Biodome

It wasn’t her fault she felt this way. It was in her blood.

It wasn’t her fault she felt this way. It was in her blood.

Telly reassured herself again and again as she shook the dirt from her hands. This was the fifth time in the last month she’d had to slink yet again through the adolescent-sized hole beneath the edge of the wall, the urge too great to resist.

Her father had picked the spot. Helped her dig it. It was on the southside of the Dome, where the soil was soft and loose, as dark as her hair. Good soil, her father would mutter. Crop-yielding soil. And that’s exactly what it did. Most people looked toward that side of the Dome and saw aesthetics reminiscent of the world-that-was, rows of crops running as far as the eye could see. It almost disguised the subtle curve of the glass as it met the ground.

But Telly was never distracted from the reality. She sensed the enclosure like an inkling in the back of her mind, much like how one senses they’re being watched, or followed.

She was never unaware of the Dome.

That wasn’t the case for most. Most people didn’t even notice it anymore, and when they did, they were grateful. Grateful they were part of the Network and enjoyed certain privileges not every world had; a carefully monitored and supplied Bio-Dome, being one of them. Installed nearly two-hundred years prior, it provided their small population safety from the aging and unpredictable Earth.

Telly was grateful too. Mostly. Her only problem was that leaving the Dome--for any reason-- was completely forbidden. And she simply couldn’t help it.

“It’s ok, it’ll be ok. No harm is done,” she reassured herself, repeating her father’s words as the last of the dirt fell off her hands.

Taking a deep breath, Telly ducked back among the tall plants and pushed her way to a farmer’s-path. If she were spotted, it wouldn’t be hard to pass as a child playing out of bounds, though anyone who looked closely would see she wasn’t quite a child anymore. But nor was she a woman either, so she was often mistaken. This worked for her.

She heard the familiar click-hiss and turned back to watch the outer-shell rise from the ground and cover the Dome. That was a bit close. If she were left outside after sun-down was complete, there was no coming back in till morning.

Telly had never been out at night--nor did she have any desire to be. There was a reason the outer shell had been installed, and it had nothing to do with keeping them in. Quite the opposite.

“It’s out of hand, Anton.”

Telly could hear her mother’s harsh tones carry through the kitchen window long before she reached her house. She paused at the handle of their front door and held her breath.

“It’s not as bad as all that,” she heard her father reply. His mild manner complimented her well, though Telly offered wondered how they’d been matched to begin with; they were so different.

“You do her no favors encouraging her. Helping her!”

“She’ll grow out of it soon enough. I did. It needs to run its course. I spent--”

“Yes. I know,” she interrupted, “you spent your entire adolescence with no outlet, and it was horrible.”

“More than horrible--torturous, maddening. I almost lost my mind. She needs to roam free.”

“You speak as though we don’t all feel that from time to time.”

“Tilda.”

“I know!” She sounded annoyed, but Telly could hear the resignation in her voice.

“It won’t be forever,” he reassured her gently.

Telly took a breath and made up her mind to go in, the conversation seeming over. But it wasn’t, and the next words stopped her.

“I wouldn’t care if it weren’t for all of this…madness with the Network.”

“What has that got to do with anything?”

Telly took a few quiet steps away, and moved underneath the window ledge, where her ear caught the sounds more easily.

“I could be reading into it. Only, I got another message today. They’re asking for our exemption status paperwork.”

“Well, you said it was an audit, didn’t you?”

“Yes. Except. Well, I’ve never been asked for the whole of these documents for any audit. It’s almost like…”

“What?”

“Well, the only thing I can think of, is that our status is under review.”

“What status exactly? Our trading status, agricultural status, what?”

“Planetary status,” Tilda said hesitantly.

There was a moment of silence.

“Oh,” her father said, a slight waver in his voice. Telly didn’t understand exactly what that meant, but hearing her father lose confidence was not comforting; it didn’t happen often.

“Surely, it’s just a precaution,” he continued, “a formal review to make sure all the documents are in order. It’s been a long time since we’ve had a visit. Almost…”

“Fifty years, yes, I suppose you’re right,” her mother said.

Telly could tell she was allowing herself to be comforted by his words but was not convinced.

“Besides,” he continued further, “they need our products. We exchange with fifty of three-hundred planets in our zone. That hasn’t changed. That qualifies us for something surely.”

“For now,” she responded, ominously. There was silence for a long time, and finally Telly grew tired of waiting. It was cold under the ledge. She stood and walked up the steps again, this time confidently pushing through the front door.

“Tellya! I was beginning to worry,” her father greeted her.

Telly stepped through the door to see her parents seated beside each other, her father holding her mother’s hands.

“Sorry,” Telly said, averting her gaze, “I was stopped by a worker.”

