When Joe and Anne made it to the warehouse they were greeted by chaos. And by his younger brother loud-noise (a half-brother, really). Sirens were whooping, lights were flashing, people were racing in all directions*.
*On a two dimensional plane in a three dimensional environment.
'Get the garble garble garble,' said a rushed Connie. At least that's how it sounded to Joe. Anne's immediate change of direction suggested that it was aimed at her.
Joe followed, hoping to be of some help. They sped through the door and headed for the side wing. A stern, agitated figure stepped in and pulled at Joe's arm, swinging him around.
'Hey!' shouted the figure, above the sirens.
Joe was half surprised to see Ridley. Well, let's say 20% surprised. While his brain had told him that the runner would obviously be The New Guy, somewhere inside his heart he thought...maybe...
'What were you doing?!' said Ridley.
'We weren't doing anything,' said Joe, defensively. He didn't think this was the time to worry about who liked who and-
'Exactly!' shouted Ridley. 'You were supposed to be guarding the place and you let someone out!'
Joe's mind quickly caught up. 'We were guarding against people getting in.'
'It's the same thing,' shouted Ridley. 'Now you've consensual-sex'd it up for everyone!'
Joe stood back, unsure what to say. This gave Ridley no more oxygen with which to fan the flames of his anger, coaxing him into the only response possible: stomping off with cute puffs of smoke pouring from his ears.
Alright, so we breathe in oxygen and breathe out carbon dioxide. But you don't need carbon dioxide to “fan a flame”, so I kind of forced that one a bit for poetic purposes. Sorry. I got hung up on the idea that speaking to someone who's really angry will, no matter what's said, only make them angrier.
'Here!' said Anne, handing Joe something small and advanced-looking. Something dangerous-looking. Something weapon-looking.
'I don't think I can-'
'Just take it,' said Anne. At first Joe thought it was anger in her voice, that all of a sudden they all hated him. Perhaps she blamed him for taking her attention away from the escapee, or that he should have seen the guy himself. Then he realised it wasn't hate but a different kind of emotion in her voice and something he hadn't heard from her before: fear. This made him scared. More scared than talking in front of a large group of people. More scared than being strapped to a chair, eyes held open, subjected to a My Little Pony TV marathon. Even more scared than opening a box of chocolates to find ...<pause for dramatic effect>...nothing inside.
He gripped the weapon loosely in his fat fingers. It felt strange and weird and wrong. He looked sombrely at his shaking hands, as if psyching himself up for what was to come; building up the guts, so that he knew, whatever went down, if worse came to worse, if there was no other choice, he'd be able to respond in the necessary way. He swapped hands, grabbing the weapon with his right, ridding his left of moisture with a rub of his pants. As he was about to switch back the weapon flew out his hand.
'Thanks for holding it,' said Anne, taking the weapon from him.
'Oh,' is all Joe could muster.
'We'll be back as soon as we get him,' said Anne.
'Back?' said Joe. 'What are you talking about?'
'Yes we are!' boomed a voice not far away.
'We're not coming?' said Joe, catching on fast.
'We...' started Anne, faltering. 'We can't risk it.'
Despite the sirens, despite the arguments beginning all around him, Joe was able to concentrate enough to note the way her pupils had dropped, how she wasn't quite looking him in the eye. It was much closer to the bottom of his nose.
'You can't risk what?' he said.
'It's our place too!' boomed The Tank, in a shouting match with Connie.
'Anything could happen out there,' said Anne, quietly, evenly. 'One outspoken local and they would take you in.'
'Can't risk what?' repeated Joe, before being interrupted.
'OK,' said Connie, in a clear and loud voice. 'You can come. But we need to be smart.'
'Here, take this.' A big stick was slapped into Joe's hand.
'OK, come on, we have to get out of here,' said Anne. As soon as Connie had made the decision for the others to join in, she'd become immediately on-board and didn't bat an eyelash. 'The quicker we can move the better chance we have of tracking him down before he does any damage.'
'But what about the transmitters?' said Joe. 'Won't it look weird if we aren't wearing them?'
'We don't have passes anyway. It won't matter much if they catch us with or without transmitters.'
She started running. The others had already left and were half way across the open field toward the road. The noob and Isaac had been left behind to “make sure nothing happens to the Rat's Nest”, which is another way of saying they would have been little use in a physical altercation.
