Saving Thanehaven
Page 9
With his view of the door blocked by a silver cylinder, Noble can’t see what’s heading their way. But he can hear it.
“Is that the man in the white coat?” he hisses, over the shuddering roar of an engine.
“Shhh!” Rufus is so intent on the intruder that he doesn’t even glance at Noble or Yestin. Perhaps Rufus doesn’t realize that Yestin is actually with them. It’s easy to overlook someone so small and skinny.
“Get back! Back!” Rufus orders, flattening his whole body against the wall behind him. Noble does the same—less successfully than Rufus, because he’s so large. Cringing in the shadows, they watch a white van roll past: first its wheel hubs, then its wing mirror, then its window.
“Wait for it …,” Rufus whispers. “Wait for it.…”
Noble hasn’t the faintest idea what they’re waiting for. But as the van keeps moving, exposing more and more of its glossy white flank, Rufus abruptly seizes Noble’s arm.
“Now!” yips Rufus.
He yanks Noble off the wall and drags him past the van’s rear wheels, through the newly opened escape route. It all happens so quickly that Noble can’t quite grasp what’s going on. He completely forgets that he’s still holding Yestin’s hand. When the van doesn’t stop, he concludes that its driver hasn’t seen them. But before he can say so, Rufus jerks him around a corner.
That’s when Noble registers that he’s not on the spaceship anymore. He can’t be. The ship is all drooling soft tissue and exposed cartilage. It doesn’t have woolly pink rugs on shiny wooden floors, or pretty plaster rosettes on the ceiling. It’s not a maze of well-stocked clothes racks, stretching off into the distance beneath rows of crystal chandeliers.
Noble peers around in a daze. Where is he? He knows he’s not in Thanehaven. No one wears feathery blue scarves or canary-yellow hats where he comes from.
“What are you doing?” he asks Rufus, who’s pulling him away from the hatch. Noble now has his back against a gleaming expanse of pink wallpaper, so he can’t see the hatch very well from where he’s skulking. But he’s still able to identify the telltale thud of an escape route being blocked. “We gave the AV the slip. He doesn’t know where we are.”
“Who doesn’t?” Yestin squeals. “Who was that?” He’s yanking at Noble’s other arm, so that Noble feels like the rope in a tug-of-war. “We’ve got to help the others!” Yestin pleads. “We’ve got to go back!”
“Oh!” Rufus blinks at Yestin, looking surprised. “Are you here? Good.”
“We have to rescue them!” the younger boy wails.
“Shhh.” Rufus puts a finger to his lips. “We will. But we can’t hang around. We have to keep moving.”
“Why?” says Noble. He’s abandoned a bunch of children trapped in a monsters’ lair, and he doesn’t like it. “The man in the white coat—the AV—won’t come after us. I told you—he didn’t see us. He kept driving straight through the airlock.”
“He’ll know I’ve been on board, though,” Rufus insists. “And when he works that out, this is the first place he’ll check after searching the ship. We can’t let him find us. Not yet.” Seeing Yestin’s crumpled face and welling eyes, Rufus adds, “We’ll figure it out. Trust me. I’m going to blow this whole place wide open.”
He darts off down a long aisle formed by two overburdened clothes racks. But when he realizes that no one’s following him, he stops and turns, beckoning furiously. “Do you want to be replaced?” he says. “Both of you?”
Noble admits that he doesn’t. Yestin mutely shakes his head.
“Then you’d better move fast,” Rufus advises them. “Because if you don’t, that’s what’ll happen!”
With a sigh, Noble submits. There’s no point arguing with Rufus. For a start, he’s the only one who seems to know what’s going on.
“Rufus is right,” Noble informs Yestin. “There are mighty forces arrayed against us. We can’t free your friends unless we defeat the Colonel. Once we do that, everything else will follow.”
He begins to trudge after Rufus, but Yestin still won’t budge.
“What about the others?” Yestin pleads. “Can’t we at least open the hatch for them?”
