by Shiloh White
It made me uncomfortable, so I decided to do some muttering of my own. I nudged Scott's arm and whispered, “So we're in De Mentoria right now?” He looked at me and nodded. Then he glanced back at Gordon, and I looked too. He and Mr. Reggie still looked preoccupied.
“Something feels kind of weird about it,” I continued. “What exactly is it, this place?” I asked. He leaned down; close enough to make me want to scoot over so I wouldn't fall off my barstool.
“It's an Anchor Zone inside the Dust.” he said in a small voice. “Unlike the Depression Force or The Square, De Mentoria wasn't colonized or built by outsiders. It grew from a Depression Zone that took over its host completely. It kept sapping the host and growing until it was too big to get rid of.”
“Yep,” Mr. Reggie said, “linked to The Dust, and we love it.” He was leaning off of his platter, just a small distance from my face. I held back the urge to yelp. Gordon bowed at us and disappeared into the kitchen.
“Not to mention all the craziness that comes with it.” Mr. Reggie continued, his face widening into what could have been a grin.
I thought for a moment. Something was still missing from their explanations, which I didn't get about De Mentoria. The reason behind the talking skull, for one. Craziness definitely played a factor in it...and it was definitely affecting me. I couldn't focus my mind on anything besides figuring out the missing piece.
“Dart said Depression Zones are centered on one piece of someone's mental problems, right?” I turned to Scott. He folded his arms and nodded, looking impatient like I should have figured this out by now. I wasn't appreciating how upset he seemed to be.
“This zone was centered on dementia, wasn't it?” I asked Mr. Reggie.
“You're a smart one, toots,” Mr. Reggie answered. “Although, it's mostly the lunacy and madness that stuck around these days.”
“I've noticed.” I said. Although, it wasn't driving me as mad as I thought it might. The talking skull was only a little strange now.
The waiter from before came out from the kitchen with a tray littered with breadsticks, and a few cups that had some sort of purple liquid in them. I watched Scott give him an evil eye as he walked up to our table. It might have been the smell of the breadsticks controlling me, but I wanted to elbow him. The guy just brought us food, and Scott looked like he wanted to break his nose. The waiter set everything on the table and hurried back into the kitchen. I looked up at Mr. Reggie, not wanting to risk being rude. I wasn't sure if there was any culture to eating in De Mentoria.
“Help yourself. You guys are my guests, remember?” he said. I didn't hesitate. I grabbed a breadstick and used all of my willpower not to down it whole; nibbling on it bit by bit. Could've been poison. I didn't care. The purple drink on the other hand, I decided to stay away from.
Scott looked at me and then over at Mr. Reggie, and cleared his throat.
“We appreciate you not boiling us alive, but we can't stay long. Depression Force business, you know.” He said in a condescending voice. I was getting upset at how ungrateful he was sounding.
“So,” Scott continued, “do you know anything about Lucy's bag?”
“You are not wrong in that assumption.” Mr. Reggie said slowly, enunciating every word. My heart compensated, beating faster and faster with each word he hung onto.
“Go on, then.” Scott said.
“I remember it appeared around the same time as her,” Mr. Reggie gestured to me. I nodded.
“I dropped it when I was falling.” I offered. “Right, right,” Mr. Reggie muttered. “I also remember it smelled like paint,” he continued.
“Well, of course it did.” Scott said, raising his voice, “We know that already. But where is it?”
“Oh, that’s easy.” Mr. Reggie said. “Why didn’t you start with that?” Scott looked like his blood was boiling hotter than the cauldron outside. I softly jabbed him with my elbow, trying to get him to chill out.
“As for where it is,” Mr. Reggie said, “I sold it.”
✽✽✽
“You did what?!” Scott yelled, slamming his fast down on the table and almost scaring me out of my seat.
“Scott, that boiling water’s still outside.” I leaned over and said, keeping my eyes on Mr. Reggie.
