Ilyas held his father's gaze for a few seconds in silence.
"No! You want to inject me with your blood?!"
His father shrugged and leaned back. Though his bleeding stopped, blood still dripped from his arm onto the stale floor. So he made sure none of it got on his cot. "Yes. I am your father and all, and so I'd hate it if you just died without me trying anything."
Ilyas shook his head in bewilderment and protested, "Who... who cares about that! I'm not the smartest guy around, but I'm certain this extremely unsanitary procedure will have me suffering or something... or even worse, turn me into you!"
His father winced, scratched his head again, then, without saying a word, he lunged forward before Ilyas could register, forcefully clutched his son's arm, and impatiently poked him with the syringe, pressing the blood in. Then he pulled away before Ilyas had the chance to react.
"Ah!" Ilyas yelped, dropped to his knees, cradled his almost paralysed arm and shot his father an indignant, cold glare. "What the hell did you do?" he whimpered.
His father scoffed and returned under his blanket like the fragile old man he had been mere seconds ago. He looked like a little girl, the way he cuddled himself. Although his outstretched bloody arm killed that semblance. "Oh, don't be a wuss. If you die from that, you probably don't even deserve much of anything!" His words then trailed off, mumbling about something else as he lowered himself comfortably into his cot. "...this long is killing me. God, I wish it did. She would probably hate me for it, but oh well..."
Ilyas huffed and stood back up. "You could at least try to be something... something..."
His father turned to him, intrigued, "Something what?"
"...Something..." Exasperated and frustrated from the cold, aching pain in his arm, Ilyas struggled to find the right words. "... something fatherly! You know?! Warm! Would've been enough if you just said happy birthday and ended there, you outdated sapien!"
Ilyas's father kept quiet for a moment, then burst into another bout of laughter. Amidst his hysteria, he mumbled, "You have an interview in a few hours, do you not? If I were you I wouldn't be wasting my time listening to the delusions of a mentally crippled deadbeat. Go and harvest those merits you planted, you pushover."
"Goddamit, you're so difficult!" Ilyas snarled before turning away while favouring his left arm.
Though before he reached the hatch, his father added somberly, "There wasn't much I could've done, you know that. Some pretty nice and hearty words aren't enough for you. Affection isn't either... Her name is Mercia. She will help you if you can fish her out before... whatever. You can live out the lame life you want then."
His father brandished his arm with alarming speed until the limit of his elbow abruptly stopped the motion, allowing blood to taint the aluminium wall like a macabre aftermath of cold-blooded murder. He added in a darker, yet melancholic tone, "You're just too goddamn naive, brat."
He went silent after that.
Ignoring him like he always did.
***
'I didn't need his nonsense today, that old grinch! Why does he need to add the prospect of me dying with fumbling that interview with a lame input? Aghhhhh!'
It was 10 AM. Ilyas strode down the relatively empty catwalk on his way to rehearse with Ray and Kim. They were familiar with the council since they had experienced multiple interviews. Though their merits never allowed them to even apply for the fourth floor, they passed, attaining better living standards on the fifth.
His mind should've been dead set on ironing out his mental fortitude, but unfortunately, his father went ahead and wrecked it all with his...
'Bullshit! It has to be!'
Ilyas sighed and rubbed his temples. 'But I know he's not delirious or manic, so what the hell?!'
Eventually, he found Ray sitting alone on a bench in the Green Lounge with a distant and forlorn look on his face. Quite an unusual sight on him, specifically.
Ilyas frowned, feeling uneasy.
'And where is Kim?'
The Green Lounge was supposed to resemble a park on the pre-war surface. Artificial grass spread out in too much of an orderly fashion and was outlined with artificial solemn trees that seemed to mimic their martyred ancestors pathetically. The place was roughly 10,000 square meters, with the distant aluminium walls killing the fantasy. Ilyas was told that they were once painted blue to resemble that horrid sky.
'Ugh, what horror.'
He approached Ray from behind and sat beside him on the bench. Ray was startled back to his expressive self and greeted him with a smile. "Ilyas! Gosh, you scared me. Ah, don't worry, you didn't keep me waiting, I just needed... some time to think. Anyway, how is your dad?"
Ilyas shrugged and squinted as the harsh, outdated lightning of the field irritated his eyes. "He's fine. A little off today, but... nothing new."