Noble hesitates. He glances back over his shoulder, noting that the hatch looks like an ordinary door from this side, complete with a keyhole and brass hinges. “Can we open that hatch again?” he says, appealing to Rufus. “It will give all of Yestin’s friends a chance.…”
Rufus shrugs. “Hey—if you want to do it, feel free. I can’t. Not without passwords or access codes. I only wish I could breeze through all the portals around here. I’d have done it already.” Standing on tiptoe and craning his neck, he adds fretfully, “God knows how we’re going to get out of this place. Unless I try another buffer overflow.”
“Where are we?” asks Noble. “It’s not Thanehaven.”
“No. It sure isn’t.”
“But you said we were going back to Thanehaven.”
“I said we’d try to get back to Thanehaven. I didn’t promise anything.” Pushing the hair out of his eyes, Rufus regards Noble with a mixture of sympathy and exasperation. “Look—the trouble is, I’m improvising. Okay? I don’t really know my way around this computer. So why don’t you tell me what you can see from up there, huh? Since you’re the big guy in this partnership.”
Frowning, Noble peers across the vast array of clothes racks in front of him. He can see distant walls, which are paneled with pink brocade and hung with gilded mirrors. He can make out a carved door and a gigantic cupboard. But he can’t see any people.
“Looks to me like the coast is clear,” he remarks. “Unless someone’s hiding behind all these clothes.”
“Is there a way out?”
“There’s a door. And it’s open.”
“Lead me to it, then,” says Rufus. “And keep your voice down.”
Noble glances back at Yestin, who hasn’t stirred. The poor child looks so bleached and sickly and fragile that Noble feels a momentary qualm. Is Yestin going to survive this quest? Will he prove to be a dead-weight?
Rufus doesn’t seem to think so. “Are you coming, kid? You don’t want to be here when that van shows up again.”
Yestin swallows, blinking like an owl. “Where are we going?” he whimpers.
“I dunno.” Rufus shrugs. “We’ll have to play it by ear.” He then moves away briskly, as if nothing more needs to be said.
It’s Noble who stands patiently until Yestin joins him. The little boy’s shoulders are slumped. He walks with a dragging step, sniffing and wiping his nose.
Noble can only sympathize. He’d rather be in Thanehaven, himself.
“There must be a lot of people around here somewhere,” he observes quietly, when he and Yestin finally catch up with Rufus. “Hundreds of people. Otherwise, there wouldn’t be so many clothes.”
Rufus snorts. “I wouldn’t count on it,” he mutters. “Lots of clothes don’t necessarily mean lots of people.”
Noble finds this hard to believe. He can’t comprehend why anyone would want more than half a dozen outfits. Yestin, however, is more open to the idea.
“If some of these are spare clothes,” he suggests, eyeing Noble’s naked torso, “then maybe you can borrow them.”
Noble doesn’t answer. He can’t see himself in a pair of mauve boots with stiletto heels. Or a sheepskin vest embroidered with flowers. Or polka-dot pants or a ruffled silk shirt or a pink plaid jacket …
“Ah,” says Rufus, who’s just reached the carved door. It’s standing slightly ajar, so he gives it a gentle push. Meanwhile, Noble quickly checks the hatch behind them.
But it hasn’t reopened.
“Hello?” says Rufus. “Anybody there?” He crosses the threshold, then stops short and says, “Oh! Hello. Mind if I join you?”
Cautiously, Noble follows him into a small, windowless, octagonal room with three other doors leading off it. Everything in the room is white and pink and gold. Noble has to shade his eyes from the
overpowering dazzle of full-length mirrors, overstuffed satin couches, highly polished parquet, jeweled hair accessories, and yet another gigantic crystal chandelier. Amid all the glitter and sparkle are four willowy figures: three girls and a boy.
“Who are you?” chirps a shrill little voice, which belongs to a blonde girl posing in front of a mirror. She has the longest legs and the smallest waist that Noble has ever seen. Her nose is practically nonexistent, but her eyes and lips are huge.
She’s wearing silver shoes, a red fur jacket, and a skirt that’s hardly bigger than a belt.
Her two female friends share identical proportions and a similar taste in clothes. One of them, however, is a redhead, while the other has shiny black hair. The boy’s hair is slick and brown. He’s dressed a bit like Rufus, except that his pants are cleaner and baggier, and he hasn’t lost his shirt.
Rufus smirks at the boy’s lavish display of earrings.
