DOROBO...

I've had an eventful day full of coughing and sore throats, antibiotics and bed.  Even more exciting, however, is the fact that the end of section three (DEAD) is coming to a close in less than 5,000 words!  It's all coming back together and shenanigans is about to hit the fan... and I'm excited!!

My throat hurts. :(

Happy almost Thanksgiving everyone!!  Can't wait to share Dorobo with everyone, and I'm looking forward to the upcoming vacation days that will give me more time to write so I can finish this sucker up!  Speaking of which, in a few days I'll post the most recently updated versions of DOROBO starting from page one and finishing at the end of this post, so you can see it all in one blog post... yippee ;)

Lots of changes coming up in the next few weeks: finishing up at my current office, transferring to the new one, moving out of my apartment and out of the city, and moving back to my home town so I can be closer to my family and go to grad school... it's all uniquely terrifying and resolutely exquisite.  In celebration of upcoming changes... I give thee:

more of... DOROBO

Thane

I can tell she’s dreaming it again.  Tears have steadily slipped across her face for the past ten minutes.  Especially when we’re close to the Dead Surface, the images unabashedly raid her unconscious mind, sending her snippets of memories from the perilous day we met.  It’s useless to wake her up, though, because the dream will resume in the place it left off as soon as she tumbles back into a dream state. 

The wetness on her cheeks has dried and left chalky marks in vein-like formations by the time the quadruple gong shatters the night-like silence and the orange shade dies away, a yellow hue flickering in above us to take its place.  Her eyes flutter open, the transparent upper portion of her mask leaving her gray irises visible.  They remind me of a stormy morning, gray and white clouds swirling sporadically.  I miss the sky, especially the precipitation, in all its forms.

She sits up shakily and I watch the pupils of her eyes shrink in the pounding fluorescents.  The yellow lights are almost as bright as what I remember of the sun.   

The day color is now yellow.  Twenty five minutes.  That’s how long we’ll have if we take our masks off. 

There’s a grinding noise that sends a shudder through the ground, it thunders through the floor, sending loose gravel pebbles scurrying all around us. 

“You ready?”  I ask as we simultaneously push ourselves up from the rumbling ground. 

She nods and we take off out of the alleyway at a full sprint, hastily maneuvering the course to the nearest B duct.  We pass a C duct, nuzzled in a crumbling alley, at a blinding pace, the first coach emerging through the tunnels right on schedule. 

We could catch a ride down on this particular C duct coach but the risks are too great, we’ve likely been classified as wanted fugitives.   We’ll never know since we refuse to travel with the general population, streaking along in shadows and maintaining our anonymity at all costs.  I also wouldn’t be surprised if we’d been marked in the database as “lost in the cold”, buried in the iciness of the wave.  The wave that killed Nitra’s entire family.

Then there’s another A duct to our left.  We pass it with no thought.  A ducts are always on, constantly circulating our particular Dome with heat.

It takes us less than a minute to make it to the mouth of the B duct we’ve adopted, the one we proclaimed our own just a month ago.  It’s one of the oldest, most crumbly and least used B ducts, most of the others have duel purposes at this point, alternating between Surface heating and resource transport.  Most Dorobo, even the most skilled, just take C duct coaches when they’re checking their local Domes for abandoned resources, or “procuring resources that are improperly distributed”.  We avoid the radar, no matter the circumstances, mostly because we enjoy the challenge.

When we reach the duct there’s a familiar trickle of fear that drips down my throat.  “Ladies first?”  I suggest, staring at the black depths just at the tips of my toes.  The earth looks brittle, flakes of dirt fly in, slowly sucked downward in the pressure of the still slowing spinning fan far below.  Almost the entire alley is black.  It’s much smaller than most, the yellow day color barely reaches the surface of the Dome scrapers so none of it falls in on our personal B duct.  I take a giant step back and my back presses against the surface of the building behind me, the flaky cement braking off at my touch and falling to the floor.  Nitra does the same on the opposite side, then without looking behind her, her fingers slip the loop of her harness through the metal hook secured in the building.  She pulls tight and waves before running full sprint ahead for less than a foot and falling deliberately into the depths before us.

