Page 7

Does anyone win the race of life, or do we all get participation trophies?

Khalani roughly wiped a bead of sweat trickling down her face. She peered down at her shaking hands and noticed blood all over them. Her blisters had popped, and the black dirt mingled with blood.

The ugly mixture oozed down her palms, and she stared at the colors, seeing herself in the dirty blend. Pain and anger were her kaleidoscopes.

She lowered her hands to wipe the unseemly hues on her clothing but hesitated, realizing it would get blood on her uniform. And that was a peculiar thought. Who cared what she looked like anymore?

“You alright?” Derek asked, setting the empty wheelbarrow down.

She showed him her hands, and he hissed. “Here.” He ripped off a piece of fabric from his arm and wrapped it over her palms.

She ground her teeth together and shut her eyes as he tightened the fabric, covering up her brokenness. The pressure over the wounds was excruciating, but she kept her mouth shut, having dealt with worse.

“Better?”

“Yeah.”

“You two, keep working!” Marcela shrieked at them.

Her triceps burned in agony. It was as if her arms begged to be sliced off, so they could walk away in some sick twisted nightmare. If she could cut herself apart and walk away breathing, she would. Weird thoughts of self-mutilation entered her brain as she went into overdrive mode, loading her wheelbarrow with hefty rocks.

Khalani locked the pain into the far reaches of her mind—a skill she’d mastered long before being sentenced to prison. Two weeks had passed since her first day in Braderhelm.

She hadn’t spoken to Takeshi Steele since their last encounter. Avoiding him like the plague was a difficult task, since he locked her in a cell every night, but it was one she excelled in.

The work in the tunnels never got any easier. Screaming and punishment went hand-in-hand, sometimes for seemingly nothing.

Khalani learned to ignore the hunger pains in her stomach and scoffed down water at any opportunity. She must have already lost ten pounds, as evidenced by her protruding ribs.

The worst part was the migraines. It felt like someone was banging against the walls of her brain with a sledgehammer, trying to conduct a never-ending symphony.

Derek, Serene, and Adan helped keep her sane. She didn’t feel nearly as alone when she was with them. After all, misery did love company.

But even they couldn’t alleviate the endless sadness residing inside her. Going through the motions of her new desolate reality was her daily dose of torment. Wake, pain, eat, pain, sleep, repeat. Over and over. Like a merry-go-round.

They built a merry-go-round once in Apollo. That was the first time she saw a horse. It was a fake horse, of course, but she didn’t care. She rode the merry-go-round after school hundreds of times. It was sixty seconds of happiness. She wanted to make that blissful minute extend forever.

The Apollo Council voted to destroy the merry-go-round after one month of operation. They said it distracted from daily work that needed to be completed for the city. A convenient excuse. They couldn’t let anyone be too happy or have enough down time to get to know their neighbor.

What better way to make someone depend on you than to isolate them?

“Don’t slack on me now,” Derek instructed, noting her slowed movements as she got lost in her thoughts.

“Do you ever miss it?” she asked, shifting the rocks in the wheelbarrow to make more room.

“Miss what?”

“Your life before all this.”

“I miss sleeping in my bed and taking a shit on my own toilet,” Derek said.

Despite the pain, she couldn’t help but grin. That was why she liked Derek. No matter how severe or grim the circumstances were, he had this carefree attitude. Like everything, and nothing mattered.

Derek was silent as they continued to work. She thought he wouldn’t say anything more about it, but he glanced around, ensuring no guards were nearby.

“I don’t have anything to miss,” he whispered. “No family. No friends. My life was my work in Apollo’s R instead, she had on a long purple dress that grazed the floor, adorned with a golden sun that stretched all the way to her flowing sleeves.

The woman quickly grabbed Khalani by the arm with a speed she wasn’t expecting and pulled her through the doorway.

“No noise, no noise! You’ll mess her concentration,” the old lady yelled, slamming the door shut and rushing past Khalani.

Khalani scrunched her forehead and glanced around in silent confusion. She found herself wedged between two towering wooden shelves filled with books that reached the short ceiling. The air carried the scent of old leather, and the room was enveloped in deep shadows. The only light emanated from a candelabra on a short circular table at the far end of the bookshelves.

The frizzy-haired woman hurried to the table, focused on an unusual metal object. Khalani traced her hand along the bookshelf as she followed.

Apollo Ordinance Volume One.

Apollo Ordinance Volume Two.

Every leather spine bore the same title, like what she would find in any Apollo library.

Her attention cut back to the old lady mumbling to herself as she tinkered with the weird gizmo.

“Umm, excuse me, are you Winifred?” Khalani asked.

“Shhh!” The old lady waved her hand. “Come see, come see.”

