Escape from Harrizel (10 page)

The girl’s terrified eyes find mine once
more, begging for a last chance—any possible chance—of help. Can it
still exist? She’s found her way here, demanded our attention,
willed a crowd to gather at her defense and sent a message so
transparent, the hairs on my neck and arms still stand. There’s
got
to be hope for her. It can’t end like this.

But the Dofinike jerks his hand back, a
nearly invisible net springing around her and digging into her skin
with semi-reflective cord. Her body tightens; all hope draining
from her face. She knows like I do now—it’s futile. There is no
help for her. She’s on her own, whatever that may mean.

With a final glare, the Dofinike turns,
carving a tunnel through the silenced mob as he drags the girl
along the ground and heads for the Castle. We all watch them go,
our sights fixated on the pair as they grow smaller in the distance
and before long, disappear completely.

“Hey…” Raj is suddenly at my side, joining
the sudden circuit of whispers, “what happened to Hinson?”

“No idea.”

“That was strange… it was like she came out
of nowhere.”

“From the Castle,” I say, still straining to
watch the Dofinike disappear with his prize, “but why? Shouldn’t
she have been out here?”

Raj follows my stare, considering the
question. Yes, the girl should’ve been out here—I can see it on her
face. So why was she dragged back inside?

“Did she try to escape?” I ask.

Another long stare at the disappearing pair.
Finally, Raj shakes her head. “No.”

Suddenly, a second Dofinike, also in his
natural form, scurries up the open path to the center of the mob,
his long custard coat flapping. Smaller than the first, a long gash
runs across his left eye, starting from the top of his head and
slicing down to his neck. He greets us with a grin, contorting the
scar into a sideways smile.

“Ergiloff,” Raj whispers in my ears as he
approaches, “one of the scientists.”

All whispers stop as he lifts his hands in
the air and speaks in a formal, nearly cautious tone, commanding
the crowd.

“My sincerest apologies for the
inconvenience,” his words echo, “we believe the girl consumed a
very rare but poisonous berry. She was undergoing treatment when
the berry poison caused her to spasm and flee the treatment
center.”

More whispers are exchanged as all eyes fix
on the scientist.

“Please,” he goes on, “don’t let this
interfere with Rebuilding—continue on as normal. We will have her
healed and back to you as soon as possible.” With this, the second
Dofinike scuttles back in the direction he came, his custard coat
and whiskers flapping in the breeze.

“Maybe that’s why she’s been throwing up
every morning,” Raj muses to herself, drowning in ponderous
thoughts, “…but what kind of poisonous berries are there? I don’t
remember seeing any berries in the Market…” she squints, trying to
work something out.

I start to replay her words—something of
interest sparked a review—but the sight of the scrambling Dofinike
takes precedence, especially as the loose dirt his talons have
kicked up creates a grey shield behind him.

“I’ll be back.” I start to follow Ergiloff,
but Raj snatches my wrist.

“What’re you crazy?” She’s astonished I’d
even consider it, her eyes wide with disbelief. “You
can’t!
”

“It’ll be fine,” I peel her fingers from
me.

“But…”

“Real quick.”

I don’t bother waiting for a response, but
set off after Ergiloff, hidden in the arms of his dusty trail. He’s
fast
. Faster than expected, like a lizard skirting across
the hot desert floor. But I’m tall and fast as well. I follow him
back to the Castle, to the open portcullis and he dashes through,
into the Courtyard. Approaching the entrance, I pause, scanning for
movement.

Nothing.

Closing my eyes, I clear the shadows in my
head and listen. He has talons and everything is marble, stone.
Sound is the ally here, not sight. There’ll be clinking. A
clanking. Everything stills for a moment until a tat-tat-tat echoes
up the stairwell to my immediate right.

Taking off in that direction, I fly up the
stairs, leaping on the pads of my toes as quickly and quietly as
possible. Up ten flights, my legs burn with each step until the
tat-tat-tat grows louder and suddenly, abruptly, halts on the
twelfth floor.

I pause, growing rigid. Closing my eyes
again, I listen.

A whimper.

Waves of hissing vowels pour, igniting me
with newfound fear. Holding my breath, I listen to the sudden
snarls viciously launched. And then another whimper—human this
time, and stronger. Like waking up again. Panicked breath breaks
through and then there’s a scream—the same scream from outside.
Only
more
frightened.
More
terrified than before.

