Earthbound (The Reach, Book 1) (38 page)

“Okay, good point.”

The momentum of the van shifted as it wound around several corners, and then it slowed.  There were a series of sharp thuds as the wheels crossed over a rut beneath them.

“That should be the elevator,” Knile said.

They could hear the driver talking animatedly to someone outside the van, sharing a joke or two, and then there was a harsh blaring noise and the sound of something large and heavy rolling across behind them.  The chatter stopped and for a moment everything was still.

Then Ursie heard the elevator groan and felt pressure from underneath as it began to ascend.

Her teeth were now chattering, the cold seeping in through folds of her clothing that she couldn’t protect.  Knile pushed her head down further until it was under the breast of his coat.

“Almost there, kid,” he said.

Soon after,
the elevator came to a smooth halt, and the klaxon sounded again.  The rolling noise returned, reversing its direction this time, and Ursie decided that it must have been some sort of gate or protective barrier that enclosed the elevator during operation.  As the noise stopped, the van went into reverse and slowly backed out of the compartment with a series of high-pitched beeps.

“What’s that?” Ursie said, alarmed.

“It’s just a warning that the van is in reverse.”  A thought occurred to Knile.  “Have you ever taken a ride in a vehicle like this?”

“No.”

“Have you ever
seen
a vehicle like this?  Or any sort of car?”

“No.  Who uses these things anymore?  I’ve only seen them in an old video reel one night at the
Arbor Bar
down on Sixty-N
ine.  There were a bunch of old bastards sitting around reminiscing about the old days and how much better they were.”

“They
were
better.”

“Yeah.  Well, anyhow, this is my first time in a car.”

“So now you can go and join those old bastards in the bar.  Throw in your own thoughts when the conversation turns from dementia and false teeth to cars.”

“Look forward to it.”

The van ceased its backward motion and then started off again the right way, running for only a couple of minutes before stopping again.

“Be ready,” Knile whispered.  “This is our stop.”

The driver’s door opened and then shut with a slam, rocking the van gently from side to side.  Heavy footsteps sounded as he strode around the front of the vehicle, and then the sliding door was flung open, sending a bright spear of light into the compartment.  The driver grunted as he struggled with the first side of meat, then lifted it away and disappeared from view.

“Wait,” Knile said, pushing forward through the hanging meat as he moved to the door.  The dismembered limbs moved like pendulums in his wake.  Knile plucked a haunch from a meathook and placed it on his shoulder as he exited the van.  He looked very much the part, Ursie thought, just another meat worker in his long coat who was going about his job.  When he’d made sure the coast was clear, he set the haunch back on the hook and beckoned to Ursie.

“Move it.”

Ursie clenched her jaw and forced her way through the frozen slabs of cow, or goat, or whatever they were, and took Knile’s hand as he helped her down.  He guided her away from the van just as the workman returned again from a nearby door.  He did not even bother to look their way.

As they moved, Ursie felt the numbness in her extremities begin to lessen.  She tried to get the circulation in her body going again, shaking her fingers and stamping her feet in an attempt to rid herself of the numbness entirely.

“You okay?”

“I can’t feel my hands or my feet.”  She pressed a wrist gingerly to her nose.  “Or my face.”

“You’ll be fine.  It will pass.”  He clapped her heartily on the shoulder.

“Yeah.  I’ll cope.”  Ursie raised her face for the first time since stepping out of the van, and what she saw almost made her stop in her tracks. 

Knile noted her reaction with an amused smile.

“So, let me be the first to welcome you to Lux.”

For a moment, Ursie couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing.
  This place
seemed at such odds with everything else she’d experienced that she almost believed that van was some kind of inter
dimensional portal, that it had taken them to some magical place that wasn’t even Earth anymore.  At least, not the Earth that Ursie knew.

The first thing that caught her eye about this place was how it
gleamed
.  Every single part of it seemed freshly buffed.  There were polished marble floors and alabaster garden edges that ran along the centre of the thoroughfare; perfectly rounded pillars, inlaid with ornate patterns that ran up to the high ceilings; spotless glass windows on either side of the avenue that gave glimpses of boutiques and cafes nestled in behind.

Then there were the vehicles.

Ursie saw maybe half a dozen of them – small mechanical three-wheeled contraptions that were large enough to seat two people inside.  They were curved in a kind of teardrop shape with a large bubble-like window at the front through which the occupants could look out at their surroundings.  They whirred about in near silence at a slow pace, not much faster than a walk.

“Uh… are those cars?” Ursie stammered, overwhelmed by what she was seeing.

“Not really.  Not in the classic sense.  These are more like oversized sewing machines with wheels.  They run on electric motors and are really only good for lazy people who can’t be bothered walking short distances – which is pretty much everyone in Lux.  Around here they call them Autos.”

Even though Knile regarded them with disdain, Ursie couldn’t help but be awestruck by the machines.  Like everything else here, they glistened as if they’d been washed only half an hour ago.

“Stop gawking,” Knile said out of the corner of his mouth.  “You look like some kid who just arrived here out of the slums and has never seen an Auto before.”

Ursie blinked and dropped her eyes.  “Sorry.  But I kinda am.”

“Sure.  Just don’t let them know that.”

They reached a place with white tiled walls and floors and Knile led her just inside the entrance, out of sight of those on the avenue.  He reached into his backpack and pulled out the blue dress that he’d bought down in Gaslight and offered it to
her.

“Head into the restrooms here and get changed.  Lose the coat, we won’t need it again.”

Ursie made no attempt to take the dress.  “You serious?” she said, incredulous.