“Is everything ok? Who was it?” her father asked, slightly alarmed.

“I don’t know,” Telly lied, “yeah it’s fine. He was far away and just kind of shouted at me.”

“You said you were stopped,” her mother said with shrewd eyes.

“Yeah--I stopped to listen to him, but he didn’t come closer,” she modified quickly.

“Well, none-the-less, try to be back a bit earlier. We were really worried about you,” her father said. Telly didn’t call their bluff. She didn’t want them to know she’d been on the eaves, overhearing their real conversation.

“Go on, wash up, it’s supper,” her mother said coarsely as she rose from her seat and started moving round the kitchen, “and the full course this time, miss.”

Their home was much like every other home in the Dome. Square layout plan divided into four rooms: efficient, clinical. Kitchen and living area in the southwest, parental living space in the northwest, child’s quarters in the northeast, and hygiene station in the southeast. Except their home was punctuated by a smattering of eclectic knick-knacks gathered by her father over the years. Paraphernalia of the world-that-was. Growing up, her father said it kept the itch at bay. She’d just taken that as normal, something adult and foreign like everything else at that age. But she’d never truly understood until the first morning she’d experienced it herself. A gnawing ache creeping under the skin--like restless legs that want to move, run, jump. Except it was everywhere.

For some reason, decorating the rooms of their house with colorful and oddly shaped objects that hid the clean white walls, seemed to help her too. It was tolerated only because her mother was high within administration, and her father wasn’t in many circles where his eccentricity could cause alarm. He did his job well and didn’t disturb anyone.

Her favorite wall was right before she walked into her room, a set of old hunting equipment, including a camo vest that Telly had tried on many times and a bright plastic pistol. When Telly had asked why it was orange her father said something about it being the one thing you didn’t want to blend in when you were hunting.

Telly had no concept of hunting. Not outside of books anyways. It seemed rough and barbaric to kill animals for sport. All the animals she knew were so dull and listless, she couldn’t imagine there’d be much amusement. Though, sometimes she thought of that orange gun when the Wild came at night.

None of that mattered though and anyways she’d stopped trying on the vest years ago.

Telly stepped into the hygienic quarters and watched the floor illuminate with her presence. As per her mother’s instruction, she ran the full course, not allowing anything to remain from outside. It ended with her disposing of her clothes in the incinerator. New ones appeared promptly.

Leaving the room, Telly saw her parents at the table again, resuming their hushed tones. For some reason, it annoyed her. If she was old enough to be trusted outside the Dome, why couldn’t they treat her like an adult? Or at least, not a child.

“I think I’m going to bed,” she said loudly, interrupting their intense conversation. They looked up to her, pausing for a moment.

“Are you sure? Do you feel all right?” her father asked her.

Telly calibrated.

“Yeah, of course. Too much fresh air,” she said, not a bit wryly. “See you in the morning.”

“Goodnight, Tellya,” her father said.

Her mother watched her leave. As soon as she entered her room, their whispering resumed. Rolling her eyes, Telly collapsed onto her bed. She was tired. Within moments she was asleep, dreaming of trees, and streams, dirt, and planetary councils.

#

“Where’ve you been!” Marcal asked her, puffing breath and flushed cheeks made apparent as he caught up to her. Telly shirked the question and entered the school-hall.

She didn’t want to tell Marcal where she’d been. He still didn’t know about her…abnormality, and she didn’t want him to. For some reason he was one of the only people--apart from her father--who didn’t think there was something very off about her.

“My dad said you can come over for dinner tonight, if you want,” he persisted running up behind her. Marcal was a good example of a “growing lad” but he was a bit on the bookish side. His father was the head of the engineering division and good friends with her mother, which was a hard concept for Telly to understand. She wasn’t even friends with her mother.

“I don’t know, maybe,” Telly said, evasively. She’d ducked outside that morning, just after the Dome had risen, just for a moment. Just to breath the natural air. Just to smell something besides…well…just to smell something. She knew it wasn’t wise, but she had twelve grueling hours of school ahead of her and thought it would help.

She was wrong.

While every day within the Dome was manufactured to be perfect--an almost ritualistic proportion of sunny versus rainy days--outside the Dome was an actual beautiful day. A real one. One that didn’t feel timed or calculated, but wild and untamed. And as she sat in the starchy air of her classroom, she couldn’t help but reimagine the sky through the swaying leaves of wild trees; the light shining through, blinding her as it rose.

The sun in the Dome didn’t blind anyone. It didn’t dare.

Never-the-less, the memory of her stolen morning did nothing to curb the ache within. In fact, it made it worse. Nothing looked so stark as the white walls of the room after being among the trees. Nothing felt so cold as the steel desk beneath her fingers--not when she’d dug her nails into real soil only hours ago.

