Her mouth fell open and she took an involuntary half-step back.
What the fuck? she thought. No fucking way...
It was every bit as many people as she’d been imagining.
And then some.
The crowd had completely taken over the town, as far as the eye could see. On the near side of the river, the people were like a legion of ants swarming a piece of rotten fruit, so thick that you couldn't see the ground underneath them. On the other side, they were fewer, but it was still impossible for cars to pass. There were even people standing on top of buildings, holding up black banners adorned with strange writing.
It had to be eight or ten thousand people at least. During her college years she'd been to major presidential rallies in big cities with fewer people.
How did so many learn of her arrival in such a short period of time? This place didn't seem to have telephones or any other form of instant long-distance communication, so it was hard to understand how it could happen.
And also, how in the hell did they all get here so fast? She supposed they might've driven in, but there was no place to park in this dinky little town.
A closer look revealed that all the streets, on both sides, were lined with cars, parallel parked. And on the far side of the river valley, in the general area where the road exited the town and headed off into the woods, there were hundreds of cars parked in the sloping grassy fields.
So, there were quite a few cars, but they were only part of it…
A movement in the upper part of her vision caught her attention and she glanced up overhead to see a gigantic zeppelin, hovering above the town. The thing looked exactly like the Hindenburg except for the fact that it was bright red, and seemed to have a larger passenger cabin. After watching it for a moment, she realized it was very gradually lowering itself to the ground, where a wooden landing platform had been established near the far bank of the river.
A further search of the skies, revealed another airship, far in the distance, moving slowly towards the town.
I'll be damned, she thought. This is fucking unreal.
Why were they here? What did they think she was going to do?
Why would anybody in their right mind want to put me in charge of anything? This whole situation is so stupid!
Honestly, this was just too much. Why did this have to fucking happen? She wasn’t made for this sort of life at all.
Even as a child, she had never wanted to be famous. The whole idea just made her nervous. A lot of her friends growing up had wanted to be singers or actresses or models, but she always wanted to do something cool behind the scenes, like being a secret agent, or a private detective. She studied poli-sci in college because she decided it would be fun to work on political campaigns, coming up with strategies and shit; scheming things out… Seemed like a perfect job to her, the sort of thing where she could sit at a desk, and think, and give advice, and have a big impact on the world while staying out of the limelight. As a rule, she didn’t really like being around people that much. She was basically an introvert, at her core. Not the socially awkward sort of introvert, but generally she was an inwardly focused person with very little interest in going out of her way to spend time with other people.
Despite this, she had been one of the popular kids growing up, and had spent her high school years with a crowd of people perpetually following her around, hanging on her every word. She'd never actually enjoyed it, though, and had never really become friends with many of those people. She’d felt like they were sort of using her, and maybe she was using them too a little bit. Everybody was using everybody. It wasn’t a pleasant time in her life, not really, even though it probably should’ve been.
Thinking back on it made her feel tight in her chest, and queasy in her stomach.
Because I’m not made for that, she thought.
Not made for this either.
She took a few steps back from the doorway, then turned and started walking quickly away.
Getting gone from here… Soon as possible. All these folks can go find themselves another chump to be their leader.
2 - Good Omens
She was about halfway down the tunnel on her way back into the big visiting room (or whatever it was) when her radar sense suddenly pinged and she became aware of someone standing about ten feet ahead, off to the side of the doorway, just out of view.
She could tell by the shape that it was a man. He was leaning against the wall with one hand thrust casually into a pocket. Her awareness of his presence had come upon her so suddenly that it almost seemed as if he had appeared there out of thin air.
Probably because of the shape of the hallway—feeling around corners might not be so precise.
Or maybe he really did appear out of thin air. Who fucking knew in this crazy-ass place.
Either way, she wasn’t all that concerned. He was just a guy. She was a lot scarier than he was, most likely.
As she rounded the corner, she gave him a quick glance just out of curiosity, and then stopped in her tracks, and just kept on staring.
He was about her age, very good looking, well over 6 feet tall, with shoulder-length dark hair, and a high forehead. He was wearing a denim jacket over a green Nirvana T-shirt, some worn looking jeans with holes in the knees, and an old ragged pair of Converse sneakers.
She had the sense that he was under-dressed on purpose, for the sake of style. It was a good look for him—a little bit dated in an early 90s kind of way, but she’d always liked that particular fashion era, especially for dudes.
He stood up straight, gave an exaggerated bow, and looked her in the eyes.
“Pardon,” he said, with a subtle, but unmistakable, Texas accent. “I heard that the Queen Mother was visiting. Are you, perchance, the Lady herself?”
For a moment her breath was literally taken away.
The accent, the clothes… This was an American, no mistaking it.
“What did you ask?” she said, because she had been so stunned by the sound of the man’s voice that her brain had temporarily failed her.
“I was wondering if you’re the woman they call the Queen Mother.”
