The Upper Worlds (The Soul Survivor Series Book 1)

by Van Forson

“Too quiet.” I said.

  “Let's just count our lucky stars that we haven’t come across any bother and hope that we find your troublesome little brother soon and get out of here.” Max said taking another snap with the night vision button on his spectacles.

  He was gathering lots of data to analyse later.

  “Like, I hope we find Jet soon, these pumps are pinching my toes!” Cindy wailed as she hot stepped it down the potholed street.

  The clicking of her heels coupled with the scent of young blood alerted the hidden locals that there were new people in town, who weren’t from around these parts.

  ***

  “So how do you know so much about Capsing?” Brad asked Sal again as he jogged to keep up with her along the busy street.

  Sal turned and stared deeply into Brad’s eyes. “What did you say?”

  Brad gave a quizzical look as if trying to recite the alphabet backwards. “Umm, urgh? I don’t know what I was saying, I just forgot.”

  “Braddy, you’re so forgetful today.” Mindy squealed, “But I'm so-oo glad you're in a better mood.” She added sweetly.

  “Yeah, I feel better, especially when I'm with you.” Brad flashed the most magnificent dazzler.

  “That's too cute.” Mindy giggled.

  Philippe felt a ball of jealousy plummet in his stomach. Now Brad was back on form; he was sure Mindy wouldn't pay him any more attention. He knew his looks would never win Mindy’s heart, but his personality just might. He looked up and read the hand-painted sign above a rickety wooden door. It read BARRACOON. Live music here!

  “Hey, let’s go in here,” Philippe said upbeat.

  “Why?” Sal said testily. “We’re not here to have a good time; we’re here to find Jet and Skye.”

  “Well, this area is full of Capsules and Jet's a Code Type so wouldn’t need to do that, but he sure loves playing his string music box thing so I reckon he’d head somewhere like this,” Philippe said.

  “Oh, my, gosh! Like a real-life music joint, where they play real live music!” Mindy piped joyously, “Madeleine Stone and the Pretties are going to die on the spot with envy when I tell them this!”

  “Yeah, like totally awesome idea dude,” Brad added.

  He didn't care about the music; he just wanted to get off the streets and into less hazardous territory.

  Sal stared hard at the music spot with all her young wisdom.

  “Ok, you’re right. Let's give it a shot,” she nodded, bravely leading the way into the Barracoon.

  ***

  “Who goes there?” Came a low whiney snarl from amongst the shadows. Mindy, Max, Wain and I froze mid step. No one dared breathe.

  “I said who are ya?” A scraggy looking man morphed from the shadows, accompanied by several of his gaunt looking Goons.

  They encircled us, looking like they lacked a decent meal and smelling like they needed a good bath.

  “I'm Maxwell Schneider from 23 Glycena Avenue, nice to make your acquaintance sir. And you are?” Max said formerly extending his hand.

  “I'm Grimm, Mr Grimm to you, the mayor of this town, and y’all are trespassing in my neighbourhood.”

  “Yup.” The Goons nodded in agreement with their leader.

  They were dressed in murky raggedy clothing and had greying sallow skin, which enabled them to camouflage into the bleak surroundings perfectly.

  “Alright, we'll be going then,” Wain said turning to leave.

  “Not so fast,” Mr Grimm and the Goons blocked our path. “What have ya got for us?”

  "Nothing. Sorry to bother you, sir." I said.

  Mr Grimm swiftly moved his whippet like body and saddled up next to me. I held my breath not wanting to inhale the pungent fumes emitting from his scarcely toothed mouth.

  Max sprang into action typing furiously onto his aero pad.

  “It seems we have entered a residential area unable to be seen by the untrained eye.”

  “And?” I whispered.

  “They have allowed us, rather lured us, into the centre of their community, much like how the Achaearanea tepidariorum, commonly known as the house spider captures her prey in the centre of the web.”

  “Why don’t you just make your point yo.” Wain hissed his two brains racing.

  Max gulped, “We are in danger guys, grave danger.”

  ***

  Inside the Barracoon was an old rundown amusement arcade littered with broken bumper cars, a carousel that no longer spun and a dismantled roller coaster.