“You should listen to the girl, DF cop,” Mr. Reggie agreed, “Don’t tear up my furniture.” I couldn’t understand how he heard me. Mr. Reggie must have had elephant ears at some point.
Scott clenched his fist hard. Judging by how red his face looked, he was gritting his teeth too. I didn’t realize Scott could even get this mad, and I couldn’t understand why. He wasn’t even tied up anymore.
“Do you remember...” he started to say in a clear and slow voice that freaked me out more than his yelling, “Who you sold it to?”
“Uhh, all I remember about him is that he was a real classy lookin’ guy.” Mr. Reggie said. “Crazy sense of style, you know? Nothing I would be caught dead in...” He paused for a moment. Then he broke into a laugh. “Caught dead in! That’s good. Gotta enjoy the little things, you know?” he looked at me, and then to Scott, who looked angry enough to smash something into a bunch of little things.
“Right,” he said, clearing his nonexistent throat. “Anyway, the guy was real busy; said he had to get back to his club.”
“What was it called?” Scott asked through his teeth.
“Uhh…” Mr. Reggie zoned out for a moment as he thought. “Insanity or something simple,” he finally said. Told me it was in the neighborhood, in case I wanted to send my customers there. You know, dinner here and dancin’ there. Real business opportunity.”
“Where is it loca—?”
“Not so fast, cop.” Mr. Reggie cut Scott off. “It’s my turn to ask a question.” He turned to me, as best as he could on his plate. “How is it that you just appeared here?” he asked. “Don’t answer that question, Lucy.” Scott nudged my arm. That was it. I couldn’t believe how plain rude he was being.
“I fell into the Dust from somewhere else. Another world.” I said, looking over at Scott out of spite. He grabbed a fork off the table, and almost stabbed into the table. He stopped short and threw it down, standing up from his chair. I stared at him in shock, and glanced at Mr. Reggie. He said nothing, looking just as shocked as me. Or at least I assumed so; his facial expressions weren’t exactly the easiest to read. Scott said nothing and started to walk towards the kitchen.
“Scott, where are you going?” I asked, my voice thick with anger.
“I have a job to do. I’m a cop, remember? The staff might prove to be somewhat helpful, and not bent on boiling me alive first! Stay put until I come back.” Then he disappeared behind the kitchen doors.
“I don’t know what his problem is, but I’m sorry.” I turned back to Mr. Reggie, and picked up the fork off the floor. He sighed, and answered, “It’s not a big deal, kid.”
“What?” I asked.
“There’s an always bigger problem than silverware at my restaurant,” he explained. “Hooligan kids who came to vandalize my property; shady characters with business takeover plans; bills. Now this: a Topsider in my restaurant.” That word again. Something about it seemed snooty. I didn't like being called it.
“Is this whole Topside/Topsider name some sort of insult around here?” I asked, agitation starting to grow in my voice. Mr. Reggie laughed again, and I wondered how long he was in De Mentoria before he could go from stressing to laughing in a matter of seconds. “Topside's just the name for your home, kid.”
“You call Earth 'Topside'?”
“No. We call your home Topside. Earth never really stuck.”
“What does that even—actually, never mind.” I said. As far as I knew, the answer behind the name Topside might not have made any sense anywhere except De Mentoria.
“So why is being from Earth—err, Topside, such a big deal?” I asked.
“You see,” Mr. Reggie whistled through his teeth, “There's quite an answer to
that one. The simple version is we don't see much of Topsiders on our turf. Usually just the Dusters.”
“Dusters?” I asked.
“Yep. Been around here all their lives; Born in the Dust. Some of them are your Depression Force Officer buddies.” Mr. Reggie explained. “You didn't think they were all recruited like your friend, did ya?” I said nothing. I actually hadn't thought much about where the Depression Force Officers came from at all. Granted, I was a little preoccupied with my sister. “Anyway, it's usually the other way around,” Mr. Reggie continued, “Depression Agents and sneakin' into Topside, causing trouble for kids like you. The last ones we got from your side...they really shook up The Dust.” He paused. Then he laughed yet again. “Oh, I've just got too much fuel,” he chuckled. “I swear it's not on purpose. I'm just naturally this funny.” I didn't even catch the joke until after he started laughing. I was a little distracted with what he said about the last people to come from Earth.
