Escape from Harrizel (6 page)

A massive trunk sits centered in the space,
its tangled roots hovering feet above the floor. It glows
iridescent lavender with reflecting hints of turquoise and green,
boasting at least a yard in circumference. Just above the trunk, a
swarming nest of Gizella roots bloom from the center of the black
ceiling. The silvery snakes sneak across the marble, reaching all
ends with a hive of babeebs suspended under the main nest, just
over the trunk—a spotlight on a stage.

“This is the Auditorium,” Jeb keeps his
hands clasped, leading me forward, “this is where you’ll have your
weekly meetings with Beshib before Leisure Time begins.”

“Who’s Beshib?”

Jeb turns, an excited grin on his face—he’s
been waiting to tell me.

“He’s the one who first pioneered your
race’s rescue—without him, you wouldn’t even be here! You’d
probably still be attempting life in that filthy planet you left
behind,” Jeb shakes his head with disgust as I suppress an urge to
snap. “At the end of every week he addresses the humans with a
reminder of what you left behind and the rebirth the Dofinikes are
offering. It doesn’t last long—ten, fifteen minutes, really. Then,
Leisure Time begins and that’s when you can relax, openly
socializing.”

“We can’t socialize during the day?”

Jeb averts his eyes. “The day is for
Rebuilding. We’re trying to give humans a way to revive their
species.”

“Is that what they’re doing out there?
Building? I saw them carrying—”

“Yes,” he interrupts, walking again, “we’re
expanding upstairs. Clarence continues finding more survivors. It’s
wonderful, really, but we lack the space to house them. Then, of
course, there is the repopulating here on Harrizel to comply with.
The building is necessary.”

“So manual labor?”

“Fallon,” he sighs, “try not to think of it
as labor. But as
Rebuilding
. Helping your species have homes
when they get here. You have a home. That couldn’t exist without
the work of your brothers and sisters.”

Yeah, a home I’m not even going to keep once
you take me outside.

Jeb’s fast pace has managed to put some
distance between us. A quick trot and I’ve caught back up with him.
“So
no
talking during the day? No socializing?”

“A bit of socializing quickly turns into
lack of work. Without strict attention and focus, nothing would get
done. It’s for your benefit, really.”

“And Beshib? He’s the one making all the
rules?”

Jeb sighs again, exhaustion in his voice.
He’s had to explain this before. “I know this sounds like we’re
against you but it’s really for your good. Here we clothe you and
feed you, provide you with shelter and if I may be so bold, with
family
. We only ask for your compliance. The world you came
from is not as kind.”

He starts walking but I’m at his side again.
“So what happened?”

“Excuse me?”

“What happened? With the war?” I stop and he
stops with me. “Clarence didn’t tell me anything.”

“Surely you remember?” When I don’t respond,
Jeb exhales as a solemn frown crosses his face. Lowering his head,
he speaks in a soft voice, his eyes on the black marble below us.
“Terrible. What humans did to one another. Killing mercilessly.
Destroying their planet… destroying each other. Your world, at one
point, was overpopulated and then… it was all gone. Or just
about.

“We, Dofinikes, are travelers by nature and
came across your planet. We saw what you were doing to each other;
saw how you were killing one another. We saved whom we could. But
it wasn’t enough. You nearly destroyed yourselves. We keep going
back, keep finding people who hid out, who are
still
hiding.
We won’t stop.”

Jeb turns and continues heading for the
center of the room. I follow in silence and replay his words.
‘Destroying their
planet
.’ An image of the house and trees
resurfaces. What part of the world is he talking about?

“This is the stage,” he lifts his arms as we
come to the massive floating trunk. It mirrors the ceiling Gizella
roots in width, the trunk acting as the central focus in the room.
“Beshib will address you here for Lecture. It’s best to arrive
early for ‘good seats,’” Jeb chuckles before heading back to the
evibola.

As we move past, I stop, noticing something
that escaped my attention before. The four main walls—though all
deeply dark—aren’t the same color. Without asking Jeb for a second
to investigate, I claim it regardless, approaching the closest wall
for examination.

