Stories From the Shadowlands (24 page)

“Is he?” Henry asked.

The Judge was in front of Jim before he could back away. She moved so fast he couldn’t keep himself from flinching. “Do you deserve the Wasteland, Jim? Does it look like where you belong?”

What was he supposed to say to that? He’d done terrible things tonight, enough to be torn out of one kind of hell and offered another. “Isn’t that your decision to make?”

Her smile was close enough for him to see how sharp her teeth were, how their flat silhouettes curved to a razor-thin edge. “I think I’m going to give you a choice, Jim.”

Unable to tear his eyes from her teeth, Jim could only nod. She sank low, until he was forced to look at her eyes again. Her blond hair skimmed across his hands, which were spread across his thighs as he knelt before her. Every strand was like a prickling electric current, a deadly warning. “I’d be grateful for a choice,” he choked out.

She nodded. “Good. How would you like to accompany Henry here on a mission?”

Jim looked over at Henry again. The man was staring at the floor like it was his only hope. In front of him, the Wasteland waited, and Jim knew that if he walked forward, he would be there, in the shadow of those jagged, rocky peaks, his boots buried in the sand of that desert, wondering how long it would take for the vultures to decide he was their next meal. “Is that where you come from, Henry?”

Henry nodded, still staring at the floor. Jim’s gaze slid down to the guy’s feet, which were wrapped in tattered rags, but his pants… they were faded fatigues. This guy was a Guard. And he’d come to take Jim with him on a mission. Great. “Can you keep me from getting eaten by those birds?”

Jim should have known better than to try to be friendly. Henry’s eyes stabbed over to his, making Jim sit back on his heels. His expression suggested he’d like to feed Jim to one of those birds. And that he was probably dangerous enough to succeed. Jim rose to his feet and looked at the Judge. “That’s my choice? Head off into this Wasteland place by myself, or go with this guy?” He jabbed his thumb at Henry. “Because no disrespect, Your Honor, but I’m thinking maybe I’ll be better off alone.”

Henry laughed, short and rustling, like dead leaves in a dry breeze. “You
would
think that.” He sobered and turned to the Judge. “If this mission is as critical as you say it is, are you sure he’s the one to take?”

The Judge rose up and rotated slowly. “Are you doubting my judgment?”

Henry bowed his head quickly. “No sir.”

Jim tilted his head. There was no mistaking the Judge for a man. Unless… unless this was just one more illusion. He rubbed his eyes and looked around, expecting to see something different, expecting the pristine white to dull and fade. He suddenly wondered if he was actually locked in the Quiet Chamber right now, if maybe he’d gone crazy already, and this was the result. If so, he might as well make the most of it. “You know what I’d prefer?” he said. “I think I’d like to go home. Can you make that appear for me? I miss it.”

This time, the Judge’s laughter was a blade right through his marrow, through the soft tissues of his chest and gut and brain. It rang inside his head, liquefying his thoughts. He moaned at the pain and doubled over, expecting whatever was left inside him to come flowing from his nose and mouth. Finally, she spoke. “As I told you the first time we met, the human capacity for self-delusion is limitless, and you are proof of that. You have no idea what I’m offering you, darling, but that’s to be expected. Stand up.”

And because she said it, suddenly he could. As soon as he straightened up, she was in front of him again. “I’m not sending you on a mission to the Wasteland.”

“You’re not?”

She shook her head. “I’m sending you to a place almost as dangerous, but I think it will be exactly what you need. Better for you than the Blinding City, maybe.”

He took a step back. “And if I say no…”

She made a graceful wave of her hand toward the Wasteland. As he watched, a huge, wolf-like creature loped by, carrying a human leg in its jaws.

“I’m yours to command,” he said hoarsely.

Her eyes shone with a predatory glint. “Yes, you are.” She crooked a finger toward Henry. “Come here.”

Henry obeyed.

“You will have a new Captain there, and I expect you to follow orders. You will be armed by Michael and supplied with necessities by Raphael. Do well on this mission and your sentences may be commuted. Do poorly…” She smiled as her eyes slid toward the Wasteland.

