Alienation

by S E Anderson

  “Look, ma'am, we don't have your name, your face, or any ID. You're from a planet we've never heard of, and you seem fine to us. You know what I think?”

  “No ...?”

  “You're a filthy Downdweller trying to hitch a trip to the surface,” she snapped. “Sure, you may have better clothes, but you're still one of them. I've seen your tricks before. Now leave the emergency line for someone who actually needs it!” She disconnected the line.

  “Hello? Hello?” I said frantically, repeatedly tapping the touchscreen, but it was no use; the screen was off for good, disabled by the woman on the phone.

  The lights followed.

  The entire street returned to darkness. Without a way to see, I used my hands to find my way out of the booth. I found the curb and sat on it. I guessed real cars had once driven on these streets because there were sidewalks here and gutters too, though they didn't seem to work very well.

  I held my head in my hands and leaned forward, still nauseated from the fall and the things that had been in my stomach.

  What was I supposed to do now? I was alone and lost in the middle of nowhere, in the darkness where not even the emergency services wanted to go, fearing those so-called Downdwellers.

  I was on the verge of tears. There was no way of letting Zander know where I was, no way for him to know I was down here, in the dark of this forgotten floor of the city. A modern-day equivalent of sweeping things under the rug.

  I looked at my hands, or the lack of them. The darkness was perfect; I couldn't see them, or anything else. I wasn't even sure I existed anymore.

  A warm, light breeze blew on my face smelling strongly of rotting fish, of bad morning breath, and of milk long past its sell-by date. It froze, the air pulling back, then threw itself against my face once more. My nose wrinkled, incapable of picking apart the scents. As it pulled back, I realized with a start that this was not wind—no, the air down here was much too stagnant for any kind of current.

  Wait—bad breath?

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  That’s Dark, Dude

  The thing before me growled, a low rumbling from a creature of monstrous proportions that shook the ground. My heart raced and my hands trembled as the breath of the unseen foe billowed on my face, taking in my scent as I tried to block out his.

  Could it see me? Could it see how scared I was? How small and weak I was? How much could it tell about me, here, in the darkened world below the city? Did I stand a chance if I took off running? Could I even run? My mind cried for me to get away, but my legs refused to listen, keeping me firmly planted in front of the creature.

  If I hadn’t been scared of the dark before, I was now. For years to come, I would wake in cold sweats and imagine it was right in front of me, or at the end of my bed, or waiting for me in my dark hallway or kitchen.

  Panic welled in my chest. Panic of the attack that would surely follow.

  The monster let out a long, earth shattering roar, showering me with basketball-sized balls of spittle. My knees turned to jelly as the stench of death saturated my every pore. It would eat me, I knew it. There was no avoiding it. No getting away. This was the end—

  But I wasn't going down silently.

  I felt panic rise from my gut to my throat, to my eyeballs and ears, the jagged sparks running through my blood.

  I took a step back, bracing myself upon my trembling bones, forcing them to stay still. Wiping the spit off my face with a steady hand, I threw back my head, and with one strong, deep bellow, channeled all the oxygen I had into one roar. One war cry so loud it traveled through my entire being. It grew in my chest and exploded outwards, my voice resonating through the tiny streets and echoing back until I was no longer alone, until I was an army.

  The creature roared back, but I roared louder. I would not let it take me. I would not end like this. I didn’t survive the fall just to die in some dark alleyway. No, sir; no way.

  I screamed until my throat felt red and raw then screamed some more. Soon my lungs were burning and my head spinning, but my knees would not buckle. Then, I was roaring at nothing. The creature had stopped, crawling back into the darkest dark from whence it came. The breath on my face was gone, the smell fading. The air was stagnant and muddy once again, the street around me silent as I dropped my voice.

  The echo of the roar rang through my ears, and I inhaled in pure relief, feeling the shock and simple joy of knowing I was alive.

