Both Ripley and the shadow ignored Syn and turned toward the makeshift throne. No, they were looking past the throne to a door that had opened on the left. A figure walked toward them, silhouetted by the red, flickering light pouring from the doorway.
Syn’s mouth hung open for just a second before she let loose a shriek, formed more from surprise than fear.
This reaction was met by a roar of laughter from Ripley.
Syn ignored it and stared ahead in shock.
What had entered the room from the door, bathed in red light, was Syn herself.
There, standing a few feet from her, was Syn. The same dark eyes. The same dark skin. The same dark cloud of hair. No—that wasn’t right. This Syn wore her hair in tiny, braided dreads that hung from her head and draped down her back. Each was wire thin and pulled straight. She stood the same height as Syn, but the long braids made her seem quite tall. She was draped in white with red ribbons hanging from her shoulders, like some cape. They flowed around her like feathers. Instead of the nine orange dots on Syn’s face, this girl had two white squares perfectly painted under each eye and a square of white in the center of her bottom lip.
The word Syn was searching for was regal. Despite the voice, this girl stood like royalty. Her shoulders were square, her back straight. She stood motionless and wore an expression of slight amusement. Or irritation. The turn at the corner of the girl’s mouth made it uncertain.
The Queen. This had to be the Crimson Queen. She was splendid and frightening through and through.
“Is she your guest, Kerwen?” the Crimson Queen spoke.
Syn found herself mesmerized by the familiarity of facial movements. Syn had played and quoted lines from movies in front of mirrors. She knew each twitch and muscle movement of her own face, and the girl speaking now could have stepped out from a mirror herself. Everything about her was an identical duplication of Syn. Yet, something was absent. Despite the hint of amusement on the Crimson Queen’s lips, her eyes were thin and threatening.
“Yes, she is. I found her out amongst the dunes south of the bots’ new encampment in the settlements. She had been fightin’ one of the thudders. Walked right into it.” It was Ripley who spoke. The Queen had called her Kerwen. Was her name Ripley or Kerwen? Syn also noticed that Ripley hadn’t mentioned anything about Huck, Bear, or Arquella.
Ripley then lifted her hand to the side of her face and loosened the mask covering her nose and mouth. The dirty black cloth fell from her face and revealed her features for the first time—another copy of Syn’s own face. There were three of her. Ripley looked at Syn and grinned, gave a tiny laugh and mouthed, “Surprise.”
Syn spun, taking a few steps back from all of them. “Who…What’s…” Her words choked in her throat. This has to be a nightmare.
The shadowed girl stepped forward and fell into the dull light. She was far thicker than the others—all muscle. Pure brute and raw strength. Yet, in the light, Syn saw the resemblance again. The third one looked just like Syn too. Just like the others. Her head was shaved to a short stubble. Her face was scribbled with several tattoos or words and phrases in a language Syn didn’t recognize. Or perhaps she did—maybe it was something she had seen way in the back of some instructional video from Earth.
The larger copy stepped forward. Her skin was dirty, and her expression determined.
The muscled girl jumped at Syn, stopping a few inches from Syn’s face and shouted, “Boo!”
Syn jumped back, spied a ceramic cup on the table, and through instinct, chucked it hard at the larger one. The girl fell back but managed to catch the cup just before it smacked her forehead. She crushed it in her hand, then roared and charged at Syn.
Ripley grasped the other on both her arms, pulling her back to stand with the other two copies of Syn and yelled, “Taji! Stop!”
The lumbering, large girl Syn now knew as Taji took a step back and clenched her fists. She glanced over through narrow eyes at the soft-voiced copy. “Neci?” she asked, teeth gritted and her voice like a soft rumble.
The regal Neci, the one Syn was certain was the Crimson Queen, took one more step forward. Syn could never walk that gracefully. Neci was like a cat. Like a tiger. She purred, “She’s scared. This is all a big surprise for her.” She moved closed to Syn and whispered, “It’s okay. You’re safe here.” She put a hand near Syn’s cheek.