There’s an opening in the center—an entrance
to something beyond. Both sides of the wall consist of the same
plum-black stone but are checkered with a deep, hunter green, the
pattern reaching from stairwell to stairwell. At the top of the
narrow entrance, a plaque of the same deep green with a scripted
black
W
, sits on the wired arch connecting both sides of the
wall.

“I see you’ve noticed the Maze,” Jeb says
behind me.

“Maze?”

He nods, taking his place at my side and
gazing up to the darkened entrance under the black
W.

“Or so
your
kind would refer to it.
It is, in fact, merely an escape for your Leisure Time, should you…
need it. I’m afraid, however, it’s being utilized to serve
other
purposes…”

“Such as?”

I glance around the gigantic room, finding
the other three walls share the same narrow entrance, all up to the
ceiling where a plaque of a different letter—and corresponding wall
hue—sit. Across from this wall lies the maroon
E
, to the
left and from where we just entered, the golden
N
and to the
right, the eggplant
S
.

“I don’t believe it beneficial to speak of
such matters. My advice to you,” he turns, offering a short nod,
“is to steer clear. Surround yourself with friends out here,” he
gestures to the stark emptiness surrounding us, “and you’ll do just
fine.”

Although I don’t plan on staying here much
longer, there are still so many things I want to know, so many
questions I need to have answered. But they won’t matter as soon as
he gets me outside. Just get me out there and I’ll take care of the
rest.

“Come along,” he heads back to where we
entered, “more to see.”

Reluctantly, I follow, grabbing one last
view of the darkened scene before keeping to Jeb’s heels as we
enter the same evibola. In three seconds we emerge, still several
floors up. We’re in an open, inside tower of the Auditorium,
Gizella trees and babeebs lighting the Castle’s interior with a
low, golden glow. Crimson archways line every floor of the
plum-black walls and a hip level barricade with long black rods
runs like a fence along the inside perimeter.

Resting my hand on the rail, I gaze
over.

Below lies is a giant plum and grey
chessboard, broken by black, emaciated trees that reach up with
bony, finger-like branches. Their charred tips extend just beneath
our floor, curled at the top in a looped, twisting shape.

“These are the human’s quarters,” Jeb walks
along, his hands tucked behind his back.

“All of this?”

“All of it,” he confirms, stopping quickly
and glancing over his shoulder so I understand, “except of course,
the top few floors. They belong to us.”

“So wait…” I pause along with him, “where’s
the Auditorium?”

“Just below the Courtyard,” he indicates
over the railing. “We’re fifteen floors up so don’t forget to
account for the exertion when you decide how to spend your
Leisurely activities.”

I was already on the ground!

I want to kick myself but really, how would
I have known? It was windowless and dark—we could’ve been
anywhere
. And so far, Jeb has been true to wanting to ‘show
me around.’ If this manual labor Rebuilding nonsense is for real,
he’ll have to take me outside at some point. And then I’ll be free
from all this—free to make my way back through the jungle and to
those ruins that felt familiar. I have to know why and I won’t be
able to do that from in here. I just have to hold out until Jeb
takes me outside.

“Let’s look at your bathing facilities,” he
heads for the closest stairwell.

Hiding just behind it is a wide, bulbous
breadth of wall with two arched entries on either side. Both tall
and narrow like the Maze’s gaps downstairs, Jeb leads us through
the closest one, and into near darkness.

“These are the Bathing Bubbles, where you’ll
come to clean yourself.”

While the entrance was deceivingly narrow,
the room beyond is not. Decked out in the same plum-black stone, it
sleeps in shadows, few babeebs hanging to the even fewer Gizella
trees. The space itself is a giant bulb, filled with rows and rows
of similarly-shaped objects. They’re glass balls, sitting like
giant ornaments that could fit three or four people.

Jeb leads us down the outside wall and
between a row of the huge glass spheres on our left and a row of
smaller, more intimate ones on our right. These smaller glass balls
run along the entire outside wall.

“In order to accommodate the growing
population, please limit your cleaning sessions between five and
ten minutes.”

“And when we…”

“Same with depleting your bowels and such,”
he indicates to the set of smaller spheres on our right.

