by Lisa Lace
My voice finally came back to me. "What the fuck is that?!" I flung myself to the other side of the room and pressed myself flat against the wall. The room echoed with every single cuss word I knew streaming nonstop out of my mouth.
As usual, Laz moved like lighting under pressure. He clenched his teeth and reached for the mattress, gently easing it onto the floor. The only way he could get that thing out of there was to drag it across the room. Otherwise, the slimy bottom of the mattress might break through and spill its contents.
I sprinted to the front door and held it open. Laz maneuvered the mattress past me and out of the doorway. I closed one eye but left the other cracked open as he flipped the mattress over the edge of the sixth-floor railing. The mattress plunged soundlessly to the ground underneath us.
"I'm pretty sure that's one of the most disgusting things I've ever seen in my life."
"If that's true, you've led a good life. That was only a mild infestation," said Laz. A small smile crept across his lips as he closed the door behind him. "There should be some running water in the bathroom if you want to take a shower. The water starts off brown, but it will clear up if you let it run for a minute."
"I'll take what I can get. No peeking."
Laz handed me a plastic bottle filled with soap.
"Thanks."
With my expectations at an all-time low after the mattress disaster, the bathroom wasn't as bad as I had imagined. As it turned out, there was no hot water, but the force of the shower head made up for it. I was just happy I could finally wash my bra and panties. After toweling myself dry and slipping back into my tattered dress, I returned to the bedroom.
"What are we doing next?"
I fell silent when I heard the deep, leveled breathing. Laz had laid out the spare covers on the floor at the foot of the bed and was sprawled on top of it, snoring. He had his back turned to me and was facing the door. It looked like he had fallen asleep as soon as I entered the shower. I could imagine why. He had slept less than seven hours in the last three days.
I tiptoed to the bed and pulled down the covers, an extra-silky sanitizing sheet protecting my lumpy pillow and blanket. I peeked over at Laz's sleeping figure. His strong back wrinkled as he shifted his arm in his sleep.
Moving as lightly as I could, I removed the second sheet from under the covers, danced around Laz, and draped the sheet over his sleeping frame. After turning off the light, I crawled into bed quietly.
I passed out as soon as my head hit the pillow.
Laz and I were in a dusty old freight elevator with expanding gates made from aged reinforced steel. It was big enough to house two grand pianos with room to spare. The large elevator jumped once and started moving down. I reached for the safety handle dangling above me and held onto it tightly.
"Stay close to me and don't say a word. The Xylo here will keep to themselves as long as we stay out of their way. And whatever you do, don't make eye contact with anyone."
Laz tugged on the hood of his cloak and motioned for me to adjust mine as well.
"Yes commander," I said, humoring him. I released the handle and started tucking loose strands of hair inside my hood. "What is this place, anyway?"
"I'd advise you to hold on to something."
I took his advice to heart the moment the elevator started moving sideways. The free-moving room careened to my left. I wasn't expecting the shift, and I flew into Laz, who grabbed me by one arm and helped me stay on my feet. I noticed there was nothing but jet-black shadows beyond the latticed gaps in the gate. The smell of sulfur mixed with gasoline permeated the musty underground atmosphere.
The elevator came to an abrupt halt less than a minute later. Laz reached for a bronze crank gleaming in the darkness and turned it counter-clockwise. The old gate slowly retracted.
"This is Bhima-Saraza," Laz said in a low voice. We stepped out of the elevator into a corridor lit with torches. "This underground marketplace is run by Xylo rebels. They're outcasts who regularly fight back against the tyrannical regime. Even though they are the enemies of our enemies, these folks are not our friends. We have to stay vigilant. Remember, at the end of the day, they are still Xylo."
"A marketplace? Sounds terrific. I'm going to need some clean clothes to wear," I piped up. The day was looking better already. My smile faded when I realized I didn't have any money. "Would you mind spotting me for now? I lost everything in the crash, and I'm not going to see any TerraMates money for a long time."
