Return To Lan Darr (15 page)

“Uh, hi there.”

“Another carriage comes!” someone from the crowd yells.

“That’s just my wheelchair,” Allan says.

“A what-chair?” Uma Mesa says.

“I can’t walk. I use the chair to get around.”

“Oh, how marvelous.”

The carriage with Allan’s wheelchair slams into the back of his chair. The crowd whoops and hollers, and Allan is pulled from his seat and deposited in his chair by the people of Katonaay.

Allan places his feet on the footholds and straps his legs in. The chair is like a cozy bed, and he feels relief wash over him. He looks at the balloon he’d tied to his chair, still floating lazily in the breeze. Maybe that balloon was from another party celebrating a different traveler.

“We’ve begun a celebration for your arrival,” Uma Mesa says. She brushes her plumb hairstyle away from her vivid blue eyes while leading Allan down a wide road lined with white stucco homes. The windows are simple holes, the doors are dark wood, and the pointy roofs are covered with orderly tiles or ornate, sweeping wood designs. Soon they enter a downtown area where the buildings are three stories tall. Businesses fill the bottom floors and sell everything from food to clothing to stoneware to pieces of artwork. More and more brightly dressed people and creatures come to see Allan and wave to him. Clusters of balloons are brought to Allan until he has so many he thinks he might float away.

Smaller monkey-like creatures dressed in white overalls and pillbox caps scurry before Allan, putting up fences covering the alleys in between the buildings. The fences are lavishly decorated with symbols and designs.

“We love to celebrate here in Katonaay. There is nothing better in the world! You will see, we are the funnest people in all the galaxy.” Uma Mesa waves to the crowd with a cupped hand like she’s the main attraction in a parade.

Streamers fling out the windows, and the band grows to over two-dozen strange and twisted golden instruments.

Someone puts a large iced drink in Allan’s hand. It’s sweet and frothy like a root beer float. Allan waves and sips, smiles, points, and waves again.
I could live like this!

One of the white fences falls forward smacking the cobblestone sidewalk. Behind the fence are a dozen people and creatures in the shadows. They’re dirty and in torn rags and thin as death. Allan’s eyes connect with one of the dirty people.

Some of the monkey-workers quickly erect the fence covering the scene.

“Who are those people? In the alleys? They homeless?” Allan asks.

“Oh, ho ho,” Uma Mesa chuckles. “They’re not homeless, they’re home free!”

Allan’s eyebrows rise. “Right, I see.”

“We’re a loving people here. If you don’t want to work, you don’t have to. We love everyone. You don’t even have to go to school!” she says, proceeding down the road.

They head toward a huge palace at the end of the road. The frontage is bright white with red cone-topped towers, potted flowers under the windowsills, and a dozen flags snapping in the wind. “We celebrate life and we welcome all.”

Uma Mesa continues, “Katonaay is a waypoint between Bileen, Cattahit, Lan Darr, CeeVvis, and seventeen other worlds. Hubbu plants bloom year round here and in all the colors. So, many trading partners deliver goods here and we send them off to their final destination. We take a percentage of that shipping and give it to the people. To ALL the people.”

Furry creatures hang from the windows of the palace and wave flags.

“Our palace has four hundred and three rooms. You’ll see how many fun things there are to do here. You can have anything you want. Any treat, drink, or game is here for you.”

“Really?” Allan wonders about the ones hiding in the alley. He doesn’t ask, but those haunting eyes, crusted and tear-filled, stay with him. They aren’t getting everything they need.

Allan is led over a small bridge and through a tall archway and into the palace. Two huge double doors open up to a grand ballroom crowned with sparkling chandeliers and more balloons of every color. Food covers a dozen tables, and at the far side of the dance floor is a large stage. A hundred people and creatures, or more, dressed in fancy clothes and speaking many languages, funnel in behind Allan, and the huge band moves to the stage and begins to play lively songs.

Allan tastes a dozen treats and chats with strange-looking people. He finds himself answering the same questions he’d been asked on Peebland and quickly grows tired of it. He tries to dance with the locals, but rolls over too many hairy toes and smudges too many polished shoes.

