Alternity (22 page)

I give a weak wave. What else can I do? I’m not cruel or selfish enough to disappoint a room full of poverty-stricken, mutant children.

“Mariah used to come here and read,” Dawn whispers. “Even with her busy schedule, she always made time to do it, at least once a week. And she brought the best stories with her. Stolen from the Indy libraries above.”

I nod, suddenly realizing what I should do. I take a step forward. “Well, guys,” I say. “I didn’t bring a book today, but if you like, I can tell you a little story.”

The kids cheer. Sister Anne smiles gratefully, standing up so that I can take her seat. I walk to the front of the room and sit down, facing the kids, letting their radiating joy beam onto me like sunshine as they wait with bated breath.

I smile back at them. “Once upon a time …”

I tell three stories—each taken from adventures created for the RealLife video game—my rapt audience begging for more each time I finish. Finally Sister Anne laughingly waves them down, saying that obviously Mariah has more important things to do and they need to let me get on with my day. I reluctantly agree, though I’d have stayed for another hour or two if she hadn’t intervened. I’ve never had such a captive audience.

I rise from my seat, wave good-bye to the children, then head to the back of the room where Dawn stands waiting, a small smile on his face. One of the children, a blond pigtailed pixie, runs over and throws her arms around my legs, squeezing me with a tiny fierceness.

“I knew you’d return, Sister Mariah,” she murmurs, refusing to let go. “I just knew it.”

Her words are almost too much. I shoot a look at Dawn, feeling the tears well in my eyes. He smiles at me, looking a tiny bit smug. So, this was his plan when he said he had to “show me a few things”? His clever way to convince me to stay?

He certainly is making it harder.

“What’s your name?” I ask the little girl.

“Crystal,” she says, then sticks a dirty thumb in her mouth.

“Well, Crystal, you study hard in school and someday you can grow up to be an Eclipser, too,” I tell her.

She grins from ear to ear and prances back to her classmates. “I’m gonna be an Eclipser,” she brags. “Sister Mariah told me so.”

We say our good-byes and exit the schoolhouse. I give one more longing glance as we board the hover bike. Those children, their faces so full of hope. What lives are they destined to lead?

“Can I show you one more thing before we go?” Dawn asks.

“Sure,” I say, giving in easily this time. The last thing I want to do right now is leave.

Our second destination turns out to be a secret underground greenhouse. The workers take the time to show me how they carefully cultivate plants and give them the artificial sunlight they need to survive underground. The greenhouses, like the schoolhouse, are illegal. The government doesn’t allow Dark Siders to grow their own food—they’re supposed to only eat rations grown on government-sanctioned farms. But rations are always being cut, the gardeners explain, and the old and sick Dark Siders are often left out completely. The government doesn’t seem to have a problem with starving their slave labor force once they’ve become superfluous.

“So Mariah decided it would be good if we created our own food to supplement rations. We stole the technology from the government-sanctioned places—after all, Dark Siders usually make up most of the labor—and started our own,” Dawn tells me. “Maybe someday we’ll be able to completely feed ourselves and not be dependent on them for food. That’ll be a major step toward our independence.”

“I’ll bet,” I say, walking up and down the rows of plants. “I can’t believe you can grow all this stuff underground.”

“They’re specially bred plants that don’t need as much light for photosynthesis.”

“Next thing you’re going to tell me is you have a whole hidden underground farm. With cows and horses.”

Dawn beams. “Now that you mention it …” He reaches for my hand. I hesitate a moment, then slide my fingers into his. “Come with me.”

We get back on the bike and zoom down another tunnel, this time going deeper underground. Finally, we come to what appears to be a dead-end, the passageway blocked by crumbling rubble, as if there was a cave-in long ago. Dawn parks his bike and motions for me to follow as he weaves through the boulder field. I keep up, wondering what on earth—make that Terra—he’s going to do when he arrives at the dead end.

“Where are you going?” I ask.

“You’ll see.”

He stops right in front of the massive wall of rubble. Then he turns around, winks at me, and steps right through! The rocks shimmer a moment, and suddenly I’m alone on the wrong side of the wall.

“Another optical illusion?” I ask, wondering if he can hear me on the other side.

He pops his head back through. The effect is more than a bit disconcerting. “Something like that,” he says. “Gotta hide our most valuable treasures any way we can.”