"Of course. I'll cover you." Laz cut through my babbling. He held a hand to his lips as we approached an entrance covered with a curtain. "But we can't stay here for long. I need to get parts for my communicator. Random raids by Xylo cops frequently occur in Bhima-Saraza. Make it quick."
Laz held open the curtain to let me through. I ducked under his arm and slipped through the gap. As soon as I got to the other side, I grabbed the edges of my hood in amazement.
It was not the typical open-air market I was used to back on Earth. The marketplace seemed to stretch on endlessly but I could see thick, windowless clay walls in the distance. Robust two-story clay storefronts stood along the sides of a maze of booths. It was like we had discovered a hidden underground city.
"Come on. This way," said Laz abruptly.
I always found it difficult to keep up with his long strides. As we cut our way through the aisles surrounding the stalls, my eyes looked around. I wanted to take in the fantastic scenery around me. There were Xylo men and women of all ages hustling around. Dark canopy roofs cast shadows over all the stalls despite the lack of direct sunlight.
In the booth on my right, a young Xylo man with an eye patch and blue, sinewy veins protruding out from the back of his head argued with a shopkeeper. He gesticulated with a brass trumpet and switchblade to emphasize his point. The shopkeeper, an elderly Xylo woman with a face full of tattoos, held her ground.
As we walked further along the aisle, I snuck a peek to my left. Several injured and maimed Xylo with stone-faced expressions lined up next to a booth. Behind the stall, a pair of spectacled aliens in frayed lab coats attended a patient. The ailing Xylo sat on a reclined chair. He growled and winced as the black-market doctors treated a glowing boil on his forehead with gleaming scalpels and other surgical tools. I didn't want to see an illegal operation. I turned away from the ghastly view.
Laz purchased three sets of silver and black jumpsuits and a pair of ugly black boots for me before we went on our way. He found a practically bottomless knapsack for me just like his satchel, but this one was brown suede. I gleefully packed my clothes into my new bag and swung it over my shoulder.
We reached the end of the aisle and made a turn at the end. Two Xylo children on hovering discs floated into our paths. I smiled as I went by two boys fencing with each other using painted branches. Their light and carefree laughter joined the noisy chatter of the marketplace.
The purity of their joy was refreshing. It was the first cheery sight I had seen since arriving on the planet.
I followed Laz into a rundown storefront. Not sure what to expect, I crinkled my nose and prepared myself for anything. I had to duck down under the broken signs blocking half of the doorway.
"All right, here we are. Try not to stare at anything."
"I won't." Even as the words left my mouth, I knew I was making a promise I couldn't keep. As soon as I entered the shop a vague sense of claustrophobia began to creep over me. The workshop-slash-junkyard seemed smaller than it looked from the outside because it was so cramped. The interior reminded me of an underground coal mine. I could hardly see the walls because messy mountains of machinery parts covered them. Loose pieces of equipment were stacked from floor to ceiling.
There were people in the workshop as well. Xylo staff hunched over their workstations. Some whacked away at their projects with hammers. Others leaned back from the dangerous sparks showering them from welding torches. A few peered through large magnifying lenses as they worked on miniature chips that were
smaller than the tip of my pinkie. Though they appeared to be elderly, none of them looked like people you wanted hunting you.
"Do I smell a human?" a thunderous voice boomed from above. Startled, I jumped back and tilted my head, seeing a circular hatch in the ceiling. A long pole ran through the middle of the door, connecting the two floors.
"I'm sure I smell your blood. Who goes there?"
The workers lifted their heads and started snapping at us.
"It's me, Ryzz. Cut the crap and get your wrinkled old ass down here. I don't have another second to waste."
A rainbow blur came sliding down the pole. I blinked at the two-foot-tall Xylo, who came limping toward us with a cane. The eccentric alien looked far older than anyone in the room. I didn't know the typical Xylo life span, but if I had to guess, he looked like he had lived through a century or two. The alien wore thick goggles over his beady eyes and decorated himself with a flashy rainbow cloak adorned with bottle-cap medallions and metal trinkets.