The cleanliness of it all. It made her itch. In the pit of her stomach. At the base of her heart.

And that aching kind of restlessness grew, radiating through each limb. The legs, then the feet and toes. The arms, then the fingers, the neck. She tried to stay still but her limbs rebelled against her, twitching themselves when they could bare it no longer. She remembered the tactics her father taught; clench the fists, ball the feet, tighten and untighten each muscle in a rotation. Again, and again. Keep them moving. Occupied. Distracted.

For some reason, the school hall was the worst.

#

“Telly!”

Telly ignored Marcal’s calls as she darted through the doors. She wasn’t supposed to be running outside, but it was all she could do to keep from screaming. She wove behind buildings and fences until she was sure she’d lost Marcal, though honestly, at that moment she couldn’t care less if he followed. All that mattered was getting outside, sinking into earth, or better yet, plunging underwater. She’d never last the night if she didn’t.

Making it to her spot, she crouched beside the hole she’d dug that morning. It had filled in a little, so she clawed it out with her fingers, her head and shoulders wriggling through as soon as there was space.

When she was clear, she took a deep breath and crawled forward onto the grass. The patch in front of her hole was matted and torn from her frequent visits. Often times, she’d burst through and claw at the ground, like a diver surfacing to that first breath of life-giving air.

Telly laid there for a moment, the ache reversing its pattern until again her limbs and skin and heartbeat were calm.

“What am I going to do,” she thought to herself, pressing her skin to the ground. Could she live out here? Surely, she wouldn’t survive the first night--she’d never seen any of the creatures that survived the storms--no one had for decades. But she heard them. Every night they heard them. Perhaps attracted to the glint of steel in the moonlight, perhaps angry about territory they couldn’t claim, the Wild relentlessly pursued entry into the Dome.

“Before you say anything. I am not leaving. So, don’t even ask.”

The wavering decibels, trying so desperately to sound like a man’s, broke into Telly’s silence.

“Marcal,” she managed in utter shock.

He’d followed her through.

“What on earth are you doing out here!” She asked, rising to her feet and rushing forward. “Go back inside!”

Her franticness startled him, she could see it in his eyes, but he didn’t stand down.

“I said what I said,” he shouted, though shakily.

He shouldn’t have followed her! Her father would be furious she’d put another at risk. Hell, she was furious. She should’ve been more careful.

“Go back, Marcal,” she repeated sternly.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he affirmed.

She considered his face for a moment and knew she’d lost the battle.

“Ok,” she exhaled, “come on then.” Then she began to walk away from the Dome.

Her concession seemed to surprise him, and he froze to the spot, perhaps not fully understanding the gravity of what he’d done until that moment.

“Come on,” she prompted gently, “there’s nothing to be afraid of.”

“But…” he hesitated again.

Regret etched his face as all the reasons they weren’t supposed to leave--reasons drilled into them since childhood--rushed to his mind. She could tell by the way the fear grew in his eyes. He shuddered and raised his hands to his mouth--possibly to block the air--and began turning around wildly, as though waiting for something to attack him. If she didn’t feel so bad for her friend, it might have been comical.

“Marcal, Marcal,” she said, steadying him, “the air is fine, the soil is fine, I’ve been out here over fifty-seven times.”

He stopped his movement immediately and stared at her, this time his eyes afraid of something else entirely.

“Look, I know you have questions, but you’ve already said you’re not leaving, and following me is easier than me explaining. So, are you coming or going back in?”

#

Telly wasn’t sure what she’d done to convince Marcal to trust her, versus years of precaution, fear and custom. But he did. She supposed they had known each other all their lives, but a part of her worried they were only friends because their parents were. But his actions now, clearly spoke otherwise.

Marcal was not a brave soul. He was smart, loyal, genuine, kind and down to earth. But he was not brave. So, his following her into unknown, and extremely illegal territory spoke more about their friendship than she was maybe prepared to see. She decided to put it from her mind and focus on leading them through the trees, choosing a path she’d worn down herself over many traverses.

Everything would be better once they made it to the falls.

There were no waterfalls in the Dome. No need for them, so, there were none. But there should’ve been. They were magnificent to behold in person. She turned around and addressed her friend, speaking loudly so he could hear her over the torrent of water.

“I was born this way,” she began, “my father was like this too, and his father. They all had the itch. At least, that’s what they called it. It’s more of an ache. It starts in the pit of my belly and radiates out. It’s...” she tried to find the right word, “unbearable.” She settled with that.

She could tell her words weren’t penetrating any kind of reason in Marcal’s brain, and he drew his arms even closer around himself, retreating slightly.

