by Gregory Mone
“Sorry,” he whispered. “Won’t happen again.”
But it would happen again. She was certain of that.
They’d passed their first test, sure. But the city would be different, and they were getting closer with each step. The tunnel widened. The ceiling was now higher overhead. Doors began appearing in the walls, too. Homes carved into the rock, she explained in a whisper. More and more people pushed around and past them in the widening space. Lewis and Hanna stayed bent over constantly now, trying to seem smaller. Kaya tapped her earpiece to check the time and her messages. Another one from Rian, asking for an update. He sounded excited and nervous at once; she’d have to respond and tell him what she’d found. Who she’d found. Maybe he’d even be able to help. There were still no messages from her dad, though. And the earpiece’s announcement of the time annoyed her. The day was nearly over. Her grandmother would be expecting her home in only a few hours.
That wasn’t going to happen.
There were more and more windows carved into the rock overhead as they went along. The two Sun People were glancing all around but trying not to stare. A wave of shouts and music and cries of laughter and roars of anger rumbled toward them through the alleyway. The sounds of Edgeland.
A mix of excitement and fear rushed through her as they stumbled into the large and crowded city square. The smart choice would have been to keep moving. To press ahead and find this Gogol person as quickly as possible. But what if she were visiting their world for the first time? Would she want to be rushed? She couldn’t resist letting them stop, even just for a moment, to drink in the scene. Kaya watched their faces as they studied their surroundings, and the Sun People were practically shining with wonder.
10
Escape from Edgeland
Lewis had to go to the bathroom again. Going in the water back at that aquafarm had felt wrong—maybe they drank that stuff. And sure, he could ask Kaya to find him a toilet, but this didn’t really seem like the right time. Plus, this Edgeland place was super cool. He felt like he’d jumped through a wormhole and popped out in some alien city in another galaxy.
Hundreds of small, pale, large-eyed Atlanteans shoved and angled their way through the crowded city center. There weren’t any buildings, really. Just rock walls that rose up all around them with doors and windows cut into the stone, balconies and signs sticking out, and stores packed in next to each other, carved into the rock on the ground floor. Rusting metal booths and stalls were spread all over the city center, too. Lewis hadn’t been to many cities in his life. His mom and Roberts had taken him and his brother to the new inland U.S. capital once a few years earlier. The buildings there towered so high they disappeared into the clouds. But here in Atlantis, the walls all leaned toward one another near the top and merged to form an arching ceiling. He shook his head. This really was a perfect place for a parade. He could picture the confetti drifting down as people cheered his name. And Hanna’s, too. And maybe his dad’s. But mostly they’d chant, “Lew-is! Lew-is!”
And the people—well, Lewis couldn’t decide if they looked like they were dressed for a medieval movie or a science fiction flick. Or both. He’d guessed Atlanteans would wear sparkly clothes. Sequins. He’d thought they’d be tall and long and beautiful. Or maybe they’d have scales, and shiny little bubbles would drift out of their mouths when they spoke. Nope. More than a few of these Atlanteans were covered with scars and sores and volcanic pimples. An old man walking past him coughed, and Lewis worried about catching some weird Atlantean flu.
Most of the Atlanteans were dressed in brown and gray tattered rags. A few wore the same kind of clothes as Kaya, but in shades of blue and silver. And sure, maybe he was a little stuck on the whole barefoot thing, but none of them wore shoes! All of Atlantis, or all that he’d seen, went barefoot. He pointed to Hanna’s squelching-wet sneakers and socks. She crouched down and slipped them off, then tossed them into a garbage bin.
A small woman with a crooked back turned and yelled at them.
Kaya let go of the tank, hurried over to the bin, and fished out Hanna’s socks and sneakers. She held them at arm’s length. They were dripping and covered in some kind of purple ooze.
“What’s wrong?” Hanna asked.
“That was a pot!” Kaya explained. “She’s selling soup.”
Lewis laughed. “Now with a faint aroma of sock.”
Kaya tossed Hanna’s foot rags into an actual garbage bin and hurried them forward.