“I’m Rufus,” he announces. “And I’m here to set you free.”
But the blonde girl isn’t interested in Rufus. Her gaze has fastened on Noble, who can’t understand why she’s staring at him. The other two girls are doing the same thing; their enormous eyes are almost popping out of their heart-shaped faces, and their glossy mouths are hanging open. Even the boy seems dumbstruck.
“Oh, wow,” the redhead finally exclaims. “Skye! Brandi! Jay! Would you look at that? Can you believe that?”
“Believe what?” asks Noble. He’s beginning to feel unnerved. “What’s wrong? What have I done?”
“Don’t you realize?” This time, it’s the dark-haired girl who speaks. “Can’t you see in the mirror?”
“See what?” Noble demands.
The girls glance at one another, appalled. Then the redhead turns back to Noble and says, very slowly and clearly, as if she’s talking to an idiot, “You’re not wearing any clothes!”
CHAPTER TEN
Noble squints down at himself, suddenly anxious. But his breeches are still there.
“What do you mean?” he says. “Are you blind? I’m wearing my breeches.”
“Those things aren’t clothes,” the redheaded girl insists. “They’re undergarments.”
“He looks good, though, don’t you think?” the blonde girl pipes up—much to her friends’ dismay. They gaze at her in horror.
“You can’t look good without clothes, Brandi!” the black-haired girl points out.
Brandi, however, isn’t convinced. “Yes, you can,” she squeaks. “He does.” And she smiles at Noble. “I guess you work out, huh?”
Noble hasn’t the faintest idea what she’s talking about. He turns to Rufus for help.
“Oh, man,” Rufus mutters, rolling his eyes. Then he heaves a sigh and says, “Come on, guys, are you listening? I’m here to set you free.”
Brandi’s gaze slides off Noble, coming to rest on Rufus instead. Her forehead doesn’t wrinkle when she raises her eyebrows.
“Free from what?” she inquires.
It’s a good question. From what Noble can see, all four of these strange beings are perfectly happy. Nothing seems to be threatening them. They’re not hurt, lost, or frightened. Compared to poor Yestin—who’s clinging to Noble with a viselike grip—Brandi and her friends appear to be having a pretty good time.
Unless, of course, they’re actually imprisoned in this gleaming little room?
“You don’t have to do this,” Rufus declares. “You don’t have to spend your whole lives changing into different clothes. Not if you don’t want to.” Seeing all the blank expressions that greet this announcement, he adds earnestly, “Clothes aren’t very important. I mean, you said it yourself: Noble looks good, and he’s not dressed.”
The girls don’t reply. They just giggle.
“You’re stuck in this dressing room. Am I right?” Rufus doggedly continues. “The only time you leave is when you go get another outfit. And it’s not even your choice of outfit, is it? Someone else always chooses it for you.”
“The radio. It tells us what to wear.” When Brandi waves a hand at the ceiling, Noble suddenly realizes that he’s been listening to a faint thread of music all along. He just hasn’t noticed it before.
“The radio?” he repeats. “What’s the radio?”
There’s more giggling. Even Yestin gapes in astonishment. “Don’t you know what a radio is?” he exclaims.
Only Rufus seems unfazed by such ignorance. He’s still talking to Brandi. “So is this all you want to do? Ever? You want to sit in a gilded cage like a pet guinea pig, being pushed around by some tweenie with no fashion sense? Wouldn’t you rather wear clothes that are your choice? Go places where other people can actually see what you’ve got on?”
Brandi blinks.
“You can, you know,” Rufus assures her. “You can wear anything you want to. And if you’d like to parade it on a beach, we’ll find you a beach. I bet there’s a beach on this computer somewhere.”
Noble is puzzled. What have beaches got to do with anything? He wants to ask Rufus that. He also wants to know what a “tweenie” is, and to find out more about the imminent arrival of the man in the white coat. Should they really be looking for a beach when they’re supposed to be battling the forces of evil?
“Think about it,” Rufus urges Brandi. “I can get you out of here. Just make a decision and say the word. It’s up to you.”
Brandi’s blue eyes grow wider and wider. It’s obvious that she’s struggling to comprehend all these new ideas. At last, she says haltingly, “You want to take me to the beach? Is that it?”