“I know it seems crazy,” she said, trying to sound less mystic, “I get that it’s crazy. But being out here, out of the Dome, it’s the only thing that helps. I can’t explain it. My dad said I’ll outgrow it.”

She didn’t mention that she didn’t want to outgrow it. After those fifty-seven times outside, there was very little else that Telly wanted, then to leave one day and never go back. But she wasn’t strong enough for that. Nor was she strong enough to admit it aloud.

“But you don’t…it’s not…?” Marcal attempted to speak. She could tell his skin was itching in its own way with a thousand unspoken fears and worries.

“It’s completely safe!” she encouraged, “come on in!”

Telly plunged herself under the water and extended her hand, watching as Marcal began to forget his distress in the light of this natural wonder of the world.

After a few moments he walked forward and took her hand.

She pulled him quickly through the falls and heard him let loose a laugh as the water crashed around him.

“This is amazing!” he cried out. Telly laughed. She couldn’t pretend it wasn’t exhilarating to share this side of herself with someone. With Marcal.

“I should have told you ages ago, I just--”

But Telly didn’t have time to finish her thought because at that moment, Marcal pulled her toward him and kissed her. She was so stunned that she let it happen, and then lingered without words as he pulled away.

“I’m sorry,” he said, nervous laughter mounting within him.

“It’s ok,” she said, though she couldn’t think of any further reassurance.

They stood for a moment, unsure what to do, before deciding to exit the falls and make their way back to dry ground. Marcal was grinning from ear to ear. Telly might’ve been too, had it not been for what she noticed next.

Marcal was not only looking pale, but abnormally pale. Red rings had begun to develop around his eyes and nose, and he was walking a little wonky, grinning and laughing. But then he was coughing. Coughing a lot.

“Marcal!” Telly exclaimed as she rushed to catch his collapsing body.

#

The sun was setting, and she wasn’t making good time. They hadn’t ventured too far from the Dome, but the distance was harrowing while dragging the body of her friend.

Marcal hadn’t woken since his fall and after a few moments of trying to revive him, Telly decided she’d need to carry him if they were to make it back before the sun set. As it was, the sounds of the night were already beginning to rise up around them. If they could just get out of the trees, they might be safe; the Wild didn’t descend onto the Dome until well into the night. The forest might be different story.

Telly felt panic rising in her chest, and a frantic kind of fear as something rushed past the bush beside her. She turned instinctively and caught a pair of eyes above her in the trees, then a soft growl to her left. She changed positions desperately to gain more speed.

After what seemed like hours--though it could only have been minutes--Telly was at the edge of the forest. The sun had almost set, and the clicking of the Dome in its sun-down mode echoed in the distance. A fresh thrill of terror leapt within her and she lurched forward desperately, Marcal in tow.

Except, for some reason, she couldn’t move.

She was stuck. She tugged at Marcal’s body only to feel him rooted to something in a way that both confused and terrified her. The growl sounded again, closer than before and though she knew she had to look, it took everything in her to turn around.

Her eyes moved over Marcal’s body to see what was obstructing their escape, and that’s when she saw it. A wide-eyed, yellow-teeth beast, arm reaching from the bush, hand around Marcal’s ankle.

Eye. Teeth. Arm. Hand.

This was no animal, but a human. Or at least, what had once been human. Revulsion overcame Telly as she watched this beast of the Wild--same species as her but of a much different nature--held onto Marcal’s leg with eerie stillness, its nails digging deep in skin. It didn’t fight her, it didn’t even acknowledge her claim to her friend, it just waited, daring her to defy him.

Any number of things could have happened next, but even Telly was surprised when her fear gave way to anger and she rose tall and approached the Wild One. She wasn’t big, and she had no weapons to speak of, but she would not relinquish her friend.

For lack of a better idea, Telly found herself screaming at him, yelling anything that came to mind. She watched the Wild One as he reacted to her tones--uncertain at first, and then, in its own way, afraid. It was then that she remembered something her father had told her. The Wild hated the unclaimed territory. It was the only place on Earth they weren’t allowed. That’s why they attacked the Dome.

Well, Marcal was her territory and they couldn’t have him either. She picked up a rock nearby and hurled it at him, hitting him roundly on the shoulder. The Wild One looked surprised and recoiled slightly. This gave Telly the courage she needed, and she renewed her offense with vigor. After a few minutes of her yelling and throwing anything in sight, the Wild One released Marcal, and Telly almost fell backwards with the force of her own pulling. She watched the Wild One slink backward into the bush, leaving her to dive back into the Dome.

#

Telly stared at the white wall in front of her. The itching began to creep back at the sight of it, but she made herself stare. It was only fair. After what she’d put Marcal through, she deserved to be miserable.