  The venue was jam-packed with colourful people of all Types. At the centre was a stage. On it, a compare dressed in a bright red tailcoat jacket and black top hat yelled into a handheld microphone.

  “…The day is still young, the night yet to come, but whatever the weather we party!” The Ringleader roared as the crowd erupted into a raucous round of cheers.

  “Next up for your listening pleasure is the best to ever do it. The greatest of all time. The one, the only – Paisley Parade!”

  On stage, a troupe of performers - whose hair on one side was swept back - blew, plucked, struck, strummed, banged and rattled a variety of musical instruments as the lead singer danced and sung his heart out.

  “Wow!” Sal said.

  The crew were captivated. They had never experienced such musical genius.

  Everyone in the place was dancing with unabashed glee. Necks were bobbing, waists rolling, arms waving, feet shuffling, hands clapping, fingers snapping; the revellers knew how to have fun. Unrestrained laughter rung out all the way from the dancefloor to the rafters.

  “Now this is my kind of place!” Philippe shouted enthusiastically over the music as he tried to join in with the dancing.

  “Like, oh my.” Mindy covered her eyes with her hands, yet peered through open fingers in sheer bashful delight.

  “This place is the bomb zee,” Brad added enjoying the music but not quite knowing what to do with himself.

  “It’s the ultimate cool.” Even Sal lost herself to the mind-blowing infectious groove. The vibe was electric. “Let’s head to the balcony for a better look.”

  “Look over there!” Brad pointed tactlessly.

  Sal saw a striking blue Tachion kissing a stunning Code Type Ae girl.

  “So they're smooching, big deal?”

  “I think they make a cute couple,” Mindy said smiling coyly at Philippe.

  Philippe looked down at his feet, the muscles on his face rippled.

  “Not them. There!” Brad pointed further towards a person who had a lion face, a man’s torso and robotic legs.

  “Wow wee.” Philippe was flabbergasted, "It can't be?"

  “I think it is,” Sal said.

  “What is it?” Mindy asked.

  Today they had seen the most extraordinary beings, but nothing came close to this.

  “It's an AniMaTron. A hybrid of animal, man and machine. They are one of the rarest species on the planet.” Sal said.

  “I know!” Brad said happy that he was finally knowledgeable about something. “Last year at the world games in Freeca we played ball against an entire team of AniMaTrons. They are born warriors, the stiffest competition we've ever experienced. They completely thrashed us.”

  “Those guys are tougher than tough, practically undefeatable.” Philippe agreed.

  The AniMaTron was in deep discussion with a Lappion who was on the come down halfway through a Capsing transition. Half his body was a young strapping Code Type, while the other half was an old silver wrinkled Tachion.

  “Amazing.” Mindy marvelled.

  The Barracoon was violating all kinds of Truths laid out by the Authorities. No such gathering would be permitted on the Upper Worlds.

  “So this is what we’ve feared about UC the whole time,” Philippe shouted over the music.

  “Fun!” Brad said snapping his fingers.

  Mindy threw her arms around Sal and hugged her tightly.

  “Thank you for bringing us here. It's the best place ever!”
>
  Sal was taken aback by the warm gesture, “That’s cool, I didn't do anything.”

  “Yes, you did. I'll never forget this day as long as I live.” Mindy beamed.

  Just like any other mere mortal, Sal couldn't help but feel happy that she had pleased Mindy. Her sweet personality was contagious, and she had just made herself a new fan.

  Paisley Parade ended their performance, and the crowd cheered in appreciation. Turntables levitated in the middle of the dance floor, and the Ringleader started spinning some tunes.

  “It’s so like, free, here. You don’t have to fit a Type; you can be whoever you want to be. Just look around you. It’s beautiful.” Mindy said poignantly.

  Sal looked at her, surprised by her thoughtful comment. Philippe smiled affectionately; he knew there was so much more to Mindy than just good looks.

  “You’re right.” Philippe agreed, “This gathering certainly would never happen at home. Any difference is rejected because it scares people.”

  “You’re both so right. It’s crazy that we try to fit in with someone else’s ideals of perfection. Who made the rules anyway?” Sal flashed a rare smile.

  Perhaps the oxygen levels were low in this place, but she felt good, lightheaded, without a care in the world.