Lewis glanced back. After a quick taste of her soup, the old woman nodded and shrugged. Maybe the sneakers had added a little kick.
The stone floor was warm under his feet, the air thick and humid. The stalls and stores were full of weirdness. Dried strands of green and brown seaweed hung in one window, the bodies of several monstrous, scaly, wide-eyed fish in another. Did Atlanteans eat that stuff? One shop sold all different types and sizes of tablets like the one Naxos had back in his workshop. Lewis had to yank on Hanna’s shirt to keep her from rushing inside to check out the Atlantean gadgets.
A few musicians sitting in the middle of the town center banged out rhythms on drumlike instruments, providing a background beat to the shouts and chatter. Behind steamy windows, Lewis could see men and women pressing close to each other, drinking from dull metal cups. Between the shops and stores, wide paths and narrow alleyways snaked through the towering stone walls. He didn’t see anyplace that looked like a bathroom, though.
An old lady leaned out of a window above them and tossed a bucket of greenish-brown slop into the alley. It splattered on the ground.
“Gross,” Hanna muttered. “Some of that got between my toes.”
“People just toss their trash into the street?” Lewis asked.
“Not in my neighborhood,” Kaya replied. “We have a garbage chute. But the slop doesn’t stay for long, anyway. Water runs through at night to clean everything. I’ll tell you more later. We should move.”
Hanna elbowed him and pointed up. High above the highest windows, a man drifted through the air.
“What the—”
A vehicle the size of a hovercar flew in the opposite direction, just below the ceiling of the enormous cave.
No, not flew.
Floated.
The thing had no fans, and it moved without effort. “How is that . . . what are they . . .” Lewis looked at Hanna, but she was so awestruck by the strange floating machine that she couldn’t even spit out a response. “Is that magic?” Lewis asked.
“Magic?” Kaya asked. “What’s magic? That’s a basic gravity drive.”
“Sure,” Hanna said with a shrug. “No big deal. You’ve just figured out how to control gravity.”
“You haven’t?”
“No,” Hanna answered. “Kaya, I’m going to need to know . . . well, everything about this gravity drive thing. Okay?”
“Once we’re safe. My dad will be able to explain it better than I can, anyway.”
Lewis pointed back to the people in the window with the metal cups. He lowered his voice to a whisper.
“What are they drinking?”
“Them? Probably fermented kelp.”
“Gross,” Hanna said.
But even gross sounded good. Lewis was so parched he’d drink out of a backwashed water bottle, a bird bath, maybe even the ceramic tank at the back of a toilet. Fermented kelp? Sure. “What does it taste like?”
“Probably nasty,” Kaya said. “But we’re too young to drink it, anyway. You’re thirsty?”
Hanna nodded. “Thoroughly.”
Kaya pulled a water bottle out of her backpack and tossed it to Hanna, then stopped at a wheeled cart with several display cases. A woman with different-colored eyes, one blue and the other silver, stood up from her stool. Lewis watched Kaya. What was she doing? Buying jewelry? He wanted a drink and a toilet, not a necklace. He grabbed the bottle from Hanna. The water was cool, with a slight mineral tang, and absolutely delicious. Hanna snatched it back before he finished. “Wha
t’s she doing?” he asked.
Hanna held her finger to her lips, reminding him to be quiet. The display cases, he realized, were packed with hundreds of earplugs. Kaya haggled with the vendor, pointing to different models and shaking her head. Finally she reached into her pocket, counted out several coins, and passed them to the woman. Then she picked three pairs of earplugs out of the case. She removed them from the packaging and pressed them against her own earplugs, one at a time. Next, she handed a pair to Hanna and another to Lewis, along with small square patches that looked like Band-Aids. She was probably saving the largest earplugs for his dad.
“Pop these in, and stick the patch to your throat.”
Hanna was beaming with excitement. “These are translators?”
The earplugs were covered with some kind of crust. Lewis realized too late that Hanna had cleaned hers off first. That would’ve been smart. Who knew where his earplugs had been, what kinds of strange Atlantean earwax they’d picked up as other shoppers tried them out. But they fit snugly, at least. The patch, too. It briefly vibrated against his skin. “Weird,” he whispered.
