Alternity

by Mari Mancusi

  I stare at him. There’s no way my thumb will work here. Is there?

  I get off the bike and walk over to the gate, fear making my heart pound. This is a test, I realize. A major test to see who I really am. I may look like Mariah Quinn, but do we share fingerprints? DNA?

  I press my thumb against the sensor, sucking in a breath, not sure which outcome to pray for. Do I want the gate to open? Or do I want to prove I’m not who they think I am?

  I don’t have a choice. “Mariah Quinn,” the robotic voice chirps, sounding a lot friendlier this time around. “Welcome back.” The gates creak open, revealing a decrepit, windowless stone tower embedded into the cliff and stretching up into the darkness.

  “Still convinced you’re not Mariah?” Dawn asks, eyebrow raised.

  For a moment I can’t breathe, instinctively searching for my inhaler. Of course I don’t have it with me, so I run through my breathing exercises instead while my mind grasps at straws. Maybe we’ve got some kind of alternate-reality-twins scenario going on here. She and I are different people but share the same fingerprints. Or DNA. Or whatever those thumb sensor things register. That could happen, right?

  Keep rationalizing, Skye. Maybe at some point you’ll talk yourself into believing.

  I shake my head. No use to dwell on such things now. Better to just get to the Eclipsers and hope they can shed some light on this whole mess.

  Dawn leads his bike through the gate and releases its kickstand. The gate swings shut behind us, coming together with a metallic clang that causes me to nearly jump out of my skin. I hurry to follow Dawn into the building.

  The entrance was once made of glass-paned double doors, but the glass has long been smashed into oblivion and swept away. I’m careful as I step through to dodge the jagged shards still clinging to the frame. No need to accidentally cut myself on top of everything else. Who knows what kind of first aid they’ve got down here?

  Through the doors is a small vacant lobby painted a dismal olive color that only succeeds in sucking out most of the already dim orange light coming from several table lamps scattered throughout. Cobwebs cling to every crevice, and the tables and chairs are covered in thick dust. It looks as if no one’s entered this place in years.

  I glance down at my boots. They’re going to get filthy tramping around here. But wait—I do a double take; they’re not dirty at all. They’re still as shiny as when I first pulled them onto my feet. I glance behind me for dusty footprints, but there’s no sign I just walked through the lobby whatsoever.

  I look to Dawn, head cocked in confusion.

  “Optical illusion,” he explains. “The floor’s actually made out of a thin film screen. They project a dusty floor image onto it to make it look like the place has been abandoned. Really, they sweep every other day.”

  “Amazing.” I crouch down to touch the floor. Sure enough, I can drag my finger through the dust and not get a speck of dirt on my hand. “You guys thought of everything.”

  “Actually, it was your idea,” Dawn informs me. “Smart, too. You can’t be too careful these days.” He heads over to the antique-looking elevators at the far side of the lobby and presses a black button. “The last thing we need is for the government to start snooping around our headquarters. In fact, only a few people know this place exists.”

  The elevator doors open with a loud groan, sparking a question of its last safety inspection. But I keep my mouth shut and follow Dawn inside. Who knows, maybe this is another trick to keep the bad guys away. The door slides shut and I watch the mechanical dial counting up the floor numbers, fighting the urge to grab Dawn’s hand. Not out of some misplaced romantic gesture, mind you, but simply because this whole place has me more than a little freaked out.

  The elevator bings when it reaches the top floor, and the doors slide open. We’re greeted by a much cleaner scene: a red-carpeted hallway stretching off into the darkness, dimly lit by small ceiling lamps every few feet. The whole place reminds me of that Tower of Terror ride at Disney World, and I jump off the elevator before it can send me spiraling down thirteen stories.

  Dawn smiles and grabs my hand in his, squeezing it. “Don’t worry,” he assures me. “We’re almost there.”

  “Great,” I mutter, not willing to admit how much better I feel with his hand in mine. I grip him tightly as we walk down the nondescript hallway, passing door after door. Finally, we stop at one of them. To me, it’s undistinguishable from the other dozen doors we’ve passed, but Dawn seems to know where he’s going. He drops my hand and gestures to the tiny sensor I hadn’t noticed by the handle. I press my thumb against it, grimacing as the robotic voice cuts through the silent hallway, addressing me once again as Mariah. Just what I need in this spooky place: a reminder that I may very well be the resident ghost.