He and Henry nodded. There was nothing else to say. This was not how he had expected this day to go. His churning thoughts went silent when the Judge laid her hand on the side of his face, sending deep, painful prickles along his jaw. He glanced over to see she was doing the same thing to Henry. “Good luck,” she said, and then everything disappeared.

Jim opened his eyes. He was sitting on an old, green couch in a small living room. Grey light filtered into the room through lacy orange curtains. Henry sat in a reclining chair to his right, looking dazed. He blinked slowly, then planted his feet on the floor and stood up. With a halting, uncertain pace, he made his way over to the window and parted the curtains. Jim got up and joined him, peering out onto a wooden front porch, and beyond that, a grassy front yard with a huge, leafless tree at its center.

“My God,” Henry said in a whisper. “I think we’re back.”

Jim glanced over at Henry, who was staring out at the scene, his eyes wide as dinner plates. “Back where? This isn’t the Countryside.”

Henry gave him a funny, almost pitying look. “Of course it isn’t. But you’ve been here before.”

“I have? Which city is this, then? What are the people like here?” It would be good to know what they were dealing with. The Judge had been rather stingy with details.

The pitying look did not leave Henry’s face, even as he let out a dry, rustling laugh. “The people… there’s every kind of person here.”

“Where are we?”

Henry gave Jim a sad smile. “She sent us back to the land of the living. We’re on Earth, kid.”

Translated from Malachi’s Journal: In the Land of the Living

Day 25550
Day 1 [Note: Land of Living]

This is a new notebook, and I am in a new place. So many things have happened. I feel as if I have lived a lifetime in the space of a few hours.

I am in the land of the living. I am
alive
. I knew the Judge would punish me for being so defiant, but I did not expect this.

I am in America. In a small state called Rhode Island, in a town called Warwick. I have asked Raphael to provide me with maps so I can fully understand where I am located, because my knowledge of American geography is somewhat limited. He said perhaps Lela could help with that.

She is here. Raphael told me she goes to school, and that he is taking me there shortly to register me as a student. An “exchange student.” A person from another country, here to learn American culture. It seems like the perfect thing. I can’t believe I’m going to be allowed to go to school. He said I didn’t have to, but I jumped at the opportunity.

He has provided me with clothes. They are not what I am used to. But he says they will make me look like everyone else, and I suppose that is good, like when I dressed like a resident of the dark city to fool the Mazikin.

Raphael asked if I wanted him to tell Lela I was here, but I begged him not to. I want to find her myself. I want to see how she looks when she realizes I’m here, too. I need to know if she thinks this is a good thing or not, and her face always gives her feelings away. She’s not good at hiding them.

I’m trying so hard not to let my hopes fly away with my logic, but right now, those hopes have grown wings.

Day 2

I have so much to learn. I had no idea how much the world has changed.

Lela is trying to help me. This amuses her, I can tell. She is so comfortable here and understands how everything works. Our roles have been completely reversed, and it is painfully clear why the Judge chose to make her the Captain. The list of things I do not know is miles long. A few things:

Cars. They are faster, quieter, smoother, and plainer than I remember. Lela has a small one called a Corolla. It changes gears all by itself. I thought this must be a very special thing, but she said that most cars are like that. The cars here do run on gas, but you must put that in the car yourself and pay with a special plastic card. You must wear a type of harness called a “seatbelt.” Lela says it is the law, so that people don’t die in a crash. I am amazed that there are laws of this type.

Telephones. They do not have cords or wires anymore. They are so small that the entire device can fit in one’s pocket, and everybody seems to have their own private telephone. There is no rotary dial, no operator—instead you must enter a number (each phone is assigned one) by pressing buttons, except some phones do not have buttons but only pictures of buttons on a smooth screen. Even more strange, these telephones can do many things, and they are not just used for calling people. Lela says that society would not function without telephones like this, and that many people cannot live without them, though I’m not quite sure what she means. Sometimes she talks so fast, and it almost sounds as if she’s speaking a different language, one I don’t know. I ask many questions, but I’m afraid she’ll think I’m an idiot if I ask too many at once.

