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= META 4 CITY =

a DarkSF Novel

by John Argo

Page 17.

Chapter 11

Sunlight flooded into the room.

Tedda sat dully waiting, with her hands folded together in her lap, on a hard wooden chair with a curving back generously sweeping around her and under her forearms to provide resting spots for her elbows.

She sat with her feet crossed at the ankles, and twiddled her thumbs.

The drugs were not out of her system yet, and the clinic had given her other drugs to counteract nausea and dizziness. In that cocktail of gel capsules was also something to take the edge off her terror.

Nearby sat the gurney, cold and dead now, with sheets and blankets tightly folded and placed very precisely in a harmonious and military looking pyramid with the pillow near the top and a white towel and washcloth folded on top of that.

Dust motes twirled in the bar of sunlight that streaked in and exploded silently on the waxed floor.

The large, rectangular room smelled of floor wax and harsh soap.

Somewhere, voices echoed in hallways. Someone whistled. A man laughed.

Two women joked.

A man made a seductive comment.

Two women laughed.

Tedda caught it all in the periphery of her awareness as she sat waiting.

A hand bag sat by her side with a few possessions in it; nothing personal in there, unless she counted the plain pine toothbrush with frayed bristles, which she had been using for however long she'd been here.

At one point she rose. Her legs were stiff and shaky.

She wore a plain blue mid-calf gown, and on soft lace-up boots like the ones she'd lost.

The memory of near drowning terrified her.

She closed her eyes and held her palms to her ears as she saw again the swirling loamy water, the dead women hanging from their shackles liked skinned animals, the van tumbling away downstream.

Quickly she opened her eyes, counter-instinctively, and moved her palms across her mouth to stop herself from screaming.

Tears flowed from her eyes and dribbled over her fingers, dripping onto the hard floor.

Her tears, she saw, were real. They spattered when they struck the brownish, dully gleaming floor that smelled of hard, institutional, cruel wax.

She walked across the floor, her inner ears ringing and pounding.

She had to stop once or twice as the floor seemed to shift like a carpet being swirled, but the feeling passed.

She actually felt better, as she stood with her fingers loosely intertwined over her pelvis, and looked down into a cobblestone courtyard nearly two stories below. It was nearly two stories because the ground tilted slightly away from the main building, and there was a little grassy slope, kidney-shaped, that she could make out below looking through rich leafy tree crowns.

Looking into the distance, she saw a grassy strip receding toward a distant line of trees.

To the left of the grassy strip was a rough road, at times cobblestone, at times gravel, at times muddy with puddles, and to the left of that a long, low wall.

Upon a second glance, she saw that the wall connected a series of small, gray stone buildings whose rounded portals and heavy wooden doors overlooked the rough road.

Tedda glimpsed a man in uniform, with a riding crop in one hand, leading a huge white horse by the halter. The man wore black jodhpurs and riding boots, and had short blond hair.

"Child," a woman's voice said warmly, interrupting Tedda's studies. Tedda turned.

A nurse stood in the doorway, wearing a dark blue wool cape over her white uniform, white socks, white shoes, white wing-cap. "I'm Amit," the woman said in an accent that might be Delhi or Bombay. She was light-skinned, Brahmin, with a red dot on her forehead. "I'll be in charge of your recovery, child. Are you ready to check out?"

"Check out?" Tedda said uncomprehendingly.

"Yes," Amit said, pointing to the ugly gray grip by the chair. "Take your bag, child. We have to go."

"I am going?"

"Yes."

"Home?"

Amit looked at her strangely. "Child, you are going down to the lockup. This is a prison."

"What did I do?"

"I don't know. It's not for us staff to know. I know only that you have been a good patient here, and that is the extent of my concern."

Tedda walked to the chair, picked up her bag, and joined Amit who stood sideways with one hand on the door latch, impatient to pull it shut. "I don't remember anything."

"That is to be expected," Amit said pulling the door shut. A large number 909 was embossed on the door in grayish-blue lettering upon routered particle board. They walked down a dark hallway that gleamed with plaques on either wall. Sunlight glowed in through overhead skylights of wavy glass blocks. The hallway took them down several steps, past office doors (dark doors, with frosted windows, and severe-looking black lettering in an alphabet Tedda didn't understand) and up more stairs, then curved around and opened into a large enclosed space framed by heavy concrete pillars and surfaces at right angles. The ceiling high up was black, impenetrable, lit by small sharp track lights.

As Tedda walked with Amit, she became aware of guards and heavy steel security bars. The guards were a mix of middle-aged and younger men and women, wearing black leather belts and heavy side arms. They wore black velour helmets, as if for polo, but with a gleaming brass sun emblem in front. Tedda caught a glimpse of one close up: Many fine small rays formed a cruciform star, emanating from a rounded disk on which writhed an eagle, screaming. Across the eagle's beak unfurled a banner with writing on it. In one set of talons it clutched a sword, and in the other a scroll.

Tedda noticed a large version of the same symbology under a large clock high up in the concrete vaults. "What does it say?"

"It says Union of States in West Gotha. That is our nation, the fatherland, child."

"I can't remember a thing about it," Tedda said, feeling the presence of a deep and persistent terror inside herself.

Amit clucked as they approached a gate that was surrounded by guards, shadowy figures with high leather boots and black helmets. Several carried radios, others rifles. "Prisoner Tedda 823495837459," Amit read from a card.

Tedda stood in an alcove with her legs slightly apart and her arms outstretched to the sides. Female guards watched as lights traveled around inside a recessed arc, shooting faint beams at her: she glowed alternately green, red, blue.

"Pass," said a stern woman wearing much silver braid on her black uniform.

The gate rumbled open, and Tedda walked through alone, carrying her bag. She turned to look back.

Amit stood in the center, surrounded by guards. "Go on, child. I will monitor your health from over here. Watch yourself. Stay out of trouble."

The gate rumbled shut. Steel chattered on concrete as the wheels dug in, grinding through a groove. The lock found its mate in the wall with a clang, and tumblers inside ratcheted shut.

Tedda felt rain droplets on her face, and a cool cleansing wind. For the first time, she inhaled fresh air and the smells of wet grass, as well as damp concrete and exposed soil. The sun darkened as a cloud moved over it.

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