I slide the rope into its place and tug hard to be sure it’ll hold me. 

“Good!”  I hear her gravelly voice call up.  Now it’s my turn. 

I hold my breath as I start forward, as soon as the ground disappears beneath me a plummeting sensation in my stomach lifts through to my chest.  I imagine this is what dying feels like: a pitch black emptiness swallowing you whole, with no care as to how far you plummet into its clutches. 

The force of the rope pulled taut rips the air from my lungs and forces me to exhale.  My body slams against the earthen insides of the duct’s throat and I desperately search for any grip the wall produces, forcing my nails deep into the dirt, but my hands slip and I swing away from my safe haven. 

I’m dangling some twenty feet down in a massive hole, swinging back and forth with only a rope suspending me, a gigantic fan spinning ominously hundreds of feet below, just waiting to dissect me if I make another mistake. 

Nitra startles me out of my own mind, “Come on!” 

I’ve swung far enough back to kick off the opposing wall, then come even more quickly toward my destination, this time lodging all ten fingers into place.  I wish I could kiss the wall in thanks. 

“About time.” 

I follow her voice and begin my sideways climb toward our marker, my fingers grip the earth more easily now.  There’s an abandoned man tunnel Nitra’s already standing in somewhere off to my left.  It circles past Subterrania and brings us directly to the Dorobo, the entrance sits at the exact point in which our rope stops our fall, calculated extensively by myself. 

This part is not difficult to maneuver.  We’ve long since established a rapport with this wall; there are grooves in the exact locations we need them, perfect indentations for my feet and hands to wiggle themselves into, after the initial catch of course. 

My hand reaches for the next hold but instead I find open space.  “Almost there,” I say, signaling to Nitra I’ll soon be pulling myself up, right at her side.  Things get trickier down here, in the abandoned tunnel there’s absolutely no need for lights, so we must cling to one another to remain on path.  But I don’t get a response.  There’s not even an attempt to pull me up, a hand extended to indicate to me that she’s close and ready to start on our sightless journey. 

There’s a scuffling sound, a slam of fist against flesh, a noise I know all too well, and a masked grunt. 

“Nitra!”  I call desperately, I slam my shoe into the next grip spot quickly, I feel the gravel corrode in my haste and my foot slips from its place.  Rough thick fingers secure themselves around my wrists and I feel my body lifted into the air, I’m like a helpless dangling rag doll at the mercy of something gargantuan. 

I feel the dropping sensation again in my stomach region, then my feet collide with the solid ground of the tunnel and an off-kilter feeling sends me into a stumble.  “Dorobo, eh?”  A deep voice echoes, an even more scratchy sound than my ears are used to. 

My hand flies out and I purposefully slam it into the wall behind me to settle myself.  A click! throws a stream of light into my face and I’m instantly blinded.  “I’m talkin to you boy.” 

“What’s it to you?”  I hurl back, bent to avoid the piercing light bleeding into my pupils.  My head starts to pound. 

“Definitely Dorobo with a cocky attitude like that,” there’s a minute chuckle that lacks any humor at all, “Bring her over here.  We’ll get him to talk.”  The light falls upon Nitra and the man holding his hand over the slits in her mask, to stifle out any words she’s attempting to speak.  I can see her struggle, but she’s no match for the beast carrying her forward; he’s at least two feet taller than her, and an additional four times her width.  Everything he wears is black and torn, rip marks riddle his clothes. 

I stand up straight and puff out my chest when the light shines back to find my reaction.  “Oh, someone used to run with the law.”  My face mask is in full view; they’ve recognized the government plating that hides most of my head.  I hear the scraping of metal on the floor and recognize the shift in the air as an unknown number of assailants ready themselves for a fight. 