“How did they shake things up?” I asked. Maybe I could get a little help fighting back around here.
“Are you serious, kid? Have you not noticed since you showed up?” I looked around the room for an answer I didn't have. I shrugged and said, “Noticed what?”
“The rules are different for you here, kid.” he said in an excitedly hushed voice. All I thought was, Great, more confusing rules to deal with.
“What rules?”
“Your abilities and the danger you're in, for starters, kid.”
“Like how my paint could vaporize an Agent and why I could die in the Depression Zone
“Uhh, I guess so. Those are a few things.” Mr. Reggie said. “There's also radiating lunacy in De Mentoria, and how it affects you differently.” Let's recap: my sister was kidnapped, and I could die here. Now there was a mass of lunacy just drilling into the side of my head as I sat in this restaurant?
“How differently?” I sighed in an exhausted voice.
“Well, the flashbacks you've been having, for one, kid.” Mr. Reggie said, and I froze and stared at him. I looked to the kitchen, and then back at him to make sure no one was listening in.
“How do you know about—?”
A CRASHHH coming from the kitchen cut me off.
✽✽✽
Mr. Reggie and I met eyes—or eye sockets for him—and I stood up. “I should go check on Scott.”
“Good idea. My staffs don’t break things.” He said in a serious voice. I took a step towards the kitchen, but stopped when Mr. Reggie started talking again. “One last warning, kid: be careful out here. You can't be sure what you'll see next.” As ominous as it sounded, I was a little more concerned with getting into the kitchen to see what was going on with Scott. “Thank you for your help, Mr. Reggie,” I said, and set the breadstick back on the table. Strangely, I didn't feel too hungry now.
I walked into the kitchen to see Scott grabbing one of the waiters by his collar. “You know something! I know you do!” Scott yelled, shaking the waiter around. The waiter looked like he was trying not to lose it or fall over, grabbing the side of a counter for support.
“Scott, leave him alone!” I yelled, running over to him. I tried to pull Scott off of him, which essentially meant I, with the help of Gordon, dragged him out of the restaurant and into the alley. “We're going to stop bothering you guys now. Thank you for not boiling us alive.” I said to Gordon, who watched us from the top of the stairwell. He nodded. “Of course. It was the least we could do.” he said, and walked back into the restaurant.
The least they could do? Between not killing us and bringing out food, it may as well have been the special treatment.
CLANG!
I followed the sound, and saw Scott kicking at some garbage can down the alleyway.
“Why are you still so angry?!” I yelled at him, frustrated at how unhelpful he was at the moment. Scott reached at tufts of his hair, like he was going to tear it out. But he didn't. He just stood there for a moment, with two fistfuls of black hair.
“It's not important.” he said, his voice wavering with anger and something else; he said each word so quickly. “We need to hurry and focus on your Handle.”
“You've got it backwards. The Handle isn't as important as you staying focused.” I said, looking at him straight in the eyes. “You know how to get out of here, so you need to keep your head on your shoulders and think; did you get any helpful info from the kitchen?”
“Yeah, yeah...”said Scott, already deep in thought. His hands slowly fell from his head, and he started to pace back and forth in the alleyway. “Ah!” he stopped and pointed at me. “The club. Gordon told me it's called Insanis, and it's located around the corner and down the street.” he said.
“Perfect. Good work, Scott.” I said.
“See?” Scott said, “I am in my own head. Now let's go before the Lieutenant figures out we're not back. We don't have much time.” Then he started jogging down the alleyway.
I remembered him saying it didn't matter what the Lieutenant did to him, but the way he acted made this job look more important to him than he let on.
