Alternity (12 page)

Swallowing my doubts, I follow my host down the hall and up another flight of red carpeted stairs, gripping the golden banister. At the top of the stairs, we come to a door. Duske presses the sensor with his thumb and it slides open. I step over the threshold into an elegant, well-lit room. It’s done up in gold and mauve, a canopy bed draped with gauzy curtains serving as its centerpiece. There’s a flat-panel TV hanging on the far wall of the room, several armchairs and coffee tables, and a sliding glass door leads out to a balcony. The room smells of rose petals, and dozens of flickering candles on every surface give it a sparkly glow.

“I trust this will suit your needs?” Duske asks.

I nod. It’s tempting to be swept away by the luxury, but at the same time I can’t get the Dark Siders out of my head. Those sick, mutated people. Their stores of moldy bread and tiny cavelike dwellings. Their desperate poverty and helplessness makes this opulence seem obscene. How can people be content to live like this when they know others are suffering one level down?

“Yeah, I guess it’ll do,” I reply, glancing over at my host. I catch him staring at me, his eyes fixated on my chest. I squirm, suddenly uncomfortable. Is he really checking me out? Gross. I need to get him out of here before he gets the wrong idea or something. “Um, did you need anything else from me?” I ask lamely.

He smiles. “Only if you want it, my dear.”

Ew. As if I’d ever touch this guy. I mean, sure, he’s good-looking, but he’s also way too smarmy for my taste. Not to mention the fact that he’s basically trapped me here in this world against my will. Does he really think that will win my affections or turn me on?

“I, um, think I’m all set,” I say, bobbing my head enthusiastically, hoping he’ll get the hint. “In fact, I think I’ll take a nap before dinner. I’m pretty beat.” I fake a yawn to make my excuses more realistic. “So I’ll, uh, talk to you later, okay?”

I watch as annoyance shadows Duske’s face for half a second; then he shakes it away and offers me a large smile. “Very well, Sister Skye,” he says, bowing at the waist. “I will leave you then. If you get hungry, just activate the intercom and Brother Thom will bring up some supper.” He backs out of the room and the door slides closed behind him, clicking shut with a high-pitched beep. Instinctively, I try to reopen it with no luck.

I wander around the room, examining everything, but find nothing out of the ordinary. It looks just like any other luxury bedroom you might find on Earth. I switch on the television and am surprised to see
Casablanca
pop onto the screen. Bogart’s telling Bergman they’ll always have Paris. I watch, fascinated. It’s kind of creepy how alike Earth and Terra are. Pop culture, movies, coffeehouse chains. Were the two worlds once exactly the same until one day there was a decision to make—a red button to press? Could one fateful action have caused Terra to spin off its projected course and onto a skewed path of apocalyptic destruction? But then how did my Earth manage to avoid it? Or is Terra’s underground wasteland something we have to look forward to in our future? And if Terra is a future Earth, why are they still reliving our past culture hundreds of years later?

I wonder what Terrans think of Earth when they arrive after Moongazing. When they first open their eyes and see sunshine, grass, flowers, dogs, cats—everything that makes Earth’s present reality superior to their own. When they first see the mighty ocean waves crashing to shore. When they watch their first bald eagle soaring majestically through the sky. When they climb up the Empire State Building and gaze down at their vast new world. When they realize they can now live aboveground without getting sick. It must be thrilling, but at the same time incredibly frightening. Are they forming their own close-knit Terran societies as American immigrants have done for centuries, carving out small neighborhoods to inhabit and keeping with their own traditions? Or are they adapting, blending in with the rest of us, making Earth friends, marrying Earth people?

I find myself laughing. Homeland Security is so worried about closing the Mexican borders. Imagine if they knew there were interdimensional illegal aliens living among us!

In a way, Moongazing makes a lot of sense. Especially if the Terran world really is as overcrowded as Duske claims. If you have the option, why not emigrate to a better world? And if they bring all their superior technology with them, we’ll benefit from the relocation as well.

So then, why are the Eclipsers against it? Are they just jealous because they’re not on the guest list? Or could there be something more sinister lying beneath the surface of this alternative reality trip?