“Naxos and I trained our translators on you,” Kaya explained, “but we can’t afford to do that with everyone we meet. I just linked yours with mine, so they have all the latest language updates. This way, you’ll understand pretty much everyone you meet in Atlantis, and the patch will alter your speech so everyone can understand you, too.”
“Let me guess—you don’t know how these work, either?” Hanna asked.
Kaya shrugged. Hanna sighed.
“Where are you from?” the vendor asked.
Her voice was odd, but Lewis understood her.
Whoa.
Wait.
He understood another Atlantean!
He was about to answer, but Kaya pushed Lewis ahead into the crowd. “We’re attracting too much attention.”
They wound their way across the city center, staying close to Kaya as she pulled the tank.
Ahead of them, Lewis noticed a line of adults and kids outside a shop. A wide, short woman walked out with some kind of wrap in her hands. She peeled back what looked like foil and chomped down. Now he wasn’t just thirsty. He was starving. A vision of a chicken burrito stuffed with cheese and slathered in green chili sauce appeared in his mind. He could almost taste the deliciousness. Then he pictured the imaginary burrito, so beautiful in his vision, suddenly sprouting legs and running away, taunting him, shouting in some strange language not even his Atlantean translator could decode.
Apparently he needed to eat. “What about that place? Can we get some food?”
“Lewis, she said we need to move.”
“Right, but—”
Kaya stopped and turned to face him. “Please,” she said. “We’re not safe here. If people start to notice—”
A thump against the glass of the tank. His father could still hear them. And he was, if Lewis had to guess, begging his son to stop talking. But Lewis was starving! And he still needed a bathroom, and his head was bursting with questions. How could he not ask about everything he was seeing, hearing, even smelling? Yes, the place even smelled different. Sort of like the stone wall outside his house after a heavy rain.
His house. Now he thought of his mom. Michael. Roberts.
Had they gotten his message?
Did they know he was safe?
He felt suddenly heavy.
Hanna pulled him along. Ahead, Kaya paused to ask someone a question. Lewis thought he heard the name Gogol. The woman shrugged. The next Atlantean wasn’t helpful, either. Finally, Kaya stopped a skinny, brown-toothed man with grimy hair. This time, Lewis was close enough to hear her question: “Do you know where to find Gogol’s shop?”
The man pointed to an alley nearby, and they walked in silence toward a wall lined with windows. Lewis stared up and breathed in. The ceiling was a few hundred feet overhead. He pointed to the windows high up in the rock walls. “People really live up there?” he asked.
“Yes,” Kaya said, pushing them along the wall, toward the entrance to the alleyway. “He said it’s down this alley. Fourth door—”
Kaya whistled quietly and held her hand to her ear.
“What is it?” Lewis asked.
She held up her finger. He waited.
“A message from my grandmother.” She pushed them into the alley. “She’s just checking in. If I’m late, she’s going to be upset. And I am going to be late. Seriously late.” She stopped and stared at the ground. Then she looked up again. “Give me a moment, okay?”
Kaya cupped her hands over her mouth, speaking quietly. Then she stopped, breathed in deeply, and smiled. “Okay. I think we’re good now. I messaged my friend Rian—I had to tell someone about you! He’ll make sure my grandmother doesn’t get too worried. You three are going to be a pretty good excuse, anyway,” she added with a smile. “I can’t wait for you to meet everyone. They’re going to be—”
A man with no eyebrows and a face so thin it was skeletal blocked their way. His eyes were black. His teeth were crooked, and one was sharpened to a point. Generally, Lewis tried to avoid people with insidiously curved incisors. Someday, he hoped to be the kind of person who protected his friends from such shady figures. The brave soul who puffed out his chest and clenched his jaw and fists and urged others to get behind him.
He wasn’t there yet.
A small burp popped in the back of his throat as he slunk behind Hanna.
“Where are you going?” the man said.
“That way,” Kaya said, pointing past him.
“Let’s see what’s in the tank.”
