That dream was juxtaposed against the imposing walls marked by disturbing imagery—painted faces wrenched from various horror films—those walls conveyed a threat of something far more wretched inside.
Neither imagination was true. There was no thriving metropolis packed shoulder-to-shoulder with crowds. Nor were there phantasmic monsters held in chains. Zondon was nearly empty. There were no inhabitants, save for the random burly here or there. No running children. No armed soldiers.
The walls were only a threat. There was hardly anything that would enforce this menace. The Ecology’s fears would drain away if they knew what lay beyond the walls of Zondon.
Ripley had turned off the harvest bot they rode on just inside the gates and then marched with Syn through the narrow, open-aired corridors. A large open area, almost like a courtyard filled with junk, greeted them just on the other side of the gates.
As Syn passed under the concrete arch, the metal framed gates closed. Her stomach tightened and beads of sweat formed on her forehead. She lifted the crimson goggles from off her eyes and let them rest on top of her head.
Syn tried to relax, but she could feel the unease of anxiety building deep inside. Each step was closer to unknown threats and unknown choices. Blip, where are you? As she walked, she reached out to knead her fingers into Eku’s thick fur, but winced when she realized Eku was not beside her. Eku was nowhere near. She pursed her lips close together to hold back the whimper trying to escape her throat.
Beyond the open courtyard, they marched through a narrow path just wide enough to be a road, although her Ogun would have trouble navigating it without tearing out the stone walls. Each side of that road was barricaded with metal and wood boards layered atop each other.
How had they built this place? Had the burlys thrown this city up? She had seen a few toys scattered about and pushed into corners—a small doll, a miniature harvest bot painted red, a stuffed tiger coming apart at the seams. There had been more life here. Perhaps this was a city that the colonists had put together. But why move here away from the settlements? What would be the purpose of banding together in the center? The walls suggested something more frightening on the outside at one point. A hub of safety converted into a symbol of power.
They passed through a paved road littered with debris and covered in a layer of sand, moving toward the center of Zondon. The path led to the two-spired central building that had to be the throne room of the Crimson Queen. The corridors remained veiled in shadow. Syn paused at the disconcerting darkness. The lights along the path were not responding to her—the world around her ignored her presence and the lack of response shook her..
Inside the crumbling building, in the shadows of Zondon Almighty, sat the throne. It had once been a plastic folding chair. Perhaps white, although the dirt was caked so thickly that its original color was lost to history. Felled timbers were arranged as a base, providing a rough dais lifting it up a meter. Two step stools served as the staircase to ascend the throne, although they were covered with rough, shag-carpeted rugs probably stolen from the settlements. The back leg of the throne had been swapped for a few sticks strapped to the chair with black twine and tape. Several boards were fastened to create a high back on the seat. It was a throne only in location. There was nothing of glory, nothing of splendor, about the conglomeration.
The throne mirrored the rest of the room. The central table was a collection of picnic benches and a few wooden dining room tables dragged from living rooms in the settlements. Stained cups and food-spotted plates littered the surface. Dark clouds rolled overhead, revealed by the holes in the spired roofs—only a few beams arched without decay in the vast ceiling above. Perhaps it didn’t rain in this Disc. Maybe the clouds just stayed dark and never emptied themselves. Perhaps they existed to cast a gloom across every surface.
The large hall echoed the structures outside. They were unfilled except for half-forgotten pieces hobbled together to mimic what they were intended to be.
The twin-spired roofs were the hub from which Zondon Almighty spread out. Yet, the Crimson Queen that Syn had anticipated to be present in the hub was absent. The room was nearly empty except for a few burlys that stood in the corners. One sat in the dirt, picking through its toes. It sampled a few delights it discovered there, smacking its meaty lips with pleasure. Syn pulled her spear close and shivered at the sight of them. She despised the creatures. What were they? They were the size of men—Syn had never met any living but she had cleared away their skeletons on her Disc as she explored. But these were different than the photos of men she had viewed—their skin and flesh darkened as if burnt in fire and falling off—lifeless without glow. Their eyes glossed over. Their fingers fumbled at everything they touched, struggling through multiple attempts to pick up small objects such as a knife. Up close she could see that large metal pieces jutted out of their flesh as if they had been stabbed by the leftover remains of dead bots. Thick scar tissue stitched hastily at the edges of the protruding metal.
Ripley walked over to a chair and plopped down, sitting in a relaxed posture with her legs resting and crossed on the table. She slapped the seat next to her. “Come, take a load off.”
“What are we doing here?” Syn cringed at the sound of her voice as it echoed against the tin walls. A breeze blew through and puffed up dust that obscured most of the room.
“Waiting.” Ripley pulled an apple from a pocket and then flashed a much larger knife, slicing through the fruit. A trickle of juice rolled down the knife’s blade and then onto her dark hand.
Syn felt her mouth water at the sight. She was hungrier than she had realized and her anticipation had made her hurry through her last meal. Her stomach rumbled, and she tried to muffle the sound by placing her hands on her belly.
“Hungry? Here. Have a slice.” Ripley held up a thin slice stabbed on the end of her blade.
Syn eyed the slice and wondered where the girl had found the apple. She shifted her shoulders, feeling the weight in her backpack. It did not feel any lighter. In fact, it felt heavier than it had when they started. Syn realized she was still staring at the apple, then quickly averted her eyes to stare at her feet and then back to the entrance.
Ripley sighed. “You just aren’t going to believe it, are you? I’m not your enemy. You and I have so much in common. I’m beginning to think we could be great friends.” Ripley held the speared slice out to Syn.
Syn took the apple and held it gingerly in her fingers. She sniffed it and felt her mouth fill with saliva. She took a nibble, chewed and then popped the whole thing in. It tasted the same as the ones the Barlgharel had given her. She narrowed her eyes at Ripley.
Ripley laughed and slapped the table, “See! I’m not going to kill you. I’m not the one you need to be scared of. I promise you. I’m not going to hurt you.”
Syn started to ask who she should be afraid of, but before she could speak, a booming shout ripped through the silent room. “Who is this tiny piece of meat?”
Syn jumped to her feet and turned in the direction of the voice. Something large and fast sped through the dark miasma. It slammed into her jaw and sent Syn tumbling backward to smash against the table. The poorly constructed board creaked, and two legs buckled underneath it. Her weight brought the full corner down to the ground. Everything was bright spots, and her head thrummed in pain. There was something wet dripping on her face. Blood. She knew it was her blood as it moved across her cheek. Syn pushed off the ground to bring herself back up.