“And our clothes?” I ask, tugging on my
sleeve.

“Yes. The Bathing Bubble will take care of
that too. You simply place your items here,” he indicates inside
the bubble, to a tray hanging from the glass wall. “It will repair
and clean as you do. Now,” and he faces me again, “you may use the
Bubbles in the morning before Rebuilding, during your common hours
and at Leisure Time,” he strengthens his tone, “though we
highly
suggest this time be spent with your own kind. It’s
imperative
for you to rebuild your civilization. There is
only so much we can do.”

Just get me to the ground.

“This way, more to show you,” Jeb leads us
back outside and down the corridor. “Food will be dispensed three
times daily in your room—before Rebuilding and during both common
hours before Leisure Time. You are to leave Rebuilding at the
dismissal when you hear it, eat in your room and report back at the
second dismissal.”

“Can we socialize
then
?”

Jeb hesitates briefly, sensing my annoyance,
but continues. “Each human is assigned their own space for sleep
and privacy,” he slows, approaching a crimson door on the left.
“Yours is here.”

The entire arch is broken into tiny blocks
of symbols, all unique to each other.

“Each door is opened by a different
combination. Yours are here, here, here, here, here and here,” he
selects six different symbols, pushing the cubes back until they
lock into place. When they do, he nudges the arch open and we enter
a tiny burrow of solid black stone.

I gulp.

It’s compact—the size of a large closet with
a worn twin bed in the back right hand corner, covered in layers of
thin, navy rags. An empty chair sits under a small window that
hangs on the wall across from us, and a tiny square mirror sits
just below it. A few babeebs hover beneath the Gizella roots which
creep across the black ceiling like sadistic metal fingers.

“If you forget the combination, the symbols
are right here,” he indicates to the back of the door where only
the same blocks are illustrated in their corresponding place. Jeb
steps to the other side of the area, where a white box outline sits
in the wall. “Your food will be deposited here.”

“How will I know when the common hours
are?”

“We will notify you. You’ll also be able to
navigate your way along with the others.”

He steps to the side, allowing me to view
the food dispenser outline for myself. I nod, scanning it before
backing away and surveying the room again.

“Leisure Time is tonight, so until then,
we’ll get you started working,” he heads for the door.

“And it’s mandatory?” I eagerly follow,
“Leisure Time?”

“Oh yes!” he spins, flabbergasted I’d even
ask. “
Everything
is mandatory but
especially
that.
How do you expect your race to thrive if you don’t give it a
chance?” he leans in as if offering a vital piece of information.
“And there
are
ways of tracking when you do and do not
attend.”

He’s looking for some kind of response and I
have just the one. Unfortunately, a swift punch to the face isn’t
going to get me on the ground any quicker. “You were going to get
me started on work?”

“Yes—there’s no point wasting any more time
up here when you’re not contributing one way or another. Let’s head
down to your work stations.”

Finally. Just a little longer and I’m out of
here.

He leads us out of my bunker and back to the
evibola. We’re on the ground in seconds, his arms opened to the
checkerboard base of the Castle.

“This is the Courtyard. You are also free to
use this area for your other socializing—for Leisure Time only, of
course.”

Up close, the trees are much larger and
coated with tiny black hairs that cover them like fur. Their skinny
arm-like branches shoot up all around us but never touch one
another, or the other trees which lay sprawled out across the
Courtyard.

“Now for your work,” he leads me to the only
entrance in the entire Courtyard—an archway on the north wall where
a main portcullis opens to the outside.

Finally!

When we emerge, the sun has disappeared and
the scent of rain immediately hits me, the grey-white sky sitting
heavily like it did before, threatening an eternal monsoon but
still, somehow, not a drop falls. The air is soaked with moisture
but the ground remains cracked dry. Dead.

I eye the iron-gate across, searching for an
opening. There’s got to be a way past it. A way
through
it.
Doing an intense study of its structure and matching the space with
my own lean frame, I contemplate squeezing between the rods. I
could fit. I might have to suck in a little but it’s doable. I’m so
lost in this idea that I barely notice the cavernous trench
stretching in a semi circle in front of it.