“Me?" Simone spent a few seconds pondering the question because her brain still wasn’t working on all cylinders yet. Then finally she said, “Uh… well… no. Or, at least, not exactly.”
The man’s brow furrowed, like he wanted to ask another question, but wasn’t sure whether he ought to or not.
“I’m not the Queen Mother,” she said. “At least not yet, and I don’t plan to be. Are you an American?”
“Yes Ma’am,” he said, offering his hand to shake. “Damien Lyle, from East Texas.”
She smiled, being careful not to let her scary teeth show, and shook his hand. “I’m Simone Copeland, from Virginia.”
“Good to meet you,” he said. “If you don’t mind me saying, it’s good to hear another American accent in this place. First I’ve heard since I got stuck here.”
She nodded. “Yeah, I’ve only been here for a day, and I already feel homesick.”
“Only a day?”
“Yes. It feels like longer than that, but that’s all.”
“Well I guess you really ain’t her then.”
“Nope,” she said. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” he said. “You can’t help being who you are. I came here looking for her on behalf of a friend of mine—he’s got a serious problem that maybe she could help with—but he's too caught up in this crazy culture here to ever confront her with it. The guy's basically brainwashed… Everybody here is, truth be told.”
“So something bad's going on, and you thought the Queen Mother could help?”
“Yeah, that’s about the size of it. Somebody with clout could make this problem go away pretty easy… Do you, by chance, have some connection to the Queen?”
Simone shrugged. “Not exactly… Sort of, I guess.”
“Well, I mean, I’m not saying you’re lying to me, or anything. I’d
never dream of suggesting such a thing, but I gotta say, you’re checking off a lot of boxes, if you get my meaning.”
“Boxes?”
“You know, like going down a list, and checking things off.”
She smiled. “I’m not her, and I’m not lying. Not even a little bit.”
“I believe you, it’s just… You fit the profile pretty good. They told me she spoke English, and you speak English; real good English too, like a real American, not with a weird accent like most of the nobility around these parts. And they told about how she looked—her skin and her hair and all that… You look sort of like what I was told to expect…”
“Yeah,” she said. “I guess it’s pretty gross, looking at somebody like me.”
He smiled, quick and genuine, and met her eyes. “No, certainly not,” he said. “Actually, I was expecting, from what they told me, a pretty scary looking lady.”
“And I’m not scary?”
He shrugged and smiled up at her. “Let’s just say, when I thought you were The Queen, I was pleasantly surprised. Very different from what I was expecting in some ways. In some very good ways…”
Flattery? she wondered.
Did he mean it? She studied his expression but saw no sign of mockery or anything.
“Thank you,” she said, and was surprised by the sound of the emotion in her voice. “That’s very nice of you to say.”
He shrugged. “I just call ‘em like I see ‘em.”
She gazed at his features for a while longer, looking for the slightest sign of something unsavory, and still couldn’t see anything but a pure, genuine honesty in his eyes.
“I think you and I need to talk,” she said. “I’ll tell you my story, you tell me yours, and tell me about your friend, too. Maybe we can help each other.”
“Really?” he said. “You think you can help?”
“Who knows? I seem to be some sort of big shot around here, so I might be able to do something. Are you hungry?”
He grinned and nodded. “I’m almost always hungry.”
“Okay,” she said. “If I can find my way to the dining room, we’ll have lunch.”
3 - Easy
Turned out she couldn’t find it on her own and had to get one of the maids to lead her there.
Luckily, Damien seemed to speak the local version of German pretty well. Not perfectly, but good enough to get by, and he translated for her.
When they got there, Damien, apparently aware the local custom, settled down on the floor in the Roman style without prompting. She went over and lay down on her side across from him.
It felt just as weird today as it had yesterday. Maybe even more.
She didn’t know what food to ask for, so she had Damien tell the maid, whom she recognized from the day before, to bring her more of the same. He ordered something for himself—apparently he was quite familiar with the food here.
She thought there would be a period of awkwardness, because that’s how it usually was when two people sat across from each other at a meal for the first time, but there wasn’t.
He smiled across at her, very much at ease with himself, and said, “You can tell me your story first. If you want.”
Simone thought about it, and realized that she did want to tell somebody. She wanted to tell somebody every little bit of it.
All she had to do was open her mouth, and without any prompting, the whole thing just came spilling out. She told him almost every detail, leaving out only the most embarrassing or intimate bits.
He didn’t say a word as she spoke, just sat there looking at her with those soulful eyes of his. There was no judgment in his expression, just interest. He was an easy guy to talk to. Almost too easy.
The food showed up right as she was finishing.
She grabbed one of the weird little things that looked like a grape and said, “That’s about it.”
“So what are you gonna do?” he asked.