Her body was shaking slightly, probably because she was still damp. But she wouldn’t leave till she heard news. She’d brought him to the first place she could think of; her Father’s clinic. And that’s where she sat. General admission. She wasn’t allowed within the room.

The place wasn’t very big, but it didn’t have to be. While her father was respected as the Dome physician, he rarely came across anything more serious than a broken bone, and even that was dealt with swiftly in the regen-pods. His biggest day a year was the Day of Vaccinations, which took place when the Shipment came in from off-world. New ones were out annually, and all citizens of the Dome were required to stay up to date or they risked their Clinical Status with the Alliance of planets.

Telly stood up abruptly and began to pace the room. She couldn’t get the look of Marcal’s bloody leg out of her mind, such a stark contrast with the white of his pale, death-like skin. And the look that had been on her father’s face…but she couldn’t think about that now.

“Tellyaryde,” her mother’s voice sounded behind her.

Telly turned around, her arms gripping each other in feeble comfort. Even her mother would not be able to protect her from the consequences of this. Not that she’d try, necessarily.

“Come. Sit,” she said. Her face was ashen, and she shook slightly, but her voice was softer than Telly expected.

“I know what you’re going to say,” Telly said, sitting beside her mother, “I can’t hear it right now.”

Her mother looked at her but said nothing for a while. At length she spoke.

“Did you know, when I was matched with your father, I thought it was a mistake?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Yes. I actually called the office and demanded a re-match.”

Telly didn’t respond. She really didn’t know what to say. Her mother never shared personal stuff like this… and no one ever demanded a re-match. The matches, were, well, final.

“He was always so odd. Even in school. I expected to be matched with someone within my stream. An administrator. At the very tangential, a financier or auditor,” she said these titles with a certain amount of haughtiness. But then her expression softened. “Well, sometimes they know better than we do, don’t they?”

Again, Telly didn’t respond. She wasn’t sure why her mother was confiding this in her, or what it had to do with the situation they found themselves in now.

“At any rate, I never could have planned anything better than you. So, for that alone, I’m grateful to them,” she turned and looked at Telly, her eyes glistening. Telly was stunned for words. Her mother reached over and wiped the tears off her cheeks; Telly hadn’t even felt them falling.

“What’s gonna happen?” Telly said, allowing herself to express her child-like need for comfort. Her mother drew her arm around her and patted her warmly.

“Marcal’s in your father’s care. There’s no one better suited for the extra-ordinary than him.”

#

“Marcal’s stable, but in critical condition.”

Her father’s voice rang out into the small admission’s room. He had to speak loudly to be heard over the down pour of the well-timed, evening rains. But Telly would have heard a whisper. She stood hugging herself, alongside Marcal’s parents and some other high-level administration, whose presence worried Telly. Were they there to take her away? Detain her for leaving the Dome and endangering Marcal?

“What do you mean critical condition?” Marcal’s mother--a wiry woman named Ramona--said hysterically, “why can’t you just mend the tissue and release him? What’s going on?”

“There are…unidentified toxins in his blood stream. Specifically concentrated around the wound. It’s begun to swell and discolor unnaturally. Unlike anything I’ve seen.”

“What do you mean?” the mother asked again. She seemed stuck in a panic-stricken loop of dismay.

“Where did he get the toxins from? Tilda, what’s going on?” The father this time. His tone toward Telly’s father was dismissive, and his direct address to her mother, strange. Telly knew that he and her mother were friends but there seemed to be more hostility toward her father than the situation warranted. Maybe even bad blood.

Telly’s mother and father exchanged a dark look. Then her father took a deep breath and said:

“Marcal’s been outside the Dome. The wounds were sustained from a Wild One, and the toxins, potentially from the air or water.”

“What? Stephan what are they saying?” Ramona asked again.

“Surely, you’re not serious? How!?” Stephan exclaimed. “My boy would never do this; you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Tilda, are you to tell me these toxins have been introduced into the Dome?” One of the Administrators spoke gravely.

“It would appear so. But for now, only in the form of this wound,” Tilda responded.

There were murmurs of ill-concealed fear, disbelief and anger: How could this happen? My son would never! What are we dealing with here?

Telly found herself on the verge of interrupting the cacophonous round of voices and telling them that they were wrong. That all of this was very wrong. The air outside the Dome was not harmful. Nor the water. Her father knew that! Why wasn’t he speaking up? She threw him a look and caught his eye, noticing the almost imperceptible shake of his head. Was it possible he didn’t want her saying she’d been out of the Dome? Had he not told anyone? She supposed that would explain a lot…

“I’m not exactly unequipped for new phenomena,” her father said loudly, trying to bring order to the group, “I’ve already sent off a med-kit with samples and a request for help. Only…”

“Only what, Anton?” Ramona asked, her voice shrill.

