Authors: Jay Budgett
“Quite.” I nodded. In one hand, the woman held a book. “Fancy a bit of reading this evening?” I asked. “You haven’t got much time.”
She laughed gently—if such a laugh were possible. “Oh, no,” she said, “it’s not mine at all. It’s my daughter’s.”
I walked with her to the back of the gold foyer. Two young women ushered us forward with warm smiles.
“Are you seeing her tonight then?” I asked. “Meeting up with her in the club?”
“Not in the club,” said the woman, “but after.”
Her daughter was dead. She’d been in the group that didn’t make it to fifteen. I put a hand on the woman’s shoulder, and she smiled sadly. I thought of my own mom and the notes she’d left for my birthday, wondering when I’d see her again. Or if.
The two women retrieved our Daisies from glowing boxes. The devices wrapped around our necks with a click and began to glow. They weren’t really necklaces at all, but collars. We were dogs. Trapped. There was no escaping death.
The two of us wandered into the club’s main ballroom—the place where younger visitors (not victims) were allowed to enter. Bright lights flashed over deafening music, but our Daisies’ glow rose above it all, like little suns. People stared, drawn to the pearly light that was rivaled by none in its brilliance.
We moved to the ballroom’s edge to avoid further attention. Along its perimeter stood a row of massive vaults.
“Indulgence Rooms,” explained my new friend quietly.
One was red and covered in round beds sporting moaning patrons. I felt sick to my stomach. Another—deep blue—was filled to the brim with food, drink, and gluttonous victims. The Indulgence Rooms continued along the perimeter, each one catering to its own particular human vice.
The woman with the book grabbed my hand and held it. We stood there for a while, hands locked, and watched strangers dance, ignoring the stares of people who longed to look at the Daisies. We were like idols and victims both. In a way, it was nice not to be so alone.
“What’s your name?” my new friend asked finally.
“Nancy,” I said quickly. “Nancy Perkins.”
She nodded and stroked the back of my hand with her forefinger. Her skin was soft like velvet—a byproduct of old skin that hung loose from its bones.
“And your real name?”
My eyes widened—how had she known?
She noticed my surprise, pinching my hand’s taut skin between two fingers. “Not the skin of any old woman I know. A boy, perhaps? Your secret is safe with me. I only want to know your name. I haven’t met a young person in—in such a long time.”
The creases that lined the corners of her eyes reminded me of my mother. Her bright blue eyes were the same. “My name is—Kyle,” I said finally. I couldn’t give her my real name. It was still too dangerous.
“What a lovely name,” she whispered. “Too nice a name for you to kill yourself tonight.”
“WHAT?” I shook my head. “I’m not—I couldn’t—listen, I’m not gonna kill myself.”
But she wasn’t listening. She had a faraway look in her eyes, and she stroked her book’s spine. “My Marie told me the same thing the night she did it, too.”
Her daughter hadn’t died from the Carcinogens—she’d killed herself. Probably the only thing worse.
“My sweet Marie,” the woman continued, eyes watering, “she—she didn’t know what she was doing. She didn’t know stepping in front of that train would change so many things.”
I wrapped my arms around her. “I’m so sorry.” My shoulders grew wet with her tears.
“You had your whole life ahead of you…” Suddenly she pulled away and slapped me. “You shouldn’t have done this. You really shouldn’t have done this.” She raised her voice. “WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS? YOU SHOULDN’T HAVE TO BE DOING THIS!”
She thought I was trying to kill myself. Thought I’d dressed up as a woman and snuck into this club to die.
“It’s not real,” I said. “I’m not really doing this! I’m—I’m with my friends. They’re here—somewhere. We could find them.”
She slapped me again. “You fool! Your friends aren’t
here
,” she pointed around the club, “they’re
here
. INSIDE YOUR HEAD! You have a mental illness. Just like my poor Marie.
Oh,
Marie
!” she wailed.
She was hysterical. A few people on the dance floor stopped and stared at her—us. Security would be here in seconds. They’d test my eye with their retina scanners, and then I really would be dead. The clocks chimed quarter to midnight. I was running out of options.
“I’m on a mission,” I hissed. She looked like my mom. A poor, broken version of my mom, but my mom nonetheless. I could trust her.
“I’m with the Lost Boys,” I explained. “It’s gonna be all right. I’m not gonna die.”
She fell silent. “The Lost Boys?” she asked, wiping away her streaked makeup. “They’re here tonight? You’re—you’re not going to kill yourself?”
