3.6 - Three Hours

     “Yeska has come before us to take the vow!” Shaman Caldross proclaimed, holding his arms out wide before the crowd. He stood next to an elderly woman, who was seated with her back to the assembly, facing the Core Phantom tablet. It was a stone slab reaching from floor to ceiling, covered in delicate carvings. When Caldross paused, Kerrik could hear Yeska reciting the phrases carved into the tablet. 

“No longer will she be among us, no, she will pass beyond our boundaries and make her way into the earth!” Caldross said. “To guide us, and provide for us. Like Mardt before her, and Harlily before him, and Buse before them!” 

A few of the crowd murmured prayers and thanks. Kerrik scratched at the stubble on his chin, all he could ever manage to grow. The christening of a new Core Phantom always made him uncomfortable, but no one else seemed to mind. Perhaps it was the location. The tablet was down on the fifth floor of Bunker, where the air was hot and earthy and poorly ventilated. The fifth floor gave way to entirely dirt-covered chambers and stone walls, as opposed to the concrete walls of the rest of Bunker. There was a reverence that everyone else seemed to embrace as they entered the floor, but Kerrik never felt it. Even Mylis and Rosha quieted their constant bickering when they set foot on the fifth floor. He glanced over at the two of them. Both had their heads bowed, hands clasped in front of their matching green overalls. Rosha’s face was mostly hidden by her light brown hair which matched the dirt around her worn sneakers. Mylis had her pitch-black hair pulled back tight in two buns, revealing a small pig tattoo on the back of her neck. They had been friends for a long time, but it was the first time he had noticed it. She opened one eye and caught him staring, then stuck her tongue out.  

“She has asked to join the Core Phantoms, and they were elated to welcome her into the fold,” Caldross continued on. The reading of the tablet was horribly dense and long, so Shaman Caldross used that time to sing the praises of whoever was taking the vow. Occasionally his tangents would go in mildly entertaining directions, but for the most part, Kerrik would rather listen to the hushed reading of the tablet. At least that was almost soothing in its mundanity. He looked down at the dirt beneath him and remembered the first time he had felt it. 

A boy, wandering away from his parents. A large circular door that should have been sealed, left ajar. He crept down the stairs, moving just enough to activate the motion-sensing fluorescents along the walls. They glowed orange through the thin layer of dirt covering them. He reached the bottom and sank his feet into the soil for the first time in his life. The hall extended forward into the chamber housing the tablet, but young Kerrik was more interested in the soil, and the smaller chambers branching off of the main hall. He cradled a handful of dirt, squishing it in his hands. It smelled bad and stained his hands. He slowly let it tumble from them, then wiped them on his pants. Now they were stained too, and his hands still were. He heard something from one of the small chambers along the hall. A voice. Crying. He moved into the room, barely illuminated from the hall. This room had no lights to speak of. Sitting on the floor in the center of the room was a woman, only her arms and legs were three times as long as they should be. They were folded in a pile underneath her like a coiled snake. Her body was thin, and covered in dirt, with large cracked patches of weathered skin. Her hair was gray, at least the few strands that weren’t entirely covered in mud. She mumbled to herself. 

“Symzonia. Symzonia. Symzonia. System abort. System abort. System abort. 62579. 62579. 62579. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t do it.” 

She looked up at young Kerrik, two clean lines running down her face where the tears had cleaned the dirt away. 

“We broke it!” she cried out. “It was perfect before us, and we destroyed it!” 

“Broke what?” Kerrik responded. 

“The world, time, all of it,” she said. “We have made a bed of chaos for ourselves.” 

Just then, two strong hands grabbed Kerrik by the arms and lifted him from the floor. As he was being pulled away, he saw the girl’s arms and legs sink into the soil, and shortly after, her body disappeared as well. 

“You shouldn’t be down here, young man,” a stern voice said. He was being held out in front of the man who’s grip was so tight to Kerrik’s arms that his hands began to tingle. He turned his head to see who it was, but could only see long wavy blonde hair. 

“Let me go!” he shouted. “Who was that?” 

“You have been blessed with the presence of a Core Phantom, it is good luck,” the man said. Carrying Kerrik up the stairs. “Do not speak of this to anyone, or the luck will turn to ash and you will be cursed.” 

“Cursed? What does that mean? How?” Kerrik had more questions than time. “What did she mean when she said we broke it?” 

The man didn’t speak. He sat Kerrik down on the other side of the door to the fifth floor and pushed him hard in the back. Kerrik tumbled forward, scraping his knees on the familiar concrete. He turned as quickly as he could, but the man had already pulled the round door back into place. 