The night continues and Allan is led to room after room. The first room is a grill where they serve hamburger-like sandwiches—the best he’s ever tasted. The next is a round atrium filled with musicians playing in the largest drum circle Allan has ever seen. After that is a long hall lined with carnival games. Allan tosses basketball-like balls into hoops and wins a huge black-and-white stuffed animal that looks like a cross between a frog and a pig.

Allan passes a dunk tank, ignoring the creature that dares him to hit the target with a ball and dunk him in Fooba Cider.

A door opens at the end of the hall. Allan peeks inside. It’s a bar crowded with people drinking and laughing. The lights are low and the music is a more rhythmic hum and beat. “You could go get a beer or some wine. We don’t mind here. There is no age limit to drinking,” Uma Mesa states.

Allan waves off the invitation. “Nah, I don’t really like the taste.”

“No problem at all!”

Allan and the crowd that has been following him, with their painted faces and cheerful suggestions, end up back at the main dance floor. Allan feels warm inside with so many nice people around him. They’re all so welcoming and interested in what he has to say. He feels light in the head and rolls through the crowd to the outer wall to rest.

A woman with a painted white face, pink cheeks, and a tall hairdo introduces herself. “Hello, my name is Seleena.” Her eyes are big and hazelnut. Her fur is much finer than Uma Mesa’s, almost invisible, and her snout is more shallow. She almost looks human, almost.

“Nice to meet you.”

Seleena snatches a handful of cookies from a table piled high with treats and tucks them into her purse quickly, glancing around. “Are you enjoying yourself?”

“Yes, very much.” Allan sucks on a Popsicle, intermittently taking sips from his drink. “I could stay here forever.”

“You could. They would love that.” Seleena slips another handful of cookies into her purse until it bulges.

Allan lowers his voice. “You don’t sound as sure as the others.” He’s not sure he’s heard her over the loud music.

Seleena puts her arm around Allan. Her fur is as soft as silk on his neck. She leans to his ear. “This place isn’t what it seems.” Seleena smiles wide, cracking some of the makeup around her eyes.

Uma Mesa spins to a stop near Allan. “Dear boy, are you all tuckered out?” She raises her hand and snaps her fingers. A servant in a white suit plops a chair next to her and she sits. “Don’t you just love it here?”

Allan nods. “It’s great,” he says, though his eyes look past Uma Mesa to Seleena who isn’t smiling, but saying something else with her hard glare. Allan isn’t quite sure what she’s trying to say, but he has the distinct impression she could get in trouble for it.

“I’m ambassador to all newcomers. I’m here with duties that go beyond a mere meet and greet.” She opens her purse made of some sort of animal skin and digs out a golden key. “I offer you this key. It opens the door to a home that could be yours. After we swim in the Silver Springs of Youth, which are very fine, warm-water mountaintop tubs and ride the Skimmer Dragons over the Sea Way, you’ll want to stay here, and you’ll have a fine home to rest your head and to plant roots.” She lets Allan look at the key for a few moments then puts it back in her purse. “Life here is simple and good, you’ll see.”

Uma Mesa’s face is so nice and fuzzy and her eyes so warm that Allan should believe her. However, something about her pitch sounds too good to be true.

“I’m very tired.” Allan yawns, his eyes dry and itchy.

With a snap of her fingers the musicians lay down their instruments and the dancing stops. Wooden doors under the stage open, and racks filled with oversized pillows are rolled out. A giant pillow is placed next to Allan by one of the monkeys in white. Allan scoots himself off his chair and onto the pillow. It’s velvety, deep purple, and like a beanbag. He sinks into a supportive and comfortable position. The stuffed animal he’d won earlier makes a great pillow. His muscles release, and relaxation flows through his body like water through a desert wash. The lights dim.

Many creatures have left, though many remain and take comfort on the pillows. There are whispers and some chuckles, but eventually the quiet sets in as the partiers fall to sleep.

Though Allan would have liked a room to himself, he doesn’t much mind being surrounded by friendly faces.