I shook my head. “This is all part of the plan.”
“Oh,” she said quietly. “Wait—cross-dressing is part of the plan?”
My face flushed red. “It’s a long story.”
She pointed to a clock. “We don’t have time. I’m—I’m… glad you’re safe. Listen—could you hold my book for a minute while I go to the restroom?”
“I could go with you,” I said. “Make sure we don’t get separated—you know—so you have someone with you at the end.”
“Go with me to the
women’s
restroom?” She made a face. “No, I don’t think so.”
I guess she had a point… but I couldn’t help but feel that she was acting strange as she left. Was she going to tell someone else? The dampness on my shoulders from her tears, however, said I could trust her.
I scanned the crowd for Phoenix and Mila. A waitress in a tight cocktail dress approached me with a tray. “Care for a drink, miss? I have beer, wine, nectarine…” I started to wave her away. “…And the house specialty, the ‘Triple C’—Cotton Candy Cocktails,” she finished.
Cotton Candy Cocktails?
I was fifteen—old enough to vote and drink—an adult by Federal standards. I grabbed a cocktail from her tray and tossed it back, thinking about how Mom would laugh and giggle when she’d had a few glasses of wine.
God, it really did taste just like cotton candy. I waved down another waitress and had two more. My arms felt warm and tingly.
Where was my new friend? I hadn’t even gotten her name, just her daughter’s. There hadn’t been enough time between the shouting and the tears.
“Three minutes until midnight,” announced the DJ over the speakers.
The crowd went wild. Lights in the Indulgence Rooms flashed, then glowed crimson. My Daisy flickered, counting down the seconds until midnight. My whole body felt light enough to float.
“Kyle?” My new friend grabbed my arm.
I smiled and started laughing. “FRIEND!” I said, bursting with enthusiasm. “My new friend! What—what was the hold up, ya silly goose?”
“Long line,” she said. “I guess a lot of women have to
go
… before it’s time to go.”
I laughed so hard I knocked down a fat lady in stilettos. Whateva.
“God, you’re funny!” I squeezed her arm. “You’re so great. You’re really great, did you know that?”
Her eyes darted from side to side—she was so silly. “So,” she said, “mind if I ask you what’s—uh—going to happen?”
“Anything could happen!” I shouted. “You hear that, world? ANYTHING COULD HAPPEN!”
“I meant with your plan,” she said. “With the Lost Boys. What’s happening with them? You said you weren’t going to die like the rest of us.”
The DJ’s booth glowed white. “SIXTY SECONDS,” he announced.
“SIXTY SECONDS!” I shouted. “SIXTY FRIGGIN’ SECONDS! I GOTTA
DAAANCE
!” The blue Indulgence Room caught the corner of my eye. “SOMEBODY SAVE ME A TURKEY LEG!”
“Focus, Kyle.” My friend grabbed my arm. “Answer my question.”
She was being a little bossy.
“I dunno, OKAY? I’m prolly just gonna drop like the rest of ya… TO THE FLO’! ALL THE WAY DOWN TO THE FLO’!” The Daisies ceased blinking and faded to a dull white. “What the—?”
The woman grabbed my face. “
Then
what’s going to happen? What are you going to do after that?”
The rest of the club’s lights went black, and the Daisies burst into the brightest white I’d ever seen.
“ARE YOU SEEING THIS? HOLY CRAP! ARE YOU SEEING THIS?”
She dug her nails into my arms. “Tell me.”
“Ouch! I—I think I get lifted by the crowd to Heaven and the others meet me there. Have you seen my friends? Muscle-y and cool and all that stuff? Have you had a Cotton Candy Cocktail? They LITERALLY taste just like cotton candy. I could’ve drank like fifty of ’em but they cut me off… whateva.”
The ground shook as the Daisies glowed brighter. People gathered along our sides, waiting to lift our bodies once we fell. My legs were wobbly like jello. JELLO!
“And then what happens?” shouted the woman over the crowd. “What happens next?”
Her eyes grew large. She was on the edge of her seat—she couldn’t get enough of the plan and its details. I had to make it bigger, better.
I grabbed her arm. “A—silver—car,” I said dramatically as the cocktails twisted in my stomach. “A silver car will pick us up in front of the club once the mission’s accomplished—after we’ve broken into the vaults and stolen the Indigo. There’ll be horses, too. Black ones. With fiery manes and little flower baskets on their saddles in case we get hungry on the way home and stop to pick up snacks. And then a big blue bus will race past with the horses and that’ll be our cue to—”
“
TEN, NINE, EIGHT
—” the crowd chanted as the clock counted down.
