Alternity (16 page)

“Okay, ready,” I say, appearing from the bathroom. I’ve tied my still-wet hair back in a messy ponytail and am wearing no makeup, but I feel fresh and clean and well rested. I slide on my boots and, on a whim, grab the sword belt and strap it around my waist, feeling more than a bit self-conscious about wearing a weapon. Especially one I have no idea how to use. But then I catch a glimpse of myself in a mirror. The jumpsuit actually fits. And there’s a certain primitive style to it, I realize now—raw and powerful.

I can feel eyes on me and I whirl around, catching Dawn giving me a once-over. “You clean up well,” he says, a small smile playing at his lips. I can feel my face heat at the compliment.

We walk out of the house and into the cave corridor, Dawn locking the front door with his thumb. It takes me a moment, as we head toward the town square, to adjust my eyes to the dim lighting. I think I would go insane down here long term. It’s so depressing without the sun. My body lets out an involuntary shiver, cold. Dawn reaches over and rubs my back a few times, a much appreciated attempt at a quick warmup.

Dawn locates his hover bike behind a Dumpster, hands me a helmet, then gestures for me to climb aboard. I do, no longer uncomfortable with the idea of being forced to wrap my arms around his waist. In fact, I’m sort of looking forward to it.

Dawn revs the engine and the bike lifts off the ground. We float slowly through the Dark Side, residents coming out of their caves to wave to us, their faces alight and hopeful as they watch us fly by. I shake my head. Mariah sure must have been something special to garner this kind of unabashed worship from her people. What happened to make her betray them all in the end?

We pass through the town gates and then pick up speed as we enter the underground aqueduct tunnels. The ride is as exhilarating as it was the first time around—fast, furious, the wind whipping across my face. I scarcely notice the cold as I hug Dawn tight against me, melting into the ride, giving myself over to the sensations of motion and speed, the curve of Dawn’s arched back, and me comfortably squashed against it. I shouldn’t like it as much as I do.

We zoom down the tunnels, the underground world unfolding in seemingly endless twists and turns. We pass through several other towns identical to the one Dawn lives in. Bleak, brown, tattered. My enjoyment starts to dissipate as I catch the faces of scrawny children and browbeaten adults wandering the streets, without enthusiasm, without hope. My heart aches for them. How could the government let this underground ghetto exist while they thrive and frolic in a gaudy, opulent playground above? No wonder the revolutionaries are simmering with hatred.

“Why are they all deformed?” I ask as we leave the third area’s gates. “I mean, what happened to make them that way?”

“There’s radiation deep in the rocks that many Dark Siders are forced to mine,” he replies. “It’s amazing they can reproduce at all.”

“Forced to mine?”

“The government needs crystals embedded in the rocks to run their supercomputers. So they keep the Dark Siders down here, work them as slaves to satisfy the needs of the high-tech, luxury-rich world above,” he explains.

The bike’s motor and the wind blend into a roar as we pick up speed, drowning out any chance of further conversation. I settle back against Dawn, feeling an overwhelming sadness for the plight of these people. I couldn’t imagine a life like they led: stuck deep underground, forced to work a job that will poison not only their bodies, but also their children’s. How could the government be so cruel? And how can the people aboveground accept the fact that their comfort comes at the expense of others? Are the Indys even aware of what’s going on beneath the surface of their world? They can’t be. There’s no way they could consciously be so selfish, could there?

After about a half hour of travel time and a ride across a colorless and dismal underground landscape, we arrive at a large iron gate looming in front of us with menacing spiked bars. Dawn lowers his bike to the ground and dismounts, walking over to the gate, pressing his thumb against the sensor.

“Dawn Grey. REJECTED,” a robotic voice pronounces solemnly. Dawn scowls and kicks the gate with his boot.

“Goddamn it,” he grumbles. “The Eclipsers must have revoked my pass when I told them all to go to hell—when they first told me they were working to pull you out.” He motions to the sensor. “Try your thumb.”

I stare at him. There’s no way my thumb will work here. Is there?

I get off the bike and walk over to the gate, fear making my heart pound. This is a test, I realize. A major test to see who I really am. I may look like Mariah Quinn, but do we share fingerprints? DNA?