  The door slides open and we step over the threshold, into what appears to be an old vacant tenement apartment. There’s tacky floral wallpaper, faded and peeling from the walls, cheap ceramic frogs and unicorns on the shelves, and cracked red vinyl couches and armchairs.

  “What is this place?” I ask, glancing around the room. “I thought we were going to some secret headquarters.” This can’t be where the Eclipsers meet, can it? I mean, it’s so … tacky.

  “Well, you’re certainly as impatient as Mariah, I have to say,” Dawn comments wryly. He walks across the room and points to a three-foot-high wooden bear statue standing like a sentinel in the corner. “Do you recognize Melvin at least?”

  “Melvin?” I repeat, staring at the bear. “Well, back on Earth I have a stuffed bear I call Melvin.”

  Dawn’s eyes light up. “Really? That’s great. Maybe there is something left inside you,” he says excitedly.

  I shrug, not wanting to disappoint him. “It’s just a stuffed animal. I mean, I wouldn’t read too much into it.”

  But Dawn’s still talking. “You and I went up to the surface once,” he says. “We found this old resort by a dried-up lake. One of the crumbly places from back before the war. We wandered around a bit, until we came across an ancient wooden carving of a big brown bear. Obviously a relic of the prewar world.”

  “But wasn’t that a long time ago? How could a wooden statue still remain intact?”

  Dawn shrugs. “I don’t know. But that’s partially what made him so special to us.” He looks thoughtfully at the statue. “In any case, we named him Melvin. And you loved him so much that the next time I was aboveground I stole a log and smuggled it back down here. Had it de-radiated and did my best to carve you a replica.” His eyes shine as he relates the story. “Since then, Melvin here has always been a symbol of our revolution. A deified bear, if you will. Our symbol of hope. We know that no matter what happens down here, he’s waiting up on the surface, withstanding weather, age, and radiation—never doubting that someday mankind will return. He’s never given up faith after all these years, and so we decided neither should we.”

  I watch as he tells the story, his fingers tracing over the wooden bear’s head. He’s so passionate, so happy in this memory of a time shared with his precious Mariah. I suddenly find myself wanting desperately to be able to share it with him. I search inside myself, trying to imagine a taller version of the bear, trying to remember a love and affection for him. But I come up blank. Empty.

  “I wish I could remember Melvin,” I say wistfully.

  Dawn walks over to me. “But don’t you see?” he asks. “You do. You named your stuffed bear on Earth after him. That’s too big to just be a coincidence. There must be something there, deep inside your subconscious. On some level you remember him. Maybe soon you’ll remember other things too.”

  Or maybe not. But I can’t stand to crush Dawn’s glimmer of hope, so I keep my mouth shut.

  “How did Melvin wind up here?” I ask, twirling around and gesturing to the tacky room. “Doesn’t look like much of a place for a god bear to take up residence.”

  Dawn nods. “I agree completely. But you insisted. Said there would be no
better guardian to keep the Eclipsers’ secret headquarters safe.” He walks back over to Melvin and presses two fingers into the bear’s slightly rounded tummy. The back wall slides open, revealing a secret passageway leading off into the darkness.

  “Wow. Melvin’s a tricky little bear, isn’t he?” I say, impressed.

  Dawn grins. “He is a wise and all-powerful bear, indeed.” He gestures me to follow him down the passageway. “Come on. We’re almost there.”

  We walk down the hall, the wall sliding shut behind us. But for some reason I no longer feel frightened. After all, Melvin’s standing guard behind us. What could possibly happen on his watch?

  Dawn pushes open a door and we enter what appears to be a small conference room made entirely of metal. Metal chairs, metal table—even the walls are shiny, slick, polished. Several people stand around the table, all dressed in black high-collared jackets like Dawn’s. They look up when we enter, voices trailing off into a hushed silence. They pause for a moment, and then one of them starts to clap. The others join in and soon the room is filled with applause, echoing off the metal floors and ceiling. I hover at the doorway, unsure how to react. Should I bow? Smile? Wave?