Syn took a step back, avoiding the touch.
Ripley said, “Syn, meet Neci and Taji.”
Syn finally managed a sentence, “Who are you? Why do you…”
Neci glided the back of her hand against Syn’s grimy hair. “You’re filthy. Are you thirsty? Hungry?”
Again, without wanting it to, Syn’s stomach rumbled at the thought of food. The apple had done nothing to satisfy her. Yet, Syn shook her head no.
“A bit untruthful, eh?” Neci said. She moved her fingers to Syn’s cheek and touched her with a soft graze. An electric sensation ran through Syn. She had never touched another living human. Not like this—not where they weren’t trying to kill her. Not someone so human. The burlys, if they had ever been human, didn’t count. No. Their murderous grabbing was nothing to this. This was kindness and something more. As if someone had managed to flood under her skin and wrapped their warmth into some magic that poured through Syn like hot water. She staggered, drunk on the sensation.
And then she froze. The touch had been as unnerving as it was wonderful.
Neci stared deep into her eyes. “Where have you been?”
Syn started to talk, “I…I came from…” But something told her to not talk. Who knows what they would do if she started talking? What did they know? What did they not know? Why had they taken Blip? Syn wanted more answers before she gave any.
Syn shook her head. “No.” She took a step forward. “I want answers.”
“I think what you really want is a shower and a glass of water and a large dinner and possibly a nice bed. Would that be more correct? You don’t seem at all to be in the condition to grasp what’s happening here, even if we did tell you everything.” Neci turned and started toward the back of the room. The two burlys there stood up straight and separated as if to flank her. “Kerwen, do we have a room available?”
Ripley said, “Well, I think there’s one out in Stralia, near the old reptile dens that’s…”
A tiny, demure voice, spoke from the darkness. A girl’s voice—new and different. A fourth one. “There’s a room next to me in the big cats’ caves. I keep it clean. She can stay there.” From the hallway to her right, through the entrance Syn had used, a slim version of the others, a copy just like the other three, stepped forward. Dressed in a pale, yellow dress with several large, unraveled holes, a thin girl stood, her shoulders slumped, her eyes to the ground. Of the three others, she resembled Syn the most. Her hair was hung like Syn’s—loose, long, unkempt, and floating around like a cloud.
Taji chuckled, “We didn’t bring you home a dolly to play with, Pigeon.”
The little girl winced at this but kept her eyes down.
Neci paused before exiting. “Promise to be nice to this one, Pigeon?”
There was another wince at the name, but the girl named Pigeon muttered, “I promise.”
Neci nodded. “You too, Taji.”
The big girl only grunted an affirmation.
Neci continued, “The room next to Pigeon. Kerwen, show her the way. Draw her a bath. Dinner will be in three hours. And post a golem outside.”
Riply said, “Can do.”
Golem? Syn wondered. The burlys. They had called them golems. Syn remembered the word from some movie or story—stone giants brought to life. No mind. No soul.
Taji had already turned and was walking out the other way, toward the street entrance. Neci shouted, “And Taji?”
The muscled copy stopped and shut her eyes.
Neci didn’t wait for a response, “Fix the table before dinner.” With that, she exited, the two burlys—two golem—falling in h
er wake.
The room grew numb. No one spoke. Syn was not sure anyone breathed.
After a long, cold minute, Ripley smiled. “Well, that was a pleasant homecoming, wasn’t it?”
Taji slammed her fist against a pillar along the door frame. It shook. She grunted and stomped out of the room to the outside.
“That one’s just a bit aggressive. Bit of an anger problem. It’s all good. She’ll soon be treating you like just another sister.”
“Sister?” Syn said.
Ripley motioned. “Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up. I think I have some clothes that’ll fit.” She laughed at this. “Oh, and call me Kerwen.”
Syn followed and looked around for the other one, the thin girl named Pigeon. She was nowhere to be seen. She had faded completely away, just like she had entered.