Joe kept pace, with his thoughts squarely on the stick in his hand. He totally could have used that other weapon, if he'd had the time to adjust properly and get his mind in the right shape. It was simply happening too fast. But he could have done it! It was disrespectful to think he couldn't handle it. What was he going to do with a stick? Threaten someone? If he was ever angry back home, he'd just get laughed at for such an unconvincing performance. No one found him the least threatening.
They had managed to catch up with the others now, all running down the wide dirt street. The land around was flat and barren, spotted intermittently with small mud towers. There didn't seem anywhere to run to.
As if responding to Joe's thoughts, Anne said: 'He won't bother with the slums – he'd have gone to the city proper. It'll be easier to hide from us. Unfortunately, it'll be easier for the Black Shoes to find him.'
'They already know he's escaped?' said Joe.
'Not yet,' said Anne. The lack of conviction in her tone didn't lend credibility to the words. 'We have to find him before they do.'
'We will find him before they do,' corrected Connie, running alongside.
She and Anne broke off and started talking to themselves, but Joe's focus was on his fellow noobs, though not including the noob, all of whom held a stick in their hand. So it wasn't just him; they didn't trust any of them with a real weapon. All of a sudden he felt better. He knew he should be worried about the escapee, about what could happen to the Rat's Nest if they didn't find The New Guy first, about why he wasn't initially invited on the man-hunt, but this seemed more important to him right now. He wasn't alone as the target of disrespect. There were others facing similar injustices, even if one of them was giving him the evil eye.
'Better look where you're going,' said Ridley, with an unusual seriousness.
Joe simply stared back.
'OK,' said Connie and slowed to a walk. The rest did the same.
'Why are we slowing down?' said Ridley. 'I thought we were on the clock with this thing.'
'We're moving into built-up areas,' said Connie. 'We need to be a little more discreet. Imagine if you were back on earth and half a dozen aliens came charging into the city with guns and other weapons.'
A stick isn't an other weapon, thought Joe. It's a stick. Despite this, he gave it a more surreptitious home by his side like the others.
'Everyone keep your eyes open,' said Connie. 'If you see him, don't try to detain him yourselves. Let me or the twins know. We'll do it.'
The Tank seemed a little annoyed at this “request”. He grunted, signalling either understanding or disregard. I'd bet more on the latter.
They all walked slowly and stared at - and through - the growing population of locals filling up the streets. It was a marvel to see a large city on an alien world with no other transportation than feet, apart from a few carts drawn by more Cowboys, shimmering within and without this dimension. Whenever Joe looked at one they all seemed to be watching him at once, but not in a creepy way, more like a communal sense of sadness, as if they were there to be pitied.
'Won't they see us attacking...' started Joe, having to think about the wording of his question. 'Won't they see us apprehending someone and call the police? Or the...what are they, the Black Shoes?'
'Not if it's human on human,' said Connie.
The twins laughed. If it was a better time they could have explained the joke, how human-on-human was a real money-maker in the sex trade along the dirtier (read: more interesting) strips of the city.
Connie continued: 'They prefer to stay out of our business. They'll just see it as a novelty; stupid humans wasting their energy over something trivial, or just doped up on reds. On the whole we're pretty invisible.'
'Like the homeless,' said Anne.
'So we're a bunch of bums, roaming the city and looking for another bum who's done us wrong,' said Joe. 'Just add in some redemption and we've got ourselves an award-winning feature film in the making.'
Ridley sneered at the attempt at humour. I simply rolled my eyes.
'The general population might not notice us but the Black Shoes will, just fine,' said Anne.
The road ahead split in a fork around some large towers. The throngs of locals were only getting thicker.
'How the underworld are we going to find him?' said Joe.
'If we're lucky, he'll be as predictable as the others,' said Connie.
'Others?' said Joe and Ridley together. Even sharing the timing of the word seemed distasteful to Ridley.
'Only six,' said Anne.
'Oh, that's all right then,' said Ridley. 'Here I was, worried it was a common occurrence. But really, that's quite a good record you've got there.'
Connie's open mouth was interrupted by Anne: 'Connie has secured them all. And each time before the O.L.'s found out. She hasn't lost one.' This seemed enough of a response for Connie, who closed her mouth.