“Sure.” Rufus spreads his arms in an attitude of lavish generosity. “I can take you all to the beach, if you like!”
The redhead rejects his offer. “Not in that outfit, you won’t,” she retorts, screwing up her miniature nose in disapproval. Then she turns to the brown-haired boy beside her. “I bet Jay has something that’ll fit you, though. Isn’t that right, Jay? You’ve got lots of beachwear.”
“Sure.” Jay’s voice is a lazy tenor drawl. “I’ll go check.”
He rises from an overstuffed couch and strolls away, heading for the nearest closed door. Meanwhile, his red-haired friend apologizes to Noble. “Jay won’t have anything in your size,” she says, “but I might be able to track down a few bits and pieces that’ll fit him.” She points at Yestin, then addresses him in a friendly tone. “No offense, but you could really do with a style makeover. Because you look like you’re wearing a slug skin, right now.”
Yestin’s face falls.
“So what?” Rufus says impatiently. “I just told you it doesn’t matter.” Receiving only a vacant stare from the redhead, he redoubles his efforts to convert Brandi. “We don’t have time for dress-ups. If you want to come with us, you’ll have to hurry. We’ve got things to do. Places to go.”
“People to save,” Noble reminds him.
“Sure.” Rufus nods without taking his eyes off Brandi. “Isn’t there something else you want to do with your life?” he asks her. “Something really worthwhile and exciting?”
“Um …” Brandi is backed up against a mirror, her expression dazed. “I—I guess so.…”
“Study? Travel? Marriage?” Rufus suggests, sparking the redhead’s interest.
“Oh, we can get married anytime!” she chirps. “We’ve all got wedding gowns, haven’t we, Skye?”
She’s talking to the black-haired girl, who trills, “All of us except Jay!” And they both laugh a tinkling laugh.
Rufus ignores them. “Weddings aren’t just about clothes,” he insists. “Nothing’s just about clothes. You’ve got to open your mind. Isn’t there something you really want to do that’s different and challenging and radical?”
Brandi frowns. Her plump lips turn down at the corners. But her red-haired friend says, “You know what I’d love to do? I’d love to wear all my clothes at once!”
“Oh, Krystalle!” Skye squeals with excitement, clapping and bouncing. “That would be so cool!”
“Aww …”
Watching the two girls hug each other, Noble decides that they’re not the kind of people he wants on his team. We’d be better off without them, he thinks, glancing at Rufus—who scratches his head and mutters, “Maybe this isn’t going to work.”
Then Jay reappears. “Why don’t you try some of these?” he says, passing a bundle of T-shirts to Rufus. Most of them are mud-colored, though several are brighter, with stripes and stars on them. Rufus selects one by simply plucking it off the pile; he drops the rest and says, “What about you, Jay? Do you want to be a man or a mannequin?”
“Huh?” Jay looks bewildered.
“We’ll be leaving in a minute. So if you want to do something really special with your life, you’re welcome to join us.” Rufus cocks his head at Jay, his eyes glittering through his swag of hair.
Jay stares at him for a moment before repeating, “Special?”
“He means getting married,” Skye volunteers, twisting a lock of black hair around her little finger.
“No, I don’t!” Rufus snaps. “I mean liberation! Revolution!”
“But how are you going to get out?” asks Brandi. Her gaze is fixed on Rufus, who’s struggling to push his head through a tight-fitting collar. “Did you come in through the laundry chute? Is that how you want to leave? Because I can’t use the laundry chute if I’m wearing this skirt.”
Rufus stiffens. Then he yanks the T-shirt down over his head so that his mop of hair suddenly springs into view, exploding off his scalp like a feather cockade. “What laundry chute?” he demands.
“The one in my wardrobe.” Brandi nods at the open door. “Didn’t you climb in through there? It’s the only way out.”
Rufus narrows his eyes. “You mean you dump all your dirty clothes down a laundry chute?”
“Sure,” Brandi replies. “After we’ve worn them.”
“And then what?” Rufus speaks sharply. “Do they come back clean?”
For some reason, Brandi finds this question difficult to answer. It’s the red-haired Krystalle who responds.