I press my thumb against the sensor, sucking in a breath, not sure which outcome to pray for. Do I want the gate to open? Or do I want to prove I’m not who they think I am?

I don’t have a choice. “Mariah Quinn,” the robotic voice chirps, sounding a lot friendlier this time around. “Welcome back.” The gates creak open, revealing a decrepit, windowless stone tower embedded into the cliff and stretching up into the darkness.

“Still convinced you’re not Mariah?” Dawn asks, eyebrow raised.

For a moment I can’t breathe, instinctively searching for my inhaler. Of course I don’t have it with me, so I run through my breathing exercises instead while my mind grasps at straws. Maybe we’ve got some kind of alternate-reality-twins scenario going on here. She and I are different people but share the same fingerprints. Or DNA. Or whatever those thumb sensor things register. That could happen, right?

Keep rationalizing, Skye. Maybe at some point you’ll talk yourself into believing
.

I shake my head. No use to dwell on such things now. Better to just get to the Eclipsers and hope they can shed some light on this whole mess.

Dawn leads his bike through the gate and releases its kickstand. The gate swings shut behind us, coming together with a metallic clang that causes me to nearly jump out of my skin. I hurry to follow Dawn into the building.

The entrance was once made of glass-paned double doors, but the glass has long been smashed into oblivion and swept away. I’m careful as I step through to dodge the jagged shards still clinging to the frame. No need to accidentally cut myself on top of everything else. Who knows what kind of first aid they’ve got down here?

Through the doors is a small vacant lobby painted a dismal olive color that only succeeds in sucking out most of the already dim orange light coming from several table lamps scattered throughout. Cobwebs cling to every crevice, and the tables and chairs are covered in thick dust. It looks as if no one’s entered this place in years.

I glance down at my boots. They’re going to get filthy tramping around here. But wait—I do a double take; they’re not dirty at all. They’re still as shiny as when I first pulled them onto my feet. I glance behind me for dusty footprints, but there’s no sign I just walked through the lobby whatsoever.

I look to Dawn, head cocked in confusion.

“Optical illusion,” he explains. “The floor’s actually made out of a thin film screen. They project a dusty floor image onto it to make it look like the place has been abandoned. Really, they sweep every other day.”

“Amazing.” I crouch down to touch the floor. Sure enough, I can drag my finger through the dust and not get a speck of dirt on my hand. “You guys thought of everything.”

“Actually, it was your idea,” Dawn informs me. “Smart, too. You can’t be too careful these days.” He heads over to the antique-looking elevators at the far side of the lobby and presses a black button. “The last thing we need is for the government to start snooping around our headquarters. In fact, only a few people know this place exists.”

The elevator doors open with a loud groan, sparking a question of its last safety inspection. But I keep my mouth shut and follow Dawn inside. Who knows, maybe this is another trick to keep the bad guys away. The door slides shut and I watch the mechanical dial counting up the floor numbers, fighting the urge to grab Dawn’s hand. Not out of some misplaced romantic gesture, mind you, but simply because this whole place has me more than a little freaked out.

The elevator bings when it reaches the top floor, and the doors slide open. We’re greeted by a much cleaner scene: a red-carpeted hallway stretching off into the darkness, dimly lit by small ceiling lamps every few feet. The whole place reminds me of that Tower of Terror ride at Disney World, and I jump off the elevator before it can send me spiraling down thirteen stories.

Dawn smiles and grabs my hand in his, squeezing it. “Don’t worry,” he assures me. “We’re almost there.”

“Great,” I mutter, not willing to admit how much better I feel with his hand in mine. I grip him tightly as we walk down the nondescript hallway, passing door after door. Finally, we stop at one of them. To me, it’s undistinguishable from the other dozen doors we’ve passed, but Dawn seems to know where he’s going. He drops my hand and gestures to the tiny sensor I hadn’t noticed by the handle. I press my thumb against it, grimacing as the robotic voice cuts through the silent hallway, addressing me once again as Mariah. Just what I need in this spooky place: a reminder that I may very well be the resident ghost.

The door slides open and we step over the threshold, into what appears to be an old vacant tenement apartment. There’s tacky floral wallpaper, faded and peeling from the walls, cheap ceramic frogs and unicorns on the shelves, and cracked red vinyl couches and armchairs.