“No idea. I guess I’m gonna wait and see what happens next. Probably I’ll try to leave here when the soldiers show up with a disc for the big teleport thingie, but I’m not sure what I’ll do when I get home. People will be scared of me, I’m sure. I’ll have to hide or something. Can’t show my face. Hell, I guess the government would probably want to study me if anybody ever saw me. And I have no idea how my mom will act.”
Her voice started breaking a little as she said the last part.
They sat in silence for a few seconds.
He grabbed something off his plate that looked a little like a big slug and took a bite.
“Sorry to get so gloomy,” she said.
He shrugged a shoulder. “It’s alright. I get why you’d feel that way.”
“So, what’s your story?”
“Seems like an anti-climax to even talk about it after hearing yours.”
“Oh come on, tell me.”
“You’re probably not gonna even believe me.”
“After what I’ve been through recently? Are you kidding?”
He shrugged. “Good point.”
“Go on,” she said. “Spill the beans.”
4 - Damien's Story
“I was about 10 years old,” he said, “the first time they abducted me.”
“The first time what abducted you?”
“The aliens,” he said. “Just like the ones you see in the Time-Life books. The little guys with the big eyes. They call them grays.”
“You were abducted by aliens?”
“Yeah, for years. They’d come get me in the night. It was like they stopped time or something because there was never any evidence left behind, and nobody ever actually noticed me missing. They did all sorts of experiments on me, did things to my brain. They would drill into my skull while I was still awake, but then after it was over, there wouldn’t be any wounds. Their technology was amazing… no idea how they managed it. Anyway, after a while I began to realize they were changing my brain, enhancing me, making me into something more than just a normal human.”
She laughed. “Okay, you’re just joking.”
He smiled slightly, but shook his head. “No this is all true. Every word.”
“Aliens? Come on…”
“Hey, I understand you bein’ skeptical and all. It’s kind of funny, I’ll admit, but it’s also my truth. I live it, and breathe it, every day of my life.”
He looked almost hurt. And I promised not to be skeptical…
But she was skeptical, couldn’t help it. Even after everything she’d been through, the idea of alien abduction seemed like crazy-people talk to her.
“So,” she said, trying to keep a straight face, for the sake of politeness, “aliens fucked with your brain, enhanced it…”
“Yeah, that’s what they did. They changed me, gave me superhuman abilities.”
“This sounds like the origin story of a super-hero.”
“I know right? Actually, I tried that for a while.”
“What?”
“Being a superhero. Saving folks is a real hoot, but it’s too damn dangerous for my taste.”
She laughed, took another bite of food, and said, “Okay, so aliens abducted you, and gave you special powers.”
“That’s the long and short of it, yeah.”
“So how did you get to this place?”
“Well, like I said, I have powers, and I’m not sure how they all work. I’m not 100% sure what happened, but I think I accidentally did this to myself.”
“You brought yourself here?”
“Maybe. It happened while I was chilling at home one afternoon, watching old vintage cartoons on Youtube. I was smoking weed—a lot of it—at the time, and it’d been a long while since I smoked, so it was hitting really hard. The cartoons seemed super intense with all the marijuana in my system. Things got kinda crazy in my head, you know? And after that I’m not sure what happened. My eyes were closed at the time, and I heard this weird crackling sound. Then, next thing I know, I fell, landed hard on my ass. I opened my eye
s and I wasn’t in my house anymore. I was outdoors in this weird looking neighborhood, and there was this big orange insect thing tied up in somebody’s yard, like a dog…” He paused, faraway look in his eyes.
“I know the feeling,” she said.
He sighed. “Yeah, I guess you do… For a while I thought I was just dreaming. Then I thought maybe the aliens put me here. Then I decided that maybe, without meaning too, I somehow triggered one of my powers that I didn’t know I had, and managed to zap myself to this place. Sometimes I think maybe I’m just dead and this is some kind of weird hell dimension, although it’s not really bad enough here to qualify as the hell I learned about growing up.”
“How long have you been here?”
“Just a few months.”
“How did you learn to speak German so fast?”
“I already knew German a little. I took it in high-school and college. I had this thing for Werner Herzog movies, and wanted to watch them without subtitles.”
“Hey, I love Herzog too,” she said. “One of the best filmmakers alive.”
“Agreed.”
“I work at a video store, at home. I convinced the owner to buy a bunch of Herzog flicks, and stuff from a bunch of other really cool, lesser known directors, right after I started working there. I told him it would help get the arty college kids in there during Summer break.”
“Did it work?”
“Didn’t really get a chance to see how it would turn out before all this happened. Anyway, it’s really lucky that you speak German.”
“Yeah. That’s something I’ve thought a lot about. It’s gonna sound stupid, but that’s one of the reasons I still wonder sometimes if it was the aliens that sent me here. Maybe they chose me because I could speak German. I know it’s a stupid theory, but I’ve had a lot of time to think things over, and I’ve come up with tons of crazy ideas.”
“And you haven’t figured out a way to get back home?”
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