  Quickly, the relief turned to hyperventilation. I found the curb with my trembling hands and sat to catch my breath. I needed my meds, but they were in my duffel bag, in the hands of a woman who probably wouldn’t care that I was missing. A few small pills and all of this would be much more manageable, though I wasn’t sure they were powerful enough to deal with the stress of being lost in an alien city.

  I waded through the panic attack, letting my tears flow until my eyeballs were sore and my head was empty and heavy. My hands trembled as I clutched them around my body, giving myself a tight hug.

  I knew Zander was going to find me. I was going to be okay. I just had to wait here, right here. He would follow me down here. Any minute now, he would find me. I just had to wait.

  I reached into my pocket and pulled out my iPod. I hadn't even realized it was there. While I had thrown my ID into my duffel bag before we jumped, I had forgotten to take the small mp3 player out of my pocket. It had cracked during the fall, the screen a spider web of glass, but it turned on, its light illuminating the tiny patch of darkness before me. A small, insignificant dot, but it was light.

  At least I had some music to listen to, so long as the battery lasted, that was. I didn’t bring the charger with me, and even if I had, I probably wouldn’t find a compatible outlet for another couple of light-years at least.

  I pointed the screen at the buildings before me. No doors on their surface, I noted, only stone and more stone. One patch looked like it had once been an archway or a garage or something, but it was cemented in now, and poorly at that. If there ever were any doors, they sure weren't there now.

  A quick glance at the building across the street showed nothing; the light wouldn’t go that far.

  “Holy cow,” a voice said. “Do you see that?”

  I flew to my feet, turning my head from side to side, but there was no one there. Not that I could see anyone, even if there were. The darkness was so thick, so complete, that even with the glow of my iPod I couldn't make anything out.

  “Hello?” I called into the dark.

  There was movement around me—nothing I could see, but I could hear it, feel it. The sound of countless feet—small feet—pounding the street around me. I spun again, waving my iPod around, trying to see something, anything.

  Yeah, like that was going to help.

  “Show yourselves,” I ordered.

  A light flicked on, then another. And then a whole lot.

  Suddenly, the street was aglow. A wide circle of lanterns surrounded me, full of flickering blue flame that radiated bright against the glass. . Light, now that was a good thing, but there was no telling if its carrier was friend or foe. The people behind them held their lanterns at eye-level, so it was impossible for me to see their faces.

  But they were short, that much I could tell. Up to my hip, maybe, if I was generous. Their clothes were strange, like someone had sewn rags together then tailored them. While rough, even scruffy, they fit them rather well, some better than others.

  “The emergencies coming for you?” asked a voice, the same one that had just sworn. I turned, searching for it, and the creature lowered their lantern so I could see their face—a strange face, even in the blue and white glow of the alleyway.

  Their skull was almond-shaped, literally. It was pointed at one end, around where their mouth was, while the other end was on the back of their head. Their hair sprouted from the apex in the back, creating a long ponytail they wore like a scarf, carelessly wound around part of their bare scalp. Their round, cat eyes looked me over, a reddi
sh tint deep inside, like the creatures who live their lives in caves, never seeing the sun.

  They looked like a child, but maybe that's how they all looked. But, hey, I had seen Galaxy Quest. Never assume anything when it came to aliens. Cute and small could just as well mean quick and deadly.

  The universe is weird—I should have grabbed a guidebook—and I missed my towel. My knees were soaking from that puddle of water. I might have been better dressed than Arthur Dent, but he was better equipped.

  I shook my head to answer their question then realized this could mean nothing to them, so I said “No” instead. They deflated.

  “They don't know me,” I said, pointing at the sky as if that would make more sense to them. “I'm not chipped or from an Alliance planet. Actually, they haven't even heard of my planet.”

  “Well, it's not like they care much about the Alliance.” The stranger shrugged. “I am Kun, and these are my fellows in arms. We're the Street Sweepers.”

  “Sweeping away crime and bringing a clean dose of justice to the streets,” piped up an equally small voice from somewhere to the side.