“Well, this is why I called you here, Administrator Warren,” Tilda spoke.

“Yes, why are you here?” Stephan asked with shrew eyes.

Tilda turned to the Administrator, as though she were seeking permission, and received a small tight nod.

“We’ve been receiving odd requests all month for the audits,” she explained finally, “and it turns out…well we’ve just had word that our Planetary Status has been revoked.”

“What does that mean?” Stephan asked.

“It means…a lot of things,” Tilda began carefully, “but in this situation, that we will no longer be receiving the supplies we’ve become used to. Our access to the Trade Network in most ways, has been…cut off.”

“Including access to off-world physicians?” Ramona asked gravely. She seemed to be losing the hysteria and catching up with the program. Tilda nodded slowly.

“Very well,” Administrator Warren spoke loudly, “effective immediately anyone who has been in direct contact with Marcal’s wounds since he re-entered the Dome, must remain within Anton’s care, quarantined until we can ascertain if we’ll receive help from the Galactic Network.”

Anton gave a curt nod, even though he knew that number included himself, and Telly.

“It’s just me. I haven’t allowed anyone else to come in contact with him yet. I myself have been in sterile gear, the odds of anyone in this room being infected are slim.”

Telly knew there was no way he could know that for sure, but the Administrator seemed to buy his opinion.

“Very well,” Administrator Warren said, “Tilda, follow me.”

Then he turned curtly and left the building. Telly’s mother turned as well, casting one more, oddly sad smile back at Telly and her father, before she did.

#

“It’s more dire than your mother let on, you know,” Telly’s father said into the silence of the admission room.

It still rained steadily outside, but otherwise it was quiet. Marcal’s family had left shortly after, not being able to visit him, and slightly put off by the thought of contagion. She’d thought it strange they’d leave but she had some experience with how their family dinners normally went. There was a formula to them. Telly would’ve called them “rule-followers” to be polite.

“What do you mean?” Telly asked her father.

“Did you see the way your mother looked at us before she left?” he asked. Telly recalled the strange look on her mother’s face and nodded silently. “It’s the look she has when she knows something troubling--and is determined to keep it secret. To protect you.”

“Protect me?” Telly asked. She’d never thought of her mother in that role. But now that Telly thought about it, her mother’s warmness was a foreboding sign. What did she know that she wasn’t telling them?

“You didn’t tell her I took Marcal out, did you?” Telly asked.

Her father sat back in his chair and rubbed his face. With a sigh, he shook his head.

“Didn’t see the point. Then you’d just be quarantined with me, maybe worse. But I know you don’t need to be. Hell, even your mother knows neither of us are in any danger. But the fact of the matter is, Marcal isn’t like you or me.”

“So, you do think something outside the Dome did this to him?” she asked, the pit within her stomach growing and her cheeks burning with shame. He nodded.

“What are you going to do?” Telly asked, unable to keep the desperation out of her voice.

“Tellya, there’s something I have to tell you, but you must remain calm. Can you do that?”

Telly nodded, hoping she could keep that promise.

“We aren’t going to hear back from anyone. No help is coming. We’ve watched this happen to many planets, and once the Network has made the decision--that is to say, once a planet loses its classification, that’s it.”

Telly tucked her hands under her arms to steady them. She tried to think of words to say, but he stopped her as she opened her mouth.

“Just listen. Things will begin to shut down. Communication with the outside will go first. We might get some farewell packages from some of our closer allies, but that’s it. We’ll survive in our own way for a while, but our technology will get old and fall into disrepair. Eventually, things we take for granted will begin to shut down. Including the Dome.”

Telly’s heart began to race. The outer shell was the only thing standing between them and the Wild. Though she hated the Dome, she had a fresh appreciation now of how important that was.

“I also lied. To you all,” he said. His tone was that of a last confession, and Telly didn’t like the weight behind it. “The contagion that Marcal suffers from has already entered the Dome.”

“What?” Telly asked, terrified, “how?”

“You were so spent when you came in, you didn’t realize.”

“What do you mean?”

“You brought him in, only half coherent. I found the two of you in the fields, his leg resting in one of the aqueducts.”

“In the water?” she asked.

“Yes. I don’t know how long it had been there, but judging by the color of the water, he’d been bleeding into it for a while.”

“Why didn’t you say something?” Telly asked, frantic.

“I didn’t think about it at first--my daughter was passed out beside her bleeding friend,” her father said, putting his face in his hands again, “it wasn’t until the rains came tonight that it clicked.”

The rains. Telly heard them overhead now. The aqueducts and rain-system, water, sewage, all ran together in sync. Filtered, purified, redistributed.

“Surely the system will have purified it?”

“Not if it doesn’t know what to look for. I barely know.”

