. But then, the elite have an easier way … killing other people, so they will have enough.”
“It’s never enough.” I mutter.
Mitchell shrugs.
“It will be for a while until we come up with something else to make the prosperity last. Don’t you see society’s been pushed to kill to keep what they have — what they’re used to? The elite have done that to us. It makes perfect sense that the elite should die in the place of their victims … And you — you’re in the unique position to kill them all off.”
“And you think it will stop there? You think people won’t go back to killing off the weak when they run out of things again?”
Mitchell shrugs another time.
“I don’t know, but it’s a place to start. If we do nothing, the elite will win.”
I swallow as he comes toward me. I feel pain in my arm.
Suddenly, the door to my room opens behind Mitchell. He flinches then turns around. I must be hallucinating! It looks like Mark is standing there!
“So what are you planning on doing?” I hear Mark ask.
“I think you know.” my brother responds. “I’ve already explained it to her.” Mitchell adds without conviction. “If anyone should understand, it should be you.”
Mark breathes.
“She dies and nothing changes really … just who the evil is.” Mark returns.
“People won’t have to do evil then.”
“And yet they always do.”
I stare at Mark. I realize I am in shock. Mark seems stunned as well. I don’t want to take my eyes off of him; I don’t want to look down at my arm. I can’t believe it — I can’t believe my brother just stabbed me! And yet, the ashen look on Mark’s face suggests that it is true.
“Let her die!” Mitchell announces. He is standing between Mark and me.
“Are you insane?!” Mark shoots back.
“I know you hate them as much as I do!”
“Since when?”
Mitchell is evasive.
“It took me a while to realize it … but I do now.” Mitchell speaks.
“What does this have to do with her?”
“Don’t you see? They’re trying to make a vaccine from her. She could be used to ruin the whole thing by neutralizing the virus. Then, they’ll retaliate with their own virus. Her death is the only way for the virus to spread before there is a treatment. Maybe she’ll even infect those who try to move her body.”
His words are gruesome. I shift under the pain — both physical and emotional.
“Stand aside.” Mark commands.
“I can’t let you stop it!” Mitchell warns, raising his knife.
Mark lets his eyes shift briefly to the side. Then, out of nowhere, Mark springs forward and rushes Mitchell. I scream. A struggle for the knife ensues. Somehow, Mark gains the upper hand. “Think about what you’re going to do now, Mitchell. Look at me!” Mark, who now has possession of the knife, shouts out. “I have the knife, and I’m standing between you and her. You can keep trying to get past me, but you’ll fail and you’ll waste a lot of time. Plus, you won’t be in very good shape by the time I’m done with you.”
“What do you propose?” Mitchell surprisingly asks, as though Mark had been suggesting that some kind of bargain be struck.
“I’m suggesting you leave — now!” Mark growls. “Unless you are wanting to fall into their hands … and then you can die the way you wanted her to.”
Mitchell swallows. He seems loath to leave. I am in shock about his persistence — by how much he truly wants me dead.
“I guess I’ve done enough …” Mitchell concludes.
Finally, Mitchell nods at Mark — as though they’ve reached some sort of understanding. It is unreal to me. He casts a cold look in my direction then leaves.
“Don’t think about him.” Mark directs me over his shoulder. “Save your energy.”
“For what?” I mumble.
Mark half-turns toward me, keeping his shoulder square with the door that Mitchell just escaped from.
“Don’t go giving up on me.” he tells me. “We have a lot we need to do.”
At that moment, it all seems hopeless to me. I’ve about given up on ever making it out of here alive. Mostly, I’m just worn out … incredibly worn out.
“Is there a way out of here?” I ask Mark. “What’s to stop Mitchell from sending someone here just out of spite?”
“His own sorry skin.” Mark responds without hesitation. “But you’re right…we need to leave as soon as you are able.”
I am feeling weak at this point from loss of blood.
“But can we? Mitchell said there’s no way out for me. And the vaccine … once they have it, what’s to stop them …?”