It’s all too much to think of now, so I continue my exploration of my room, opening the wardrobe door and revealing a closet full of clothes. Anxious to get out of my beautiful, but scratchy, evening gown, I select a black cotton tunic and a pair of leggings and change clothes. Much more comfortable. I’m just slipping on a pair of black boots when a knock sounds at the door.

“Come in,” I call, wondering who it could be.

Brother Thom steps in, a silver tray of covered dishes in his hands. He sets the tray down on the dresser and pulls off several covers to reveal a meal of a burger and French fries, with a piece of chocolate cake for dessert. At first I’m about to protest the nonvegetarian selection, but then remember there’s no meat here on Terra. Must be soy or something. My mouth waters as the rich smell fills the room. I got pulled back to Terra before lunch and now I’m starving.

“Thanks,” I say gratefully, walking over to the table and selecting a long fry. I pop it in my mouth. Salty and delicious.

“You are most welcome, Sister,” Thom says in an overloud voice. “I hope you enjoy it.” Then he throws a furtive glance around the room and lowers his tone to a barely audible whisper. “Don’t worry,” he hisses. “We’ve got a plan in place. They’ll come for you soon. Get you out.”

Uh, what? I squint at him, swallowing my fry, my mouth suddenly dry as cotton. “What? Who?”

“Brother Dawn should never have left you unattended like he did. They must have injected you with some kind of nanotracker to have found you so quickly. Most unfortunate. But do not fret, Sister. We will free you soon.”

I stare at him, my mind racing. This does not make any sense. Unless the butler is secretly playing for the other team. “Wait. Are you … an Eclipser?” I whisper back.

Thom releases a frustrated sigh. “You have not regained your memories, I see,” he says, sounding vastly disappointed.

Great. Here we go again. “You think I’m Mariah,” I conclude.

“You
are
Mariah,” the butler corrects. “Whether you know it or not.”

“But Duske said—”

“Don’t you get it? Duske is trying to trick you. He’s taking advantage of your amnesia to further his agenda.”

I close my eyes, wishing I could just somehow zap myself home. Now I’m back at square one. How the hell can I know who to trust—the guy who calls me by my real name and has offered me over a million dollars to speak at his seminar? Or the determined, passionate rebels who swear that I’m someone I’m not and insist that Duske’s up to no good?

“You’re going to have to try to trust us for a bit,” Thom says. “Your life will depend on it.” He heads to the exit. At the door he turns back to me. “It might be better if you cut up your burger before taking a bite,” he suggest cryptically. He leaves before I can ask why, the door sliding closed and locking behind him.

Alone again, I stare down at the plate of food, wondering what he meant. The way he said it—so mysterious—as if it were a hint of some kind. Curious, I grab the butter knife on my plate and slice into the patty. The knife strikes something hard and I pull apart the burger, discovering a tiny, plastic, thimblelike device.

As I slip it on my thumb the thimble constricts, wrapping tightly around the digit like a second skin. It’s then I notice it has its own fingerprint. I look over at the sensor on the wall, the one I need a magic thumb to operate. Could this thimble be what I think it is?

Hunger forgotten, I walk to the door and press the thumb against the sensor, praying it won’t set off an alarm or something. This won’t be easy to explain if someone comes to investigate.

Nothing happens.

I try again, rubbing the thimble over the sensor. Still nothing. Just as I’m about to give up, the door suddenly beeps and the LCD indicator by the sensor goes from red to green. My eyes widen.

I’m free.

The door slides open, revealing my exit. I slip outside, peering up and down the corridor to make sure the coast is clear. There’s no one in sight.

I tiptoe down the hall, not sure exactly where I’m going or what I’ll do when I get there. Maybe I can find the Moongazing rooms and figure out how to make them work so I can go home. Leave this nightmare world forever. Though Duske might try to come after me. He obviously knows where to find me on Earth, and he’d probably be very angry I slipped away before speaking at his seminar. But maybe there’d be a way to hide. Head out to California or someplace even more obscure. Change my name, become someone else. Find a village in Nepal, a shack on a Costa Rican beach. Somewhere, anywhere that he couldn’t track me down and drag me back to Terra.

I freeze as I suddenly hear Duske’s voice. I flatten my body against the wall and peer into the room next to me. It’s some sort of library, stacked floor to ceiling with dusty tomes. Duske’s sitting at a large desk, speaking into something that appears to be some kind of videophone. Luckily, he doesn’t seem to be aware of my presence.

