by J D Jacobs
Ricardo moves down the line to a somewhat older lady with shoulder-length, strawberry blonde hair. “This is Mrs. Margaret Johnson. She’s the hotel manager at–”
Something behind us falls to the ground. We all notice it at once and turn around to see Jeanette standing with her arm propped up against the tower of suitcases, having already thrown one of the suitcases over. She stares at the asphalt, the veins in her forehead bulging as she breathes heavily.
“Jeanette,” Ricardo calls out, “everything okay?”
“Yeah, I’m…” Jeanette kicks the plastic bin, knocking it and the suitcases over and spilling out the suits that were inside the tub. “AHH! Make it stop! My head, it’s killing me!”
“Oh no. Reggie, Lucas, take her away before she turns.” Reggie and Lucas rush over to Jeanette as she falls to the ground and clutches her head in agony. Reggie pulls a ziptie out of his pocket and is eventually able to ziptie her wrists and ankles. The two men carefully carry her away; Reggie holding her tied arms while Lucas holds her legs. As they move further away from us, Jeanette’s screams begin to fade but increase in intensity.
The look on Jenkins’s face is disbelief at what he saw, but I’m not phased. I guess Jenkins forgot what it was like to see someone egotone. “Oh my God. Should we do something to help her? Do we need to put our masks back on?” Jenkins frantically juggles his helmet in an attempt to put it back on before the Cozmin takes him, too.
“No and no,” Ricardo says. “She’s in Reggie and Lucas’s hands now. They’ll use their skills to try and save her life, but a fortunate outcome for Ms. Jeanette is improbable. As for the air, you are 100% safe in Avvil. Ms. Jeanette must have obtained the virus when she went up to greet you all. Our method of breathing the outside air isn’t as successful as the method Tryton uses.” He slowly walks over to the suits that have fallen out of the knocked-over container, picks one up, and rubs the cloth between his fingers. “That’s why I’m very thankful you brought us suits. Our resources are beginning to falter and we need to explore the outside world for necessities.”
The rest of us now stand in an awkward silence. Well, the silence is awkward for me. For the rest, it might be a perceptive silence, one that reminds them that egotoning is still a dangerous thing. Jenkins, Cody, and Stewart have all obviously not seen someone egotone for a while and must have forgotten the aggressive process of it. It might even have brought back unkind memories. But for the Avvil people, their reaction radiates pity; sorrow for the girl’s condition but unable to do anything about it. They must have given this look multiple times before because they almost look emotionless.
“Mrs. Margaret, would you and Mr. Case please take our guests’ luggage and the bin of suits to the Grandsmont Hotel where they’ll be staying? I’m sure our guests want to get settled in after their flight.” Mrs. Margaret moves aside to let a late-teenaged boy pulling a luggage cart walk by.
“I’m actually fine right now, Miguel,” Jenkins tells him. “I would much rather start going over what we discussed through our letters, if you don’t mind.”
“You are my guest so your preferences are priority,” Ricardo says as he turns to face us. “What about you three? Would you like to be shown the sites of Avvil or do you want to rest in your rooms?”
“I’m down for exploring, but we can put our bags up in our room, first,” I tell him, and Cody agrees.
Stewart simply shrugs his shoulders. “I’m doing whatever they’re doing.”
“Great! Mrs. Margaret here is the manager at the Grandsmont Hotel, and she and her employee will lead you to the hotel. It’s a little bit of a walk from here, but it gives you time to see the city. I want to take you all to Avvil’s finest restaurant tonight, so make sure not to eat anything!”
Camila loudly and obnoxiously clears her throat from her wheelchair.
“Yes, sweetie?”
“What are we supposed to do? Think we have enough time to make it to the–”
“Just go back to the house,” Ricardo interrupts her.
“What if we don’t want to go back to the house?”
“I don’t care. Do as I say. I’ll be back there tonight to pick you two up for dinner. Stay out of trouble, you hear me?”
Camila rolls her eyes, then wheels herself down the road with her little brother following. After a few seconds, she looks over her shoulder at us. “You guys coming?”
