The Dawn: The Bombs Fall (A Dystopian Science Fiction Series) (13 page)

“What do you think, Zack?” Leonard
reached over, placed one of his sweaty palms on Zack's hand. “Do you think it
really could be one of us?” Zack wasn’t paying attention, even though Leonard
was shouting over the noise of the crowd to be heard. His eyes were set firmly
on the television set, waiting for the draw to start. Once Daley Cartwell
started talking again a hiss whipped around the room, and soon all was quiet. There
was a ringing in Zack’s head, loud like the beat of a drum, a fizzing in his
ears. He wasn’t used to noise anymore. People stayed quiet now. There was
little in the way of conversation or excitement in Delta tower, and when
suddenly it was everywhere it created a sensory overload.

“Shush,” Zack muttered, patting Leonard's
hand. “He’s talking.”

Daley Cartwell announced a
celebration dance, and a series of multicoloured children, red, blue, and yellow,
entered the stage. The clothes were excessive, sore on the eye. They danced in
lines, in circles, perfectly choreographed. Zack could see the excitement once
again rippling through the crowd. People’s eyes were wide, primitive and
savage-like. They weren’t used to colour anymore, their palette had been
subdued. The desire of the crowd was ferocious and somehow terrifying in
comparison to the relaxed calm of the Omega crowd as they sat and watched. They
were sitting in even rows around the lobby like a fashion show from the old
time, people cool and relaxed, and yet simultaneously on edge, afraid to look
out of place. They sat cocooned in safety, their luxury of cleanliness and
plenty. It was the people who were the prize. A community that didn’t want for
anything. The idea of being part of it was thrilling, like a stimulant more
empowering than any drug the sublevels could produce. Zack was just starting to
wonder where all the children came from when the dancing stopped and Daley
Cartwell came into view, wide white smiles as the children filtered from the
stage. More applause.

Two white-gloved and white-clothed
workers pushed a spherical beast of a machine with a rotating drum from behind,
bent double as if they were worshipping it. They positioned it in the centre of
the lobby, and the children who had only moments before been dancing on the
stage filled with stars formed two circles of primary colours around the
machine. Daley Cartwell announced it as Sisyphus, and the children with their
hands clasped together skipped in opposite directions around it which drew delighted
smiles and cheers from the crowd. As the cameras panned back they revealed a
canopy of green from eight huge trees, rising as tall as the columns of the Parthenon.
Occasionally the trees seemed to move as if in a breeze, which Zack knew was
impossible and a sign of how intoxicatingly destructive the atmosphere really
was. After this was all finished, the memory of it would fester like an open
wound, putrefying what was left of his life. He stood up at one point, the
sudden movement sending Leonard’s arm flying off to the side. He gasped for
breath, panting for air. His sides were so tight it felt like his lungs
couldn’t even expand, like new balloons impossible to inflate. Even with all of
his effort behind it, breathing was hard. Leonard pulled on his arm, gentle
encouragement to sit back down. Zack hadn't noticed them, but the Guardians had
already noticed him. There was a ring of them around the perimeter of the Food
Hall. Leonard nodded to Zack, and one of the Guardians used his Assister to
motion for him to sit.

“Relax, Zachary.” Leonard returned
the hand to Zack's shoulder. “Relax.” It was the name his parents used. It was
the name people who loved him spoke of. It was the name Samantha used. It was
the name of familiarity. Of the past.

“OK, OK,” Zack said. He breathed
deeply. He stared at his wrist, at the tattoo, at his number.

“They're about to draw the first
ball.” Leonard said.