As she was ushered away, Syn glanced back, scanning the concrete floor for her spear. But it was gone. Lost in some dark shadow.
28
A Nice, New Word
“Maturity is a series of shattered illusions.”
—Levar Burton
As she followed Kerwen out of the spires, small parts of what Zondon had been before revealed themselves. The first was the large stone wall with the letters J, U, N, G, and L on it. Syn thought it was to spell “Jungle”, but the E had gone missing. Underneath this, at eye-level, was a wooden sign whose original letters had faded to almost be unreadable. With effort, Syn made sense of them. ANIMALS. CHILDRENS PLAYGROUND. NATURE CENTER. With a large arrow pointing to the left.
They passed a fenced-in area with a large tree structure that was obviously artificial. Different articles of clothing draped across the branches. Shirts, jeans, socks. The four girls had been using this as a place to dry clothes.
Beyond that, they came to a false stone structure with three cave entrances carved into the outside. Syn now knew she had been here before. The painted sign above the caves confirmed her suspicion. It read BIG CATS. And then below it, read LIONS AND TIGERS.
Syn blurted the realization out, “This is the Zoo.” Or at least it had been this Disc’s Zoo. So much had been boarded over and fencing had been torn down and moved to other places. It was dark, and there was no sound of the animals here.
She now understood why the paths didn’t light up. The Zoo on her side, in her world, didn’t respond to her presence either. The thought put her at ease as understood the reason now. No, she reminded herself, I can’t think of it like that. My world is this world. We’re in one world. Both Discs. She imagined that this must be what Lucy had felt like going through the wardrobe. Or Eve leaving Eden into Nod. Something dark and terrible waiting. Something with a crown and fangs.
Kerwen tapped the wall. “It surely was. And fortunately for us. Kept us from going hungry for a long time.”
Syn shuddered at Kerwen’s meaning. They had eaten the animals.
Kerwen pointed to a dark entrance with the word TIGER over it. “That’s yours. The runt lives right next door.” She pointed to the entrance with LION painted above. “See you at dinner. Know how to make your way back?”
Syn glanced down the path behind and nodded.
“Good.” Kerwen walked away but looked back over her shoulder. “Don’t try leaving just yet. You won’t get out. But don’t be late. She hates when people are late.”
Syn nodded affirmation and then entered the grotto, pushing against a lightweight door that had been hung haphazardly just inside the faux-cave’s entrance.
She had expected to find bales of straw and bones and a mess. Instead, it resembled an actual room. Whoever had lived here before had gone to great work to make it feel normal. The room was clean. It wasn’t the scrubbed hominess of Arquella’s house, but it was far nicer than Syn had expected since arriving at Zondon Almighty. The city was so rundown, so forgotten, and far opposite of the bots’ perception of the place, that she had expected to find a floor mat in a dirt room. Surprisingly, there were boards below her feet.
The room was not crafted with flat walls. This was meant to feel like a cave where a wild animal would feel comfortable. A narrow entrance opened into the vast space that served as the bedroom. Syn followed a passage near the rear of the space to discover a makeshift bathroom. Against the far wall, oddly out of place, stood a white porcelain bathtub. Above it was an overhead pipe sliced open and a single nozzle that turned the water on when pulled down. A bucket with a hole in the bottom placed under another faucet served as a sink. It wasn’t great, but it would work.
She contemplated taking a nap but eyed the shower head. Oh, to be clean.
The water was so hot it turned to steam as it splashed against the porcelain tub. This bathtub had been dragged from somewhere else. Perhaps one of the upper settlements. It was ornate, out of place, and Syn loved it.
The bed was a set of two mattresses stacked one atop another. She ran her hand over the comforter. It was soft. She felt tired suddenly. Perhaps a short nap before dinner.
She fell forward onto the bed and bounced with a slight giggle. She laid naked on top of the bed and felt herself melt into the bedding.