The Tank was getting anxious. All this talking wasn't getting them closer to crushing this guy. Luckily for him, someone enunciated his concerns in a more practical manner.
'So if he's that predictable, where will he be?' said Joe.
'I know he has a brother here,' said Connie. 'And I know that the brother was sent to bXfgthsyuisggjmx's residence, to work in the kitchens.'
'Oh, to bicksgathisioosgajimecksez,' said Joe. 'Gotcha.'
Wow, that's a lotta vowels. Below is a representation of the individual spittle drops as they leave the mouth of a human foolish enough to attempt a pronunciation:
 |
| Figure 10-1: Spittle |
'I tried to get them both to the Rat's Nest, but I don't have enough sway just yet.'
'And where is this bicksgablah's place?' said Ridley.
'Yeah, where is that?' said The Tank, finally sensing a spark of possibilities.
'It's just up here, on the left,' said Connie.
'Then let's go,' said The Tank, already starting off.
'Or!' said Connie, strongly. 'Or he could have gone to the Dark Den.'
'The Dark Den?' said Joe. He was getting a little sick of repeating names just to get more information. But at least this one had a more respectable ratio of consonants.
'A dingy little drinking hole where the Underground meet.'
'There's an Underground?' said Joe. 'You mean like the resistance? Viva la Revolution, and all that?'
'Are you confusing the French revolution for the World War II resistance movement?' said Ridley. 'Are you that stupid?' He was getting back at Joe for his earlier remarks in front of Anne. And doing a pretty good job of it, to my mind.
'Whatever,' said Joe. 'You're telling me there are people – humans – looking to, what, overthrow the government? Or is this more like a civil rights movement, getting us humans the vote or equal standing under the law or something?' He was excited by this. And genuinely intrigued.
'More like a terrorist organisation,' said Anne.
'They like to cause mayhem,' explained Shamus, with a wink.
Really? thought Joe, somewhat sarcastically. You're weaving terrorism into this thing? That's original.
I do believe the thoughts were aimed at me. Watch out, he's getting smarter! I feel like a bunkered down Jeff Goldblum in that delightfully anti-science romp, Jurassic Park. Actually, I feel more like I'm waving my hand in irritation like Jeff Goldblum in that delightfully anti-science romp, The Fly. Actually actually, I feel even more like I'm angered by the lack of credibility, unlike Jeff Goldblum in that delightfully anti-science romp, Independence Day. Are we seeing a pattern here, folks?
So yes, Joe, I'm “weaving” terrorism into this thing. If “weaving” == “making vague hand gestures in the general direction of”.
You know what's worse, thought Joe, you're mentioning a militaristic movement for separatism in the same breath as an obviously clichéd Northern Irish person gestures with a little wink and smile. Bit insensitive, don't you think?
Who said they were Northern Irish? Perhaps you should stay in the moment there, Joe. I think a friend of yours has something to say.
'We haven't got time for a socio-political discussion right now, Joe. You moron.' Can you guess who said that one, Joe? I'll give you a hint, his name starts with R and ends in idley.
The Tank's fingers were wrapping and unwrapping around the large stick in his hand. His face twitched.
'So where are we going?' he demanded.
'We'll have to split up,' said Connie. 'Anne, Joe, you go with the twins and check out the Den. They know someone there. More importantly, that someone knows the twins. The rest of you are with me.'
She took off. Ridley just stared at Joe, then at Anne, before turning in a huff.
The Tank moved fast and soon caught up to Connie.
Ridley turned for another look, but already the others were gone. 'So, some excitement finally,' he said, catching up to the pack.
'Feels good to stretch the legs!' said The Tank.
'So what do you think about Joe letting this guy get away?' said Ridley.
'He didn't let him get away,' said The Tank. 'He was just guarding the Rat's Nest from intruders.'
'Yeah, but if you're meant to be out there with your eyes open, you'd think you'd see someone stalking away.'
'Not his fault,' said The Tank, and that seemed to be the end of the conversation from his point of view.
They continued on, up a slight hill. A hazy darkness descended upon the incline and soon the coloured lights on the massive black towers were the brightest parts of the city.
The volume of locals was getting thinner, sparser.
'We need to stick close,' said Connie. 'We're getting into a more affluent area, where humans don't often travel without chaperone.'
'You mean without a master,' said Ridley.
