Grant was lonely without Lucy. The System was practically barren, and he found himself wandering the evacuated halls, drifting in and out of abandoned rooms, and examining the articles left behind as an archeologist would study the artifacts at an excavation site. It was a hobby he adopted in the absence of any other way to while away the hours waiting for the plane to Copia to arrive.
His other option was spending his time with Noah, the pimply hyena-esque parasite who hovered around Grant like they had been friends the entire time. Escaping Noah had become an art form, and Grant had taken to spending time with his roommate Dylan and the other guards left behind to watch over the Copia residents and get the System ready for its final days.
Each of the guards assigned to the System was right out of a clichéd military movie: they congregated in one of the larger apartments, played card games, smoked contraband cigarettes and cigars, and drank up the rest of the Sky Room’s alcohol supply; they laughed and joked, poked fun at each other’s lives before the Release, and engaged each other in good-spirited banter. Ex-girlfriends were maligned and mocked, drinking war wounds were compared. They self-medicated to ignore the loneliness, refusing to face their heartache straight on.
And all the while, the Copia residents were getting restless. When they voiced their concerns, they were easily appeased with news of their new home. That was Blair’s job, and she was excellent at it—spending her days in and among the leftover families, lauding them with praise for their deep contributions to the future, despite their angry and entitled attitudes. Huck had been right to leave her behind; Blair’s presence reassured them.
Some of the Copia families were insufferable, interrupting the guards’ card games to demand a video conference with Huck. When they were denied, they launched into meticulously crafted diatribes. But some of them were quiet, unassuming, and Grant didn’t mind seeking out their company if he found himself in need of a conversation.
But now the departure day had arrived.
The entire System buzzed with expectant anticipation. Entire families would soon be summoned to the Center to hear about departure preparations. Bags were packed, backs were slapped with joyful friendliness. The tension and the angst melted away, and Grant realized that it was living underground that ate at their already frayed edges the most. Copia would be a welcomed change, and he couldn’t wait to breathe fresh air again and watch the sun move through the sky.
“Morning,” Dylan said as he ventured out into their shared space in his boxers. He rubbed his eyes.
“Hey,” Grant replied, putting down the book he had stolen from an empty apartment. Dylan was tall and lanky, with patches of coarse body hair growing in an asymmetrical pattern across his chest. Their other roommate had departed for his own Island the same day Lucy left, but Dylan had been assigned to stay behind in his role as a System guard. “Are you heading to the guards’ room for breakfast?”
Dylan yawned and stretched his hands up in the air, then brought them down and tapped on his belly like a drum, beating out a small rhythmic pattern against his skin. “Busy day, dude,” he replied. “Guards might be on edge...maybe you should skip it this morning?”
“Oh,” Grant said. He tried to stifle his disappointment. “Sure! Yeah, that makes sense. I’ve got some things I can do around here...” he glanced around the bare apartment.
Tucking his hands into the waistband of his boxers, Dylan looked at Grant. He blinked and then took his right hand, rubbed his eyes, and yawned for a second time. “Look...”
“Not a big deal,” Grant continued. “I wasn’t that hungry anyway.” He flashed his roommate a warm smile and picked the book back up and thumbed through the pages, trying to find his spot.
“You should come. The guys’ll be fine. I don’t know what I was saying...I’m tired. Come to breakfast. I mean...it’s the last day, right?” He turned back to his room to get into his uniform. As he reached the door, he turned and looked at Grant again. “You’re a good guy, Grant. You know that?”
Grant thought that Dylan said the last part with a bit of sadness. He had never been good with goodbyes; he didn’t want to think about having to bid his new friends farewell as they all took off to different Islands.
“You gonna miss me, Dylan?” Grant teased. “You gotta come visit me on Copia. Or on Kymberlin, when I can get to Lucy?”
Dylan nodded as he walked away to get dressed. “Yeah, dude,” he said with his back turned. “I’ll come visit.” He shut the door with his foot, and from behind the thin walls Grant could hear him whistling.
Grant looked down at Salem’s necklace dangling down in front of his t-shirt before he walked into the guard’s workstation. He knew the guards wouldn’t tease him about the feminine quality of the sparkly silver chain—they each had their own talismans, and no one ever questioned much when it came to rituals. Superstition reigned supreme. Among their small band of survivors, the soldiers selected for this special task were professionals, each of them procured over time from different branches of the military. When they settled into a poker game or a movie, they naturally fell into telling their old war stories again and again. Grant had learned about each of them during their evenings together.
With a deep breath and a prayer that he wouldn’t be seen as an intruder, Grant slipped into the room. He was greeted at breakfast with stoic faces and an intense aura of concentration. They looked at him and then at Dylan. Grant knew immediately: he wasn’t supposed to be there.
“Grant’s last morning,” Dylan said as a way of explanation and the group nodded in unison.
“Good morning,” said Nate, a long and lean towhead with a penchant for swearing and talking about how much he missed porn. “Big day.” Nate glanced sideways at Grant and pulled out the chair next to him, patting it as an invitation.
“I guess,” Grant replied. “I mean...it’ll be nice to get out of here.”
A soldier named Ryley sniffed and clattered his spoon into his cereal bowl. “You all packed up?” he asked to no one in particular. A few people answered in the affirmative, and then Ryley rolled his head over to Grant. “And you?”
“I just have a poster,” Grant said, thinking of the Romero that was rolled up back in his room. Salem’s necklace around his neck and the poster. He realized that he didn’t have any earthly possessions beyond those two items. “That’s it, I guess.”
“Well,” Ryley replied, rubbing his mouth with the back of his hand, “we all got something.” The man stood up and stretched his arms to the ceiling, letting out a ghastly sigh. “What’s our timeframe? When’s the big...when’re the Copia folk coming for their meeting?”
Nate started to respond, but Blair’s heels, clipping along in her usual rushed gait, announced her arrival before she even popped her head into the room. He waited and watched the entrance, and everyone else turned, too. Blair pushed the door and ventured in without a greeting, talking as she walked inside, without regard for whatever had been going on prior to her presence.
“I just got off a video chat with my father from Kymberlin, and I have some things to discuss before our operation today, so please, please everybody, I need your attention.” She waltzed to a long counter on the far end of the room and pushed herself up to sit on it; she was wearing a medium length skirt that hit just above her knees, and when she crossed her legs, the boys couldn’t help but stare. Private Wendy, the only female soldier among them, punched one of the guys next to her in the arm and playfully tried to pull his gaze upward.
Grant saw Blair’s attention flicker in their direction, but she ignored their teasing at her expense and kept talking.
“First things first, we will need all hands on deck for a System sweep prior to calling the Copia residents to the Center.” She looked up. Nate had raised his hand quickly. He cleared his throat to stop her from talking and she paused. “Yes?” she asked, pointing to him.