She probably didn’t have time for a nap, she thought. How long had she been in the shower? More than just a few minutes. It had taken her awhile to just get undressed after Kerwen had walked her over. Before crawling in the bathtub, Syn had checked every wall. She hadn’t wanted surprises. The main room had a roof, and she had discovered a tiny lamp in the corner, which, when she had turned it on, illuminated everything in an orange glow. After searching every possible place, for what she couldn’t determine, Syn had returned to the bathroom and the filling bathtub, taken her grubby clothes off and stepped into the hot water. It hit her skin, and she had unwound. Not just a sense of relaxation, but the release of fear and panic and other emotions she was still struggling to name. She had cried and let the water wash her tears down the drain. They had lasted only a few minutes, and she had found herself energized as she stood there. She had glanced down to see a swirl of dirt and blood whirl around the hole in the tub. Blood. Her blood. The burly’s blood. The dust from the walk in the desert. The grease from fixing the line of bots. And the remaining grime was a collection of so many different things she had encountered
Maybe a half hour under the water. Maybe longer.
It didn’t matter. She was clean, and she floated on the bed.
Kerwen’s voice came up from memory. Sisters. It was a word that she had never thought would have meaning for her. She wasn’t sure exactly what it meant now. But there was a weight to it that she had never known. She’d had friends—well, she had a friend. Blip. She’d had pets. And now the bots of the Ecology—whatever they were to her, she was not certain.
But…Sisters.
She tried the word out, muttering softly, “Sisters.”
From the door, the tiny voice of Pigeon spoke. “Don’t believe them.”
Syn sat up and pulled the loose comforter over her naked body. Pigeon stood in the closed room. Syn hadn’t heard the door open. She hadn’t heard it close. She hadn’t heard the girl enter or breathe or step or anything.
“What are you doing in here?” Syn asked.
Pigeon put her hand on the door’s lock and flipped it open. “I just thought you should know.” She began to step out.
Syn leaped from the bed and slammed the door shut, blocking the thin girl’s exit. “Know what?”
Pigeon showed no fear and no worry. “Dinner is being brought out. You’re expected.”
“Is that what you came to tell me?”
Pigeon put her hand on the door knob. “Please, I must return.”
“Who are you?” Syn glanced at her own hand and at the hand of girl across from her. “Why do you look like me?”
Pigeon shook her head. “It’s not my place. Please.” Her eyebrows narrowed, and she bit her lower lip. Worry. The girl wasn’t frightened of Syn. But she was afraid of the others. Neci, perhaps. Taji, likely.
Pigeon opened the door and ste
pped through.
Syn mumbled, “I’ll be right there.”
Pigeon looked back and mouthed, “Don’t trust them,” before shutting the door.
Syn stood there alone, still dripping. A shiver ran through her, and she wasn’t sure if it was the cold air and her damp body or the creepy little copy of herself.
Perhaps both.
29
The Queen of Olorun
“But I don’t want to go among mad people," Alice remarked.
"Oh, you can’t help that," said the Cat: "We’re all mad here. I’m mad. You’re mad."
"How do you know I’m mad?" said Alice.
"You must be," said the Cat, "or you wouldn’t have come here.”
—Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland
Syn’s expectation for family dinners were formed from movies. The father would sit at one end. The mother at the other. The dog sniffed between the children’s feet in hopes that one would start feeding him under the table. The kids would find subtle ways to jab at each other. What started as a still, awkward conversation would slowly grow to bickering and then an outright fight. Ultimately, one of them would stalk off from the dinner table. Usually, the teenager fulfilled this role, while the rest of the family stayed quiet until they heard the conclusive slamming of the bedroom door. Oh, there were other versions. In some, there would be shenanigans. The dinner wouldn’t be fully cooked. In one comedy, the turkey had come back to life and flapped around the kitchen, scattering feathers everywhere. In the more serious ones, there would be undertones of murder and rage. Perhaps someone would hint that they were going to brutally kill the other while they slept. Or maybe they’d suggest that they had deep levels of resentment for something that had happened far in the past and that only part of the family knew. Whatever the scenario, the dinner table was always the nexus of drama in the films.
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