  I glanced at the strangers and realized I had no sense of their gender. Was Kun male, female, neither? No clue, and no way of knowing. Did their race split the chromosomes, the way humans did?

  They lowered the lanterns from their faces. Every one of them had the same pointed skull, reminding me of a fish I had once seen in the Baltimore Aquarium. Kun was the tallest.

  “I'm, um, I'm Sally,” I replied, stammering through dry lips. I wiped the tears from my face with my wrist. Hey, could you blame me for being in shock? “Sally Webber.”

  The stranger bowed, and I bowed back, hoping I was following their customs. I didn’t want to cause a fuss on top of everything else. Not when I had quite literally just crashed into their neighborhood.

  “You stood up to the Beast,” one of them said, giddy. “That was fucking awesome!”

  “Language, Cori,” Kun snapped. “Sorry about him. We're all just, you know, impressed. It takes guts to stare down the Beast.”

  “What was that thing?”

  I looked back up the street, but there were only a few strangers with lanterns. It was as if the Beast-thing were never here.

  “You know when your parents tell you not to flush a dead pet down the sewers?” Kun shook his head. “That's what.”

  “Oh.” I guessed I wasn't going to get more of an answer than that. “Can you tell me how to get back up there? I have some friends looking for me.”

  There was a hush, like they were holding their collective breaths. There was almost no air left in the circle to breathe.

  “Crap, I'm sorry,” Kun said.

  “Language,” someone interjected, and Kun glared at him.

  “Look, Sally,” he said softly. “They're deleting any files they have on you as we speak. It's over. You can't ever go back up there. They won't let you. You're a Downdweller the second your feet touch the ground. There's no going back from that.”

  “Wait, what?” But the circle was already dispersing. Kun waved me toward him as he walked away, but I had to stay to wait for Zander, didn’t I? Except that I needed shelter more. Sticking around ran the risk of getting me killed.

  So did following strangers, but it seemed like a chance worth taking.

  “What do you mean there's no going back?” I followed Kun, trying to keep up. Falling from the sky tends to leave you a little sore and not all that enthusiastic about running.

  No one said a word. It was incredibly odd. They seemed to appreciate the silence, though. There was no rumble of cars from above, or maybe the sound was so constant it had already faded into the background of my subconscious.

  “There's gotta be a way back,” I said, trying to get Kun to say something reassuring. I was fishing, sure, but I was also terrified.

  “Sorry, but no,” Kun answered, fixing his lantern onto a perch over his shoulder so he could stuff his hands in his pockets. He acted like he went through this a lot, almost like a bored college tour guide. There was no pity in his voice, none of the reassurance I craved.

  Then again, I had just faced the Beast. I needed no pity, except I still had no idea what the Beast was, though, only that it smelled bad.

  “Once you fall from that pampered pedestal, you can never get back up,” one of the other people said, trotting along beside me and giving me a creepy, toothy grin. His teeth were sharp, like a shark's.

  “Don't be like that, Rüt,” said someone else.

  I counted a dozen of them, including Kun. He was the only one with a scarf over his head; the others wore beads or a hat or nothing at all. Some had ponytails, others had braids. Some a knotted hairdo I had never seen before, like a rope to tie up a horse.

  “But you have cars, don't you? Or a bus system?” I asked, but they said nothing. “Oh, come on … stairs?”

  “Um, no.” Kun gave a sharp laugh. “We don't have commodities like that. We're cut off from the Overcity, except for some running water, and even that's restricted.”

  “Wait, what? You're off the grid? Why?”

  “It's complicated,” Kun replied. Rüt trotted to keep pace with us, obviously eager to be a part of this conversation, though I couldn't see why.

  “They royally fucked us over,” a small voice said from behind, chirping like a bird.

  “Sorry?” Kun’s eyes, already large, seemed to bulge out of his head. He snapped his head around like an owl and glared at the small being. “Cori. You're not supposed to use words like that. They're bad for our image. You haven’t earned that privilege yet. You know what I can do.”