In his effort to breathe there were
definitely parts of the show that Zack had missed because there was another
small stage that had been pushed into place that wasn’t there before. It was
topped with the same twinkling lights, and the main lights in the Omega lobby had
been dimmed. He couldn't focus on the show anymore. Just hearing the name
Zachary had rolled him straight back into a time when he felt, when he cried,
loved, danced, and hurt. When he was anything but numb and desperate. In this
moment he caught the smell the musky scent of Samantha’s perfume as she slipped
her naked leg between his, and her arm across his chest as she slept. In the
day she would speak of future plans that seemed like crazy ideas, able to scare
him half to death with just the suggestion of a lifetime together. What he
would give to listen to all those words that he had once filtered out. Her
crumbs in the bed. The hair in the bath. The coffee rings she left on magazines
about architecture that he was planning to keep. Now he would treasure anything
if it was hers. As he opened his eyes he thought he saw her for a moment,
smiling, her image faint and hazy in front of him. Within seconds the image had
faded but still he reached out for her, his arm stroking the air. But even
though he knew it was impossible, she was here with him somehow. There was a
smell of musk in the air, and his leg tingled as if she had been resting hers
on his. Somewhere she still lived, inside of him. He always thought there was
nothing left, but the energy of the night had reignited something. There were
still memories in him, feelings, a passion he thought was lost or taken from
him as a punishment and yet now here in this night, with Leonard still
steadying him, he felt it. He felt a connection he thought had been burned when
the bombs rained down and fire had torched his world and his life. She was
here. He was here. They still lived, and it had taken the possibility of a
future to be able to taste the past. Perhaps he could believe that he could
forgive himself for his mistakes, knowing it was the only thing that could
really set him free.

We have a zero! A zero is the first
number!

The balls tumbled around in the drum,
each one skirting across the hole, missing its purpose. The next slotted into
place and the crowd held their breath.

A zero! Another zero! We are still
waiting folks!

That ruled out Eta Tower, And Theta
Tower. This was the normal start. Next ball was another zero. Had to be. The
balls continued round and round and the children danced in circles. Daley Cartwell
cheered and the crowds sat with their hands together. All eyes were fixed on
the drum, the coloured balls leaping over one another as if they didn’t want
the responsibility of being next. Another fell into the hole. Another zero?

We have an eight. An eight! The first
number of the winner is an eight!

Every resident of Delta leapt to its
feet, rising as a single unit. Even Leonard. It could be a citizen of Delta. There
were six numbers in total, and the first two were always zeros. The next was
always a two or three, except for the first draw when it was a five and
somebody from Gamma won. But now it was an eight. Some had started crying just
knowing they were this close. It looked as if it being close could be enough
for them. Or maybe the thought of leaving was too much. To lose a second life
for something else unknown, just like before, well, maybe that was worse than
staying here. At least here you knew what you had got. Zack tried to focus on
the screen even though everybody, Leonard included, was still up on their feet
cheering. He sat, tried to breath. Somebody knocked him from behind, winding
him. Somebody else was shouting for everybody to calm down. It could have been
a Guardian. People were shouting all around and like the balls of the machine
only snippets of information made it through to his ears. The rest was just
noise filtering rampantly through the crowd, carried on a wave of excitement. Daley
Cartwell was already announcing the fourth ball.

The crowd settled down but not in the
same lifeless way that it was normally subdued. There was a stir of
trepidation, people wanting to be calm and listen but unable. Zack was no
different. He stood, he sat. He held his hands together and then rested them on
the table. None of the Guardians moved. It was as if they wouldn't dare. What were
the numbers? Leonard was sitting talking to himself, his head in his hand. He
was crying. Zack focused on his shoulders shaking, and the tear as it fell from
Leonard’s face and struck the metal table.

“I’m out. I’m out. It’s over,
Zachary.” Zack looked towards the television screen over a sea of sad faces. Some
were holding their heads, others pulling at their hair. Some were crying and
others, stronger types, the ones who would try to pick people up again when it
was all over, were already trying to calm their neighbours. This was the only
time when Zack had ever believed there was some element of community amongst
the Delta residents. People just like Leonard were realising their chance was
over, their excitement replaced by fear that they had no hope of a brighter
tomorrow. Whatever tomorrow was. It would still be today. It would be
yesterday, and the day before. An endless Groundhog Day where there was no
choice left, and they just had to get on with it.

