by Susan Kim
Before they were even halfway over the bridge, Esther could see that Mundreel was unlike any of the other places they had passed through. This was no small town with a main street and handful of shops and gas stations. It was not even like Prin, with its two- and three-story buildings and destroyed mansions.
This was a place of endless avenues and wide, hilly roads that bristled with stoplights, street lamps, and signs pointing to still more destinations. As they entered the city, it appeared to be a man-made canyon, arranged in neat, geometric blocks that were bordered with glittering sidewalks and separated by asphalt. Gargantuan buildings towered above them, some that seemed a hundred floors high. Their glass and metal shone in the brilliant pink rays of the setting sun, reflecting so strongly that even with their sunglasses, they had to shield their eyes.
One by one, all of them fell silent, cowed. Even Kai could not be heard to laugh or cry: He, too, in his own small way, seemed overwhelmed.
Yet a single question nagged at Esther: Would this be the place they had hoped? Tall tales had cheered them up and kept them going during even the bleakest moments. Mundreel held more food than they had ever seen or could eat in a lifetime. The water was clean and so safe, you could stand in the rain and catch it in your mouth, drinking from the sky. And the people there lived forever: to thirty, forty, even fifty years of age.
But despite the magnificence of the cityscape, there was no sign of anything like that. As they rounded yet another corner and turned onto a new thoroughfare, Esther and the others grew aware of something else.
They were alone.
The streets and alleys, striped with lengthening shadows, were empty. Esther heard only the occasional crunch of gravel and broken glass beneath their feet, and the far-off baying of a dog. When they gazed up at the gleaming buildings, they saw no faces watching and no movement of any kind behind the panes of glass.
Cars sat everywhere: parked at meters and in lots, and rusted by decades of rain. But they, too, were empty.
Esther said nothing to the others. Yet she sensed that they also wondered: Had they been misled? Had they made this trip for nothing? Even in silence, she thought she could detect disbelief and with it, growing fear.
Then Esther stopped. Several blocks away, a building caught her attention.
Compared to the monoliths that surrounded it, this one seemed distinctly older and less impressive. It was made of polished gray stone, with pillars on either side of an entry. Above the front door, three poles pointed outward, one still bearing the ghostly tatters of what had once been a flag. But that was not the only thing that drew Esther’s eye.
A solitary figure stood on the roof, watching them.
It was impossible to tell its age or gender. It was wearing white clothing and held what looked like a pair of binoculars to its eyes, clearly aimed at them. Esther gave a tentative wave, and an instant later, the figure lifted its hand in return. She realized it was beckoning.
“This way,” she said to the others, relief in her voice.
As they started down the street, Skar lashed out a hand and grabbed Esther. “Listen,” she said.
It took Esther a moment to hear it. It was a sound they all recognized, one that filled them with senseless dread: the thump of multiple bicycle tires on pavement, approaching fast.
There was no way of telling whether or not the riders were friendly. Yet by instinct alone, they all responded as one.
“Go!” shouted Esther.
Eli, Michal, and Silas took off on their bicycles, the wagons bumping along behind. Esther and Skar began to run, much as they had raced each other through the broken streets and fields of Prin. Despite their exhaustion, they matched each other stride for stride, arms pumping as they sprinted for the building three long blocks away.
Out of the corner of her eye, Esther saw their pursuers bearing down on them from a side street and her heart tightened in disbelief and terror.
It was an army of skeletons.
There were anywhere from six to ten of them, all on bicycles. As they came closer at a surprisingly fast pace, Esther realized that they were alive, but just barely. These people were so thin, they were little more than bones, with heads like naked skulls with staring sockets. All were dressed in tattered black, with fluttering cloths tied to their arms and legs and wrapped tightly around their heads. Some wore mirrored glasses that reflected the dying sun, casting a blinding light.
Their leader, a boy who rode in front, was screaming to those behind him. He had tangled red hair that streamed past his shoulders and pale skin pulled over sharp cheekbones that stood in shocking contrast to his black headgear and vest.
“Stop them!”
Pure adrenaline flooded Esther. Without breaking her pace, she shot a panicked glance at the roof: The figure with the binoculars had disappeared. In the next moment, she and Skar managed to catch and then outpace Michal and Eli, who were hindered by the heavy wagons they were pulling. Only Silas, alone on his free-bicycle, stood a clear chance of making it with them to the building.
There were only two blocks left. By now, Michal was falling far behind. When Skar noticed, she slowed and then stopped.
“I have to go back,” she panted.
Esther spotted a sign at the corner: RÉSO, with a downward-pointing arrow in the center of the O. The word meant nothing to her, but she decided to take a chance.
“No,” Esther shouted so the others could hear. “This way.” Without slowing down, she swerved and then raced around the corner.
She wasn’t sure what she was expecting. But in the middle of the sidewalk, there was a large metal door that swiveled open to a dark entryway. Inside was a short staircase. Esther ran straight at it, grabbed the handrail, and vaulted down into pitch-blackness. Behind her, she could hear the others following and a moment later, rattling down behind her on their bicycles.