Knile raised an eyebrow.  “Are you going to complain about everything I try to put you in?”

“Well it’s just that we’re running for our lives here, and that thing–”

“Have I made a bad call yet?”

She pursed her lips.  “No.”

“Then go do it.  Meet me back out here in five minutes.”  He glanced at his watch.  “It’s getting on to noon.  We’re down to less than eight hours left.  We have to keep moving.”

Ursie took the dress and looked at it doubtfully, but she did as he asked, moving inside the restrooms in search of some privacy, finding the facilities just as clean and shiny as everywhere else in Lux.

Even in here the place is spotless
, she marvelled.
It’s like no one has ever even used it before.

She opened the doors to one of the stalls and went inside, peeling off the coat and dumping it on the floor.  She shrugged out of her jeans and blouse and then stood there looking at the dress, not quite knowing what to do with it.  She’d never worn something like that before, never even dreamed of it, and now that she looked at it, she realised she didn’t want to wear it.  It wasn’t her.  She was going to look foolish in it, no question about it.  She understood that Knile wanted to use it as a disguise, to fit in with the others here, but there was no way that was ever going to work.  They’d see through her in the first second.  They’d see her for the grubby little street urchin she really was.

She reluctantly stepped into the dress, then struggled with the zipper at her back – once again something she was unaccustomed to – and then she gathered up her satchel and headed back to the entrance, avoiding looking at herself in the huge mirrors that took up the whole of one wall of the restrooms.

When she got there, Knile had transformed into someone else completely.  He was wearing the suit he had bought in Gaslight, but that was only part of it.  His posture had changed as well.  It was more erect, more proper, and even the expression on his face was one of haughty indifference.  Dangling from his left hand was a fancy-looking suitcase made of calf-skin leather.

“Where’d you get that?” Ursie demanded.

Knile jabbed a thumb over his shoulder.  “A boutique two doors down.”

“You got dressed in the suit and went luggage shopping, all in five minutes?”

“I’m a man.  We don’t waste a lot of time on things like that.”

“So I see.”

Knile hesitated.  “Uh…”  He made a circular motion with his hand over his face.  “You need to wash up a bit.  You look like your head has been used as a chimney sweep.”

Ursie touched her fingers to her cheek self-consciously, vaguely aware that feeling had returned to her extremities after her time in the freezer.

“Really?”

“Yeah.  Make it quick, please.”

Ursie turned and shambled back into the restroom like one of the condemned heading toward the gallows.  Sh
e was going to have to face it
now, she knew.  She was going to have to look at herself in this awful get
-up.

The mirrors loomed close before her, and she slowly raised her head.  It wasn’t as bad as she’d thought it would be, but it was still bad.  The dress wasn’t a great fit, too baggy around the chest and too tight at the hips, but it wasn’t a total train wreck.  The colour was good on her at least, she noted grimly, and there was something pleasing about the style.  Still, all things being equal, she’d rather be back in her jeans again.

She turned on the faucet and allowed the water to dribble onto her fingers, then looked up at her face.  Knile had been right.  She looked as though she’d just crawled through a garbage tip.  She dabbed at the grime on her cheek, rubbing out a patch of pink, then continued scrubbing around her mouth, her neck, and then the other parts of her face where the dirt was thickest.  At one point she heard Knile clearing his throat noisily outside, and she realised she must have been at it for longer than she’d thought.  She used a luxuriously soft hand towel that hung on a nearby hook to mop up the moisture on her face and then got moving again.

Knile regarded her sceptically when she returned.

“Better.  I can actually see some of your face now, but still not great.”  He shrugged.  “And the hair is a write-off, but it will have to do.  We’ll make it work.”  He opened the suitcase and held out his hand.  “Give me your luggage.”

Ursie placed a hand protectively on her satchel.  “Why?”

“Because if people see you lugging that flea-bitten piece of garbage around, they’re going to think you don’t belong here.  They’ll get suspicious.”  He sighed.  “Come on, Ursie.  Do you really think I’m going to rip you off after all we’ve been through?”

Ursie stood there for a moment as if weighing up that question, then stepped forward and offered him the satchel.

“Of course not.”

Knile took the satchel and dropped it into the suitcase, then closed the flap and hoisted it into a comfortable carrying position.

“All right,” he said, looking left and right along the avenue.  “Let’s go catch a ride.”

33

The man in the grey suit looked to Ursie like someone out of a story book she’d seen as a kid, one with princesses and castles and a happily-ever-after ending.  He wore a light grey morning tailcoat with matching grey trousers, a lavender silk necktie and a white vest and shirt.  There was a gold pin on his lapel in the shape of a stylised letter ‘L’.  His greying hair was cut short and neatly maintained, and upon his face rested a supercilious expression that matched the rest of his attire perfectly.

Ursie had never seen a butler before, but nevertheless she decided that this was one.

“Good morning,
sir, madam,” he said, nodding to each of them in turn.  “Travelling, are we?”

“Good morning,” Knile said with an oddly posh curl in his accent.  “Yes, indeed.”

The butler stepped back and spread one hand out to indicate a row of almost ten Autos sitting on the edge of the thoroughfare behind him.

“Which would you prefer?”

To Ursie, they all looked identical, but Knile made a show of carefully evaluating his selection as if it were of utmost importance that he choose the most appropriate vehicle.

“The third,” Knile said with a little wave of his finger.

“Very good,” the butler said, nodding and hastening over to the vehicle.  He swung into the driver’s compartment and started it up, then slowly directed the Auto over to Knile and Ursie, a journey of at most four metres.