I take a deep breath, put out my hands, and take a step toward what looks like solid rock. Sure enough, my hand slides through easily and I manage to step to the other side with no effort at all.

“Huh,” I say, looking back. On this side, it appears as if there’s no barricade whatsoever. I can even see Dawn’s bike, parked down the road. “You guys really have thought of everything.”

“Well, Mariah believed if you have secrets as important as we have, we’d better do a damn good job hiding them,” Dawn says. He steps up to a massive steel door set into the wall, complete with a high-tech combination lock.

“No thumb sensor?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.

“No,” Dawn says. “Only a handful of people know the combination to this safe, and we change it every few weeks so that no one can give it away, even under torture. After all, a thumb can be amputated.” He turns the combination lock a few times and the door squeaks open. “Here we go.” He bows. “After you, m’lady.”

I step through the door and gasp as I realize what’s on the other side: a series of metal cages, cut into the caves. Each contains animals. Cow, goats, chickens. It’s a regular Old McDonald’s farm.

“Nice,” I say, wandering from cage to cage. “I haven’t seen an animal since I got to this place. Duske told me they were practically extinct.” I reach my hand between the bars to pat a docile pinto horse on the nose. “Hey, baby,” I coo. “Sorry I don’t have any carrots.”

I can feel Dawn come up behind me. “This was Mariah’s pride and joy,” he says. “Far beyond any of the petty tricks we’d play on the government. This is our real future here. Our own little Noah’s Ark.”

“Where did you get them?”

“We stole embryos from the government labs and grew them. They’re clones. One male and one female of each species.”

“But Duske said the animals are impotent. That they can’t breed.”

“Funny, that,” Dawn says, pointing to a tiny snow white lamb in one pen. “We haven’t had that problem. I think perhaps that’s just another one of the government’s lies. Another way to control us.”

I crouch to my knees to pet the lamb’s soft wool coat. “So, you’re breeding them?”

“Yup. We have six cows, fourteen sheep, and twenty-two goats. It’s not enough milk by far, but it does help with orphan babies who don’t have a wet nurse. And we’re widening the facilities in hopes to someday accommodate all of our children. Our ultimate goal is to someday have enough animals to use them for daily necessities—leather, food, that kind of thing.”

“It’s funny,” I say, getting up off my knees. “When you first said stuff like ‘rebellion’ and ‘revolution,’ all I could think of was
Star Wars
or something. You know, guns and battles and, well, light sabers and stuff.”

“Maybe someday,” Dawn says with a small smile. “But we’re not there yet. We’ve been stockpiling weapons, training soldiers, and creating complex computer defense barriers for Strata Two and Three. But we can’t let on to any of this before we’re fully operational. The Circle would simply send in their army and stamp us out—like they did the day Mariah disappeared. They set us back pretty far. But we’re still going. If we keep working as we have been, in a couple years perhaps we’ll be ready for the real action.”

He says the last bit with such intensity that I suddenly feel sad to think I won’t actually be here to see that day come. I bet the battle will be spectacular, with the dedicated, downtrodden Dark Siders rising up to finally take back their world.

“In the meantime,” Dawn continues, “we’re also putting effort into bettering the day-to-day lives of the Dark Siders. By introducing education, growing our own food, and raising animals, we can create a more habitable world that’s less dependent on this government. Healthy, happy, educated Dark Siders will be much better equipped when the final showdown does come.”

“You really have it all figured out,” I say with admiration.

Dawn nods. “But none of this would have ever happened without Mariah.”

“She must have been an amazing person.”

“Yeah. It’s easy for me to forget that sometimes. I’ve been so angry. But she really did do wonderful things for the people here. Set this whole revolution in motion. It’s just a shame it had to end as it did.”

Our discussion is interrupted by two Dark Siders dressed in belted tunics and loose cotton pants. They enter the room carrying a large crate, and set it down in the corner. They nod to us and then exit.

“New shipment,” Dawn says excitedly. “I wonder what they were able to steal this time.”

I look over at the cage, straining to see through the slats. I catch a tuft of grayish hair and hear a distinctive whimper. “That sounds like …”

A mournful howl echoes through the room.