“Roaming the city with a smartass on wheels, this should be fun,” I whisper to Cody. Cody laughs under his breath.
“Our house is right next to the Grandsmont Hotel, if you wouldn’t mind keeping an eye on them,” Ricardo tells us. “I know Camila has an attitude at times but they’re both truly sweethearts.”
Mrs. Margaret and her bellhop have already begun to catch up with the two kids, so I guess we have no choice. We watch Ricardo throw an arm around Jenkins as the two walk off to talk about their newly formed love.
“How long you give it until one of them proposes to the other?” Cody asks. He’s thinking exactly what I’m thinking.
“Since we’re leaving in two days, I give them forty-five minutes. That lets them have the wedding tomorrow and go full sensual with the honeymoon on Thursday.”
“Ugh gross, but I could definitely see it happening. The glass sky gives off a romantic color to the city. Couldn’t pick a more perfect honeymoon spot.”
“I’m sure the amber color falling on Jenkins’s mustache is nauseatingly seductive.”
Our laughs catch up with the group before we do. “What are you two giggling about?” Camila barks out from the front. “You two going to catch up or hold hands back there?” Neither of us answer, not knowing if we should respond with an insult or an apology. Both feel inappropriate as a response to a fourteen-year-old.
13.
The streets aren’t nearly as crowded as I had anticipated, but even the few people we do come across give us funny looks. They all stare at me as we pass, not because they recognize me but because they want a detailed view of my burnt face. The few people that we see all act clueless about the only other surviving city in the country paying them a visit. It’s a very uncomfortable feeling, but I try to drown it out by listening in on our group’s conversation.
“It truly is marvelous,” Stewart tells Mrs. Margaret as he admires the glass that’s a few thousand feet above us. “The entire concept of the city is just baffling. How was this city made?”
“Avvil was actually an apocalyptic safe zone made twenty years ago in 1995,” Mrs. Margaret responds. “A multi-millionaire by the name of Britt Solomon decided to invest his money into constructing a city that would be able to survive any apocalypse: epidemic, flood, meteor, zombie, even an earthquake, to an extent.”
“This is Britt Solomon’s Haven?” Stewart asks, shocked. “Wow, I haven’t heard that name in years. I had forgotten about him.”
“Who the heck is Britt Solomon?” Cody steals the words right out of my mouth.
“Britt Solomon was a wealthy man who won the lottery back in ‘91,” Mrs. Margaret begins. “His winnings were such a large amount; I think it was $450 million. I believe it set a record for most money won through the lottery in U.S. history. Anyway, he turned around and spent nearly all of that money into constructing a safe zone city.”
“Yeah,” the bellhop whose name is Ian Case interrupts, “so many people criticized him for making the city because everyone else thought it was a stupid idea to waste so much money on something that may never be used.”
“Sounds like he got the last laugh,” I say.
“Sort of,” Ian begins. “The construction and price of this city was a media sensation, nearly everyone hating on the poor guy. So when the Cozmin finally spread and people were dying left and right, Britt locked himself in Avvil along with his family and close friends. That’s it. I heard that he kept records of everyone who said anything negative about Avvil and refused to let them in. It was an outrage, and the guy watched hundreds of people egotone right
on top of this glass city.” He points to a corner of the amber ceiling. “They almost broke in, too. It may be hard to see, but the egotoners left a small crack right around that area. They couldn’t ever get their way in, though. The glass is extremely durable, made of the finest material money can buy. Even if they would’ve broke in, they’d have one heck of a drop.”
Camila turns to Ian. “You plan on telling them about–”
“Shh,” Mrs. Margaret quickly shuts Camila up by pinching her arm. For some reason, she seems uncomfortable over the story that Ian just told.
“Wait, what? Tell us about what?” Cody asks, his appetite fully soaked.
“Let’s just say you won’t find Britt Solomon roaming the city he created,” Mrs. Margaret answers.
He must’ve been killed. Sounded like he deserved it, even if he is the reason the people in this city are still alive. Well, the whole thirty people I’ve seen.