Eli fumbled with a firestarter and lifted it overhead for a few moments. The seven were in a seemingly endless space, musty from disuse. Shuttered stores were everywhere they looked: They were in the remnants of an abandoned underground city. At the far end were two descending metal staircases; it was impossible to see where they led.
The steps were the type they had seen before many times at stores in Prin: steep, made of thinly grooved metal, with dangerously sharp edges. Yet there was no other way to go; already, they could hear their pursuers on the street above them.
“Spread out!” Esther shouted.
They did; and together, Eli, Michal, and Silas launched their bicycles down each staircase and into the darkness that lay beyond.
Esther and Skar started after them on foot, until Esther had a better idea. She indicated the handrails and her friend understood. It was something they used to do for fun in Prin; now, the stakes were much higher. They leaped sideways onto the hard rubber and slid, overtaking the others and making it to the lower level first.
Their friends, however, had a much harder time.
As the bicycles and the attached wagons banged down the steps, they threatened to fly out of control or break apart with every impact. Riders crouched on their pedals in a vain attempt to absorb the shock as they bounced dangerously high down the treacherous steps; the distance to the bottom seemed endless.
Moments before, Esther had heard the far-off sounds as their pursuers reached the entrance and began to head after them. Now they, too, divided themselves among the staircases and were riding down. The thud of rubber tires and the clanging of metal reverberated above them through the cavernous space.
But the seven travelers had made it to the bottom. By now, the bicycles were useless: Their tires were shredded and their rims bent and mangled. As Eli, Michal, and Silas kicked free of them, Skar pulled a badly shaken Joseph and Kai from their wagon. Esther grabbed her rifle, although it was much too dark to use it.
“Let’s just move,” she called.
Again, Eli lit his firestarter. They were standing in the middle of a long and narrow subterranean
platform; the ground dropped off abruptly on either side to train tracks below. As the tiny flame guttered out, everyone grabbed hands for safety in the dark. Then Esther took off, leading the way as they ran down the path, skidding on debris and broken glass. Dozens of unseen vermin—rats? snakes?—skittered away in front of them.
Behind her, Esther heard the first bicycle hit the ground at the end of a staircase, then another, then another. Their pursuers had not given up but were now chasing them through the underground passageway, some still astride their damaged vehicles, the rest on foot. The boy leader was shouting, his words urgent yet lost in the echoes of the dark corridors.
Then an unholy noise filled the air.
A blaring, inhuman roar reverberated off the floors and walls, shocking the system. Everyone pressed their hands against their ears in a frantic attempt to block the piercing sound; and against her back, Esther felt rather than heard Kai scream in his harness.
And then it stopped.
Esther whirled around. In the echoing silence, she could still hear their enemies. But the sounds they made were fading.
They were in retreat.
Confused, she turned back toward the source of the sound. In the distance the spark of a firestarter broke the darkness. Then it blossomed into fire, and Esther caught a whiff of gasoline and burning cloth.
A silhouette emerged from the shadows, holding aloft a lit torch.
The stranger had on billowing white clothes that were so clean, they seemed to glow in the dark: pleated trousers, shirt, gloves. It wore a wide-brimmed hat with a gauzy cloth tied at the throat that masked its face, as well as a large pair of binoculars around its neck.
It was, Esther realized, the person who had waved to her from the roof.
“Hello!” it called. It was a boy, and the relief in his voice was obvious. “You’re lucky I saw you in time.”
Frozen in confusion, Esther and the others could only wait for him to reach them. Next to her, she could feel Eli tensing up, in anticipation of a fight.
“Hold on,” she whispered.
As the boy drew near, Esther could see he was unarmed. To her shock, he reached up and seized her hand not holding the rifle. Then he pumped it up and down.
“My name is Ramon.” The voice that emerged from beneath the face scarf was deep and warm. “Welcome.”
Moments later, the group huddled together in the entrance, gaping in utter shock.
The place was beyond anything they could have imagined.
Before it had been destroyed, the Source in Prin was the most opulent place any of them had ever seen. It had a supply of electricity and the miraculous luxuries that went with it: indoor lights, a moving ramp, and a functioning freight elevator that rode up and down between floors.
Still, the Source was nothing more than a warehouse, a windowless cement box with gloomy aisles of industrial shelves, cardboard crates, and cracked, gray floors.
What lay before them now seemed nothing less than a magical empire.
The light alone was extraordinary. It gleamed down from massive panes of glass that surrounded them and reflected off the different open levels, marked off by rounded pillars and curving staircases that were a uniform and brilliant white. The huge rectangular window set in the high ceiling seemed like a separate sky; it was framed by colorful designs etched in plaster. The late-afternoon sky itself, streaked with purple and magenta, appeared through the glass like a brilliant, painted decoration. Giant creatures, fanciful sculpted birds with human heads, were poised in the air above, stirring faintly on invisible threads. And everywhere Esther looked, she saw shining surfaces—counters, archways, railings, displays—made of steel, brass, and mirrors.