Connie ignored the remark. 'We'll become more conspicuous the closer we get,' she said.
'We're already pretty conspicuous as it is.'
'Is there a problem, Ridley?' said Connie.
'Problem? No problem.'
Connie looked him in the eye. 'I know you've only just arrived on this planet and you want to be free to go where you want, do what you want, just like on Earth. I see that. I understand. We might disagree on how to get it, but I assure you we both ultimately want the same thing. And right now, the way to keep the chance for that alive is to work together. Can we at least agree on that?'
Ridley stared back.
'Come on Rids,' said The Tank.
'Sure,' said Ridley. 'Of course.'
Connie smiled. 'You certainly have a lot of spirit. Both you and Joe. I don't think he agrees with my methods, either. I can see why you're friends – you're very similar.'
'We are not the same!' said Ridley, turning and storming off. Well, storming at a brisk walking pace.
The others followed. After a short while Ridley turned and shrugged his shoulders. 'So, err, I don't actually know where we're going.' He grinned.
Connie moved back to the lead and took them down three more wide streets, coming to a stop before a reasonably sized (and quite affordable, even in your budget level) black tower. This wasn't one of the immense government towers in the centre of the city, more a residential black tower in the middle of an affluent district. It's best not to confuse those, because once I...well...I'll save that for another time. <insert creepy uncomfortable laugh>
They stalked their way around the building. Ridley was overjoyed at the expert use of air as cover.
The back looked the same as the front except for a small opening, an archway common in all towers.
'Wait here,' said Connie. She crept toward the opening.
The Tank gripped his large stick tightly and raised it.
That's what he said.
'I ain't missing out on the action...'
That's what she said.
Connie stopped and looked at him.
'No,' she said. 'I'm going alone.'
'No,' said The Tank, 'I'm going with you.'
She looked back at Ridley. 'You'll be OK on your own?' she said.
'Yeah,' said Ridley, without thinking.
Connie contorted her mouth as she thought.
'OK,' she said, eventually, giving a serious nod, before turning to The Tank. 'Let's go.'
They shuffled inside the opening and disappeared into the darkness.
'This way!' shouted Shamus.
They moved quickly - well, more of a slow trot - taking the left path at the fork.
'Are you OK?' said Anne.
'Sure,' said Joe.
'I'm certain this is all happening quite fast. You're allowed to not be fine.'
'No, no, it's OK. I needed a good stretch of the legs.'
His sense of humour had fallen at about the same time as his bowels, back at the Rat's Nest. Now all that was left was a boring man who would prefer to avoid any activity and who was about as brave as someone who always runs away. He looked at Anne and felt ashamed, quickly retreating into himself.
'We'll be OK at the Den,' she said. 'They are friendly to humans.'
Joe wanted to ask how she knew. Had she been there? He couldn't imagine this girl, this sweet, innocent, cute, intelligent, interesting, [...I'll save you the next thirteen adjectives...] girl would have ventured into such a place.
You see, this is where guys go wrong. Joe's gone and put Anne on a pedestal, he's treating her like she's more than a person, that she could do no wrong. That's his first mistake. His second mistake is getting too close to a girl whose heart he will inevitably have to crush, a girl who will no doubt blame him for what he has to say about her grandfather, her deceased grandfather.
An air of seriousness rose up in Joe. His mind turned to more recent events.
'Before,' he said, 'when we were going to be left behind...you were scared we'd just run off, weren't you?'
Anne's expression didn't change. 'Yes,' she said.
'What?' shouted Joe.
'Shhh,' said Micky. 'Not sa loud, ma boy.'
'It wasn't just me. Connie thought-'
'I don't care what Connie thought,' said Joe. 'Did you really think I'd run away?'
'I've learnt not to expect anything any more. There are too many hopes crushed in this place. If you let yourself get carried away, if you start thinking, or believing...' Her voice trailed off.
Joe's initial anger melted away. He often felt himself too cynical, too pessimistic, too sarcastic even.
No Joe, not sarcasm! It's like Tim-Tamstm - you can never have too much.
But to bear witness to the loss of innocence in someone else was heartbreaking. Especially in Anne.
'I won't run away,' was all he could say.
She tilted her head and gave him a small smile, a brave smile, the kind you'd give your grandparents after they gave you a My Little Pony pet for your eighteenth birthday.