'Pfft. As if!'
Ray turned back to the field and patted him on the back. "Good. Good to hear... Listen, Ilyas, I'm sorry to say this, but we can't do any mock interviews today."
Ilyas jerked his head to him in confusion. "Why?"
"Actually, that's what I wanted to talk to you about. Listen... I need a favour. Of course, you can decline if you want, since your interview is in a few hours, but it won't take long."
Ilyas went quiet for a few seconds before sighing, "Fine. Yeah sure. Why not?"
A subtle smile briefly wrinkled Ray's face before returning to his unusual sombre self. "Well then, I'll explain as we go. We cannot have you missing your interview now, can we?" He smiled, rose up, and offered Ilyas a hand.
Ilyas took it and followed him out of the Green Lounge.
'A favour, huh? Never had to do one of those. There aren't any merits in them anyway.'
As they descended a set of grim, dilapidated stairs that seemed to lead to an abandoned slaughterhouse, Ray began explaining his situation:
"Kim and I are quite unfortunate with how things turned out. Ilyas... do you remember issue 56 from the Wasteland Crusader where the court condemned Alexander?"
Ilyas suddenly lit up and turned to him enthusiastically, "Ah, yes! And they gave him seven years before his execution."
Ray nodded, not sharing in his friend's fervour. "Now, do you remember what he did in those seven years?"
"He sought out the true warlord's identity and brought him to be tried, and all. Although I didn't like that he didn't spite them in the end. They put him through-"
"-Yes, yes, I know Ilyas. But the point is, through an acquaintance who works at the Preservation board..." Ray's hand started shaking slightly as he took a deep breath and finally said, "...I learned that Kim has been selected three years from now."
A heavy silence managed to make the staircase even gloomier. Ilyas abruptly stopped mid-stride and stared at Ray with horror in his eyes.
'...what?'
Ray, having heard Ilyas's footsteps go silent, stopped as well and stared at his feet in defeat.
A million thoughts flooded Ilyas's head, dousing him in a horrible indiscernible feeling.
'Kim... Kim?'
The silence stretched as Ilyas was comprehending what he had just heard.
Eventually, through a shuddering breath, Ilyas breathed out, "Our Kim?" His voice was barely a whisper, but it was still the loudest thing around.
Ray took a deep breath, steeled himself, then turned around to face him. "Yes, Ilyas. Our Kim. My wife and my closest friend, Kim."
Ilyas slowly shook his head in disbelief, "But why? It's an annual thing? They can't do that. They can't do it in advance."
Ray pursed his lips and muttered, "Yeah, but I guess they could. And they did. Ilyas... her merits are inadequate, and as it turns out, no matter what she does in the next three years, she'll never catch up with the increasing threshold. Others are stacking up at rates she cannot keep up with."
Ilyas tightened his grip on the stair railing until his bronze knuckles whitened to a concerning degree. "Is it because of her sickness? I've noticed it. She was never well at breakfasts in the past few weeks."
Ray nodded. "To some degree, yes. But not all is lost, Ilyas. My tasks are in Security. I can tamper with the cameras, giving you just enough time to access the registry. I've been told that there are always 'anomalies' on the lists. Some dead extras that were never wiped out. However, the registry is only permitted to members of the council. Levels Two and Three use those anomalies as contingencies if they're ever condemned. It's like their 'get out of jail free' card."
A sapling of hope sprouted deep within Ilyas's chest. "But wouldn't they know that you accessed the registry if you present it to the court?"
Ray nodded. "Yes, they will. But they'll also be exposed in front of others, so they wouldn't be able to do much then. The worst they'll manage is pester us here and there. Slightly oversalted tomatoes. Gooey toast. No toothpaste cause they 'ran out', and stuff like that."
They stared at each other for a bit in silence. Ray had a hopeful, expectant expression while awaiting Ilyas's answer. Meanwhile, Ilyas was considering the situation apprehensively.
'Wait, wouldn't that mean I'd carry most of the risk? I'd be alone standing in the registry while... But it's for Kim. But what if I get caught? Even if I succeed, reaching Level Four... No! Kim takes precedence over level Four, you fool!