“And that was when Yeska discovered her passion for basket weaving!” the voice of Caldross summoned Kerrik back to the present. Fourteen years removed, and it still felt fresh in Kerrik’s mind. He had never told anyone what he saw that day. Every time there was a Core Phantom christening, he looked for the wavy blonde-haired man, but to no avail. Mylis slid over to him and nudged him in the side. 

“You look unusually contemplative,” she whispered. “Don’t think too hard, you might hurt yourself.” 

“Shove off,” he whispered back. 

“Wow, very inventive,” she responded. Her typically musty smell that Kerrik had grown to enjoy was just barely covered by a flowery perfume that she only wore for events like this. Recently it had become more difficult for him to be around her. His feelings had shifted without consulting him, and suddenly his childhood friend made his palms clammy and his chest tight. It was quite inconvenient. 

“This place gives me the creeps,” he said. He didn’t intend to say it, it just tumbled out. Another side effect. 

“Me too,” Mylis said. The response shocked him. There was nothing but holy respect for the fifth floor in Bunker. She moved a little closer to him. He could feel her arm graze his and he flinched slightly. Hopefully, she didn’t feel it. 

“I thought I was alone,” he said. “I’ve never felt good down here.” 

Rosha moved over next to Mylis and leaned her head in front of them. 

“Want to include me in your little powwow?” she whispered. 

“You’re so needy,” Mylis responded, poking Rosha in the nose. “We’re talking about this place. How it rubs us the wrong way.” 

Rosha’s face shifted from mild annoyance to resignation. 

“Yeah, it’s not my favorite,” she said. “I hate having to attend these things.” 

“The two of you are always so solemn down here!” Kerrik said, now doubly shocked. “I had no idea.” 

“It’s called acting bud,” Mylis said derisively. He hated how much he liked when she poked fun at him. 

“You are-” Kerrik stopped mid-sentence as the room grew deathly silent. Yeska had finished the reading. Shaman Caldross moved away from the woman and stood pensively along the wall. The air grew colder. The dirt quivered beneath Kerrik’s feet. Slowly, on either side of Yeska, the ground churned and spewed upward. Like bubbles at first, it built and built until geysers of dirt shot upward into the ceiling. Yeska remained completely still, kneeling with her back to the crowd. A few who were standing too close backed up, causing everyone to do the same. The geysers died down and in their place stood two humanoids. The Horsemen. They nodded their round heads, easily two feet across and covered in tangles of iron bars. They wore orange jumpsuits and a strange electronic armband. The most striking part of the nearly eight-foot-tall gods were their crescent-shaped claws, like two great moons sprouting from their wrists.  

“We are pleased you have taken this pledge,” one of them said to Yeska. The voice rumbled deep and echoed. “We happily welcome Yeska into the ranks of the Core Phantoms.” 

That voice...there was something about it. The cadence with which the Horseman spoke. 

“You shall join the ranks of the hallowed few who have taken the pledge before you, and pass beyond your human boundaries. You will become one with us, and with the earth, to guide and watch over humanity.” 

Surely not. The Horseman couldn’t be. Young Kerrik had been grabbed and thrown out of the fifth floor by a man. Not a clawed giant beast. They turned from the crowd to face each other, with Yeska kneeling between them. They leaned over, interlocking their claws around her. As they did, one of the armbands on the Horseman sparked. For a brief moment, Kerrik thought he saw a seam in the Horseman’s neck, between their globed head and jumpsuit. A zipper. It faded as quickly as he had seen it and now the head melded underneath the jumpsuit. 

“Your willing commitment to the order of the Core Phantoms will ensure that Bunker remains free and blessed beyond our time,” the Horseman said. “And no curses shall fall upon your people.” 

It was him. The word curse gave it away. He curled his C into his U, creating almost a Q sound. Exactly the way the man had when Kerrik was a child. They were not beasts, they were men. Suited and obscured by the armbands. It meant something, but Kerrik didn’t know what. Why were they hiding? How did they survive, beneath the earth? Did they live beyond Bunker? There were no exits to Bunker, and no windows to speak of, save one. On the ceiling of the first floor of Bunker, thirty feet up, was one, domed glass window. All it allowed was for light to pass in and out, the rising and setting of the sun, every three hours, as it had always been. But are there more places like Bunker? Kerrik’s heart raced. It felt as if his entire life had built to this moment, at which point it was shattered to pieces around him. Everything he had taken at face value, taken as the world, was now as thin as lace curtains over a window looking out on an entire universe. The Horsemen descended with Yeska in tow, and the crowd dispersed, returning to the fourth floor. Kerrik moved like a ghost, shuffling up the stairs, unfeeling of everything around him. 

“Hey!” Mylis shouted. He heard it, and suddenly heard the two calls before it as well, and felt her hands shaking him. “You okay?”    