“You should have told someone, let everyone know not to drink the water or something! We have to tell someone!” Telly said, standing to leave. She was yelling at her father, but she knew it wasn’t his fault. It was hers, and she couldn’t just do nothing. She’d own up to it all if she had to.

Her father seized her and sat her back down.

“Tellya think about it. If I tell the Administrator, then not only can’t we drink the water until help comes--a certain death within three days, because as we know, help is not coming--but we also have mass hysteria on our hands. And I need my hands free.”

“Free for what?” Telly said, wiping tears away furiously.

“Tellya, I have a plan.”

#

Telly sits outside the Dome, her back to the wall, feeling the metal grow cool as the day falls into evening. She’s been there at least an hour already trying to work up her nerve.

Her mission is three-fold: one, collect water, two, collect soil, three…well, she doesn’t want to think about three. She looks to her side and sees the small pistol resting at her thigh. It looks unnatural on the shockingly green grass, its plastic parts and bright orange color. A thought crosses her mind that she should get the water and soil soon, before the sun sets. Heaven knows she’ll have her hands full after that.

She stands and wipes her hands on her pants, bending and retrieving the pistol from the ground and tucking it in her waistband. She pulls down on the camo vest she’s donned for protection. Funnily enough, it finally fits her.

Her feet find their way to her pond with enough ease, and she ducks beside it to collect her samples. Her father didn’t specify if he needed saturated or clear water, but she’ll take a bit of both to be safe. Then she digs up some earth beside it, closes the vials and tucks them into her vest.

Now for the hard part.

Telly looks around her--where should she wait? She knows they’ll eventually come to the Dome, but the Wild One she’d met had been closer to the tree-line, and she’d be lying if she didn’t say she’s hoping to find the one who injured Marcal.

Telly finds a tree along the edge of the forest with thick, low-hanging branches. She runs her hands over the course bark, grateful it isn’t her first rodeo with climbing a tree. It isn’t exactly a past-time in the Dome, but she’s had some practice as of late. She places her feet and hands carefully and makes it up halfway before deciding she doesn’t want to be too high. After all, who knows how good a shot she is.

There she waits, perched on a branch in the setting sun, awaiting the unknown yet inevitable.

Then ever so gradually, the noises begin.

The noises of the Wild. She’s often heard them from within the protection of the Dome, and more so within her dreams. But as she sits exposed in the wild forest, they seem different. Terrifying yes, but less elusive and enigmatic in their native context.

But something is wrong. She can tell. While it’s to be her first time truly out at night, the noises grow loud suddenly and abrupt. The sun hasn’t even fully set, at yet it sounds like an army is making its way through the trees.

Telly freezes stiff with fear. What made her think she’d be safe in a tree? Hadn’t she seen eyes peering from above last she was out? Frantically she scurries back down, dashing for the edge of the forest back to the safety of the Dome. Her mission blares in her mind but she can only think of getting out of the forest.

Unfortunately, she’s not alone. As she darts into the freedom of open air, she feels a hand clasp tightly around her ankle and she’s knocked down to the ground in one fell swoop. The air leaves her chest and her teeth rattle as her chin hits the earth. She’s dazed.

Slowly, too slowly, she pushes herself up and rolls to her back. Her eyes meet his and she knows in an instant that he’s the one. He growls at her, a guttural, wordless moaning and his fingers dig into her ankle.

She barely has time to think, let alone act, but act she does. The first dart was probably enough to render him unconscious, but she fires a second just in case. They find their target and lodge in his flesh with a sickening thwack. The Dome isn’t clinking--he’s managed to turn off the sun-down. Her vision is blurred.

Once again, she finds herself dragging a body back through the hole behind her.

#

“They didn’t used to be that different from us,” her father said, scanning the unconscious body on his table. “I reckon they’re probably not that dissimilar even now, give or take a few hundred years of nature versus nurture.”

Telly wasn’t sure what her father was saying, but she nodded slowly. She felt more tired than she’d ever felt in her life, the six vials of blood she’d given her father a moment ago having more than a little to do with that. Mostly her adrenaline was crashing.

The Wild One laid beside her chair, looking eerily human and non-threatening now that it slept. Only the haunting grip around her ankle reminded her he was a threat. At that moment, her mother came in the room, casting a brief look to her as she put on a white lab coat and pulled her hair out from the collar.

“What do we have? Have you found anything?”

“I’ve barely drawn the blood Tilda,” her father said closing the vials and rocking them between his thumb and forefinger.

“Sorry. Everyone’s a little jumpy. The sooner I have good news, the better.”

“I don’t know if I’ll have good news.”

Her mother cast a look to Telly again and said, “What other reason could it be for, if not for this?”