Chapter
16

The Trap Closes Softly

Allan hopes to fall asleep after all the eating, games, conversation, and dancing, but his mind won’t relax. He thinks about living here. Making friends seems so easy, and there are no expectations. He doesn’t have to be great or smart. He can be himself here, love life, and have fun. Who needs the stress of a career and the hustle and bustle that humans seem to embrace? Allan pictures himself living in one of the villas, eating a hamburger on the porch, surrounded by jars filled with candies. Friends would visit every day, and they’d play games. The image lasts but a moment. Then what is there to do?

He wonders about the other attractions on Katonaay. The Silver Springs of Youth, according to Uma Mesa, are salty hot springs with as many slides and diving platforms as there are colors in the rainbow. She also mentioned a road over the bay called the Sea Way, which leads to coastal towns, zoos, and more rides.

I don’t need to go home to Rubic, to school, to Earth. Laura wouldn’t miss me.
Rubic would, but I could visit him. It’s not like I can’t travel back to Earth whenever I want.

Allan laces his fingers behind his head. He stares up at the dim lanterns that crowd the ceiling.
I’ll go get Asantia and see if she wants to come back here with me.

Uma Mesa, who had taken a huge pillow next to Allan, taps him on his elbow. “Dear young one, are you not sleeping?” She looks a mess. Her vibrant lipstick is smudged and her hair flattened on one side. She tries to repair the damage to her hairdo. “One must get their beauty sleep.” After ten minutes of tucking loose curls and repinning braids to little effect, she gives up. Her small muzzle, with delicate fur, opens wide as she yawns, exposing large, white teeth and two sharp canines. Her features, so utterly alien to Allan, are not threatening or strange. None of his new friends make Allan feel awkward. It must be because they all speak English. Or Boldarian, as they call it.

“I was just thinking about what you do here. I mean every day. Not just when there’s a visitor.”

Uma Mesa rests her head on her hands and settles herself in the pillow. “Oh we love it here. We celebrate so many things.” Her eyes are bloodshot, and her eyelids are half closed.

“Like what?”

“Every night the palace has a party. Tomorrow we will swim in the pools and maybe go feed the animals at the zoo. Then we return to the palace.” She yawns wide. “So lovely here.” Her eyes flutter closed. “I’ve been ambassador for over thirty years.” Her voice fades out as she falls asleep.

They party every night?
Allan never really liked parties. Birthdays made him feel shy, and holidays were noisy and crowded. Somebody has to have a job. The city doesn’t run itself. Uma Mesa said there are no schools, no universities, and no obligations. Are there no artists, writers, architects, or inventors? Then what did people do? Strive for? Build? Every building in the city looks the same. Except for the palace. That was made to stand out, to be spectacular.

And there was the statement Seleena made. She said, “This place isn’t what it seems.”
What does that mean?
Allan pictures his own bedroom. He has the urge to pull a comforter over his head, but there’s no blanket. He hugs his torso and eventually sleeps.

He dreams of the palace and the party. At first he’s laughing and racing around the wide hallways—able to use his legs like in most of his good dreams. As he dashes around the corner, the hall narrows. The walls distort like a funhouse mirror. He is lost and alone and running faster and faster through doorway after doorway. No family or friends are around. He finds the ballroom. It’s crowded with strangers laughing fake laughs and drinking from glasses that smell pungent and toxic. They’re all drunk and leaning on each other and sharing their cups. Along the walls are cracked mirrors. He catches his reflection and sees his older self. He’s homeless, dirty, and thin. He crumples to the floor, now in a dark alleyway, and sobs.

Allan wakes with a start and is dismayed that he has soaked the pillow with sweat. He looks around at the sleeping faces, splayed limbs, flattened dresses, and wrinkled suits.

Allan takes a deep breath, not wanting to return to sleep.

Seleena sneaks up to him, startling him. “Shhh, be ever so quiet.”

“Seleena!”

“Shhh, I say.”

“What’s wrong with Katonaay? You have to tell me.”