Ray seemed to realise his friend's thoughts and immediately shook his whole body in denial and said, "No. Wait, no. I know what you must be thinking. 'I'll be taking the brunt of the risk and all.' No, you wouldn't. The registry is a one-way entry. With the cameras down, the only way the Guardians will catch you is if they catch me first. I'll be in the panels right outside, and I'll make sure that even if I get caught, you will be covered until they pass."
Visible relief did little to quell the ravaging emotions in Ilyas's heart. He hated that he even felt that selfish reassurance. Ray and Kim had been on the giving side of their friendship for all these years, and Tan had never been in a situation where he could express his gratitude in his life.
This was a life-threatening plight for which a 'friend' must be willing to go above and beyond. At least Tan never considered refusing his friend's request - yes, he took pride in that - he was only considering the practicality of it all. And if there was even the slightest chance of success to save his friend...
"I have an interview in five hours, Ray."
Ray let his lips curl up as Ilyas grabbed him by the shoulder and continued, "Let's get it over with then."
***
What his father told him that morning never left his mind throughout it all. It still continued to wriggle its way into everything he did like an incessant parasite.
'I might die today... Could it be hypothetical or something? Like how Renault in the Wasteland Crusader said something about dying on the inside? Maybe... Otherwise, I'm sure the old man would've been more concerned.'
Ilyas and Ray reached the lowest floor of Level Five. Everything was grimy and obsolete. A somewhat foreboding, putrid rank assaulted his nose, making his face wrinkle, and the heavy darkness that coveted everything did nothing but agitate his already precarious nerves.
'That old good-for-nothing father would love this place.'
Strangely enough, thinking about his father's lacklustre, apathetic behaviour was all that kept him composed in this place.
Ray seemed to know his way around this place naturally. This also lessened the unnerving atmosphere a little. Ilyas cleared his throat and asked, "You come here daily?"
Ray, still briskly marching down the hallway, looked over his shoulder back at Ilyas and nodded. "Yes. It usually is a bit livelier than this. Now all we have is the condemned souls for company."
Ilyas blanched, but before he could digest the surge of adrenaline, Ray chuckled. "I'm just joking. No, it is lunch time now for the crew, so we only have two hours to do what we have to do."
'This guy could joke in times like this?'
They reached a wall-sized hatch at the end of the hallway that had a faint shimmering light at its head. Unlike the rest of the hatches in the Vault, this one had two wheels instead of one.
Ray didn't waste any time and lowered himself to the floor near a particular aluminium panel near the hatch. He peeled back the sleeves of his jumpsuit, retrieved some tools from his pockets and began working on detaching the panel.
Ilyas, meanwhile, found himself uselessly loitering about the area. He curiously inspected the wheels, the lights, the panels, and even spent some time silently observing his friend meticulously wriggle his dexterous fingers, knowing his way around a jumble of wires and strange-looking metallic components.
Ilyas still never ventured past the territory claimed by the faint shimmering light atop the hatch.
Clang!
A loud noise echoed from inside the hatch, and Ray turned to him with a grin. "Alright, go ahead with the wheel now. As soon as the hatch is open, I can buy us a few minutes before the alarms recognise our intrusion."
Ilyas nodded and felt his heart abuse his chest from immense apprehension. He rolled his shoulders a few times and took a deep breath. "Alright. Here we go... For Kim."
Ray nodded and asserted, "You remember what I told you, right? 0032378-"
Ilyas interrupted with, "Yes, yes, I know. Anything before that number with a date of birth that is incongruent shouldn't be alive and on the list."
Ray nodded, but before he turned to the colourful mess that was hiding beneath the panel, he took a deep, shuddering breath, stood up, and pulled Ilyas into a tight embrace.
Ilyas was a bit taken aback. Granted, this wasn't the first hug he'd ever received from Ilyas.
'I did just receive one this morning... huh.'
What shocked him was the depth of it. He could sense his friend's contained emotions from the peculiar way his body felt, and shuddered; it almost felt like the overwhelming emotion wasn't Anxiety or fear, but guilt.
His embrace was so imbued with guilt that Ilyas almost felt inclined to comfort his friend and reassure him that his decision was his own and was absolute.
Ray remained still, firm and silent with his embrace for a few moments before Ilyas finally broke the silence with, "Hey Ray, we don't have that long."