  “You know, I’ve never experienced anything like this before in UC. Things are exceptionally smooth today.”

  “I hope the others are having as good a time as us,” Mindy said.

  “Yeah, they might have even found Jet and Skye by now.” Brad was hopeful.

  “Maybe but Wain said he would let me know telepathically,” Philippe said, unsure of exactly how that would work.

  “I almost forgot what we came for,” Sal said. “We should get going. We’ve got work to do.”

  “Aww,” Brad moaned losing his new found rhythm.

  “Let’s get a drink before we go. My head’s pounding, maybe because this cool music is so loud.” Philippe said.

  “Ok, just the one.” Sal retook charge of the mission.

  They walked away from the balcony and approached a long, glass-topped bar.

  “What can I get you?” The bartender, an eight-armed Aqua Tachion with the name badge, Seymour slurred without looking at them.

  His four pairs of hands were busy pouring drinks and wiping down glasses.

  “Four H2O to go,” Sal ordered extending her thumbprint for payment ID.

  “You only want water? Hard times huh?” Seymour chuckled chewing absentmindedly on a cocktail stick.

  He looked up at each of the crew individually, and his eyes widened. The cocktail stick dropped from his mouth.

  “I don’t believe it!” He exclaimed, “You’ve come! You’re here!”

  Sal, Mindy, Philippe and Brad looked at each other puzzled.

  “Look, we don’t want any trouble,” Sal said, on high alert.

  Seymour boomed a hearty laugh before jumping on the bar and waving his arms madly in the air.

  “OSEYI! OSEYI!! OSEYI!!!” He bellowed to all in the Arcade. “They have come, THEY ARE HERE!”

  The Ringmaster scratched the music to a stop, leaving an ear piercing silence. Everyone in the Arcade stopped partying and what felt like a million pairs of eyes looked from Sal to Mindy to Philippe to Brad.

  Brad’s body became rigid. He prepared for what was surely his pending doom. “Maaan! I knew this was too good to be true.”

  Sal looked around for an escape route. Philippe pulled Mindy behind him protectively and put up his dukes, ready for a fight. He had never fought anyone in his life, but he was big and strong, maybe he could protect them all.

  “Like, what is going on?” Mindy squealed.

  People always admired her beauty, but this attention was different, intense. The Arcadian Urbanites stared at her in a way she had never seen before.

  “Let’s, go, now!” Sal said tightly, making a beeline for the exit.

  Seymour’s arms blocked their path.

  “What the -” Sal huffed.

  Before the crew could move another muscle, the entire crowd of Arcadian Urbanities dropped to the ground on their hands and knees and bowed before them singing in awed unison, “You are welcome!”

  ***

  “I’m sending distress signals telepathically to Philippe, but I don't know if he's receiving them,” Wain said wriggling to free himself from the ties that bound him.

  We were strung up together in the middle of the dusty shantytown. A raging fire flickered eye-wateringly close. Mr Grimm and his Goons had left us to go and squabble over the gadgets from Max’s backpack.

  “Like I hope Philippe gets the message soon, I’m too beautiful to die an ugly death.” Cindy yelped.

  I shifted trying to undo the tight knot binding my hands and feet. I was truly sorry to have gotten my friends into this mess. What was I thinking anyway? It was so stupid of me to come all the way to UC, to look for Jet. It was a forbidden territory for a reason. I had foolishly followed what my ma would call my instincts. Perhaps what my dad always said was right, maybe when I finally got my Type, I would act more rationally. I couldn’t wait for my Code to kick in. Then I wouldn’t be so impulsive.

  Mr Grimm morphed from the shadows.

  “So ya bought us nothing except this junk.” He said tossing Max’s aero pad in a heap with all of his other belongings.

  “I’ll have you know that is not junk? It’s state of the art gadgetry, I made it myself.”

  Mr Grimm sneered. The Goons salivated, globs of spittle hung from their mouths like rabid dogs.

  “Eh hem,” Max coughed nervously at his outburst. "Perhaps, good sirs, this would interest you?” He said offering up his state of the art IM. “You can have it, use it, sell it and we’ll be on our way - as soon as I’ve copied over my hard drive. Give me ten seconds.” Max bartered.