Once she walked past the two long bookcases, the room opened up. To the left of the table was a wooden desk pushed against the stone wall, with papers and books stacked on top. Khalani squinted. Those didn’t appear to be Apollo Ordinance volumes. Or any sanctioned book, for that matter.

She stepped forward to get a closer look, but something else caught her eye. It was a medium-sized painting in a golden frame, positioned in the center of the stone wall. It depicted a man wearing a long white coat in a desert, walking toward a tall metal building that spiraled into the sky. Strands of red and blue flowed along the sides of the building, intertwining like coils of DNA .

Khalani continued to study the odd picture, her eyes narrowing when the woman tapped her shoulder. “Come sit. You must see.” Excitement tinged the woman’s voice.

Khalani forgot about the strange painting as the woman pushed her down onto a creaking black chair. In the center of the circular table lay a small wooden box. The frizzy-haired lady flipped the box and held some metal tools toward the bottom. She meticulously worked, leaning her head so close the monocle almost scratched against the wood.

“Okay.” The woman set down the tools. “It should work.” She placed the wooden box upright and turned a knob on the back.

Khalani heard a light ticking and leaned back warily. Her muscles tensed as the box opened and a tiny, porcelain girl in a pink ballet costume emerged.

The soft sound of music began to filter through the air.

The woman clapped her hands excitedly, her hair bouncing up and down as she gleamed with happiness. “It works!”

The porcelain girl slowly turned, her arms forming a circle over her head, leg bent, as the soft melody played on.

Khalani’s eyes widened, and she leaned forward, completely hypnotized by the inanimate girl spinning round and round. The haunting hymn encompassed the small space, as if the very air wanted to hear more and welcome its release into the world.

She lifted her gaze to the mysterious woman with her hands clasped together, the brightest smile shining across her face. “What is it? Where did it come from?”

The woman still bounced up and down, grinning from ear to ear. “It’s a music box! Someone on Genesis threw it down the trash chute. Thought it was garbage. Not Winnie, though. She knew this was special.” She tapped on her chest proudly.

The ballerina continued to twirl, and Khalani’s mouth fell open in awe. Despite the small, dark library, a delicate warmth filled the space, easing the restlessness in her body.

In a way, she envied the tiny dancer who lived on a steady foundation. Unchanging. Safe. Only needing to turn when the dark doors of her life unraveled.

The music box slowly wound down, and the girl stopped moving. A dreamy sigh escaped the old woman, and Khalani stared at her in amazement.

“How did you get that down here?”

The woman’s smile disappeared, and she paled, as if realizing Khalani was there for the first time. “Wait, who are you? Why did you come here?”

“George told me to meet you in the library for my afternoon shift. My name is Khalani,” she quickly explained.

The woman visibly relaxed, exhaling deeply.

“You’re Winifred, right?” Khalani asked.

“Winifred is the name of an old woman. No, no. Call me Winnie. Winnie Talbot.” Winnie grabbed the music box delicately and walked to the other desk. She gently tucked the box away in one of the drawers, patting the desk in comfort. “It’s been a while since they sent a fellow prisoner to help Winnie.”

Khalani frowned. “You’re a prisoner?”

Winnie chuckled. “My goodness, dear girl, why would Winnie ever choose to be in this place? There is no color in these walls or liveliness in the air. Winnie loves color.” Winnie looked at her like this was the most obvious fact, and she was clearly the idiot for not catching those details.

“But your outfit….” Khalani gestured to her flowing purple dress.

“Oh, you like it?” Winnie twirled. “Winnie made it herself,” she said with pride and a sparkle in her eye.

“It’s umm…pretty.”

Winnie squinted her eyes, noticing Khalani’s ugly attire. She touched the monocle as if to examine her better.

It’d been a couple days since she’d taken a shower, and the hard sweat of manual labor manifested its ugly undertone over her smelly uniform.

The grey fabric was the antithesis of Winnie’s embodiment. Her energy was unusual but vivacious. Strange, yet fascinating. Charming, unapologetic, and intriguing all at the same time.

“Hmmm, that won’t do. Won’t do at all.” Winnie snapped her fingers. “Winnie will see to getting your own, don’t worry. But do have patience. It will take some time to make it for you.”

Khalani’s forehead puckered as she glanced around the space, like she was expecting to find answers written on the book covers. “I don’t understand. How were you able to get that…music box in Braderhelm? How can you wear those clothes? Aren’t you worried about the guards finding out?”

“Whoa, whoa. Slow down before your mind moves so fast that it turns backward. Not good for the body.”

Huh?

Winnie gestured for Khalani to sit down and sighed dramatically as she sat across from her.