“A dog!” I cry, running over to the cage. Dawn is right behind me. I get down on my knees and peer inside. Sure enough, a sweet-faced, blue-eyed Australian shepherd looks up at us, tongue lolling from his mouth.

“Wow,” Dawn exclaims. “I’ve never seen one of these before.”

I look up at him, surprised. “You’ve never seen a dog?” I ask, trying to keep the incredulity from my voice.

He blushes. “Well, in movies, sure. But never in real life. I figured they were wiped out during the war. Extinct.”

I can’t believe Dawn’s lived his whole life without the joy of a fuzzy nose nuzzling at his face, the friendly wag of a tail to greet him as he arrives home from work.

Definitely time to change that.

“Let him out of his cage!” I instruct, trying to hide my smile.

Dawn hesitates. “Well, I’m not sure that’s such a good idea,” he says. “We don’t really know what this animal is capable of and—”

“Trust me.”

He shrugs and complies, lifting the latch and freeing the Aussie. I stick two fingers in my mouth and whistle. The dog pads over, jumping up to put his forepaws on my shoulders, and starts licking my face with wild abandon. Poor thing. He’s been totally starved of attention.

“What is he doing?” Dawn asks, incredulously, staring at us.

I laugh. “Kissing me!” I gently set the dog back on the ground and glance around the room. I locate a small piece of rope lying in one corner. “Watch this.” I grab the rope and hurl it down the corridor. The dog runs after it, grabbing it in his mouth and bringing it back to me. He drops it by my feet. For a dog that’s been stuck in a government lab, his fetching instincts are evidently still very much intact.

“That’s incredible!” Dawn says. “How did he know to do that?”

I shrug. “He’s a dog. That’s what dogs do.”

Dawn grabs the rope and gives it a throw. The dog scampers after it, retrieving. But instead of dropping it at Dawn’s feet, he tosses the rope up in the air, letting it hit the ground, then grabbing it again for another toss.

“He wants to play tug-of-war,” I explain.

Dawn grabs the rope’s other end and pulls. The dog gets into a fighting position, teeth bared, defending his rope. Dawn drops the rope immediately, taking a leap back in surprise. “Er, I think I’m making him mad.”

I laugh. “No, no! He’s playing! That’s just play growling. Trust me.”

Dawn hesitantly grabs the end of the rope again. “I’m holding you responsible if he bites off my hand or something,” he warns.

“He won’t, I promise.”

A fierce tug-of-war ensues, the opponents seemingly evenly matched. Finally Dawn manages to wrench the rope away and throws it down the corridor. The dog bolts after it.

Dawn turns to me, his eyes shining. “I think I’m in love,” he says with a laugh. “This is better than I imagined.”

“What is his name?”

Dawn glances at the cage. “Um, they call him C-1-045-3.”

I wrinkle my nose. “That won’t do. We should name him.” I crouch down to scratch the pup’s ear. He drops the rope and leans his head against my hand, tail wagging happily. “Hmm,” I ponder.

“How about Noah?” Dawn suggests.

“Noah?”

“Yeah. Noah was in charge of the ark, right? Our Noah can watch over our underground one.”

I smile. “Perfect. Noah it is.” I ruffle the dog’s head.

“Want the rope?” Dawn asks the dog, grabbing it off the ground and waving it in the air. Noah’s eyes light up and he bounds forward. I watch Dawn watch Noah retrieve, my heart warming. There’s nothing like a boy and his dog.

We play with Noah for a while longer, alternating between fetch, tug-of-war, and wrestling. The dog is a complete goof, and soon we’re practically dying of laughter.

“I hope we can find Noah here a girlfriend,” Dawn says at last. “It’d be great if all Dark Siders could someday have a dog to play with.”

I nod. “That would be awesome. Talk about a morale booster.”

“So,” Dawn says, straightening up, his smile fading. “I guess that’s the end of the tour. I should take you back to Moongazer Palace. Unless,” he adds hopefully, “after this tour you’ve changed your mind about leaving us?”

My heart wrenches at the hopeful look on his face. “Look, Dawn,” I say, “I think you’re doing amazing things here. I really do. I’m impressed beyond belief. But that doesn’t change things for me. I still have to go home. I still have to return to my own life. I just can’t abandon my world, the same way you can’t abandon yours. I mean, what if I asked you to come back with me to Earth? Would you do it?”