  A Goon with yellowing eyes indicating iron deficiency and rotting teeth indicating a deficiency of toothpaste snatched the IM and bit into it. Shards of his enamel flew to the floor as his teeth broke off.

  “If we can’t eat it, it’s no good to us,” the now toothless Goon guffed.

  “Do you know how much that costs?” Max said astounded that his high tech was now a pile of rubbish.

  “Shaddup!” Mr Grimm screamed. “We don’t need those machinery thingamajigs. They can’t help us survive.”

  I shifted uneasily as Mr Grimm’s scrawny figure ambled around the group.

  “Look what living in the Upper Worlds has done for ya. Y'all so alive. All that oxygenated air, drinking all that H2O, the abundance of sunlight! We have none of that. We’re dying here.”

  Mr Grimm sniffed around us like a tracker dog.

  “Look at your skin.” Mr Grimm said poking my chin with a bony finger. “All that melanin. Do you know how I crave that richness?”

  I pulled away disgustedly. He lifted up Max’s chin and examined his chattering teeth.

  “And look at your healthy canines and molars. There's enough calcium for the whole town in your gob.”

  “And your,” He paused looking at Wain, “your bountiful grey matter.” He said tapping Wain's enlarged cranium like a drum.

  “Ow, yo!” Wain complained.

  “I could live for another fifty years from those cells.”

  “And you.” Mr Grimm licked his paper thin, dry lips and held onto Cindy’s delicate face, “Ya look good enough to eat.” He salivated baring his discoloured dagger-shaped teeth.”

  “Ewww!” Cindy squealed.

  “We need the regeneration from your stem cells. And we’ll have ya roasted, fried or even stewed,” a Goon cackled.

  “Oh, my! Like whatever you do don’t stew me, my skin goes all wrinkly in hot water.” Cindy stated seriously.

  Max and Wain looked at her in disbelief,

  “I don't think you've grasped the seriousness of the situation,” Max said perplexed.

  “Yeah. Seriously yo? We’re about to be eaten, and you’re worried about how you're gonna look?�
�� Wain asked incredulously.

  “Of course. On-trend until the end!” Cindy said with an air-headed smile.

  “Aw Cinds!” I buried my head in my hands.

  Mr Grimm and his Goons wheezed and spluttered, roaring with unhealthy laughter.

  ***

  Sal, Mindy, Philippe and Brad were seated on golden jewel encrusted thrones in the centre of a Great Hall. The palatial room ran underneath the Barracoon and was decorated ornately. Diamonds and pearls hung from the chandeliers. Priceless artwork from the early 20th century rose period adorned the high windowless walls. Ancient handcrafted Persian rugs, aristocratic Ghanaian Kente cloth and the finest Chinese silk, were strewn over the floor and ruffled between the Grecian pillars. Treasures from the Seven Wonders of the World were displayed on hieroglyphic columns. No one would have guessed that such a decadent setting would be hidden beneath such a run down amusement arcade.

  “This place is the ultimate in awesome.” Brad's dazzling smile had returned with a vengeance, lighting up his face.

  “This is one million times better than being crowned prom queen!” Mindy squealed, waving at the Arcadians below as if she was an actual princess.

  A regally dressed Urbanite appeared on the stage before them. He looked like a textbook Sap - old and withered. The robed man bowed before them.

  “Dear ones. I am Ecclesiastes. We your faithful followers have waited a long time for your coming. You are welcome.”

  “Yeah right back at you, buddy.” Brad joked.

  “Shush!” Sal warned Brad scornfully, trying desperately to comprehend what was going on.

  Ecclesiastes continued, “We will do everything in our power to serve you.”

  “Like really? My feet are so-oo hurting and – ”

  Before Mindy could finish her sentence two Arcadian Urbanites were on hand to remove her shoes, a bowl of warm water was rushed in, and her feet massaged.

  “Like, oh my goodness!” Mindy yelped in delight.

  “Dude, are you like The Res or something?” Philippe asked cautiously.

  The very mention of his name made the entire room of Urbanites bow once again in submission.

  “The honour of The Res being does not dwell within my shell,” Ecclesiastes said respectfully. “But we are your loyal subjects, not his.”

  “Maybe we’re not who you think we are, and this could be a severe case of mistaken identity,” Sal said.