I prepare to slink away in the other direction, but his words make me pause.

“Yes, she’s here,” he is saying. “Oh, indeed, it worked brilliantly, Brother. Kudos to you and your crew. The new memories have bonded completely with her psyche. She’s utterly convinced she’s from Earth … Yes! Even after those pathetic rebels tried their damnedest to tell her otherwise … I know! I would have loved to see the look on their faces when their precious Mariah insisted she’s some random girl from Earth.”

He chuckles, a low guttural sound, and my whole world skids off its axis. My stomach twists and for a moment I’m sure I’ll throw up. I can’t believe this. The one person who said he believed me—who swore up and down that he knew me as Skye—has just admitted to his crony that he, like everyone else, thinks I’m her. Mariah.

Oh my God.

“She even logged in willingly!” I hear him continue. “Thought she was going home … I know, I know. It’s priceless … Oh yes, of course I recorded it. I plan to play it at the seminar. Wait till the Indys see a video of the great Mariah Quinn entering a Moongazer booth. They’ll be begging us for the opportunity to hand over all their possessions for a chance to play. Your plan was brilliant. Utterly brilliant. I couldn’t be more pleased.”

He pauses as the other voice on the video screen speaks. I strain to hear. “So, what are you going to do with her after the seminar?” it asks. “Send her back? Let her burn out on her own?”

“No way,” Duske says. “It’s too dangerous. As we’ve learned from this experiment, as long as the people believe Mariah Quinn is alive, they’ll continue with their silly little revolution. Natural burnout will take too long, and I don’t want to have to deal with the possibility of those pesky Eclipsers pulling her out over and over again, convinced they’ll eventually get her to join them. It’s expensive and irritating.”

“So, what are you going to do?”

“Early retirement,” Duske says. He makes a throat-slitting gesture, and I suddenly realize this particular package probably doesn’t come with a pension plan.

I’ve got to get the hell out of here.

I sprint back down the hall, fast as my legs can carry me, no idea where I’m going. I bank a left, then a right. I scurry down stairs and around corners. But no matter where I turn, I can’t seem to locate an exit. The place is a maze and I have no idea how to get out.

“Psst”

I whirl around at the whisper, praying it’s friend and not foe. A lone figure, encased entirely in black and wearing a black mask and hood, stands in the middle of the hallway. I can tell from her curvy silhouette she’s a woman, but all that’s exposed are radiant green eyes. She puts a finger to her lips, stilling the questions on my tongue. Then she motions for me to follow.

Should I? What if it’s just another trap? But what choice do I have? To stay here is to die. At least if I leave now I’ll be able to come up with a plan B. Find Moongazer Palace and get back to Earth.

Duske’s words flash through my mind.

She’s utterly convinced she’s from Earth
.

Could it be true? Could my whole life be some kind of lie? Implanted memories, he said. Is that even possible? Could everything I know and love be just an illusion? Impossible. And yet …

I nod to the figure, realizing I have little choice but to trust her. Maybe she can lead me to Glenda and the rest of the Eclipsers. Maybe they can give me a better idea of what’s going on.

The woman bows her head, then turns and starts slinking down the hallway, her steps light and silent like a cat stalking its prey. She pauses at every turn, peering around each corner before motioning me to move forward. She has a Japanese-style sword—a katana of some sort—slung from a utility belt low on her waist.

We scramble up a flight of stairs, then another and another. Are we running to the roof? Finally the figure stops climbing, pulls off a glove, and studies her hand. I realize she’s got some kind of map scribbled onto her palm. Thank God for that.

She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a plastic thimble identical to the one Thom hid in my soy burger and slips it onto her thumb. She presses it against the sensor and, after a moment’s pause, the LCD flashes green and the door slides open. She motions for me to follow her inside.

It’s a bedroom similar to the one I’d been kept prisoner in. As I step over the threshold, she reaches under the bed and pulls out a length of rope and a few metal clips. She heads over to the glass sliding doors leading to a balcony. I watch, unsure, as she detaches a small black box from her utility belt and presses it against the door. She pushes a button and, without warning, the glass explodes. I duck, hands over my face, to avoid being cut. When I look up, the glass barrier is gone.