Escape from Harrizel (5 page)

How did I get here?

The last thing I remember…

…are his brown eyes. Burning.
Alive
.
He’d stilled, completely flabbergasted to see me too. His jaw
dropped to speak, but then it went dark. As if I fell asleep. As if
someone turned the lights off and now, however many hours later,
they’re back on. And here I am, alone again with no clue how I got
here.

A pounding in my temple erupts and I bring
my hand to my head, massaging the curls above my right ear. This
surprises me. Bending my knee, I get further proof and sit up—no
restraints are tying me down. I kick my legs off the side of the
table and notice my Converse have been replaced with powder blue
slippers. They’re made of some scratchy, near-cotton material. I
resist the urge to touch them but look down and find I’m dressed in
scrub-like pants and a mid-sleeve top, both fitted and made of the
same itchy, sky blue fabric.

Jumping down, I land on my toes without
making a sound and make my way toward the wall-length window. The
afternoon sun greets me, casting light on the cracked dirt below,
offering more warmth than yesterday. The jungle glistens on the
horizon across, but sits barred by the immense wrought-iron
gate.

My stomach knots.

There needs to be a door, an
opening—
something
. I need to get out to the jungle again and
find the ruins. I
need
to get back out there and figure out
why it’s so familiar. But the gate’s larger than I originally
thought. It skyrockets, nearly reaching the height of this glass
wall with rods peaking into sharp triangular points, dotting around
this structure in a giant semi-circle. The only way past the gate
is through it, and though I’m thin, I’m not sure I’ll be able to
fit through the railings.

There’s movement below. A mass of blue blurs
slowly disperse around the Castle, carrying or dragging similar
objects as before. I press my forehead and fingertips to the glass
to get a better view.

“Lovely afternoon, isn’t it?”

I spin, finding a tall man with long, shiny
black hair. His cascading locks are pulled into a half pony tail,
falling just past his shoulders and onto a custard robe that
reaches the floor.

“My name is Jeb. I’m the Guide,” he walks
towards me, his hands behind his back, “and you must be…”

I retreat a step, back toward the pane of
glass, intuition constricting my voice. There’s plenty of room to
run if need be, but if he’s anything like Clarence, I’ll get
nowhere quick.

Jeb pauses with a frown. “Haven’t you
remembered yet?”

If I was on the ground, I could make for the
gate. I could hide among the other blue blurs and dash toward the
jungle when no one was looking. But how to get down there? Right
now it’s just us. And that fact raises a sickly feeling in my
gut.

“Clarence tells me your name is Fallon.”

“Where am I?”

“In the medical unit on the top floor of
this base. You were brought in yesterday and left to recover.
Please,” he advances a cautious step, “how are you feeling?”

There’s a pounding in my head, but whether
that’s from blacking out in the jungle or something that happened
since then, I have no idea. I have no idea about anything anymore.
And I’m not keen on him knowing this.

He frowns. “Not well?”

I bring my fingers to the back of my head,
cautious about any information divulged. “Dizzy.”

“That would be the Pill.”

“Pill?”

He produces a small vial of glistening
lavender liquid, pinching it between his finger and thumb.
“Medicine. To keep our humans happy and healthy. After what
happened to your planet, we must take every precaution available. I
do apologize about the Pill… it does tend to have a bit of an after
effect. Shouldn’t last long.”

“So you’re…” I gulp as images from yesterday
flash by. “What
are
you?”

“A Dofinike—a separate species, though not
entirely dissimilar from your own. But, I suppose your term for us
would be… alien.”

So it’s true, then. Everything that
happened. That’s
happening
. But if he’s the alien, what were
those creatures yesterday? How many different extraterrestrials are
here?

“I saw two…
things
at the gate,” I
round the closest table, keeping it between us. “What were
they?”

“You must be talking about Yerza and Norpe.
Yes, they shouldn’t have been messing around like that. I can
understand why you ran off,” he walks to a half wall and presses a
tiny button no larger than a fingernail. The outline of a square
appears and suddenly, a glass box emerges to fill it. He dispenses
the vial onto a shelf in the box, presses the button again and the
box disappears back into the wall. He turns to me. “There weren’t
supposed to be any more drops yesterday—Clarence brought you in by
complete surprise. Usually, they take their human form when our
guests arrive. They, shall we say, ‘didn’t get the memo.’”