“Sorry, it...I was just…” he struggled to find the words. He wasn’t even sure which words he was searching for. Would Mylis and Rosha believe him? Was it worth roping them in? If there was any part of Mylis that was interested in him the way he was in her, would it stay that way if he lost his mind in front of her? Surely not. 

“I haven’t been sleeping well, that’s all,” he lied. “Let’s go get some food, I’m starving.” 

After stuffing their faces in the cafeteria, and making up stories about where Yeska was and what she was doing, Kerrik found himself alone with Rosha as Mylis used the restroom. 

“Rosha, can you keep a secret?” he asked. It had been boiling inside of him, taking over every part of his being. The doubt. “Even from Mylis?” 

Rosha shrugged, picking at the hardened crust of bread left on her plate. 

“Sure, if you want me to,” she said. 

“I need help with something. I don’t know if it’s even possible, but I have to try,” he said, leaning close across the table. “I want to open the sun window and see what’s out there.” 

Rosha smiled at first, then lowered her eyebrows as she studied Kerrik’s expression. 

“Wait, you’re serious?” she said. “There’s nothing to see. It’s the sun, and space, and stars. That’s it.” 

The look she was giving him was what he was afraid of. Partly disbelief and partly pity. There was no turning back now, though.

“You might be right, but I have to know,” he said. “I can’t explain why, but something is off. I think there’s more out there than just Bunker. I don’t think we’re alone.” 

Rosha stared at him long and hard, piercing eyes sharp enough to puncture a wall in Bunker. She didn’t believe him, he could see that much. It seemed that something was keeping her from dismissing him entirely though. Doubt was there, in her, skittering around the boundaries of her mind. He hoped it was enough. Mylis emerged from the restroom across the cafeteria and headed in their direction. 

“I’ll pay you back, somehow, I promise,” Kerrik said. “Just meet me on the first floor in three hours, during rest time.” 

Rosha looked over her shoulder at Mylis approaching them, then turned back to Kerrik. 

“Fine. You’re gonna owe me though.” 

Three hours later, Kerrik stood beneath the domed window, staring straight up into the black sky beyond it. The enormous room, the biggest in Bunker, was void of all life. It was primarily used as a recreational arena, and nearly the entirety of Bunker was sleeping. Except for Kerrik. At his feet were sixty feet of rope, karabiners, an old pair of gloves, and a few tools, all of which he had stolen from the maintenance department. 

“This is insane you know,” Rosha’s voice broke the silence as she approached him from the stairwell leading to the second floor. “If you fall, I’m not gonna catch you.” 

“I know, I know,” Kerrik said, feeling rather uncertain himself. “At least I’ll get a great look at the sky before I die.” 

He turned to Rosha and smirked. She looked back at him with her mouth as thin as a wire but cracked a smile. 

“How do you plan on getting up there?” she asked. 

He pointed at one of the beams near the ceiling, stretching the length of the room and straying within a foot or two of the window. 

“I’m going to toss a rope over that, and climb up,” he said, holding up one end of the rope that was tied around a carabiner which was clipped to a small weight from the gymnasium. “I’m going to have to climb up near the wall, and shimmy across the beam to the window. We can tie off the rope to one of those heavier weights, but I’m still gonna need you to hold it and hoist me up a bit.” 

“Oh God,” Rosha said. “Isn’t tying it off enough?” 

“Have you ever tried to climb thirty feet up a rope?” Kerrick asked, his voice peaking with incredulity. 

“Fine,” Rosha said. “Just...please climb fast. And don’t fall.” 

It took Kerrik ten throws to actually get the weight over the beam, and just from that, his arm was already sore. This was going to be difficult. They tied the rope off on the heaviest set of weights they could find, and Rosha planted her feet and took hold of it while Kerrick took a few moments to compose himself and stretch. 

“Remember, don’t tell Mylis about this,” he said as he approached the rope. 

“Don’t worry, I won’t,” she said. She paused for a moment, then continued. “She likes you too, you know.”

Suddenly the climb and what he would find at the end of it ceased to exist to Kerrik and his stomach spun for a different reason. Did she like him? Surely not. Not him. There must be another Kerrik and Rosha was just confused. 

“Is...she, she does?” he stammered. “What makes you...I didn’t say, uhmmm.” 

“I’m not dumb, Kerrik,” Rosha said, easing her grip for a moment as she tilted her head and smirked at him. “You’re both obvious about it. Just say something to her next time.” 

She looked down, for a moment, and Kerrik thought he saw disappointment. Rosha had always been slightly annoyed by him, though, so it couldn’t be...no it wasn’t him. It was Mylis. They had both been charmed. 

