Last Scene Underground by Varzi Roxanne

Author:Varzi, Roxanne [Varzi, Roxanne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Stanford University Press
Published: 2015-04-06T04:00:00+00:00

War Paint

During the break Leili runs into Nima, Kamran and Arezoo outside the university library.

“Looks like we’re all cramming over the break,” Leili says, laughing.

“Not really. It’s just a safe meeting spot. We’re going to play paintball. Want to come?” Nima asks.

“Seriously? She can barely do a handstand,” Kamran protests before she can answer.

“Yes,” Leili says, in spite of Kamran.

“You have no idea what paintball is, do you?” Arezoo laughs.

“Not really,” Leili admits.

“How fun,” Arezoo says.

After listening to a description of what sounds like a bunch of boys ambushing each other in fake bushes with paint, Leili says, “I’ll just watch.”

“That’s not an option; players only on the field,” Nima says. “I’m a member of the club and I know the owner. He’ll let you try for free.”

“You guys are all members?”

“Just me and Kamran,” Nima says.

“Hooman?”

“Are you kidding? He’d never join a club,” Arezoo says.

“Or wear camouflage,” Kamran adds laughing.

“He’s not so into guns either,” Leili agrees.

“They’re not guns; they’re markers. But Hooman did say that he thinks it’s a good theater exercise,” says Nima.

“Yeah, it allows a rush without killing.”

“Not true. He says the only reason the government allows it is because it’s training future soldiers at our own expense.”

The manager hands Leili a heavy camouflage jumpsuit to pull over her rupush, a protective helmet to wear over her russari, a belt with pellets of paint and what looks like a machine gun, but which everyone insists on calling a marker.

“Dressing rooms over there.” The man points to the corner of an abandoned video arcade where Arezoo is already pulling her jumpsuit over her tight jeans and skimpy V-neck t-shirt.

Leili joins Arezoo. “You took off your rupush,” Leili comments.

“I don’t want to wrinkle it,” Arezoo answers.

“Here, you need these.” Nima runs over to the women and hands Leili a pair of goggles. Arezoo shows her how to dump the pellets into her marker and they walk out into what looks like a Hollywood set.

“It’s so quiet,” Leili remarks.

“That’ll end. There are about fifty people on their way. We’re early. Let’s go to the operations room and meet the team.”

The operations room is only one of 32 rooms and hiding places in the 2700 square meter indoor field covered in sand imported from the Caspian Sea and outfitted with artificial trenches and suspension bridges. The “coach” outlines an elaborate tactic to capture the other team’s flag and then they’re off, at first in ones and twos. Then, suddenly, the place is crawling with people and paint.

It’s only a game, and yet the fear of being hit, the hiding, the chasing and being chased, and the loud sound of pellets hitting and exploding drive Leili to jump into a ditch for shelter some distance from the main play. A few minutes later, a man jumps in with her.

“I’m wearing green,” she says. Green tells him she’s a woman and that he can’t touch her.

“Sorry, was about to get hit,” he says and is off, leaving Leili with a little tingle of excitement.

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