“You can change back and forth?”

“Pardon?”

“From human to Dofinike?”

“Human
form
. Yes, we find it helps
ease the transition, especially in our younger guests. Seeing
familiar faces—so to speak—expedites the trust and that’s why you
ran. You didn’t know it was safe.”

“They were carrying weapons.”

“Hardly,” he laughs, walking past me to peer
out the window again. “What Yerza and Norpe carry are staffs. Sure
they can wound and probably in the hands of someone with a
bit
more intelligence, they might cause significant damage.
But at best, they’re for show.”

“To show what?”

“Well,” he sighs, “as you can see, Harrizel
can be a dangerous environment if not well navigated. What’s the
point of saving your race if you escape out there only to be killed
by sheer curiosity? The staffs are intended to keep you rounded up,
keep you where it’s safe. Now come with me,” he hooks his hands
behind his back, walking away from the solid pane of glass.
“There’s much to go over.”

“You’re taking me downstairs?”

“Eventually,” he turns with an odd
expression. “There are a few things I need to show you so you can
adjust to this new environment quickly.”

What kind of things do I need to know before
we’re on the ground? Will I even survive that long? What if those
blue blurs aren’t even people? What if they’re just robots or other
Dofinikes posing as similarly dressed humans so we’d go willingly
with Jeb? I just need to make it to the ground. Then I’ll have a
chance. I’ll find the door to the gate—or some other break in
it—and I’ll flee again.

Just make it to the ground. Make it there
and you’ll be fine
.

“I can’t wait all day, Fallon.”

There’s no choice but to follow.

Just make it to the ground.

Reluctantly, and fighting every intuition
boiling through me, I join Jeb’s side.

He leads me out of the endlessness and into
a darkened corridor on the other side, the two spaces separated by
a single pane of glass. Still able to see into the infinite room of
metal tables on my right, this new hall sleeps in the shadows cast
by the dark, plum-black stone to my left, curving up in an arch
above me. The only light draws from tiny golden spheres which float
around what appear to be metal branches glued to the wall.

I move closer and see it’s not metal at all,
but a silvery tree slithering up the dark stone like a snake. It
branches into several thin wires, looping about but never expanding
more than a foot from the wall. The small spheres hover here,
offering about three feet of whitish-yellow light that glows around
me.

“Gizella trees,” Jeb indicates, “excellent
natural light source, though not found around here. Terrible
inconvenience to bring them in.”

I lightly brush my fingertips against one of
the closest branches. It’s smooth except for its long, lined
wrinkles and feels very similar to carved metal, except for its
slight breathing. The wiry, metallic branch seems to expand
slightly and then release again at my touch.

“These?” I extend my middle finger to one of
the light spheres. As I’m about to touch it, it zaps me with a
sharp electric current. Immediately nursing it in my mouth, Jeb
chuckles behind me.

“Yes, you don’t want to touch those. They’re
babeebs—they don’t like to be disturbed.”

“They’re alive?”

“Of course they are!” he places himself at
my side. “They’re tiny organisms that live off the Gizella trees
unless another life force is closer.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” he extends his hand, signaling down
the rest of the corridor. I follow it and find the entire
plum-black wall lined with these silvery trees, dotted every four
to five feet down from one another. “We use them to light our way
around this base. But if there isn’t a Gizella tree where you need
to go—say, to your bunker—you simply scoop a few up and over, like
this,” Jeb gracefully dips his hand inches under the babeebs and
lifts them atop his head, where they hover a few inches above.
“Only one or two is sufficient. You don’t want to leave the rest of
us in the dark.”

“And they’re on the base floor as well? Are
they outside?”

“No—we use them solely to light the
interior. Just like your kind, we rely on the sun for outdoor
exposure,” he walks on, hands cupped behind his back. “There are
two in your room, so if you bring a few babeebs when you go,
remember to take them with you when you leave. We once found a
human coveting around forty or so! Can you believe it?”