Ray pulled away, avoided eye contact with Ilyas, and sat back in front of the wires.
Ilyas sighed and began unwinding the wheel.
Moments later, one last rotation separated him from the Registry Room. He turned to Ray and uttered resolutely, "Ready."
Ray nodded, "Alright. Lights blinking red means they're down. If they stop blinking altogether, it's your signal to get out, because after that they'll start blinking blue... and you know what that means. Alright, here we go."
Ray cut the casing in one of the wires and twisted the copper hairs into a fray.
Ilyas spun the wheel for the second wheel's last revolution, and the hatch gave with a loud echoing 'Clang'.
He stepped in.
***
Three minutes:
The lights at the corner blinked red.
Ilyas hastily made his way through the alien room past strange server blocks, desks with blinking projections and open monitors. He didn't ponder its well-tended conditions and soothing aroma, because with the urgency of the task, and Ilyas was nothing if not proficient at effectively completing tasks, no idle thoughts or death prospects dared to bother him.
He found a large control console at the far end of the room, with several winding chairs nearby.
All he could think about was:
'Code pad'
'Code pad'
'Code pad'
He eventually found the smooth surface in the sea of protruding buttons and levers. Trusting his instincts, he rushed to it.
A black reflective surface, unfortunately, showed him his sweaty, anxious face, but then flashed, and the relatively dark room was pierced with an uncomfortable white light.
'Vault KL507' scribbled itself eagerly on the screen, then washed away to allow for a digital list arrayed with thousands of rows and twelve columns. Of course, the list could only display around ten at a time, but this was the difficulty of the task.
He had to find it.
The numbers assigned to the names were-
'beep'
Shit. Two minutes left.
He scrolled down the list, focusing on Dweller codes and their corresponding dates of birth. If their age was 22 years or younger with a code of anything less than 0032378, then their information was tampered with, and thus they are dead.
He continued to scour the list, his fingers working nonstop, and his eyes working even harder. The pain from his father's injection pulsated unbearably, but he ignored it.
'beep'
A minute.
His arm was killing him, but his eyes remained determined and attentive. He continued scrolling, instantly registering numbers as they flashed past him.
'Arghhh! Nothing goddamit!'
Until- '0031388'.
'Yes!'
He took a deep breath, commanded a printed copy, pulled his jumpsuit breast barcode closer for a scan, and installed the copy.
But just as he was about to turn around and make his way out of the room, the red blinking light at the corner of the room stopped.
As if on queue.
Something dropped in Ilyas's stomach, dousing him in unbearable amounts of adrenaline.
He stared at the camera, aghast. In that instant before he could even comprehend the consequences, he dashed away.
'It's gonna turn blue any moment!'
But he couldn't make it on time.
He rushed past server blocks and followed his mental map. The hatch was supposed to be somewhere...
'Huh?'
The hatch was closed. Why was the hatch closed?
He was sure it was that one. Time was passing, but his mind was frozen. This wasn't happening.
He cocked his head a few seconds later, knowing what he'll see, but still dreading it. He checked the light and was overwhelmed with confusion. It was strange.
The camera had not blinked blue yet.
'How?'
The camera didn't even seem responsive at all.
A loud, muffled Clang reached him from beyond the wall of the registry. A metal panel hit the floor.
His eyes shot even wider. 'Shit! Ray!'
But there were no voices. No sounds of struggle. Just a loud, ominous silence
He was taking a deep, panicked breath when, finally, a voice muttered with barely suppressed emotions, bringing everything in Ilyas's world apart.
"Kim is pregnant... I'm sorry."
'Ah.'
Ilyas was between two server blocks when his mind shuddered and collapsed, and with it, everything within him was in a pandemonium.
The strength of his body drained. His quivering hands drooped in resignation, and his neck lost its ability to carry his head.
Inside, his emotions were in a state of cataclysm. The scale of it left him paralysed.
Ray continued, still out of sight. "I'm really sorry, Ilyas. I'm..." Ilyas heard him sobbing now.
'...I'm...how?'
The lights never blinked blue, because when they stopped blinking altogether, they were off.
It was obvious now.
How could he be so stupid as not to see it?
Ilyas was a sacrifice.
From his frozen, bleak, almost lifeless face, the first tear drop rolled down his cheek and tapped the floor.