Computers. And “the Internet.” This is an amazing thing. These are machines that can do nearly everything, and connect everyone. It’s so difficult to describe. One would think they would be massive, considering what they can do, but they are often tiny, sometimes only the size of a notebook. Lela tells me some kids at her school even have telephones that function as computers. She calls them “smart phones.” The name seems apt. So. Computers. There is a screen, like a television screen, but flat and small, and there are some screens that you can touch, and the screen seems to know what you want it to do. Only some screens have this capability, though. Others are controlled with a “keyboard,” rather like a typewriter’s, except apparently typewriters do not exist anymore.

I’ll have to try to describe more later. This afternoon Lela said she was going to teach me how to use a device in the kitchen called a “microwave” because she’s afraid I will starve. She also says she will teach me how to use something called “Google Maps” and another thing called “Face Book.”

She says this Face Book already has pictures of the two of us in it, but that doesn’t seem possible to me. How could a book have been published with our faces in it when I just arrived here yesterday?

She was happy to see me, by the way. So happy that she pounced on me, and we nearly fell down, and I kissed her in front of other people and it felt wonderful and shameless and freeing. I can’t believe I’m here. I can’t believe I’m here
with her
.

Day 3

I asked Raphael to acquire a computer for me, and he has. Lela began showing me how to use it yesterday evening. I had trouble concentrating
because we were here alone and she smells good and looks even better and all I wanted to do was kiss her
but today I have practiced using this computer by myself, and so far I have not broken it. Lela said she couldn’t come over until later, because her foster mother is concerned about her. She said she needed to spend time at home “looking obviously sane.” But when she does come over, I think she will be impressed with what I’ve learned to do.

This Google Maps is really quite amazing. I won’t have to make any maps here, because they are already made, and all I have to do is memorize them. Lela gave me a list of places we may patrol and I can type the names into a small box and the computer shows me a map of the place, and a picture if I use this small device called a mouse (it actually does bear some resemblance to the creature, but the “tail” is a wire that connects it to the computer) to move an arrow on my screen.

And here is something funny: Facebook (it is one word) is not a book at all. It is another thing on the computer, a seemingly endless labyrinth of messages and pictures and “likes” (another thing you can use the mouse to do). It reminds me of the dark city, actually. It is easy to get lost or to wander into an alley full of strange, sad people who are all very absorbed in their own suffering. But Lela says I must know how to navigate it, and many other similar computer things, because that is how people communicate. She told me it might end up being useful. The way her lip curls when she says it, like she’s teasing me—every time she does that, my mind goes blank, except for the thought of kissing her.

At some point very soon, I will need to get control of this feeling. We are not here to go to school. We are not here to be together. We are Guards, and we have a mission. It is so easy to forget in this world, full of color and noise and constant distraction. And Lela. But I must remember. The best thing I can do for her is help her eliminate the threat here.

After that, we will see. But I can think of no better motivation than the possibility of a life in this place.

Day 4

School. Students are not as disciplined as was expected the last time I attended. These telephones they carry are a constant source of distraction. And the clothes they wear—girls wear things that reveal their bodies in ways that I would never have thought acceptable, but is apparently the norm. It is somewhat shocking. Also a bit distracting.

Lela dresses comparatively modestly, and she walks the halls as if she expects to be attacked. No one at this school seems very threatening, though. In fact, most of them seem quite friendly. They ask me a lot of questions. I need to do more research to make sure my stories are adequate.

I have homework, but it does not seem that difficult. However, I am a bit rusty, reading and writing in English. A few young ladies have already offered to help tutor me, but I think it is best to avoid that situation for now. Lela got a somewhat murderous look in her eye when I mentioned that, and though it felt magnificent to know that she wants me, I have no desire to cause her stress.

Besides, none of them can compare to her. No matter what she wears, or where she is. It was true in the dark city, and it is true here.