“Where is everyone in the city?” I ask. “I thought Avvil would be more crowded than this.”
“Yeah, they’re all in the hospital,” Camila answers me. “They saw your disgusting face and ran to puke their guts out.” That insult wasn’t even good, but whatever.
Mrs. Margaret pinches Camila again, and the girl swats her hand away. “There are more people than we’re seeing right now,” Mrs. Margaret answers me. “We have roughly seven thousand people in our city. There’s an entertainment event going on right now which is more than likely where everyone is.”
“Sweet! What is it?” I ask.
“It’s a play, and it’s actually about to be over in a couple of minutes. The event is very close to the hotel, so we may see the crowd of people leaving it while we’re on our way.”
“Okay, I have another question,” Stewart asks. “How was the glass roof made? I know you mentioned that it’s made of very fine material, but how did Britt get it to stay at ground level? And how were the hills and crevices in its surface formed?”
“Yeah, good question,” Cody agrees. “Unless physics decided not to exist anymore, this glass sky doesn’t make any sense.”
“Oh, let me tell this one, it’s really cool,” Ian urges Mrs. Margaret. She didn’t seem like she wanted to tell it, anyway. “The glass was the first part of Avvil. Britt decided on the dimensions for the city, then poured a liquid over the surface of a small valley. Once the liquid hardened into a very hard glass, they then began digging underneath it to form the city. I heard that the liquid itself cost more than $4 million, so it wasn’t cheap, either.”
“But how did an underground city survive?” I ask. “How was it decided as the all-purpose solution to an apocalypse? I’m pretty sure if a flood came, the water pressure would turn this city into a pool really quick.”
“There were studies that Solomon did on how to make the most productively-safe city,” Mrs. Margaret tells us. “The glass roof holds back dangerous air, but at the same time, lets sunlight in and allows for crops to grow. We get new, safe air from the trees and plants that are alive in Avvil. So that covers the epidemic possibility like what we’re experiencing.
“The next issue was making a glass that was strong enough to withhold a large amount of water. That one was a big issue, which is why Britt decided to go with the high-grade glass. The concrete slabs on the sides of Avvil would be able to withstand any earthquake over a two-mile radius away and under an 8.0 on the Richter scale. The earthquake had to be severe and right on top of Avvil for it to break the city apart. And as for the zombie possibility? I feel it’s safe to say that there’s no way they could get in.”
“You know a lot about this Britt guy, huh?” Cody asks her.
“Oh, yes,” Mrs. Margaret answers. “I didn’t personally know him, but his life was fascinating. He may have come off as a jerk to some, but he was a very interesting person. Interesting and unforgiving, at the same time.”
“If you say so,” Camila mumbles in disagreement.
“Camila, that’s enough,” Mrs. Margaret cuts in. The two share stares of disapproval, but Camila eventually gives in. There’s a side to the Britt Solomon story that Mrs. Margaret doesn’t want to share with us new guys. If I could find a way to befriend Camila, maybe I could learn the secret about Britt that Mrs. Margaret is trying to hide. The chance of me befriending Camila doesn’t seem very likely, though.
“Oh, look! Here come the people now.” Stewart points out in front of us as a wave of a few thousand people begin branching off into separate directions of the city. Many people walk by us, but they don’t give us a second look. Many of the people seem disturbed, a little disoriented, and look at us without any shred of recognition. Do they not know who we are and why we’re here? These giant white suits we’re wearing have to be an indicator that we’re not from this city, right? I thought it would at least be obvious on who the guy with a half-melted face is. Nobody says anything to us, so we continue our journey to the hotel.
After we pass by a tall bell tower, we finally see the top of the Grandsmont Hotel a few blocks away. God, this city is much larger than it seems. Either that or I’m severely out of shape. I’m also sure that having a seven-year-old push around his teenage sister slowed our pace significantly.
“About time,” Camila gripes. “Take us to the house, Isaac.”
The boy veers to the left as we continue heading to the hotel. We all say goodbye to the two kids, Cody and I sounding a lot less joyous than the rest. Isaac turns and gives us a soft wave, the only form of communication he’s given us.