Unless you're an adult who's into MLP (as you'd no doubt call it), in which case...err...umm... good for you! Keep up the err...the good work! Yeah, that's it!.
'Hang on,' said Joe, 'is that why these groups were chosen?'
'Yes,' said Anne. 'Connie wanted to keep an eye on you and Ridley, but I convinced her that you'd be OK with me.'
'Oh,' said Joe. 'Thanks.' The last word wasn't quite a statement, and not quite a question, but something in between. A questment?
'And that's why The Tank is with her as well?' he said.
'Oh no, Connie trusts The Tank completely. He's very trustworthy.'
'Right,' said Joe.
'You're going the wrong way!' shouted Micky. 'We need to take gXizqas;&5fs, not mamaX!hhhjlpkzhg!'
'Not at this time of the day,' said Shamus. 'I know where I'm going. We're almost there, you female-reproductive-area.'
'Look at the tongue on that one,' said Micky. 'Not only can he get us lost, he can make ya marm's ears bleed with his words.'
'Oh, shut it,' said Shamus.
'Shut it, you say?' said Micky. 'Is that all ya got?'
Wfrsrrrrrrrsrrrrrrrsrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.
A high pitched squeal, like the whistle of a kettle, echoed in the distance.
Ridley stuck a finger deep inside his ear and twirled it in a large circular motion, then removed it with a slight head-shake. He listened, but couldn't quite pick up the sound he thought he had heard.
They were taking a long time to return.
'So, err, know any good jokes?' said Ridley to no one, or perhaps himself.
In response he heard a definite silence.
'No, me either,' he said.
The haze had become darker, but it wasn't the gloom that felt restrictive. Now that he was alone and there wasn't any walking, and clearly no talking, Ridley could sense a kind of unnerving quietness. An eeriness. Like if you were Will Smith in that Omega Man remake, standing in the middle of a barren and (seemingly) lifeless New York City. A sense of dread rose up in him.
He now stared into the small dark hole and realised he didn't have a real weapon. The big stick was certainly big, and certainly a stick, but probably wouldn't do much against some aliens. Besides, he was more of a lover than a fighter. The action was fun, the excitement was what he lived for, but standing here alone made him realise that there were much better things he could be doing with his time. Like finding a nightclub with some cute aliens. Or by being with Anne.
He looked up at the massive towers nearby and heard a deep sound, repeating like a beat.
His hand shook. But he wasn't scared; not big tough Ridley, not I-ain't-no-scardey-cat Ridley, not iron-willed man of steel Ridley. He was just...excited. Yeah, that's it, excited.
The excitement was so much that he jumped at the sound of footsteps coming closer; loud, harsh footsteps pounding on hard dirt. Lots and lots of footsteps.
'Poo!' exclaimed Shamus, and shuttered to a stop.
'Aw look, he's at it agai-'
'Shh, Black Shoes!' hissed Shamus. 'There!'
They all ducked into an alley and pressed themselves against the black wall. On the other side of the wide road, past the crowd of locals, a trotting group of six dark figures barged their way out the large archway and through the sections of the crowd who didn't part of their own accord.
'I'm guessing that's our Den,' said Joe, getting some of his energy back through cynicism.
'Dat it is,' said Shamus. 'But tey're leaving.'
'Is that good or bad?' said Joe.
'Don't know,' said both the twins in unison.
'I've got a bad feeling,' said Anne.
'So are we going in or not?' said Joe, single-mindedly.
'I tink,' said one of the twins, looking at the shrinking figures of the Black Shoes, 'we'd be better off followin' dem.'
They ran. They ran as fast as their puny human legs could carry them, those puny humans with their puny muscles.
The Black Shoes moved swiftly. It helped that anyone in their way moved out of their way fast enough to not be in their way. Or, to put it another way, no one was in their way.
Meanwhile, the puny humans were forced to dodge and weave, to find gaps where once there were none. And they had to do this while looking inconspicuous to the local population, and while not alerting the Black Shoes to the fact they were being tailed. Not an easy feat. But they were mostly successful, thanks to the guile of Shamus, the cunning of Micky, the gracefulness of Anne, and...and Joe. He was there too.
Woo, go Joe!
Episode X is dedicated to Jeff Goldblum's career.
Find episode XI here.
© 2013 Ben Safta
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial 3.0 Australia License
