They party every night? Allan never really liked parties. Birthdays made him feel shy, and holidays were noisy and crowded. Somebody has to have a job. The city doesn’t run itself. Uma Mesa said there are no schools, no universities, and no obligations. Are there no artists, writers, architects, or inventors? Then what did people do? Strive for? Build? Every building in the city looks the same. Except for the palace. That was made to stand out, to be spectacular.
And there was the statement Seleena made. She said, “This place isn’t what it seems.” What does that mean? Allan pictures his own bedroom. He has the urge to pull a comforter over his head, but there’s no blanket. He hugs his torso and eventually sleeps.
He dreams of the palace and the party. At first he’s laughing and racing around the wide hallways—able to use his legs like in most of his good dreams. As he dashes around the corner, the hall narrows. The walls distort like a funhouse mirror. He is lost and alone and running faster and faster through doorway after doorway. No family or friends are around. He finds the ballroom. It’s crowded with strangers laughing fake laughs and drinking from glasses that smell pungent and toxic. They’re all drunk and leaning on each other and sharing their cups. Along the walls are cracked mirrors. He catches his reflection and sees his older self. He’s homeless, dirty, and thin. He crumples to the floor, now in a dark alleyway, and sobs.
Allan wakes with a start and is dismayed that he has soaked the pillow with sweat. He looks around at the sleeping faces, splayed limbs, flattened dresses, and wrinkled suits.
Allan takes a deep breath, not wanting to return to sleep.
Seleena sneaks up to him, startling him. “Shhh, be ever so quiet.”
“Seleena!”
“Shhh, I say.”
“What’s wrong with Katonaay? You have to tell me.”
“They will not let you go.” The woman’s top-heavy hairdo is coming apart, fraying at the curls, and her dark eyeliner has faded. “It’s my job to help you get out, if you want to go. I try to help all that come here, but the lure of this place is great. It’s inviting and seemingly perfect. The truth is, most are not happy. There is nothing, really. Nothing but a finely dressed sadness. The party ended but no one went home. Most will never be able to go home.”
“What are you talking about?” Allan isn’t sure what he’s hearing, but his heart tells him Selena is to be trusted. Ever since his first trip to Lan Darr, he’s learned to listen to his gut.
“Look at the door you came in through.”
Allan strains his eyes. The light is low, but he can see the front double doors. There are no handles.
The woman’s glassy eyes quiver, and she looks off into the distance. “They collect people here, entrap you. And unless you are of royal blood, you will be rotated out of your house. You’ll live in squalor and work the fields. Some work to death, but all are poisoned for life.”
“So all this,” Allan gestures to the decorations, the stage, and the rooms beyond, “This is all a trap?”
“Yes. The web has never looked so lovely. They’re desperate for workers.”
Allan sits up, knowing what she says is true. Allan hears his father’s voice, “Nothing is free. Everything that comes to you must be paid for. The payment for certain things can be steep.” Allan didn’t quite understand at the time. His father had continued, “Payment for stealing, for instance, can be spending many years behind bars. Payment for laziness, which can seem free, will be poverty. Even if a stranger tries to give you something for free, they will come for some kind of payment. It’s just the way the world works.”
Allan tries to swallow, but his throat is dry. “What do I do? How do I get to Lan Darr?”
Seleena's eyes lock on Allan. She has the kindest eyes and the least wavering stare. “There is an exit under the stage. I’m sorry, but that is the only way out of the palace. I’m afraid your chair might not fit. If it does, and I hope it does, you go all the way to the end, turn right, and follow the tunnel. Upon exiting the vent you’ll head down the drainage street. Do not stop. Do not talk to anyone, and do not show fear. When you get to the dome you will find Lemic or Denna Mot. They will help you get into the dome where all the Hubbu is kept. You go and do not come back.”
“What if I don’t fit under the stage?”
“Then you are caught and will await the spider.”
Uma Mesa snorts and stirs. Drool runs from her gaping mouth, soaking her furry face. She rolls onto her back.
“Go quickly, but quietly. You must try. They’ve all had too much to drink and won’t be awoken easily.”