A ringing shiver courses through me and I’m
thankful they can’t hear it. Can’t hear my heart pounding away in
my chest, screaming at me to run. To obey my natural instincts and
fly from this place. But I’m frozen. Even if I wanted to, my legs
wouldn’t allow it. They’re keeping me here, prisoner to the
stairwell. The hissing continues with louder, sharper snarls and
grunts, bits of human whimpering threading through. I have to
know.

Inching my way up, I carefully peer past the
top step and take in the scene.

Two Dofinikes stand in a threatening
embrace. The larger, intimidating one, who dragged the girl—what
did Raj call her? Hinson?—assumes the dominant role, while
Ergiloff, the scientist, is the submissive. The first points to the
jerking body on the floor between them, stabbing his black talon
into Ergiloff’s chest. The girl habitually convulses, waking to a
new scream every few seconds before stilling again.

“What are you doing here?”

I snap back, ready to run when I see him a
few steps below me.

“Jeb,” I slump my shoulders, silently
forcing my heart back to its routine beat.
Remain impassive
.
Quick—what’s the most logical reason for being here? “I was heading
for my room when I heard something… ” I start to peer toward the
Dofinikes when Jeb rushes past me, blocking my view with his body.
“I wasn’t sure what was happening.”

“You’re
not
supposed to be here. Why
are you away from your work station?”

“I felt sick. I was going to lie down before
I passed out.”

Another scream bursts behind him and he
yanks me by the arm, swinging me the other direction, “Come. You
must leave at once.”

“Everything okay?” I try to peer beyond my
shoulder.

“Berry poison.
Very
terrible. They’re
treating her now.”

“What kind of berry?”

“It’s um…” Jeb says, his sights on the
descending stairwell, “…very poisonous.
Devastating
effects.
Here you go,” he deposits me down a floor, motioning me to continue
on. “Get some water. Stay hydrated and break when you need to.
Don’t
go back to your room,” he offers a brief, insincere
smile.“Goodbye, Fallon.”

Scampering back the way we came, he
disappears into the shadows above before I have a chance to
respond.

***

Reminders.

I’m in the Auditorium, weaving toward the
outer rim of the crowd which surrounds the glowing trunk. Best to
stay out of any specific area in general. In with the thicket and
I’ll get swallowed when the music starts. Lining the walls and I’ll
be somebody’s fondling buddy. Neither sounds particularly
appealing, so I stick to the sparse bit of space between the two,
scanning the low-lit room.

Near the entrance to the West Wall, I
immediately find a pair that stick out—a good looking blonde who
could be a model and his surly, dark featured friend. They were the
same guys talking to Tucker last night.

Rogues.

They pass a joint between them, seemingly
oblivious to the others crowded around. Blondie is laughing through
a story while his partner listens inattentively. A third joins
them, throwing his arms around both pairs of shoulders. The frowner
shrugs him off but Blondie doesn’t seem to mind. He passes the
joint to the new guy and the two take over conversation. Further
down, Walker has some girl pinned against the wall and down from
them, couples line themselves up, ready for serious action once the
Reminders have concluded. Scanning the room, I keep the Rogues in
view but then my heart stops when I see their newest addition.

Reid keeps his arms crossed, surveying as he
meanders closer, a young boy—thirteen or fourteen— eagerly on his
tail.

Shit. He’s a Rogue?

He quickly mouths something to the boy,
barely motioning with a slight jerk of his head and the boy takes
off, weaving through the packed herd, which tightens together at
Jeb’s request. Reid watches him until he’s gone, scanning the crowd
with little interest… until stumbling upon me.

It only lasts a second, but something in my
stomach ignites, like a small fireball growing roots in my abdomen.
I focus on the trunk, on the Gizella trees climbing the walls or
the hanging babeebs—
anything
other than him.

Shit
.

Shit. Shit. Shit
.

And I approached him. That’s exactly what
Raj told me not to do. There goes my chance for freedom
and
food. Now I’m fucked. Royally fucked. How am I going to fix this?
Pushed by something—maybe desperation—I need one last look to see.
Maybe I’m just hoping he’ll change his mind and talk to me. He’ll
give in and share what he knows. The fireball grows stronger as I
consider this and after a moment of quick debate, I allow myself
one last glance.