  Kun was obviously a leader to be feared. I had to get on his good side. Rüt seemed to be his right-hand man, or small alien person, as it was, so I'd be remiss if I didn't get accepted by him too. The rest of his team, the Street Sweepers, were a close bunch. Finding my place within their community would be a struggle.

  Not that I planned on staying long.

  “Ugh.” Kun sighed and shook his head. “I don't have time for this. You can take the rear flank. We'll talk later.”

  Cori's eyes swelled from his head, like those rubber toys you squeezed too hard as a child.

  “The rear?” he squeaked. “But…”

  Kun pointed his fist—three fingers, I noted—toward the back of the line. Cori went without objection, though he huffed air heavily from his nose.

  “Look,” Kun said. “They only keep those emergency booths running so they know who to delete from their systems. They never actually rescue anyone. Trust me, there are a lot of your kind down here.”

  “My kind?”

  “Humans and so on.” He shrugged. “Upfolk. City people. Your lot.”

  “But I have friends,” I sputtered, trying to decide what to pick up on first and coming up short. “They know I fell. They'll come after me.”

  “They can try.” He popped his eyelids up, an odd but unmistakable ocular shrug. “But the cars are hooked on a magnetized grid, and it doesn't extend down here. They can't drive under it. Don't know how it works, don't ask me, but we had a Higher Up fall a few years back and he went on for hours about it. That's why most people survive the fall. If you have a lot of metal on you, the magnetic grid pulls you up, if only slightly. Maybe enough to stop you from breaking your neck on the pavement.” He continued his polite rant, waving his hands around to emphasize whatever point he was trying to make. To me, though, it sounded like the ramblings of a child.

  “So they abandon their own people?” I shuddered. Da-Duhui’s glow was wearing off on me. “How long have you lived here?”

  “All my life,” Kun said, shrugging his eyelids again. “I was born here. Raised here. I'm a Downdweller, born and bred.”

  “Downdweller? What is that, anyway? The woman on the phone really didn't like them.”

  “Figures,” he grunted. “In any case, you're looking at one. That's what they call those of us who live in the Undercity. Technically, you’re one of us
, now that you're stuck. You're a Downdweller, Sally Webber.”

  A shiver traveled up my spine, all the way to the top of my head, and spread through my bones.

  We continued in silence. Kun's team led me along small pathways, through the foundations of the buildings above, knowing their way around in the dark better than I knew my own apartment. Strange sounds filled the darkness. Large things moved and slithered in the distance, but the Street Sweepers seemed not to notice. I sure did. It was like the foundations of the entire city were moaning in agony.

  Kun pointed a thick finger down another small alley, and I followed. I was Dorothy arriving in Oz, only the munchkins were aliens, the witch a beast I had shooed off with a panic attack, and I didn't have Toto with me. I glanced at my iPod. That would do fine; it could be my Toto. Now to meet the good witch and track down the wizard.

  Hopefully, they didn't have anyone for me to melt using water. That would be awfully gross. Not my cup of tea at all.

  Kun led me to a small door in the wall, holding his lantern boldly before it so that I could see. The entrance was blocked with wooden boards, and someone had written the words “unsafe” in chalk, making it clear this was not a building to trifle with. I wondered how many of these old homes were accessible down here. This had been the first doorway I had passed that wasn’t cemented shut.

  But before I could say a word, the Street Sweepers pulled the wooden slats away. They came off easily, as if they were never nailed on to begin with. Kun reached forward to open the door.

  “Welcome,” he said, with a flourish, “to our secret hideaway.”

  Well, the place sure looked cozy, but it smelled awful. The stench hit me the second he opened the door, a gust of mold and mildew rushing at my face like I’d been set upon by a wizard. Dank age and urine were not a nice mix.

  The hideaway looked like a child's clubhouse: backless benches in various states of disrepair, a threadbare rug on the floor, pillows piled in the corner into what could easily have been a fort. Drawings on the wall, which, while lacking any artistic talent, sure brightened up the place.