“They will not let you go.” The woman’s top-heavy hairdo is coming apart, fraying at the curls, and her dark eyeliner has faded. “It’s my job to help you get out, if you want to go. I try to help all that come here, but the lure of this place is great. It’s inviting and seemingly perfect. The truth is, most are not happy. There is nothing, really. Nothing but a finely dressed sadness. The party ended but no one went home. Most will never be able to go home.”

“What are you talking about?” Allan isn’t sure what he’s hearing, but his heart tells him Selena is to be trusted. Ever since his first trip to Lan Darr, he’s learned to listen to his gut.

“Look at the door you came in through.”

Allan strains his eyes. The light is low, but he can see the front double doors. There are no handles.

The woman’s glassy eyes quiver, and she looks off into the distance. “They collect people here, entrap you. And unless you are of royal blood, you will be rotated out of your house. You’ll live in squalor and work the fields. Some work to death, but all are poisoned for life.”

“So all this,” Allan gestures to the decorations, the stage, and the rooms beyond, “This is all a trap?”

“Yes. The web has never looked so lovely. They’re desperate for workers.”

Allan sits up, knowing what she says is true. Allan hears his father’s voice, “Nothing is free. Everything that comes to you must be paid for. The payment for certain things can be steep.” Allan didn’t quite understand at the time. His father had continued, “Payment for stealing, for instance, can be spending many years behind bars. Payment for laziness, which can seem free, will be poverty. Even if a stranger tries to give you something for free, they will come for some kind of payment. It’s just the way the world works.”

Allan tries to swallow, but his throat is dry. “What do I do? How do I get to Lan Darr?”

Seleena's eyes lock on Allan. She has the kindest eyes and the least wavering stare. “There is an exit under the stage. I’m sorry, but that is the only way out of the palace. I’m afraid your chair might not fit. If it does, and I hope it does, you go all the way to the end, turn right, and follow the tunnel. Upon exiting the vent you’ll head down the drainage street. Do not stop. Do not talk to anyone, and do not show fear. When you get to the dome you will find Lemic or Denna Mot. They will help you get into the dome where all the Hubbu is kept. You go and do not come back.”

“What if I don’t fit under the stage?”

“Then you are caught and will await the spider.”

Uma Mesa snorts and stirs. Drool runs from her gaping mouth, soaking her furry face. She rolls onto her back.

“Go quickly, but quietly. You must try. They’ve all had too much to drink and won’t be awoken easily.”

Allan feels the urgency to hop up and run like he’s landed on hot coals. If the only way out is the passage under the stage, he’ll have to find a way to fit. Mad at how slow he has to move, he scoots onto his chair and sets his feet in place. He rolls quietly but quickly to the stage. The hole under the stage is low and dark. Allan hears movement behind him, and panic floods over him.

Seleena slips behind Allan and pushes him under the stage. “Hurry, they stir.”

The handles on his chair squeak as they rub the top of the entryway. Allan’s back scrapes the top. He has to fit, there is no choice. He sucks in his breath and flattens himself further. It works. He enters the tunnel, and now past the frame at the opening, he has a little more room above him. The tight space almost speaks to him. It’s whispering claustrophobic warnings. Allan rolls into the deep darkness as fast as he can, which isn’t as fast as he wants.

He doesn’t know why he trusts Seleena over Uma Mesa, or all the other friends he’s made, until he remembers Martin’s warning back on Peebland. Martin had told him not to stay, but he didn’t say they would trap him here.
Why did they want me? What use am I?
It doesn’t matter now. All the positive experiences on Katonaay are shadowed, and Allan feels a nagging, prickly feeling. There is evil in a place like this. The people in the alley know it, but they are silenced behind brightly covered picket fences and clusters of balloons. There really is such a thing as ‘too good to be true.’