The man who’s spoken this entire time shines the light on himself and the pair beside him, Nitra and her captor.  For a second I hope he might have been on the police force at some point, but judging by the thickening tension in the already compact tunnel I’d guess not.  His mask is a sickly green color that only covers his lips; the rest of his scruffily features are visible behind his transparent visor, his bowl cut dirt hair and narrowed rat eyes.  He’s barely more than half the henchman gripping Nitra’s size, an additional few inches shorter than Nitra herself.  Not the most intimidating of creatures alone, but sufficiently so with the bear at his side.  “Listen fruit cup, your kid gets the whack if you don’t give us the info we want, got it?” 

I nod.  Nitra’s eyes narrow at me in my weakness.  But she knows I won’t ever let anything hurt her… I promised.   I promised everything would be okay. 

“Glad to see you understand.  Where’s the goods?” 

“We don’t have any.” 

“Don’t lie to me.”  Little man’s face contorts in malice as the giant tightens his grip on Nitra’s mask; I can tell that anymore pressure will snap her cartridge in two.  I can’t take her with me on any more acquisitions.  Ever again.

“Wait, wait.  I’m not lying.  There was an interception, at the factory.  You heard about it, right?”  I’m inadvertently stepping forward, my hand unconsciously reaching out to Nitra.

His expression softens and a malevolent glee perks his cheeks up in a grin I cannot see.  He knows I’m in the palm of his hand.  “We heard about it.”

“It wasn’t us.”  I stop in my tracks some ten feet from him when I feel the presence of more than the two men in the room.  They’ve got me surrounded.  There’s at least five more. 

His eyes narrow again, and I can feel the situation slip through my fingers.  “Don’t lie to me,” he repeats. 

“I’m not.  We were on mission to gather intel about that shipment.  But it’s gone.” 

“We heard the Dorobo took it.”

“We didn’t.”  I say sternly, though when the words exist the mask they sound unaltered by my fierce tone.

The goon holding Nitra shakes his head, “They’d have cartridges fuller than this if they took it.” 

“What’s she at?”  Rat man’s face turns to his pet bear in question. 

“Fourteen.”

I feel a bubbling anger in the pits of my stomach.  She should have told me she was so low.  She made it seem like it was me running on empty with my thirty-one percent. 

“Snap it.”  The beast’s fingers slide Nitra’s mask aside but before I can yell NO! I hear the hiss of the O2 cartridge releasing its life. 

He’s punctured the only cartridge she has left.

She drops to the floor, immediately overwhelmed by the chemicals in the poisoned air; her mind not even remotely acclimated to the effects of inhaling Death, unlike mine.  I throw myself to my knees at her side and unclasp the mask from my face, snapping it into place at the back of her head after taking a final gasp of pure oxygen.  My lips slam shut and I briefly hold off from inhaling the dirty air. 

Nitra

Oxygen in its purest form fills my lungs and I send my eyes up to take in Thane’s face, hoping to convey my gratitude.   Then I realize he can’t see my expression in the slightest, so I throw my useless mask over his mouth and heave us both up to our feet.

“You better run.”  My captor’s voice is slow and unsettling, but I understand the message and don’t hesitate even a second to consider his words or calculate the situation.  So I take his advice. 

We’re both sprinting at full speed in the pitch black wormhole, a twisting turning space we usually navigate at a standing crawl. 

Eventually Thane’s pace begins to slow and I can hear the intoxication in the chuckles spilling from his mouth.   I pull up short, our arms still linked together, and he slowly comes to a stop, then bounces back toward me, his body now totally discombobulated.  He’s slouched forward and the blood vessels in his eyes have already begun to burst.  I unsnap my own cartridge-less mask from him and sling it over my arm; he looks at me mindlessly with a haphazard grin dangling across his face.  Then I take a final breath from his mask and work it off my head, clipping it to place at the base of his neck. 