"General Lazarus," Ryzz barked. There was a sharp tone in the deep voice that didn't seem to match his small stature. He peered up at Laz, curling his lip. "I see you still refuse to get a haircut. What brings you here, boy?"
"I need a spare Morse board for my communicator." Laz took out the device from his pocket. He handed it over to Ryzz, who leaned in for a closer look. "You got one laying around?"
"Aye."
"How much do you want for it?"
"I suppose I can part with one for seven hundred fifty credits."
"Seven hundred fifty?" Laz repeated, snorting. He crossed his arms and spread his legs apart. "For that price, I hope it's dipped in gold. Why don't you hold a gun to my head while you're at it? I didn't realize you were a thief, old man."
"Where else are you going to find such a rare part? It seems you're on the clock, too." An oily smile spread across his thin white lips. "It's nothing personal. It's just business. I have to make a living too, you know."
When Ryzz's eyes settled on me, his smile broadened. "And who do we have here? You must be the human. You know, if you're looking for a discount, we could forget credits altogether. There are alternative forms of payment. Give me a few minutes with her in the back."
"Laz!" I cried out, slapping a hand over my mouth.
Before Ryzz could complete his thought, Laz had whipped out a gun. He jammed the end of the long barrel into the Xylo's lips and turned off the safety. Ryzz's expression stayed fixed on his face, but he raised his hands in surrender. The whole workshop was paying attention to our corner of the room. We watched as Laz leaned over to whisper in Ryzz's ear. His voice was quiet, but I knew everyone could hear each word he said.
"Stand the fuck down. If you so much as look at her again, I'll blow your brains out, no questions asked. I'll pay in credits."
Laz withdrew his weapon but left it out, positioned against his hip. Ryzz signaled to one of his workers and yelled out a complicated item code. The worker returned minutes later with a black microchip wrapped in transparent film and thrust it into Laz's hands.
"Let's make this quick, and then we never have to think about each other ever again."
As Ryzz was about to answer, a deafening crash outside the workshop entrance ripped through the chatter. I took a look out the window. A team of Xylo cops in black uniforms and badges stormed through a smoking hole they created in the wall. I wondered why doors existed on this planet. Shoppers and storekeepers dispersed in all directions, running away from the cops who were wielding batons and firing random gunshots into the air. Classy.
"Move workstation four!" Ryzz boomed to his worker. He turned towards Laz and pointed with his cane. "Just go. And don't ever let me see your face around here again."
"You take care too, Ryzz."
Laz hurried me through a small ventilation shaft hidden in the wall behind the workstation. We made our way down the narrow tunnel for a few minutes before a ladder appeared in front of us. By this time, my knees were scraped raw, and my palms throbbed with pain. I gritted my teeth and pulled myself up the sticky ladder. Laz climbed behind me and helped boost me out of the escape hatch.
"Halt! Present your identification."
We turned around and found ourselves face-to-face with a floating robot shaped like a box, and fitted with yellow sirens on both sides. Laz threw a hand over me and took a step back cautiously. He put his fingers to his lips.
"Without identification, the penalty is death. Present identification in 3...2..."
"Run!"
Laz shoved me forward to give me a head start. Behind me, the drone whirred as a twin-headed barrel emerged from its top. Fiery bullets sprayed from the barrel in our general direction.
We sprinted down to the end of the street. Seeing an open manhole in front of us, we leaped down into a black void.
Chapter Eleven
LAZ
As we plummeted into the darkness, I desperately looped an arm around the first thing I saw - a glint of metal. I clung to the side of the pipe and hauled Gabriella close to me with an outstretched arm. She was petite, but the stiffness of her frozen arms and legs made it seem like she weighed more than she did. I swung my leg over the top of the pipe and secured her in front of me.
"Sit up straight and keep your hands on both sides so you don't fall off."