  I catalog them quickly. Three women, four men, all of varying ages and looks, though a couple have the same glowing blue eyes as Dawn. I wonder if that’s some side effect from living underground. Maybe they have better night vision or something.

  Before I can analyze further, I’m rushed by the mob, all of them evidently wanting to be first to give Mariah her welcome-home hug. Each seems determined not to have the others get a coherent word in edgewise, all talking over one another until I’m deafened by unintelligible babble.

  “Hey, hey!” Dawn cries, his voice breaking through the cacophony. “Give her a second, okay? Back up! Jeez. Don’t you all remember the three-foot-bubble rule?”

  The room falls silent and the Eclipsers (for that’s who I assume they are) retreat to their seats around the table, offering me precious breathing room and mumbled apologies. Dawn nods approvingly and steps forward to stand at my side. “That’s better,” he says, addressing the room’s occupants as if they’re all small children who need to be reprimanded. “I mean, really! I know you’re all excited to see her, but you’re as bad as the Dark Siders. Remember, the girl doesn’t even remember who she is, never mind the rest of you clowns.”

  “Our sincerest apologies, Sister Mariah,” offers an apple-cheeked, middle-aged woman at the far end of the table, nodding her head in apology. Her hair is cropped flush to her skull and she wears large golden hoop earrings. “It’s just so good to see you. In the flesh. Among your people once again.”

  “Indeed,” adds a twenty-something man with a trimmed black beard. His green eyes glow with enthusiasm as he looks up at me with what can only be described as unabashed adoration. “We weren’t sure we’d ever see you again.” He throws a self-satisfied smirk in Dawn’s direction. “Though some of us had more faith than others.”

  Dawn holds up his hands in protest. “Fine, fine. Mock me if you must,” he says with an amused smile. “But even you have to admit—pulling a ‘Gazer back from Earth against her will? That’s usually a mission impossible.”

  “Yes, well, that’ll teach you to underestimate the Eclipsers!” cheers a teenage male in the back. He sports large silver piercings in just about every visible orifice (and probably some I can’t see.) “We don’t let some silly alternate reality get in our way.” The others whoop in agreement and a spattering of high fives circle the table.

  Their extreme enthusiasm sends a nagging sense of guilt straight to my insides. They’re all so happy to see me. So excited to think they’ve finally gotten their long-lost Mariah back. How am I ever going to convince them that I’m not really her? And what will they think when they finally realize that all their hard work pulling Mariah out of Earth was in vain? At the end of the day, they got the wrong girl. One who can’t help them—unless they have a video game they need testing. They need a brave, revolutionary leader to step up to the plate and save their world, but somehow got stuck with an incompetent club kid who can’t even remember to save the electricity bill by shutting off the lights when she leaves the room.

  They’re going to be so disappointed when they finally face reality.

  “Where’s Glenda?” I ask, scanning the room but not seeing the serene face of my personal trainer among the motley crew. “I thought she’d be here.” At least Glenda’s been to Earth. She’s met me as Skye. She’ll probably be the easiest person to convince of the truth.

  The Eclipsers grow silent. A few of them slump into their chairs. I frown. Was it something I said? Then Dawn touches my arm. “You know the woman who freed you from Duske’s mansion?” he asks.

  I stare at him, dumbfounded, the blood rushing from my face. “That was Glenda?”

  Dawn nods.

  I sink into a vacant chair as my mind replays the scene. Glenda, giving me my sword, urging me to jump. The guards dragging her away. She gambled her very life to get me out of that prison, and may have come up snake eyes.

  “She was captured,” I say, voice hoarse. “Do you think they … I mean, do you think she’s …?” I trail off, not able to voice my fears.

  “We’re trying to get some intelligence on her now,” explains a middle-aged Asian man at the left side of the table. “We think she might still be alive. After all, she’s got a lot of information on the Eclipsers. Things the government would do anything to learn. Killing her would be counterproductive.”

  “At least without torturing her first,” mutters the black-bearded man.