My breath catches—he’s still watching
me.

“Welcome, friends,” Jeb’s voice echoes,
breaking our magnetic stare. I forget about Reid and inch closer to
the trunk. “Tonight, we are once again honored with the presence of
your heroic leader who selflessly initiated the courageous endeavor
of rescuing and restoring the once mighty human race.”

With a swift leap, Jeb flies from the trunk,
exchanging places with a man much older than him, dressed similarly
in the same red robe and black sash. His stark white hair shines
like a beacon atop a brow of thick ridged wrinkles. Jade, beady
eyes pierce from the center of his crinkled smirking face.

Beshib.

“Welcome,” he lifts his arms, waiting for
the echo of his voice to die down. When it does, he assumes a
solemn expression, his head lowering as if in prayer. “When I first
came to your planet, I thought it all a dream...” he speaks in
soft, breakable words, “a
nightmare
. How could a species do
this to themselves?
Destroy
themselves? Give up everything
and for
what
?” he poses with a sharp flash of his emerald
eyes. “For what?

“In the beginning,” he starts pacing, his
hands clasped behind his back, “your atrocities didn’t seem
entirely heinous. A barbaric attempt, of course, but what culture
exists without some form of natural selection? Some form of
population control? With our limited information, we assumed this
was normal. Your daily slayings as part of a habitual, human
routine. But could this be all there was? All you had? Self-induced
genocide?” he stops, scanning us with an accusing glare. After a
moment, he begins pacing in short strides around the trunk, calm
again.

“After studying you, we began to understand
it wasn’t always this way. There was a time that you lived in peace
with one another—some of you may even recall. An era of prosperity,
family, friendship and love,” he stops, scanning us with heated
eyes. “But this was before you corrupted it. Before you cursed it.
Before your children cried in the streets, orphaned by parents
butchering one another. A time before brothers and sisters burned
in homes while friends and neighbors swindled riches from the
ashes. A time before you massacred your handicapped and slaughtered
your elderly, all while your beautiful Earth lay in ruins…

“I tried to understand. Tried to see reason
beneath the madness but there was none.
Greed
,” his voice
projects, echoing, “I later came to know as the cause.
Greed
—the inevitable downfall to any civilization,
especially one as primitive as yours. You allowed it to suck you
in, to take you over. To destroy everything that mattered.” He
points a long finger at us, sweeping it across the audience as he
turns about. “Greed has brought you here. It’s taken your homes,
your families, your lives—everything you hold dear—and given you
nothing in return,” Beshib slows to a stop, turning to us. “But
we
have given you a replacement life.

“Once we understood, once we saw what was
left—what
would
be left had there been no intervention—we
saved who we could. At first, there were many of you. We’d find
entire families still intact, hiding in burrows and caves or
borrowing homes of the deceased or the abandoned, all awaiting a
salvation unlikely to arrive. We brought back as many as we
could—whole shiploads, in the beginning—but with each returning
voyage, less and less were found. Your small clans turned to
dwindling packs of two or more and before long, we were lucky to
find one wandering soul to save. Had the inevitable happened? Had
Earth finally killed herself?

“We gave you what we could—food, shelter, a
new beginning. A restored faith in yourselves,” Beshib shakes his
head in solemn concern, “but your numbers quickly dwindled once
more. Your bodies, so unique and unlike that of the Dofinike,
didn’t acclimate to Harrizel as we’d hoped. How could we know? How
could we plan for any of it?” he closes his eyes. “Bibbie pollen, a
golden dust that coats the blue flower of its name, while
aromatically appealing, can cause a series of spasms in humans
before turning their organs into a jelly-like substance. Vizzle
roots, a soothing medicinal rub for almost any ailment but on
humans, will cause the skin to erode itself,” Beshib opens his
eyes. “So many had been saved… and for what? To die tragically of
foreign diseases? Were we really saving your civilization or
casting upon you a new curse? It’s for these reasons,” his voice
turns lethal, a sharp finger sweeping the audience as he circles,
“these
dangers
that we keep you inside the gate, away from
the wild where so many have perished before you.”