As Ramon herded them farther into the structure, Esther and the others moved as one, struck dumb. As Eli gasped, Skar stepped closer to Michal. Joseph clung to his cat carrier, breathing fast. Everyone was stunned by the grandeur that enclosed them.
Esther felt it, too.
She had never seen anything so immaculate and felt self-conscious, for the first time in her life, about how filthy she was. Esther could see their images reflected a thousand times, on scrubbed walls that flanked long, metallic staircases, spotless glass cases that contained merchandise, and gigantic, glittering objects that hung directly overhead, higher than the strange bird-men. Even the smaller ones were so enormous, it would have taken three people to encircle one of them with their arms. They looked like fiery stars suspended in midair, sparkling.
Seeing their reactions, Ramon laughed.
“It’s nice, isn’t it?” he said. “We turned on the power so you could actually see it.”
Esther took note of the building’s layout. While clearly a single structure, it was more like an indoor mini-city built in the valley between adjoining buildings. Four open levels, including a basement, were made up of shops and restaurants connected by tiled floors, sweeping staircases, and marble passageways. Esther noticed something incongruous across the lobby: a large gray truck parked near the revolving doors that led to the street. It emitted a low, constant roar and she could make out the familiar smell of gasoline.
“That must be a generator,” Joseph said.
Above were seven more stories, each filled with dozens of windows that faced unseen corridors. Most were dark, although one at the top gleamed with light.
It dawned on Esther that this was a kind of “mall,” where many stores occupied a common space. There had been one a few miles from Prin, where she and Skar had often played. Yet there, the windows had been smashed, the doors torn off their hinges, and the stores empty of everything but trash, dead leaves, and foraging animals.
This one was completely different. It was, she realized, beautiful.
In silence, she and her friends followed Ramon past store after store. Each was filled with items that were not only new, but rare and expensive. Shelf after shelf was stacked with piles of sweaters, blouses, scarves, all arranged by color; the clarity and richness of the purples, pinks and oranges were astounding. Delicate, fanciful shoes were arrayed on tables; sunglasses, jewelry, belts, and things Esther couldn’t even identify filled entire cabinets, exotic and lovely items that somehow you wanted just for the sheer pleasure of ownership.
Joseph leaned on a window, staring at a display of wristwatches; they were in every color of the rainbow.
“Please don’t touch anything,” Ramon called out, although his voice was light. “You’ll smudge the glass.”
Too abashed to even apologize, Joseph pulled away, wiping his hands on his filthy robes.
Now their guide stood at the base of twin stairways. They were similar to the kind they had ridden down to escape their attackers, yet with one difference.
These were moving by themselves.
Esther and the others recoiled in fear as Ramon stepped on.
“Come,” he said, turning to them with a smile. “Just get on. It’s fun.”
When no one else moved, Esther was the first to try it. With Kai on her back, she stepped onto the moving stairs and staggered to the side. Clinging to the rubber handrail in terror, she rose swiftly upward and within moments, found herself on the level above, where Ramon helped her stumble off. After a few false starts, the rest of her friends finally joined them, red-faced and panting with agitation. Yet it was easier the second time. When they reached the third floor, even Joseph managed without falling.
Ramon led them to a metal door at the far end of the slippery marble hallway, which he pushed open.
“I’m afraid we have to climb from here,” said Ramon.
Esther and the others found themselves in a dark and stuffy space. Their guide had relit his torch, revealing a windowless stairway with metal railings that threw dancing shadows on the bare cement walls. Ramon was already a flight above them and they scrambled to catch up.
As they passed landing after landing, Esther kept silent count; by the time they stopped, they were on the tenth floor. “Here we are,” said Ramon, holding
open a metal door. They filed past him into a dim hallway, lit by windows on either end.
Thick carpeting underfoot absorbed their steps as the travelers followed him. Esther noted that the passageway was square; if you continued walking, you would find yourself back where you started. To her left, the wall was lined with windows that faced inward, looking down over what she assumed was the mall far below. To her right were closed doors, nearly all identical.
Finally, Ramon stopped in front of the one set of double doors and indicated that they should enter.
Stepping into the room, Esther was blinded by the last rays of the setting sun. Raising a hand to her eyes, she saw they were in a large chamber, paneled in dark material. A table of golden wood as shimmering and immense as a lake took up most of the space. It was surrounded by at least two or three dozen matching chairs made of chrome and black leather. Facing them, an entire wall of windows revealed the tall buildings of Mundreel and the brilliantly colored sky.
That was when Esther noticed them.
Perhaps a dozen people were seated across the table. It was hard to see them at first; with their backs to the giant window and its blinding light, they were no more than silhouettes. Still, Esther could not help but notice that at least one of them was armed, a rifle held loosely against his shoulder.
This boy was leaning forward, gesturing out the window with his free hand; and although he was talking in an animated way, the words coming from his mouth seemed to be nonsensical, gibberish. Confused, Esther remembered what Joseph had told her about the signs on the road. It must be the other language, she thought. The guard was addressing the one who sat at the center, the one whom everyone seemed to be facing.