“I’m sorry Rosha, I didn’t know,” he said. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for, it’s no one’s fault,” she said. “Just unlucky, that’s all. Enough of this! Get up there and do whatever you’re planning on doing so I can go get some sleep already!” 

He nodded and pulled on the stolen gloves. He made it a few feet comfortably, and then the burn set in, even quicker than he expected. This was going to be extraordinarily painful. His back was to the wall, and he used his legs as much as he could by clamping one foot on top of the other with the rope between them, allowing him to rest his upper body between pulls. One hand after the other. Slowly. The pain in his forearms radiated upward through his biceps, and into his shoulders. It nestled there, hot and pulsing, bursting through his skin, and pouring back down his arms. He tried not to tighten the rest of his body, but he couldn’t help it. His neck began to ache as well, from the tightening muscles. Halfway there. He had only climbed 15 feet. Then the ache in his thighs began to radiate like bursting open flames.

He covered the pain with the memory from his childhood. The crying Core Phantom. We made a bed of chaos for ourselves. What did she mean? He would find out. No matter what he had to do, he would see through the window, see outside of Bunker. He would be the first. He climbed faster, a reserve of energy unlocking within him. The pain subsided, for a moment. A reprieve long enough to carry him through. He grabbed onto the beam and pulled himself up onto it, straddling it. He refused to look down. That would be a thoroughly bad idea. He gripped both sides of the beam and pulled himself forward, slowly but surely until he reached the center of the beam. Carefully, he placed both hands on the beam and pulled a leg up. The ceiling around the window was close enough to put a hand on, and steady himself as he stood on the beam. He still could only see blackness out of the window, and unfortunately, there were no latches to be seen. It was made up of solid glass panels, each one about three feet wide and long, separated by latticed steel bars. He pulled a hammer from his pocket, and began to swing. He thought he heard Rosha say something from below him, but ignored it, and continued to swing the hammer into the glass. Cracks splintered outward from the middle like a web, until finally, the panel shattered. 

He looked down. He shouldn’t have, but he did. Immediately he felt sick and dizzy as he watched the shattered glass fall to the floor, Rosha-who had moved beneath him in the center of the room-quickly moved away from it and held up a middle finger to Kerrik. He took a deep breath, and slid the hammer along the edges of the frame, clearing out any last bits of glass. There was no sound, from the other side. Only a very slight breeze. He reached his arms up and pulled himself out of Bunker with what felt like the last reserve of strength he had. 

The domed roof of Bunker rolled outward around him, before disappearing into the earth. Beyond it, in every direction, he could see dirt. Plain earth, reaching into the blackness. Far in the distance to his left he thought he saw a structure of some sort, with light bleeding through partially translucent walls. Then, suddenly, he saw shapes forming in the air. Some were human, some animal, all moving at a blistering pace, gone as soon as they arrived. Around them, structures began to form and fade in the same ethereal mirage. Along the horizon, the sun climbed upward, but it flickered inconsistently, its position shifting slightly. Kerrik thought he saw a creature like the Horsemen, with crescent-shaped claws, walking through a field with a man, and then it was gone. A minute later, he thought he saw it again, and then the man alone in the field, and then it was gone. He thought he saw a strange moving structure with windows along its sides, filled with passengers. It had a sign on the top of it that said something he couldn’t make out. Four words. The ghostly structures built up, and vanished, built up, and vanished until there were more than ever, and then everything was gone. Then it started again. Everything started again. The sun continued to climb but still flickered. There was still no sound, only a gentle breeze across the top of Bunker. The visions dissipated and reformed in a mesmerizing dance, drifting into and out of focus like smoke. 

Kerrik watched time. It was all of time. Beginning and ending. The sun flickered because it was rising and setting thousands of times, in the moments it took to crawl upwards. If he focused, he could spot the same moments, over and over around him. Bunker had been left behind. Or excluded, somehow. It was not a part of the world. Time did not belong to Bunker, it belonged to everyone else. A horrible fear fell over Kerrik, as he watched. There would only ever be Bunker, for him. This, all of this before him, was gone. Broken. Separated like a rock in the center of a rushing river. Slowly worn down, but never moving with the current. The breath in his lungs escaped him, and he fell to his knees. 

Then he began to feel other things. The aggressive passage of time all around him seemed to be having some sort of physical impact. He felt stretched. Pulled by the very air around him. Pockets of his skin grew cold and then hot. He felt dehydrated and suddenly the exhaustion from climbing returned with a fit of righteous anger. He forced himself to turn away from the throne of time and back towards Bunker, his prison. The Horsemen did this. They robbed them all of time itself. No, they weren’t Horsemen, they were frauds. Only men. If humans could break time, there must be a way to fix it. That was it. A wisp of hope swirling in front of him. Kerrik would find the man with blonde hair and make him undo what they had done.