Allan feels the urgency to hop up and run like he’s landed on hot coals. If the only way out is the passage under the stage, he’ll have to find a way to fit. Mad at how slow he has to move, he scoots onto his chair and sets his feet in place. He rolls quietly but quickly to the stage. The hole under the stage is low and dark. Allan hears movement behind him, and panic floods over him.
Seleena slips behind Allan and pushes him under the stage. “Hurry, they stir.”
The handles on his chair squeak as they rub the top of the entryway. Allan’s back scrapes the top. He has to fit, there is no choice. He sucks in his breath and flattens himself further. It works. He enters the tunnel, and now past the frame at the opening, he has a little more room above him. The tight space almost speaks to him. It’s whispering claustrophobic warnings. Allan rolls into the deep darkness as fast as he can, which isn’t as fast as he wants.
He doesn’t know why he trusts Seleena over Uma Mesa, or all the other friends he’s made, until he remembers Martin’s warning back on Peebland. Martin had told him not to stay, but he didn’t say they would trap him here. Why did they want me? What use am I? It doesn’t matter now. All the positive experiences on Katonaay are shadowed, and Allan feels a nagging, prickly feeling. There is evil in a place like this. The people in the alley know it, but they are silenced behind brightly covered picket fences and clusters of balloons. There really is such a thing as ‘too good to be true.’
It’s so dark Allan’s eyes make up things to see. Specks and colors swirl in the space like a chemical soup in an oil pot. Allan’s back aches from bending over and his lungs are compressed. The air is dusty and makes him sneeze. Rats, or something like them, squeak and scurry away. Allan hits the motor on his chair. The speed helps to quash his encompassing panic. His chair scrapes the sides of the tunnel. He corrects his path but bumps the other side. The walls are wood and cold and do not damage the chair. Finally, the end comes at him. Allan’s eyes can see a fraction better. He turns right and after a dozen yards comes to a vent, which glows softly from outside lights. It has a handle which he turns, and he lets himself out into the night.
The fresh air falls over his sweaty skin. Allan sits up and cringes because of the tightness in his back. The city is dark, lit from ineffective and sporadic lamps. Dark clouds cover any moon or stars that might be seen, and a rotten smell lingers. The drainage street is made from round cobblestones with a six-inch channel in the middle.
Allan pulls his gloves out of the side pocket and tugs them on tight. Let’s bounce off this creepy hellhole. His chair speeds down the dark alley.
Allan zig zags around piles of trash and detritus. He sees the real Katonaay and how different it is. Cracks snake through the bricks and stones, mortar is washed out, and some buildings have collapsed. There are dirty creatures sleeping in boxes and under threadbare blankets. They wake and stare at Allan as he speeds by.
A homeless being, draped in a dark cloak, gets up and steps in front of Allan. “Mera goo. Dessa to meka. Ki?” It pulls the hood off its head and stares with glowing eyes. Allan stiffens, braking with his hands. Don’t show fear.
“Merra? Ki?” it repeats in a harder tone.
Allan hits the motor switch and speeds around the creature. Allan hits something small and hard and rolls over something squishy. His eyes strain, his heart thumps.
More and more homeless beings poke their heads
up from their sleeping spots and stare. Some stand and others point. All their eyes glow. Allan wants to look away, doesn’t want to see their sad and dirty faces. He doesn’t understand how so many treats, good food, and perfectly crafted drinks could be piled so high on the tables and yet there are so many hungry creatures out here, in the dark and hidden places of the city.
Someone starts banging on a tin cup. Others join in. They gather in large numbers and block the road. The entire crowd has glowing eyes and rags draped over their shoulders.
Clank, clank, clank, clank.
One hunched creature steps from the crowd. It holds up a lantern. Allan gasps. The creature has a crested bald head, an ape-like nose, and a boney jaw. It is smudged with soot and wears a long cloak that is torn and patched in a dozen places.
“You cannot continue. The way is blocked,” it snarls.
Clank, clank, clank, clank.