It’s so dark Allan’s eyes make up things to see. Specks and colors swirl in the space like a chemical soup in an oil pot. Allan’s back aches from bending over and his lungs are compressed. The air is dusty and makes him sneeze. Rats, or something like them, squeak and scurry away. Allan hits the motor on his chair. The speed helps to quash his encompassing panic. His chair scrapes the sides of the tunnel. He corrects his path but bumps the other side. The walls are wood and cold and do not damage the chair. Finally, the end comes at him. Allan’s eyes can see a fraction better. He turns right and after a dozen yards comes to a vent, which glows softly from outside lights. It has a handle which he turns, and he lets himself out into the night.

The fresh air falls over his sweaty skin. Allan sits up and cringes because of the tightness in his back. The city is dark, lit from ineffective and sporadic lamps. Dark clouds cover any moon or stars that might be seen, and a rotten smell lingers. The drainage street is made from round cobblestones with a six-inch channel in the middle.

Allan pulls his gloves out of the side pocket and tugs them on tight.
Let’s bounce off this creepy hellhole.
His chair speeds down the dark alley.

Allan zig zags around piles of trash and detritus. He sees the real Katonaay and how different it is. Cracks snake through the bricks and stones, mortar is washed out, and some buildings have collapsed. There are dirty creatures sleeping in boxes and under threadbare blankets. They wake and stare at Allan as he speeds by.

A homeless being, draped in a dark cloak, gets up and steps in front of Allan. “Mera goo. Dessa to meka. Ki?” It pulls the hood off its head and stares with glowing eyes. Allan stiffens, braking with his hands. Don’t show fear.

“Merra? Ki?” it repeats in a harder tone.

Allan hits the motor switch and speeds around the creature. Allan hits something small and hard and rolls over something squishy. His eyes strain, his heart thumps.

More and more homeless beings poke their heads up from their sleeping spots and stare. Some stand and others point. All their eyes glow. Allan wants to look away, doesn’t want to see their sad and dirty faces. He doesn’t understand how so many treats, good food, and perfectly crafted drinks could be piled so high on the tables and yet there are so many hungry creatures out here, in the dark and hidden places of the city.

Someone starts banging on a tin cup. Others join in. They gather in large numbers and block the road. The entire crowd has glowing eyes and rags draped over their shoulders.

Clank, clank, clank, clank.

One hunched creature steps from the crowd. It holds up a lantern. Allan gasps. The creature has a crested bald head, an ape-like nose, and a boney jaw. It is smudged with soot and wears a long cloak that is torn and patched in a dozen places.

“You cannot continue. The way is blocked,” it snarls.

Clank, clank, clank, clank.

Damn this chair!
Allan backs up as fast as he can. He’s showing fear now, he can tell. The smell in the alley is revolting, and the clanking of the cans seems to tap straight into his nervous system. His flight response kicks his muscles into gear, and he spins around only to find the crowd has blocked him in. He so desperately wants to run away, but he can’t.

Clank, clank, clank, clank.

They’re going to kill me. Eat me, by the looks of them. I hate this place! I wish I had a machine gun!

The crowd steps closer to Allan. Their eyes are like glow-in-the-dark balls in their heads. Every muscle in Allan’s body tightens. He’s gripping his wheels so tight blood has vacated his knuckles, leaving them ghostly white.

His head seems to burst. “AHHHHHHHHHHH! Get away from me! You freaks!”

The crowd stops. Silence replaces the clatter.

Allan turns to face the creature with the lantern. “I’m trying to get home, dude! I don’t taste good, I’ve got no money, and I’m a pain in the ass most of the time!”

“The way is blocked,” it gargles again.

Allan sighs, expunging the tightness that grips his thoughts. He’s too fatigued to resist any further. “You said that already. Get on with whatever you’re gonna do. I’m tired and getting really pissed off!”

The lantern lowers, and the creature holds out his hand for a handshake. “Sorry, did not introduce. Me, Lemic,” it snarls.

“Oh God.” Allan leans back and catches his breath. He points to Lemic’s hand. “Sorry, can we not shake hands? You’re creeping me out.”

Lemic pulls his hand away. “No shake. No worry. Sorry to be creepy. Seleena sent you.” Lemic points to a side alley. “We must go this way for other way is blocked. Uma Mesa looking for you. She and other Mesas know this way and close it now.”