“Why?”

“Who knows? But to ensure your safety and
the safety of others, there
are
routine sweeps of your room,
so don’t bring in anything you wouldn’t want us to find,” he
glances back with an endearing smile. This strikes me as odd, but I
keep silent. “And these, here,” Jeb gestures to the left, “are the
evibolas.”

He points to an arched door way of deep,
sparkling blue. We stop, my eyes adjusting as I take in its moving
splendor. It’s like looking into the night sky, at the moving stars
across varying hues of the universe. Beautiful.

A tall man, dressed similarly to Jeb, walks
through the veil, the deep blue evaporating like mist behind him.
He has short yellow hair and seems genuinely surprised to see me.
He glances at Jeb and, finding immediate comfort, walks off.

“These are the quickest way of transport—for
Dofinikes, that is,” Jeb is quick to clarify. “
Your
primary
mode is the stairs, located at each corner of the base. But for
today,” he takes a step toward the archway which has regenerated
the navy fogged shield, “they’ll serve our purpose.”

I’m interested in asking more about the
evibolas, where else they can lead, but with the passing of the
yellow haired man, another question emerges instead, one I want
answered more.

“How many Dofinikes are there?”

“Hmm?” he barely glances at me. “What’s
that? How many Dofinikes?”

“Clarence mentioned there were about four
hundred humans,” I keep my best poker face in play. “I’d imagine
there’d need to be quite a few Dofinikes to take care of us and…” I
gulp, “maintain order.”

“Well let’s see…” his eyes roll up, quickly
counting, “there must be about the same, I should imagine. We
mainly stay up here, in the labs and hospitals. We don’t have much
interaction with the humans unless they are ill or hurt or
something is wrong.”

“Why?”

“Well…” Jeb exhales, tossing his hands
behind his back again, “we feel this is a gentle process for you.
Your race is rebuilding itself. I’m sure it needs as little
meddling as possible.”

“You’re not meddling if you’re helping.”

“Yes, I do agree with that, but we want to
encourage your…” he clears his throat again, “
relationships
.
How are you going to develop your race if we’re constantly being
mistaken for humans? It’s less messy this way. And we’ve already
gone over why it’s better to assume our human forms. Yes?”

Relationships
. That’s a euphemism if
I’ve ever heard one. Suddenly, the realization that they’ll want me
to repopulate punches through me like a cannon ball. All the air’s
been stripped from my lungs and I have to work to keep my
expression dulled.

Just make it to the ground. Make it to the
ground and you won’t have to worry about any of this.

“So, we don’t see you in your true forms…
ever
?”

“Well not,
ever
. As you know, no one
is perfect. Trouble does arise from time to time and when it does,
we have to restore order.”

“How?”

“Tetlak is head of the guards. He’s
absolutely stubborn and refuses to submit to human form so when he
appears, the situation tends to dissolve itself. Between you and
me,” Jeb throws me an honest look, “I’d keep from getting on his
bad side.
Terrible
mood.”

What does
that
mean?

“Beyond today and—hoping you never get hurt
or ill—you won’t be up here,” Jeb spins, “I’ll show you to the
human areas where you’ll spend the majority of your time.”

He walks right through the sparkling blue
arch, which sits like a thick mist, separating us. I’m quick to
follow, passing the navy haze of glistening stars and into a
darkened area no more than a few feet in width.

Jeb is ahead but turns to me, indicating I
join his right side.

Obliging, I stand next to him, the floor
humming beneath us. We’re in complete darkness and just when I
think nothing’s going to happen—it does. Nothing happens. Until Jeb
walks back out of the darkness, hands calmly clasped behind his
back as he strolls out the same way we entered.

I follow him into an enormously low-lit
room—the size of a school gymnasium—darkened like the upstairs
corridor with the same plum-black stone walls. The corners of the
room host gallant stairwells of pure obsidian, Gizella trees
crawling up the steps and along the walls, attempting to climb
their way free as babeebs linger on their silver branches,
illuminating the hovels with their golden glows.