Damn this chair! Allan backs up as fast as he can. He’s showing fear now, he can tell. The smell in the alley is revolting, and the clanking of the cans seems to tap straight into his nervous system. His flight response kicks his muscles into gear, and he spins around only to find the crowd has blocked him in. He so desperately wants to run away, but he can’t.
Clank, clank, clank, clank.
They’re going to kill me. Eat me, by the looks of them. I hate this place! I wish I had a machine gun!
The crowd steps closer to Allan. Their eyes are like glow-in-the-dark balls in their heads. Every muscle in Allan’s body tightens. He’s gripping his wheels so tight blood has vacated his knuckles, leaving them ghostly white.
His head seems to burst. “AHHHHHHHHHHH! Get away from me! You freaks!”
The crowd stops. Silence replaces the clatter.
Allan turns to face the creature with the lantern. “I’m trying to get home, dude! I don’t taste good, I’ve got no money, and I’m a pain in the ass most of the time!”
“The way is blocked,” it gargles again.
Allan sighs, expunging the tightness that grips his thoughts. He’s too fatigued to resist any further. “You said that already. Get on with whatever you’re gonna do. I’m tired and getting really pissed off!”
The lantern lowers, and the creature holds out his hand for a handshake. “Sorry, did not introduce. Me, Lemic,” it snarls.
“Oh God.” Allan leans back and catches his breath. He points to Lemic’s hand. “Sorry, can we not shake hands? You’re creeping me out.”
Lemic pulls his hand away. “No shake. No worry. Sorry to be creepy. Seleena sent you.” Lemic points to a side alley. “We must go this way for other way is blocked. Uma Mesa looking for you. She and other Mesas know this way and close it now.”
“So you’re not gonna rip me to shreds or steal all my stuff?”
Lemic shakes his head, “No. Help you leave so you not stuck here like us.” He limps slightly and ushers Allan down a narrow alley.
“Well, that’s good to hear. I don’t know what to expect anymore. Everything is backwards here. Next time, just say hello first. I could have done without the clanging of the cans.” Allan passes more homeless and filthy people, all with the same glowing eyes. “Okay, I gotta know, why are all your eyes glowing? You’re all different species.”
The crowd follows like curious children. Though they are all hunched, using makeshift crutches, or as thin as fish bones, they keep up.
“We came here, just like you. Big party. We stay. After while… they move us out of homes and make work Hubbu fields. Fields sprayed so bug don’t eat flowers. Spray toxic.”
“Oh man.” Allan’s forehead scrunches. “Get out then. Peebland is really nice this time of year. Lan Darr is great too. I’m going to Lan Darr. Come with me.”
“Toxin make it so we cannot travel by Hubbu. Never travel by Hubbu again. If we try, Hubbu rips us up into pieces and not put back together again.”
“Geez, so you are stuck. But if there is work then why are you all so poor?”
“They don pay. We work for Mesas, according to needs, according to ability. We assigned ability, but if not able to meet ability, no food and no home.”
“So you’re not free to make changes in your lives or how things work?”
“No. We supposed to be equal here. No one able to do what other cannot. Royals only ones allowed to live like kings.”
Lemic stops Allan at an intersection with a road. “Mesas!”
A furious shuffling of bodies surrounds Allan, and someone tosses a filthy blanket over his head. Allan shifts the blanket to look out a frayed hole. A dozen large, furry, camel-like animals come down the street with riders dressed in plated armor and pointed helmets. The armored figures hold torches in one hand and clubs in the other. Small slits in the helmets hide the soldiers’ faces.
Lemic speaks to a soldier, trying to dissuade him from searching the crowd. The soldiers continue down the road, buying the ruse.
Lemic yanks the blanket off Allan’s head. “Safe for now, but we hurry.” Allan and the crowd speed across the intersection.
The soldiers push between long lines of creatures that extend down the street whose glowing eyes resemble strings of Christmas lights. The dome is at the end of the road, a glowing bulb that towers over the three-story buildings.
Allan pauses in the alley and waits until Lemic reaches him. “I’m supposed to go into that dome?”