“I must say, the Grandsmont Hotel looks very nice,” I tell Mrs. Margaret, pointing to the hotel that’s barely a hundred yards away from us now. The hotel is very broad; rows of windows cover the front as the building stretches out very wide against the metal slabs that the back of the building faces.
“It really is beautiful,” she says. “With twelve floors, it’s the tallest building in Avvil. The rooms are simply superb; I guarantee you will enjoy your stay with us.”
“How many floors did you say there was?” Cody asks as he admires the exterior of the hotel.
“Twelve.”
Cody stops walking and points his way down the building. “I’m counting thirteen floors, though,” Cody answers back.
“No sir, I assure you that there are only twelve floors,” Mrs. Margaret tells him.
“Maybe twelve rows of windows,” Cody replies, “but the top looks like it’s a floor all to itself, it just doesn’t have any windows.”
“I promise you that is not the case. There are only twelve floors. Actually, the twelfth floor is kept vacant, so technically, only eleven floors are used.”
“Why’s that?” Stewart asks.
“Extra space. We’re blessed with an abundance of living areas here in Avvil. The twelfth floor is kept empty for emergencies, such as for new arrivals or as a last resort option in case we run completely out of space.”
Cody doesn’t answer, but instead continues counting the rows of windows. I begin to count the windows for myself, but we make it to the front door of the hotel before I can check myself. I think I counted twelve rows.
The hotel’s main lobby is impeccably tidy. There are three maids in the lobby cleaning the wooden floors that glimmer with polish.
Mrs. Margaret leads us to the reception desk on the other side of the lobby. The maids welcome us to the Grandsmont, but they do it out of repetition, not because we’re important out-of-towners. I feel they would greet any other Avvil citizen the same way. I guess I should stop looking for special treatment here.
I know I sound a little contradictory, but it’s unusual to not be recognized yet. These people must not know about us coming. In fact, their people may not even know about Tryton at all.
“Alright, let’s see here…” Mrs. Margaret says to herself as she searches through the cabinet of key rings. “Here is 607 for Mr. Jaden Foxx and his friend, and here is room number 608 for Mr. Harrison Jenkins and Mr. Stewart Plunket.”
Mrs. Margaret hands
Stewart and I almost identical golden keys. “Mr. Case will show you to your rooms,” she tells us. “I will call your rooms when Mr. Ricardo arrives later tonight. It was a pleasure meeting you all today!”
“Sounds good. Nice meeting you, too!” I tell her. The four of us then walk away and head toward the elevator. I turn to Cody and hand him the key. “Here you go, Mr. Jaden Foxx’s Friend.”
“Don’t think I won’t shove this key up your ass.”
The elevator is very similar to the one that brought us into the city. Ian presses the button to the sixth floor once all of us get in the cab.
“Look, Cody,” I say, pointing to the floor buttons, “there’s only twelve numbers. How you going to get to a thirteenth floor if there’s not a button for it? Press the emergency button?”
“I’ve worked in this hotel for three months and I can confirm that the emergency button calls for emergencies,” Ian tells us with a chuckle. I laugh, but Cody doesn’t flinch.
We reach our floor soon after, and Ian pushes the cart down the carpeted halls and to our rooms. We follow closely behind, looking out into the city through the hallway’s windows as we pass by them. Cody and I pull our bags off and unlock the door as Stewart puts the rest of the luggage and the plastic bin of suits in his and Jenkins’s room.
The room is very nice: an up-to-date kitchen with modern accessories, a small living room with a TV that I’m sure doesn’t work anymore, and a separated bedroom with two queen-sized beds in it. I drop my bag and throw myself on to my bed; the freshly clean sheets absorb my body as I sink into the thick mattress.
“I could die right now on this bed and be totally okay with it,” I say into the mattress, my voice smothered and relaxed.
“Am I the only person that is just the tiniest bit suspicious about this place?” Cody asks, clearly not as reposed as I am. He begins unpacking and changing out of his suit as he waits for me to respond.