“And what’s to stop them if you’re dead? As long as they think you could be alive the virus remains a threat. If they conclude you’re the only carrier and you die, they might use their virus then. If we can escape, they won’t use it more than likely.”
I try to think. What he has been saying sounds logical, but is it true? Or is Mark just trying to convince me?
“All right, I’ll go … if for no other reason than I don’t want them to know I am dead if I do die. At least that will delay their unleashing their virus.”
He begins to try to lift me up.
“I’m not sure that I can … stand.” I cry out. “Please get me out of here, Mark!”
He nods. His eyes glisten with compassion for me. At the moment, I’ll take his pity if it means getting out of here.
It’s painful to be lifted. Everything hurts. I’m unsteady on my feet, so he doesn’t allow me to linger without much support for long. Instead, he directs me to wrap my arms around his neck, and he picks me up. I guess there is one positive thing to be said about all the weight I must have lost; I am much easier to carry now.
I close my eyes. I don’t want to see him attempt to get me out of this prison. I particularly don’t want to watch him if he fails.
Mark eventually enters a room, and I can’t help but open my eyes at this point. It is a particularly cold room. I shudder in the darkness. Then, the smell strikes me; it is the morgue.
“This is going to be unpleasant.” Mark warns me.
This is the same strategy that the Instructor had used to get me out of that last facility, but then the Instructor had probably paid someone off to help him then. Now Mark is on his own, so he has to take more drastic measures. I realize, much to my dismay, that he intends to wheel me out of this place on a gurney — and with a dead body.
I try to keep myself from sobbing as Mark covers us both with a sheet.
Then, Mark opens up some sort of cabinet and is doing something I can’t see. I try to keep myself from breathing in the putrid air, but eventually I have to. I stifle a gag.
“Don’t worry.” Mark consoles me. He has returned to my side at the gurney. “The person isn’t contagious.”
That is a relief, I guess. And it is also ironic under the circumstances. Speaking of relief, I am relieved when Mark starts to push the gurney forward on many different levels. One is I have this nagging feeling that the longer this escape takes, the slimmer the chance Mark and I have of making it out of here. I get to thinking that Mitchell may not have much cause to turn me in, but if he tells Kurt … I don’t know if Kurt is truly an elite or not, but he is convinced that he is and, therefore, believes my blood could kill him. Kurt would want me seized and quarantined. Yes, it would be stupid of Mitchell to go to Kurt now, but then he wouldn’t have to admit what he tried to do to me just now … and consequently to Kurt as well should the virus be unleashed. Yes, if Mitchell wants my death badly enough, going to Kurt might accomplish that. Who better to inform on me than Kurt?
It is a very trying ordeal. It takes all of what little emotional reserve I still have left to repress the repulsion I feel over what I am lying against. I just keep postponing giving in to a reaction. Then, as my mind begins to snap, Mark finally lifts the sheet from my head.
I break down into sobs. I tremble in his arms. He doesn’t waste any time picking me up and carrying me away. I am relieved — both to get away from the body and to be, miraculously, outside of the confines of the hospital.
“I don’t want to go back. Please let me not have to go back.” I utter.
I know it must be a strain for Mark to carry me, but it can’t be helped. I do try as hard as I can to hold on to his neck to relieve some of the burden I am creating.
I know I should walk. If we’re caught, it will probably be because I can’t force myself to walk. But I can’t … I just can’t. I tell myself it would be worse if I pass out. Then, I won’t be able to help at all. So, instead of beating myself up any further, I pray for Mark to have the strength to keep going and for us not to be caught.
Mark trudges on — and I admire him for it. But how long will it be before they notice I’m gone? How long will it be before there’s a possibility they will catch up to us?
Then, Mark stops. My first thought is that he is exhausted. But that turns out not to be the reason he stopped. I open my eyes … and there it is … the complex.
“There are plenty of places to hide in there.” Mark informs me.