As another person sat down there were
only three people left on their feet. One of them was Zack. Zero. Zero. Eight. Six.
Five. Five balls out. Zack glanced down at his tattoo even though there was no
need. They were his numbers. He was one number away. He clutched his wrist, his
left thumb covering the length of the tattoo, only the triangle for Delta
visible.

And the last number is.......wait for
it, Delta Tower. We know it's one of you. What do we have?

The camera panned to the children,
then the crowds, then the president's seat, and then back to Daley Cartwell.

Number two! We have a winner. Delta
Tower, who is your winner? Is he there with you now?

As the final ball fell into the hole,
with the orgasmic announcement of the last number, the woman and the man near
the front of the Food Hall fell to their knees. Zack’s thumb pressed down
harder on the tattoo, stifling it, smothering it. He covered the triangle,
squashed it out, before closing his eyes. There was silence for the briefest of
moments, before a bullet strikes, the look in the eye of a lamb before
slaughter, the moment before impact when there is no turning back. The noise
began to filter back in, the muffled sounds destroyed as Leonard shouted at
him, his hands gripping Zack’s upper arms. He was shaking him.

“You’re in! You’re in, Zachary!” He
was crying tears of joy mixed with tears of loss and sadness. He let go and
threw his arms around him, his short stature causing his hairs to tickle at
Zack’s slack jaw. “You’re in!” he said again. “You won!”

Zack’s knees buckled and he collapsed
onto the bench, pulling the weight of Leonard with him. People nearby, red-faced
and disappointed, smiled and congratulated him, satisfied that it was at least
one of them. It was the selfless kind of happiness that a parent might feel for
a child’s success at the expense of their own. They consoled themselves in the hope
that the chosen one might share their dreams and help make their life better. Perhaps
Delta would be remembered, unforgotten in the future of the Republic of New
Omega.

Delta Tower, we have the name of your
winner.

“It’s Zack,” somebody shouted.

“We already know it!” shouted another.

Zachary Christian, your moment has arrived!
The future of your tower begins with you, right here on this night! It’s time
to get to the lobby. We are coming for you!

The crowd in Omega Tower was clapping,
their applause still controlled and the smiles on their faces measured and
planned. The children were forming two lines, those at the front carrying the Omega
flag, the green background and blue central diamond, topped by the yellow sun
with eight rays to represent each tower. The crowd in Delta Tower was crazed. He
heard somebody shouting, “It’s Zack, it’s Zack.” The voice was running away, filtering
the news down into the lower levels. He started thinking about Leonard who was
still crying, rubbing Zack's arms from his position at the side. Nothing but
pride on his face.

Get ready, Zachary. Tonight you sleep here
with us. Omega Tower welcomes you!

Somebody pulled him to his feet. It could
have been Leonard. He was walking, moving, being pulled. There were Guardians
forming lines keeping the crowds away. One of them pulled at Leonard but Zack
clung onto him. No Guardian would strike him now. Not before the cameras
arrived in Delta. Nobody wanted a winner with a bloody face. Somebody guided
him into the lift and he became squashed by bodies before somebody..........

Samantha was sitting on the dining table. She
was wearing only her underwear and a shirt of Zack’s, blue stripes and
oversized. She was balancing her feet on the bench seat and smiling over her
cup of coffee. She was looking in Zack’s direction whilst he buttered the
toast, her almond shaped eyes almost no wider than the slits of oysters. She
looked at him with such cheek on her face, like they were both in on a joke. In
this moment the world was their own. His hand stretched out and took the coffee
cup from her before he took a sip. He pushed her backwards and she began to
unbutton the shirt.

.......... shouted that the lift had been
over-filled and that it wasn’t moving. There were too many people and the
Guardians were pulling people out. Zack saw an Assister rise up and strike
somebody's shoulder. Somebody was shouting that he didn’t want to get out and
that he wasn’t the last in and that he was my friend and he wanted
to..............