"Thanks, like I didn't know that already," Gabriella snapped. She trembled as she looked over at me and shot me a blistering glance. At least the shaking meant she was able to move again. "Hurry up with whatever you're doing back there. I can feel my hands starting to slip."
I ignored Gabriella's hysterical cries and took out the only light source I had left. The cylinders were small enough to keep in my pocket, but they only lasted about half an hour. I twisted it open and activated the light.
"Just hold on a little longer."
I took out a grappling hook and extendable rope, tying a knot in the center of the claw. Securing the line, I attached the end of the rope to my belt loop. I pulled both ends to make sure it was secure.
"I don't have a choice if I want to stay alive. Can you just get me down from here? Please?"
I pulled Gabriella close to me and placed her arms on my shoulders. She was swinging dangerously, and she couldn't stop looking at the depths underneath us. Her icy fingers trembled as they tightened around my neck. As soon as the hook was anchored, I held her chin in my hand.
"You can do this. Don't look down. Trust me."
Gabriella nodded weakly. Holding her in front of me, I carefully released my legs from the sides of the pipe. We smoothly slid down with the assistance of the extendable rope. I held out my light to guide the path. When we approached the ground, I adjusted our descent and moved to the side. We touched down on the landing next to a flowing passage of sewer sludge.
She lifted her new satchel and bent down. With her hands cupped over her kneecaps, she fought to catch her breath. I reached over to take her bag and stepped back to give her some room.
"Do you need some water?"
She didn't answer for a minute. "No, I'll be all right, thank you," Gabriella replied, panting. She straightened her back and took her satchel back. "I'm sorry for barking at you like that. Heights and I don't mix."
"I gathered as much," I quickly said as I turned my head away. "If you can move, we should get out of here. I don't know how much longer this light is going to last. Are you ready?"
"I'm good enough to go," said Gabriella. She removed her gas mask from the satchel and placed it over her head. "Let's do it."
Even though the Xylox sewage system smelled like excrement and death, it was less toxic than the air above ground. There were different dangers in the sewers. Discolored water constantly dripped from the leaky overhead pipes. Damp rats with crooked spines and shrunken heads were everywhere. They weren't afraid of us. Instead, they looked up at us curiously with glowing red eyes as they scurried over our boots.
I knew Gabriella remained tense behind me, but she was a good soldier
. Her desire to get out of here made her move faster than before. We headed east and forged ahead until we saw a sliver of light coming from a loose manhole cover above us. I shined the light around, revealing a set of steps bolted to the wall.
"Here we go."
I shoved the light into Gabriella's hand and pulled out the pouch containing my communicator pieces. Gabriella crouched next to me and shined the blinking light on my hands. I tore off the seal to the Morse board with my teeth and started reassembling the communicator. But as I squinted at the electronics in front of me, I realized there was a problem.
"Damn it!" My angry cry echoed through the tunnel.
"What's wrong?" asked Gabriella softly. She removed her mask and blankly stared at the communicator in my hands. "Are you missing something?"
"One of the pins must have snapped off when this thing fell apart," I grumbled. I kicked a piece of gravel to my left. The rock briefly floated on the sludge before it started to smoke and disappeared below the dark surface. Next to me, Gabriella began to fiddle with her right ear. She removed an earring and held it out to me in the palm of her hands.
I pinched the post of the small diamond earring between my fingers and examined it carefully.
"This might work." My forehead wrinkled as I gazed at her intently. "Are you sure you're okay with letting me use this? I'm going to have to break it apart. Is it a family heirloom?"
"It's fine," said Gabriella, waving a hand. "I'm not concerned with having matching earrings right now, if you know what I mean."
"Your sacrifice will be long remembered by the Maztek."
I twisted off the diamond and slipped it into my chest pocket. The repair would require delicate precision and a steady hand. I pushed the gold earring post against the resistor and manipulated the earring back on its side to hold the resistor in place. As soon as I heard a gratifying click, I puffed out my chest and beat my thigh twice with my fist. It was a silent and watered-down version of a Maztek victory bellow.