I took a second to get moving and catch up to him. Up ahead, Scott looked back to make sure I was behind him. He saw me and pointed to the right—there was an opening branching into a new path. He started to go that way, but stopped cold.
“Scott, what's going on?” I asked. He said nothing. I couldn't see what was behind the wall, but if it didn't know I was here already, maybe we had an element of surprise. I started to take slower steps as I got closer to where Scott stood, until I could see the look on his face. Whatever he was looking at, he couldn't believe his eyes.
“It’s impossible,” he whispered. Then he sprinted down the alleyway and turned the corner, leaving me alone in the Dust.
18. Flashbacks And Bouncers And Raves, Oh My!
I turned the corner into a new alleyway, but neither Scott nor whatever he had his eyes on were standing there. After a second of catching my breath, I heard his footsteps shuffling up ahead.
I took off running down the alleyway. It was long, and curved this way and snaked that way, but I caught up enough to barely make out Scott's silhouette up ahead. I still couldn't see whatever he was chasing, so I just focused on keeping up with Scott. Whenever there was a turn, I had to pour on speed so he didn't escape my sight.
Scott had longer legs than me, though. He was much faster. The alleyway broke off into two paths up ahead, and I didn't see which way he went before he disappeared from my sight. “Wait!” I yelled out to him, but he kept going. I took the path on the left, and kept jogging, hoping to find Scott.
The alleyway opened up into a wider area, but I was too short of breath to notice much about it. I looked around for Scott, and I caught a glimpse of his shadow running further and further away. My heart skipped a beat, and it felt like I was watching him while I ran in slow motion. Every step I took costed more effort than the last one. Something ached inside me as I watched the silhouette take off. For a second, I saw it change shape to someone else...someone familiar
Lucas? I thought. I tried to call out; tell him to wait. But my lungs were a little busy gasping for air. I felt lightheaded from the sprinting, and despite the dark gloominess of the alleyway, everything around me was bright. I thought it was just me at first, but the dark alleyway filled up with a flash of light and a large gust of wind.
“AH!” I yelled, kneeling down to shield my face from the blinding. Even with my eyes shut, some of it still shone through. Then, as quickly as it appeared, the light was gone.
I opened my eyes, and got on one knee to stand up, putting my hand in the grass to help push me up.
Wait. Grass?
I looked around, and I was standing in an open field of grass near a playground. One I couldn't forget.
“Hey, Luce! C'mere!” he called out behind me, echoing in my ears. His voice made my hair stand on end.
I got up, almost falling back over when I saw him. He was leaning against a swing set a few
steps away, arms folded, with the same smile down at me. It was my brother, Lucas. I wanted to run over to him, but something made me stop; a sick feeling in my stomach that kept me from taking a step. Instead, I watched as a little girl ran over to him, and gave him a hug.
“Is it really you?” I heard her say with a smile. I recognized her voice. A little taller now, but I'm sure it was the little girl I saw before. She was wearing the same blue sundress. Plus, it helped to see her face.
“Happy Birthday, Little Lucy.” he said with a smile. “I wish I could have been there. I left something for you. I know how much you love art.” His voice sounded just like I remembered it, but with each word, I felt like someone was trying to squeeze my heart. That sick feeling started to rise into my chest.
“Thank you, Lucas,” she said. I could feel the confusion in her voice rising in my own chest. “How are you here?” she asked. “They told me you—”
“Don't worry about that,” Lucas cut Little Lucy off, putting his hand on her head and ruffling her hair. “Find your present.” He took his hand off of her and stood up, taking a step back.
“I have to go now,” he said, “But I'll see you again soon.”
“Wait!” I yelled at the same time as little Lucy, and my ears started to ring. Hearing my voice two times must have made my head dizzy. I started to run after him. “You can't leave again!” I yelled. I ran onto the playground to get to the swing, and went right through little Lucy, who evaporated into thin air. I kept running to catch up to Lucas, but everything started to get bright again. The gust of wind started to blow everywhere. I was squinting to see him, and I tripped over something and landed in the grass.