The woman whispered into the collar of her blouse. “Did you get all that?”
“
SEVEN, SIX, FIVE
—”
“THE HANDS!” she shrieked into her collar. “CHECK THE HANDS! HIS HANDS GIVE HIM AWAY!”
“
FOUR, THREE, TWO—”
She’d set me up. This woman who reminded me of Mom had set me up, and I’d been too drunk off Cotton Candy Cocktails to notice.
“
ONE
!”
Midnight.
The entire club shook. Chandeliers swung overhead as the jets resting under Club 49’s foundation fired up and lifted the club off the ground.
Rapture had begun.
The Daisies glowed their most brilliant white yet, blinding employees and patrons alike. I was glad I’d been wearing my sunglasses. I pushed away from the woman and the crowd. Cotton Candy Cocktails still danced in my head. My limbs felt light.
“STOP HIM!” the woman yelled over the din of the crowd.
Suddenly the room fell silent, save for the weeping of those who would lose their loved ones tonight. Then a few people shouted last words, and the room once again became a cacophony of sound.
I ran toward the gold room where I’d been given my Daisy, past patrons who stood dumbfounded by its brilliant white light.
Where were Phoenix and Mila? Why hadn’t I seen them in the club? Was there something wrong with the plan? Had they even made it in?
A gold light flashed in the grand foyer. There was a final burst of screams, then a click.
The Daisy’s needle plunged into my neck.
Corpses slammed against the floor like thunder—death’s symphony. My body was no exception—my legs crumpled beneath me, numb.
Adrenaline surged through my veins, flushing away the drunken stupor left behind by the Cotton Candy Cocktails. I was completely lucid when hands grabbed my limp body, knocking my sunglasses to the floor.
I was alive; Bertha’s device must’ve worked after all. The euthanizing element contained in the Daisy’s injection had been neutralized, though the muscle relaxants they’d added to ensure the bodies fell in union obviously remained in working condition. Bertha had probably intended it to work that way, to ensure that I fell at the exact moment as the rest of them.
Still, I tried to wiggle my legs and arms, but met with little success. I guessed the relaxants would render me numb until Rapture was complete and I’d been lifted to Heaven.
More and more hands lifted me on either side. It was like I was body surfing. The people were surprisingly gentle.
Across the room, a group of drunkards dropped a woman’s body and cursed under their breaths. Security raced to lift her back up. Not that it mattered to her—she was dead—but still it was bad PR for anyone who saw it. I prayed my own group wouldn’t be as clumsy. I doubted the synthetic skin stretched across my face was strong enough to survive if it happened.
Somewhere in the club, someone hummed. The rest of the patrons joined in. It was almost spiritual. A shining conveyer belt slid from the ceiling, glowing white from within.
Heaven.
Corpses were placed on the conveyer belt’s bottom and floated, one by one, up into the ceiling. When my own turn came, my eyes were blinded by the light as I rose. I imagined a room decorated with white furniture, plush carpets, and glowing fixtures waiting for me at the conveyer belt’s top, all earthly gold exchanged for shimmering crystals.
Then the conveyer belt jolted to a stop, and my body bumped against the corpses on the lift. When it started up again, and I passed the bright light, my eyes adjusted to my new surroundings.
The walls around me were unfinished concrete. There was no sparkling room with white furniture. Just an ordinary conveyer belt that pushed us along like cars on an assembly line. The heavenly white light had all been for show.
Farther down the line, a fat worker yelled. “Just look at the hands, and then push the body forward!”
“No shit, Sherlock,” his skinny friend scoffed, and rolled his eyes. “You call the Feds yet? Reckon the chancellor’ll wanna hear ’bout this.”
How could I have been so stupid? I’d given away the whole plan. The Feds were on their way, and Phoenix and Mila were nowhere to be found. I was a dead man.
The fat man jammed a finger in his nose as he searched the corpses for gold or valuables. “Can’t believe they quarantined the club over something like this. Does it even
matter
if we find him? He’s headed for the incinerator either way.”
The skinny one slapped the fat one.
“What was the hell was that for?”
The feeling was returning to my fingertips and toes. I tried to scoot myself farther back on the conveyer belt, away from the two men, but I still couldn’t move.