He shifts my weight to get a better grip on me.
“And fortunately, we both know a way in.” he tells me.
I wonder if the way we left that day so long ago is able to be breached from the outside. I close my eyes … I am feeling weaker by the minute. I tell myself I just have to hold on a little longer … just a little longer. Then, I can rest.
I wake up in my old room and in my old bed. I must have passed out after all.
The room is cold. I pull my blanket tighter around me. Mark is in the room. I can see his silhouette standing in front of the window we had looked out so long ago. I wonder if he remembers. It is strange now to think about that time. There were so many things I wasn’t aware of then. I can’t help but be nostalgic about that time. I suppose it’s wrong of me, but I almost wish I could go back to when I wasn’t aware of it all. I want to have this burden of awareness lifted off my shoulders. But then, I know it would be wrong to live in ignorant bliss forever. Too much is going on; too much has happened for that.
I’m making note of the fact that the room is dark, and once again I’m mentally transported to the past. Had my power been cut from the room, or had it indeed been a light bulb that blew out? And why is it so dark in here now? Is Mark leaving the lights out so as not to draw attention to us? But then, the whole complex seems dark. There is no light to be seen … not even under the crack of the door. And it’s so cold in here …
“Mark.” I utter his name.
He turns swiftly towards me. The moonlight is illuminating him somewhat, but his face is still cast in shadow.
“It’s good to see you up.” he tells me.
I nod.
“It’s actually nice to see this room again.” I conclude. “Strangely, I feel I can relax in it. I’ve been tired for such a very long time …” I pause. “By the way,” I add. “Why is it so dark in here? Is there no electricity?”
“No, not right now. It appears this place has been abandoned, which suits me just fine. I’m going to go search for a generator to see if we can get something started up … but I didn’t want to leave you alone in the dark.”
“Yes.” I respond. “There are some fireplaces … one is in the Instructor’s study.” I advise him.
“I’m not sure the smoke will be such a good idea.” he answers. “I’m even concerned about turning the power back on lest there be lights shining around the place without our knowledge that the rest of the world can see.”
“Yes, of course. Maybe we can just stay like this. It’s not that cold …”
I hear Mark exhale. There are a lot of things he probably hasn’t had the time to work through yet. I can relate to that. Food is another thing we’re going to need. Did Nan leave any behind when she left this place?
But then, I can deal with those types of things later, I decide. Instead, I choose to tell Mark about my experiences at the hospitals. I want him to understand that he can’t take me back there no matter what. When I finish relaying my information, I am relieved when he agrees I can’t go back there. It is nearly certain death.
“So, how long are we going to be here?” I then ask Mark.
I expect him to say a week or so … maybe even a day or two. Instead, he responds, “Indefinitely.”
“What? Really?”
“Hear me out …” he says. You’re too weak to travel around. Plus, they’ll be looking for you out there. It would be better to lie low until they stop looking. Hopefully, they’ll think the Instructor took you away again, and that you’re far away from here.”
“And will they … stop looking?”
“Once they get the vaccine … they won’t need to find you.”
I look down.
“Then, they can unleash the other virus on the rest of us.”
“You don’t think the elite would unleash their viral arsenal if they started dropping dead? You don’t think they’d take out as many people with them as they could? No, the only thing that prevented mass casualties before was that they and the Instructor were at a stalemate. If either side moved, everyone would die. But now that they know who you are — now that they’ve gotten a sample of your blood — the only thing that can be gained at this point by your death is killing the elite along with everyone else. But then there’s always a chance they won’t be able to make a vaccine from what they have …”
I look at him skeptically.
“And maybe someone’s been working on neutralizing the viruses intended for us.” he adds.
“There are probably a lot of those viruses.” I whisper.
“The fact is, this whole thing now is the Instructor’s doing. It was a done deal the day he turned you over to them at that hospital. He had to have known they would figure out who you were eventually. He capitulated for some reason.”
Copyright © Jennifer Alice Chandler 2020
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