“What is this place?” I ask, glancing around the room. “I thought we were going to some secret headquarters.” This can’t be where the Eclipsers meet, can it? I mean, it’s so … tacky.

“Well, you’re certainly as impatient as Mariah, I have to say,” Dawn comments wryly. He walks across the room and points to a three-foot-high wooden bear statue standing like a sentinel in the corner. “Do you recognize Melvin at least?”

“Melvin?” I repeat, staring at the bear. “Well, back on Earth I have a stuffed bear I call Melvin.”

Dawn’s eyes light up. “Really? That’s great. Maybe there is something left inside you,” he says excitedly.

I shrug, not wanting to disappoint him. “It’s just a stuffed animal. I mean, I wouldn’t read too much into it.”

But Dawn’s still talking. “You and I went up to the surface once,” he says. “We found this old resort by a dried-up lake. One of the crumbly places from back before the war. We wandered around a bit, until we came across an ancient wooden carving of a big brown bear. Obviously a relic of the prewar world.”

“But wasn’t that a long time ago? How could a wooden statue still remain intact?”

Dawn shrugs. “I don’t know. But that’s partially what made him so special to us.” He looks thoughtfully at the statue. “In any case, we named him Melvin. And you loved him so much that the next time I was aboveground I stole a log and smuggled it back down here. Had it de-radiated and did my best to carve you a replica.” His eyes shine as he relates the story. “Since then, Melvin here has always been a symbol of our revolution. A deified bear, if you will. Our symbol of hope. We know that no matter what happens down here, he’s waiting up on the surface, withstanding weather, age, and radiation—never doubting that someday mankind will return. He’s never given up faith after all these years, and so we decided neither should we.”

I watch as he tells the story, his fingers tracing over the wooden bear’s head. He’s so passionate, so happy in this memory of a time shared with his precious Mariah. I suddenly find myself wanting desperately to be able to share it with him. I search inside myself, trying to imagine a taller version of the bear, trying to remember a love and affection for him. But I come up blank. Empty.

“I wish I could remember Melvin,” I say wistfully.

Dawn walks over to me. “But don’t you see?” he asks. “You do. You named your stuffed bear on Earth after him. That’s too big to just be a coincidence. There must be something there, deep inside your subconscious. On some level you remember him. Maybe soon you’ll remember other things too.”

Or maybe not. But I can’t stand to crush Dawn’s glimmer of hope, so I keep my mouth shut.

“How did Melvin wind up here?” I ask, twirling around and gesturing to the tacky room. “Doesn’t look like much of a place for a god bear to take up residence.”

Dawn nods. “I agree completely. But you insisted. Said there would be no better guardian to keep the Eclipsers’ secret headquarters safe.” He walks back over to Melvin and presses two fingers into the bear’s slightly rounded tummy. The back wall slides open, revealing a secret passageway leading off into the darkness.

“Wow. Melvin’s a tricky little bear, isn’t he?” I say, impressed.

Dawn grins. “He is a wise and all-powerful bear, indeed.” He gestures me to follow him down the passageway. “Come on. We’re almost there.”

We walk down the hall, the wall sliding shut behind us. But for some reason I no longer feel frightened. After all, Melvin’s standing guard behind us. What could possibly happen on his watch?

Dawn pushes open a door and we enter what appears to be a small conference room made entirely of metal. Metal chairs, metal table—even the walls are shiny, slick, polished. Several people stand around the table, all dressed in black high-collared jackets like Dawn’s. They look up when we enter, voices trailing off into a hushed silence. They pause for a moment, and then one of them starts to clap. The others join in and soon the room is filled with applause, echoing off the metal floors and ceiling. I hover at the doorway, unsure how to react. Should I bow? Smile? Wave?

I catalog them quickly. Three women, four men, all of varying ages and looks, though a couple have the same glowing blue eyes as Dawn. I wonder if that’s some side effect from living underground. Maybe they have better night vision or something.

Before I can analyze further, I’m rushed by the mob, all of them evidently wanting to be first to give Mariah her welcome-home hug. Each seems determined not to have the others get a coherent word in edgewise, all talking over one another until I’m deafened by unintelligible babble.