Her father looked at her too, his expression mirroring her mother’s, a wary kind of wonder mixed with hope. But in the next moment he was out the door.

“I’m heading to the lab. Call me if it wakes up--the restraints should hold him for now.”

This didn’t seem to ease her mother much, but she nodded. When her father left the room, she sat down.

“Why don’t you sleep Telly, you’ve been through hell.”

“You knew what dad asked me to do then?”

She hesitated and then nodded.

“You were ok with it?”

To Telly’s relief her mother shrugged. “No, but what choice did I have? What choice have I ever had?”

Telly suddenly realized the burden of worry she’d placed on her mother from the beginning of her visits outside. She was a proud woman and hard to read, but maybe her distance had actually been fear and her anger, hopelessness.

Regardless, all of that seemed to dissolve as she reached over and took Telly’s hand.

“Sleep, daughter.”

Telly slouched beside her mother and laid her head on her shoulder. Then she did as she said and fell asleep.

When she woke, it was to two eyes staring at her from the table nearby. She nearly startled but there was something in the eyes that did not rouse fear, but rather pity. The Wild One did not struggle like an animal, it did not threaten her with a growl or a bark. He pleaded her. Pleaded her with his eyes. Telly sat up slowly, unable to break his entreating gaze.

“Are you ok,” she rasped. Her mother remained asleep, but she didn’t feel the need to wake her. In fact, she didn’t want her calling her father just yet.

The Wild One stared at her for a moment and shook his head.

Telly’s skin prickled.

“Do you understand me?” she asked. But his expression turned confused. Then his leg jerked and his arms. He looked around himself and then back at her, his eyes pleading again. He looked more than uncomfortable. He grimaced and rolled his head back, arching his neck as he moved his shoulders, moved any limb that wasn’t restrained at some angle. He let out a quiet guttural cry of frustration and looked at her again.

It was then that she recognized something in his eyes. She knew this look. It was the ache.

Just then her father nearly burst through the door, calling his mother’s name.

“Tilda, it’s a match! Well, not a match exactly, but a blend, it’s what we hoped!”

He looked up to see Telly standing beside the Wild One and his face became alarmed.

“Telly, back away,”

“No, dad, it’s ok. He’s like us.”

“He might look like us, but he’s not Telly. Not anymore.”

“No, dad, he’s like us. He has the itch.”

His dad looked between the Wild One and Telly and seemed to lower his guard just a little.

“I think I know why.”

“What is it Anton?” her mother said. Telly turned to see her awake at the commotion.

“We’ve been looking at this…ache…all wrong. For so long, it’s been seen as a danger, a threat to our world, and my whole family has kept it a secret. But it’s not a threat. It very well may be our salvation.”

“Anton, speak like a doctor, not a philosopher.”

Anton cast around as though looking for what those doctor words would be.

“For the last three generations, my family has been sneaking out of this Dome. I was not allowed because my mother was terrified…so I was kept in a padded cell for most of my adolescence and I nearly lost my mind. What Telly deals with today is not half of what I experienced, and why I’ve been so adamant she be allowed to leave when she needed.

“My great-grandmother called it a mental disorder. But she outgrew it and was sure the rest of us would too. And we did, mostly. But it’s not a disorder. It’s triggered by the increase of hormones in adolescent years, yes, but the ache Telly, myself, my father and grandmother had isn’t a disorder, it’s a deficiency.”

“A deficiency…” Tilda repeated, standing.

“Don’t you see,” her father continued, “the very thing that makes Marcal sick, that makes everyone here in the Dome sick, is the very thing that Telly needs. That this Wild One needs. Something they can only get from the Wild. And it might very well have been bred out in a couple generations, but it’s still here, present, in our daughter at this very moment in time when we need it most.”

Her mother and father seemed to be locked into one another, as though the saw something beyond that room.

“So, there’s a chance that someday, we might not need the Dome?” her mother said softly.

“I can create a vaccine immediately, inoculate everyone within the Dome and then work the opposite way. Increase our dependency on the element I’ve found in the samples until…”

“Until we can only survive by living outside,” her mother completed. “What about the Wild?”

Her father looked at the man on the table, listening to them, but not fully comprehending.

“I see intelligence in his eyes. Could be they only wanted to be safe in the Dome, like we were. But I doubt they’ll trouble us now they know they can’t survive here. In the meantime, we can build an understanding. Starting now. I’ll give him what he needs and let him go.”

“Warren will be furious.”

“How can he be? We just secured our futures.”

There was silence for a long time as they all processed what this meant. Finally, Telly spoke quietly.

“It’s not my fault,” she said, something hidden breaking down in relief and wonder.

“It’s not your fault,” her father repeated softly.

“It was in my blood…”

“It was in your blood,” said her mother.

END