“Yes, that is where the Hubbu is kept. Lan Darr is blue pollen.”
“What are the others in line for?”
“They go to work to get food rations. They still healthy to do ability.”
“How am I going to get in with all those guards and soldiers?”
“We distract. You go.”
Allan doesn’t like the sound of that plan, but he is at the mercy of Lemic and the others. They all appear to be selflessly helping him for some reason. Allan feels sad for them. They were trapped by the misdirection of opulence. Allan almost fell for it. He was enamored by the fun, the party, the lure of irresponsibility. For a moment he actually thought that doing nothing but leisure activities would fulfill his life. His thoughts remind him of his father, but instead of cringing, he feels a warmth run over his scalp, prickling his hair follicles. He understands his dad just a little bit more than he ever had before.
Allan is led from one dark alley to another and ordered to wait at a corner. Lemic puts a hand on Allan’s shoulder. “Two doors here.” He points a thin finger. “Main door on street. Other door in alley. We distract. When guards leave alley door, get to it as fast as can. Inside will be storage area. There you find your Hubbu color.”
Allan nods. “Won’t you get hurt? Why are you guys helping me?”
Lemic smiles, showing off three huge gaps where teeth used to be. “It is all we care about now, helping others. It is only thing that keeps us alive. I learn, thinking of self very lonely. Thinking of others true happiness.”
Lemic and the others strip their ragged clothes from their skinny bodies and run into the road. They light the clothes on fire and shriek when they twirl them over their heads. Others in the long lines do the same. The crowd rushes to the street-side door.
Allan watches from the corner. A ruckus louder than a rock concert fills the air. The soldiers and guards collide with the flame-toting banshees. Fighting begins.
As the racket on the street intensifies, the four soldiers that guard the alley door run to join the fight. Allan hits his motor button. His chair speeds down the alley. Allan avoids a pile lying in the street. At the last second, he notices there are two motionless glowing eyes staring up into the sky.
Allan is almost to the door when a soldier comes at him from the side. It swings a huge club and smashes it into Allan’s wheel. The tire locks up and Allan is thrown forward. His shoulder lands on cobblestone, he tumbles and bangs his head on the foot of the door.
The soldier looms over Allan, appearing as tall as a giant. Its armor is shaped like powerful muscles, and the helmet eyeholes are dark.
It raises the club over its head. Allan covers his face. Before the club is brought down, a fireball is tossed from the window of an upper floor. The fireball lands on the soldier and spreads over it like a cloak from the bowels of hell. The soldier flails, dropping the club. It screams then falls to its knees.
Allan snatches up the discarded club and brings it down on the head of the burning soldier. Bam! “You!…” Bam! “broke…” Bam! “my chair!” The soldier crumples into a heap. He hits the soldier a final time, noting it has stopped moving.
Allan, gasping for breath, crawls to his toppled chair, tips it up, locks the brakes, and hauls himself into the seat. He grabs the wheel rails and thrusts them forward. One of the wheels is bent and squeaks horribly, but it still rolls. He returns to the door and turns a crank until it opens.
Inside is a warehouse the size of a football stadium. Twenty-foot-tall crates, organized in a grid, fill the interior. Each crate is color-coded. He finds the crate with a blue flower painted on the side and circles it, looking for a door or window. He only finds a ladder that leads to the top. Allan grits his teeth. He can’t climb a ladder straight up. There’s no way.
Chapter 17
Running Again!
Jibbawk and Rubic had just gotten away from the huge dinosaur creature when Rubic notices dark shapes flying in the sky. They swoop back and forth, high above them.
Jibbawk sees them, too, and points. “Run!”
A spear speeds silently through the night and nearly stabs Rubic’s head.
Rubic ducks and runs hard, following Jibbawk along the crest of the sand dune. One of the black-winged creatures swoops at Jibbawk, but Jibbawk dodges it.
“Why are they attacking us? What did we do?” Rubic shrieks.
“I do not know! Ssstop and asssk them, why don’t you.” Jibbawk is more nimble on its ostrich-feet than Rubic is, especially on the sandy hill.
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