“Let’s not.”
The man started toward her, reaching for the tarp.
Kaya lifted her weapon and aimed it at his stomach. “I said no.”
The man snarled. “You’ll need something stronger than that here in Edgeland, girlie.”
“It’s strong enough,” she replied. “I can show you.”
The man ran his tongue along his thin, gray lips, then stepped aside to let them pass.
Lewis stared at the guy’s teeth and decided he would be better about dental hygiene. He’d bring his toothbrush everywhere from now on, and he’d floss, too. Twice a day. Three times, if needed. As long as he never looked like that Atlantean. The dude’s smile would make a kindergartner cry.
They hurried along, faster now.
“That was awesome,” Hanna said. “You were awesome! And these earplugs are amazing. I understood everything.”
As Hanna pestered her with questions about the gravity drive, Kaya’s pace quickened. Lewis could tell she was stressed. Massively. His mom got stressed sometimes, too. That’s when Lewis would dance. Mostly the chicken dance, but he had a few other routines in his quiver, too. He was a brilliant fake tap dancer, for example. The key was doing it on a rug. That way, it actually seemed like you knew what you were doing, because no one could hear your missteps. Tap-dancing in Atlantis, though? In this narrow alleyway? It just didn’t feel right.
They stopped. “Fourth door on the left,” Kaya said.
Once they pushed through and pulled the tank in with them, a series of blue lights in the floor and ceiling began to glow brighter and brighter. The light was so odd; Lewis kept blinking. The room had a single long stone desk at the far end. The walls on either side were crowded with tanks, and there were shelves that reached the ceiling. Fish of all shapes and sizes lazily kicked or hovered inside miniature aquariums. Lewis stepped closer. Most of the fish were about as long as his forearm, but there were a few giants, too. One had to be as big as his little brother. The monster had mottled skin and bulbous lips. Did the Atlanteans eat these things?
He jumped when he heard movement behind him. The tarp was off, and his father was climbing out of the tank, half soaked, crackling with energy and questions. “What did you see? What did it look like? Tell me everything!” Instead of waiting for an answer, he charged over to a tank with a giant fish. He grabbed Lewis, throwing his arm
over his shoulders. “Look at that, son! A coelacanth! Amazing. For years, we thought these were extinct. This fish has been swimming around in the oceans since before the dinosaurs! It’s living proof of how little we know about what lives down here. You don’t eat these, do you, Kaya?”
“I don’t think so.”
“I hope not.” He wiped the sweat off his forehead. “Is it this hot everywhere in Atlantis?”
Lewis was dripping, too. The back of Hanna’s shirt was soaked.
“This isn’t even that hot,” Kaya said. She tapped her belt, and her shirt dried instantly.
Hanna was in awe. “Self-drying clothes, too? You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Why do you always think I’m joking?” Kaya handed Lewis’s dad his earplugs and patch. “Try these. They should fit. But I’ll do the talking here, okay?”
His father pulled the ring off his finger and tossed it to Hanna. She slipped it back on. “All set? It worked?”
“Yes, you’ll have to send me the file I recorded later. I took a minute to delete some old files from my wristpad and free up memory. There was an old video of you dancing, Lewis, that swallowed up a large chunk of space.”
Sure, Lewis thought. That made sense. It stung a little, though. Weren’t parents supposed to cherish that stuff?
A heavy man with a nose like a golf ball, dimpled and round, waddled out of a back room and stood behind the desk. The instant he saw the professor, he reached for a small weapon on his belt. This one looked like a flute, but the man didn’t look like a flutist.
“Wait,” Kaya said. “Please. You’re Gogol? We’re friends of Naxos.”
“What are these things you have with you?”
Lewis glanced behind him. Things? No one had ever called him a thing. He’d been called a bug, a donkey, a motherless goat. That last one he really didn’t understand, since he had a mother and there wasn’t anything goatlike about him. Someone had called him a walking wedgie once, too. That made a little more sense, though, since he’d been given multiple wedgies in the third grade. But he’d never been referred to as a thing. And especially not by a fake flutist.