  “Torture?” I repeat weakly, my heart sinking.

  “Do not fret, Mariah,” insists the apple-cheeked woman. “Glenda did not go blindly into this. She knew her mission was risky from the start, but she truly believed her life was worth sacrificing to save yours.”

  Guilt mixed with anger slams at my gut. I rise from my chair and lean my hands on the table as I stare at the Eclipsers. “But that’s so stupid!” I cry, furious. “My life’s not worth crap to you guys.”

  The room goes silent. The Eclipsers stare at me. Then the pierced teen pipes up. “Are you kidding? Your life is worth everything,” he insists. “You’re Mariah. You’re our only hope.” The others murmur their agreement.

  Oh god, this has gone way too far. I squeeze my hands into fists and suck in a deep breath. It’s time for these people to hear the truth. Face reality. “Look,” I say flatly. “I don’t care what you think. I’m not Mariah. You have the wrong girl. And even if by some weird stretch of psycho imagination I was once Mariah in another life, I don’t remember anything about her. Or you. Or the revolution for that matter. I can’t help you. I wish I could, but I just can’t. I’m not the person you want me to be.”

  There. I said it. At least I can relieve my guilty conscience and know I’ve done everything in my power to tell them the truth. Hopefully they’ll be able to accept this and no more insane sacrifices will be made on my behalf.

  I look around the room, trying to glean whether they’re buying my words. The somber faces sap my resolve. I’ve disappointed them. Crushed their hopes and dreams of getting their Mariah back. I slump back into my chair, scrubbing my face with my hands, feeling guilty and angry and helpless all at the same time. “God, I wish I could help you guys somehow. I really do. I mean, you went through so much to get me here. But I’m useless. Utterly useless.”

  The silence in the room is thick, thoughts heavy, eyes downcast. Then I feel hands on my shoulders. I look up and see Dawn standing over me, still by my side. His touch imparts to me a small strength.

  “Don’t look so glum,” he says, addressing the room in a clear, confident voice. “Even without her memories, Mariah is still a powerful symbol of the revolution. She can still be much help in reinvigorating our people. We can present her to them tonight. Let them see that the news reports were false—that Mariah Quinn has returned to us and is still fighting by our s
ide. Right now, that’s all we need.” He looks down at me. “Surely you can help us with that.”

  “I … I guess so,” I say, trying not to sound too reluctant. It’s not that I don’t want to help—how could I not, after seeing the desperate, hungry faces of the children below? But what can I actually do? I mean, this isn’t some video game to test. They’re asking me to lead a revolution. I’m so underqualified for this heroine/save-the-world stuff it’s not even funny.

  Still, they did so much to get me here. I feel I should do something before going back to Earth. Something to further their cause in some small way. To help those poor people find some sort of hope.

  I realize they’re waiting for me to speak. “Look,” I say. “If you need help, well, I’ll try to do what I can. But after that, you need to let me go. I’ve got to get back to my own life on Earth. There’s a lot going on that I can’t afford to miss.” I decide not to go into detail about what that actually would be, on the distinct suspicion they may think it’s less important than the salvation of their world. “Can you promise me that? If I help you, will you promise to send me back afterward?”

  The room erupts in murmurs as the Eclipsers debate among themselves. Finally, the apple-cheeked woman turns to me, nodding. “Very well,” she says. “We will respect your wishes. After all, we would never force someone to stay and fight with us if their heart lies elsewhere.”

  “Thank you,” I say, surprised that they’ve agreed without an argument. I expected them to be more like Duske, I guess. Forcing me to stay against my will.

  The woman continues. “I don’t know if Dawn’s told you, but there’s a large gathering of Dark Siders tonight. A celebration, if you will—though there is little before now to actually cheer about. Would you be willing to make an appearance? You could simply stand onstage, let the people see you in the flesh.” She rises from her seat. “They will likely be so heartened to realize that you have returned that they will scarcely notice you have nothing to say.” She turns to the other Eclipsers. “Perhaps Mariah’s presence this very night will be enough to invigorate the cause and motivate the people back into action. At the very least they will realize that she did not betray our cause, as the government caused many to believe.”