He then took us by the Communications studio, which he explained was connected to a one hundred foot tower on a hilltop five miles away. The whole thing was designed to allow communication with what was left of the population after a nuclear strike.
Funny thing about that, I thought. Who the hell would be left to communicate with, radioactive mutants?
I noticed that every hallway had a digital LED clock blinking the time in red. Jarvis saw me glancing at it.
“They are to keep people oriented to night and day. It gets confusing living underground.”
My thoughts momentarily carried me to the Morlocks from H.G. Wells, “Time Machine.”
As we began heading toward what Jarvis explained was the sleeping quarters, he said,
“The three of you can share a room. There are three beds per an Elite Suite, which is the ticket you have. You should be a hell of a lot more cozy in there than with the general commoner population.” He winked and smiled at Michael as he spoke. Michael nodded back.
Kyle and I were just taking it in. Jarvis turned to face Michael directly, adding,
“Gordon sends his apologies, but he has urgent business at the moment. He’ll meet all three of you for dinner in the great hall.”
“No problem,” Michael said casually. “I know he’s a busy guy. Tell him to take his time.”
I felt lost. I wanted to know just what the hell was going on. Filled with questions, I finally asked, “What is with everybody knowing about this place? It’s big, but you’re clearly not giving away tickets.” I could hear the tension in my own voice, and made an effort to correct it with the gesture of a smile. If my life was to be trusted to these people, I needed to know what I was dealing with.
Jarvis paused, smiled, and stated that the organization needed skilled labor. Most of the Elite clientele did not have the desire or skills to raise exterior walls, guard the city, or keep the facility running.
“Besides,” he continued amiably, “we all need a little pampering. We’re working toward acquiring some of the more creature comfort services like massage therapists and personal assistants.”
“Gordon and the other private owners spread the word in the initial days of the outbreak via Youtube, twitter, and a bunch of other social networks, that Avalon would provide safety, which we do, as long as you work and obey the rules.”
“Rules?” Kyle asked cocking his head up.
“Yes, rules. I almost forgot…” Jarvis became more serious. “We have three no-exception rules here at Avalon. One, no commoner will ever strike, hurt, maim or kill an Elite customer. Penalty is the Arena. Two, no commoner will ever be allowed a free ride. You must work to be able to stay. Penalty of non-compliance is the Arena. And three, inability to pay for Elite rates, makes you a commoner. Of course, the three of you know this already. You read the agreement before you signed and paid.”
Michael smiled and said, “Of course.”
With that, Jarvis stopped in front of a metal door. With a genial smile, he, cheerfully said, “This is your new home.”
Michael thanked him, and then the three of us stepped into the room. Jarvis bid us good day, with the reminder that he’d be back shortly to escort us to dinner in the great hall.
Once the door closed, Kyle and I glared at Michael. “Who is Gordon, and what the hell is the Arena?”
Chapter 20
Has anybody explained the Arena to you?
Michael didn’t answer at first. His gaze was drawn into the room that we would now be calling home, even if it was just for a short time.
I didn’t know what to expect. I think we all would have been happy with a few bunk beds and a closet where we could hang our respective white jump suits.
This room was a palace, filled with three beds, a large TV stand, which held a much larger than needed TV, and a closet that I think probably could have held another two or three people.
All I owned at that moment was the silly white jump suit.
One of the walls contained a mirror; another had what looked like expensive wall art that featured various trees, oceans and lakes.
We looked around in uncertainty, wondering what our next move would be.
I walked over and hit the power button to the TV. It flickered for a moment, and then the flat screen turned on. The scene was broadcast to look like a window, facing out towards a lake with birds flying by from time to time. It was some sort of continuous loop made to make you feel like you could see out into the wild. So much for the television.
Kyle walked over to the couch opposite the TV and flopped heavily onto it. Lifting his feet up on a mahogany coffee table, he exclaimed,
“This is livin’.” A big smile lit up his face as he pulled his arms up and placed his hands on the back of his head. Michael and I chuckled.
“What is that?” Kyle asked, pointing past his raised feet. Sitting on the table was a basket. It was filled with canned fruits and meats and had what looked like a letter sitting next to it.
Michael reached down and grabbed it. Picking off a wax seal, which had the letter “A” pressed into it, he pulled a piece of paper from the envelope. It read:
Hey, Bud, hope you like the new digs. I know how much you like the outdoors. We didn’t spare any expense in furnishing the place to help ease the assimilation. The TV is the biggest in the place! Our most loyal friends get the best of everything. Don’t forget to look in the dresser. Welcome to Avalon. Let’s catch up at dinner. - Gordon
Kyle stood up and went to the dresser. Sitting in the first drawer were our once blood covered, filthy clothes. They had been completely cleaned and pressed. Michael’s shirt, with the hole in it from the helicopter accident, had been thrown away and replaced by one that looked similar, only more expensive.
“The Troopers outside are assholes, but once you get in here, this place is quite nice,” Michael said as if apologizing for the intrusion.
“So, how do you know Gordon?” I asked, eyeing the television again.
“I’ve never actually met him.” Michael’s voice was quiet.
“How the hell does he know so much about you?” Kyle perked up.
“I have no idea.” Michael frowned worriedly. “I think he is the owner of the place. I know that it’s his name on all the paperwork I had to fill out. I just don’t know how he would know me. I have never seen the guy.”
“What is the Arena?” I demanded more strongly.
“I actually have no clue about that, either. At the moment, you know as much as I do. I’ve just been paying into a “save my ass in case of emergency” fund for years. This is what I get out of it. We’ll have to find out at dinner.”
“The Arena sounds like some medieval shit,” Kyle said. His voice, though guarded, held a touch of excitement. I couldn’t quite share the same feeling.
“Agreed, and what’s with the rules? I like to pretend that I’m one of the “Elite” and all, but let’s face it, without your ticket, I’m might as well be out there working on the wall.”
“I’m learning as you are,” Michael soothed. It wasn’t helping.
“How long is the ticket good for?” Kyle added.
“I think it’s good forever,” Michael replied.
“Think? Think? Think seems like you don’t know,” Kyle challenged.
“Listen, I’ll talk to Gordon, and figure everything out.” Michael played a little defense. “Remember: trust me. I’ve gotten us this far. Could be a hell of a lot worse.” He pointed around the room. “I’m going to bring up getting some resources to help you find your family and friends. Hang in there.”
We did. We hung in there for a few hours. There wasn’t much else to do. We changed out of the silly white outfits, and into our own clean clothes.