His words come through, riddled with dreariness, and I hear the desperation build as his words increase in speed and he sobers, “I’m… not feeling… so… good.  We need to… get back.  Check my cartridge.  Are you okay?”

I shake my head and push aside the casing, “Twenty-seven”, I say quickly, barely containing the last smidgen of Oxygen in my lungs. 

“Let’s get out of here.”  He re-clips his arm onto mine and we start running again.  With the first slam of my foot against the dirt floor, the breath escapes my lips and I’m forced to inhale Death.  I try not to think about it too much, and my body naturally propels me forward, as sprinting comes so easily to me.  It’s like my normal state of being.  Others find comfort in sitting, or laying, stationary positions that evoke feelings of ease.  But the only security I find is in motion, an all-out dash, movement toward a destination…

The sunlight is waving farewell.  I’m running with the boy named Lium, his small hand is in mine.  The Dome’s surface magnetizes the sun’s final red rays, and a brilliant explosion in the sky releases the last of the heat from our Universe’s central star. 

“Think we’ll catch it?”  Lium shouts up at me, the look of awe in his eyes paralyzes my heart.  He thinks of the sun’s departure as something cool, something exciting to watch.  So I let him think that, because the truth is far worse to bear. 

“We might,” I say through the mask, thankful I don’t need to hide the misery clogging my throat.  “I know we’ll definitely catch Thane, though.  Want a ride?” 

His eyes light up through his kid-sized mask and I stoop to the floor, allowing tiny Lium to climb onto my back.  He tries to make his toes touch around my waist, but fails.  His small hands barely clasp together around my neck, and we’re off.  I’m running again through the street, my hands wrapped tightly around Lium’s feet. 

Lium’s the same age as my youngest sister.  Six years old.  Ten years my junior.  When Thane introduced me to him I fell instantly in love and I knew immediately this boy was worth living for.  He became my family, my life.  Just like Thane…

There is a small pleasant jingling in my ears.  Thane’s mask fades into view through the black blanket of fog in my vision; I feel the coarse air ripping through me and stop dead in my tracks at the lack of weight on my back.  Have I dropped Lium?!

Thane

“Where’s Lium?!”  Her true voice is squeaky in her fear.  She’s let go of my arm and has her hands in her hair, the anguish deepening the lines in her face.  She’s hallucinating again.  Her body reacts much faster to Death.

I put my hands out to her and tug her in, wrapping my arms around her body, “Stop, stop.  It’s not real, we’re in the tunnel.”   It hasn’t been long since she’s had the mask for herself, but I switch it up anyways and secure the one with the cartridge over her mouth. 

She’s sober in seconds, “Breathe in as little as possible.  Better a light head than a hallucination,” she orders.  But I haven’t ever hallucinated when inhaling Death.  I just go numb.

Subterrania opens up to us briefly much further along our journey; I can see the green day color peeking through and I’m transfixed by its nature-like beauty. 

Green!  We’re almost never in the green.  We could go so long without Oxygen right now.  It’s something to celebrate; we should really stop and enjoy it.  It feels like forever since the last one.  I come to a halt and pull Nitra with me, reversing back toward the archway we passed.  We could stop here and briefly enjoy the less-toxic-than-usual-air in the marketplace, we could grab a few bites to eat, even, relax for a moment.  I know I could use a break from all of this running, to revel in the leafy color projected over the entire underground city.  It’s a beautiful city, it really is.  Full of beautiful people.

Nitra’s pulling at me though, in the opposite direction, “Oxygen’s more important than food.”  It’s like she’s reading my mind.  “We can grab Lium and head back later; we need to get to headquarters first.”  

I begrudgingly stop tugging her toward the pretty green lights and allow my body to resume the trek.  We stop again and she gives me the mask, but after I get my fill of oxygen I force her to take it back, she needs it more.  I push myself to the limits, conscious of the fact that the green day color means I can last much longer without a mask.