“Winnie was sentenced to this place a long time ago. So long, it can be hard to remember anything before. But Winnie refuses to forget. Winnie maintains the Apollo Ordinances and ensures they are distributed to the guards and prisoners every few months, lest they forget who holds their leash. You know of the Ordinances, right?”

Of course, she did. Every citizen did.

The Apollo Ordinances were the binding set of laws for the city, passed down since humans first went underground during the Great Collapse.

Total submission was mandatory.

The Ordinances explained the history of Apollo, the other underground cities, and the events that led to the Great Collapse. They detailed the greed and power that overtook society and why it was necessary to obey the Council in all things; to prevent the extinction of humanity.

She nodded. “Yes. The first Apollo Council wrote the Ordinances to save us from rebellion and radiation above.”

“Is that what they’re teaching?” Winnie bent over, choking on laughter. “Those fools, thinking they can re-write history to match what best suits them. ”

“What do you mean?”

“The Apollo Ordinances are nothing but pure propaganda designed to keep you in line. A few professors in the early years protested against the Ordinances. They worked tirelessly to convince people that the Apollo Council would do away with all democracy and descend into a totalitarian regime. They were all executed, of course. Their predictions slowly came to fruition, and we don’t even remember their names.

“Every citizen fell in line because they lost their will to fight. All they could remember were the nuclear bombs descending on their beloved cities and dancing across their screens as their loved ones perished and hope burned. The image of the sun vanished from their minds, and the feel of the ocean water dissipated. Animals and plants died along with their souls. Humanity escaped fiery terror above and thought they would find solace below, but it only brought us closer to hell. How far the mighty have fallen,” Winnie trailed off.

“How do you know all this?”

“Winnie worked in the Archives, and the professors wrote a few books about it,” she said nonchalantly, still lost in thought. Khalani’s eyes shot up, and she scooted to the edge of her chair, her hands clasped together.

“The Archives? Did you know a man who used to work there? His name was Douglas.”

“Douglas?” Winnie tapped her fingers against her chin, staring at the ground as if it contained a library of memories. “Douglas, hmm. I can’t say I remember, but the Archive workers don’t generally converse with one another. Too many secrets are held within our brains. Charles was my only friend.”

Khalani leaned back in disappointment, grief perforating her heart once more. All she wanted was to share a memory of him with someone who remembered his face.

“It was because of Winnie’s work in the Archives that the guards selected her to be the next keeper of the Braderhelm library. The guards never come and force Winnie to stay here all day, preferring she stay with the books. Call her ‘Cookie Winnie.’ Call her crazy lady.” Winnie’s lips pursed .

“Winnie doesn’t mind, though. Because they don’t pay attention to Winnie, she can get items smuggled into the shipments. But they haven’t sent any prisoners up here for a long time. You are the first. It’s been…lonely.” Winnie stared down at her hands, sagging her back.

Khalani’s lips turned down at her expression. It might not be too far off to say that Winnie was not all there in the head, or at least not completely normal. But she didn’t fear the old woman. It was hard to explain, but there was a gentleness in her infectious energy that drew Khalani in.

“Well, they sent me to help today. Maybe, if you request it, I can be placed with you more often,” Khalani offered in a hopeful voice.

Winnie’s attention shifted to Khalani, and she nodded emphatically.

“Winnie would like that.”

Khalani’s lips curved up. Working there definitely beat any other assignment she’d been given. And something was different about the library, like a semblance of life lay in the forgotten space, untouched by the forsaken walls of Braderhelm.

In there, Khalani felt like she could breathe.

“What do you need help with?” She glanced around the disheveled room and cringed as a colossal cockroach crawled under the corner of a bookcase.

Winnie’s eyes sparkled at Khalani’s words. “This is great! Someone to keep me company while I finish my work. Maybe she can help…no, no. That’s a foolish dream, Winnie. No trust. But still, company! Wonderful, wonderful,” Winnie mused, pacing back and forth.

It was odd that Winnie kept referring to herself in the third person, but that was probably something Khalani had to get used to.

Winnie kept muttering to herself with no end in sight.

“Uh, Winnie?”

Winnie stopped and focused on her. “Yes, dear?”

“Help with anything?” Khalani reminded her.

“Oh, yes, yes!” Winnie threw her hands up emphatically before disappearing behind one of the stacks. She reappeared a few seconds later, rolling a cart with a dozen books entitled Apollo Ordinance Volume One .

“We must deliver these books to the guard housing blocks every few months. You can help Winnie by delivering these. Use these papers to jot down each room number you deliver to.” Winnie handed her a couple blank white sheets of paper and a pencil.

She drew back in trepidation, not wanting to get anywhere near where the guards slept.

Winnie patted her shoulder.

“Not to worry, dear. They prefer to kill prisoners out in the open. Don’t venture from your path, and make sure not to enter their rooms. There are worse things than death .”