Alaira

When Brandon wakes up, after being mugged, he doesn't expect to find himself in the Necropolis, a hellish underground land ruled by the cruel, manipulative Queen Alaira, who wants HIM for her king.

Alaira. alaira. AlairA. Alaira.

AlairA. alaira. Alaira. Alaira.

Alaira. AlairA. Alaira. alaira

alaira. Alaira. AlairA. Alaira.

Alaira. alaira. AlairA. Alaira.

AlairA. alaira. Alaira. Alaira.

Alaira. AlairA. Alaira. alaira

alaira. Alaira. AlairA. Alaira.

Alaira. alaira. AlairA. Alaira.

AlairA. alaira. Alaira. Alaira.

Alaira. AlairA. Alaira. alaira

 

My great-grandfather was a minister. He used to show up at family reunions and birthday parties just to preach about the dangers of pre-marital sex and Atheism and homosexuality. One year he even set up a puppet show so he could illustrate to my cousin Michael and I how to “say no” if someone ever tried to convince us to vote democrat. We were six at the time. It was a very confusing experience, to say the least.

            Anyway, when Great-Grandpa died, they had this big memorial service at the church where he used to work. I wore all black and a tie and I had to shake a bunch of stranger’s hands while they offered their “condolences”.  Afterwards, I ate cake and played with Power Ranger action figures with my cousin Michael on the pews and then I fell asleep in my car seat on the way home while my parents listened to John Lennon. For the most part it was just a normal day. I didn’t even think about it for years to come.

            When I was fourteen, my mother died. I remember my father sat me down to offer what he then thought were, “some words of comfort”. He explained that" the way he saw it" life was just a way of preparing us all for whatever came afterwards. He said he didn’t know what that might be but it had to be something great. My father said, “We are born with only one purpose, and that is to die”. My father said anything we do leading up to that is meaningless. Insignificant, but still, our choice.

He called life, “our childhood”. He said he believed this was our one chance to do whatever we want; however we want to do it. We are free to make mistakes. Like children, we will all learn lessons here that will shape us as people, but long-term consequences are exceedingly rare.

I liked that idea for about two hours. Then I walked into the garage and found his brains blown out all over the concrete, a vacant, vacant expression on his bloody, lifeless face.

I realized then that his theory must be complete bullshit. There was no way he was any kind of ‘child’. Children don’t think of doing things like that to themselves.

A week later, after all the papers were sorted out and the corpses buried, I was sent to live with my Aunt Jean and Michael. Michael’s parents died when we were like, two, or something and because of this, he considers himself something of a grief expert.

            It was actually really annoying, the way he used to come into my room every morning with words of advice that I didn’t actually need. I wanted to tell him to go away, that his parents died when he was way too young to remember so he could just cut the s**t because we all knew he was faking.

            I didn’t, though. Partly, because I knew Aunt Jean would beat the crap out of me if I did and partly because I was sick and tired of fighting with people I couldn’t control.

            So I got really quiet for a while. I spent a lot of time thinking about my life and what I was supposed to do with it. Great-Grandpa preached, Michael gave annoying advice. Mom listened to John Lennon…

            What did I do? What was I supposed to do?

            I also spent a lot of time thinking about what my dad said to me, just hours before he shot himself in the face, leaving me alone and parentless.

            “We are born with only one purpose, and that is to die.”

            I certainly didn’t believe everything he told me but no matter what I tell myself that always rings clear. For some reason I can’t shake the idea that everything I do is meaningless. Nothing matters because I’m going to die. We’re all going to die and no one will remember.

            Life is a really ludicrous system, if you ask me.

I remember asking Michael once if he believed what my dad said. Michael told me the theory was creepy and he didn’t want to think about it. He also said that he didn’t like to think of life under those terms. Waiting for death was not how he wanted to spend his time. He said maybe we were born with only one purpose, but surely, it couldn’t be just death. We did so many things here on Earth, there had to be meaning to some of it.

I guess I can agree with that. Kind of. I think about it a lot, actually. Maybe dad was wrong. Maybe we’re waiting for something more than death.

Or maybe something" or someone" is waiting for us?

 

Homeless people. You just don’t know what to expect from them, do you?

            We were on our way home from Leona Keenan’s going away party when it happened. I guess I was pretty distracted. Probably because I was soaked in warm beer and feeling pretty miserable since it was my girlfriend who’d dumped it over my head in a fit of rage. Anyway, I wasn’t thinking clearly. That’s probably why I didn’t see the homeless man until it was too late.

            “Brandon, look!” Michael shouted, pointing one sausage-like finger across the street.

            “Michael, I don’t really care if there’s another Lap Band poster. There’s no way Aunt Jean will"“

            “" No Brandon.”

            I looked up to see a man, covered in mud and grease, barreling towards my overweight cousin, his eyes crazy with animosity.

            All I could think was, Oh my God, this is it. I always knew Michael would die in some totally lame way but I never thought it would be so soon.

            Michael turned to run but only managed to trip over his shoelace and land flat on his face.

            “Brandon, help!” Michael wheezed.

            I took a step backwards, bewildered. “No way, man,” I said. “This is your"“

            Oof.

            With absolutely no warning, I was struck with one-hundred-sixty pounds of filthy human flesh. I hit the ground, hard.

            “What the hell?” I exclaimed. “Get off me! Get off me!”

            Out of the corner of my eye I could see Michael rising to his feet, his silhouette resembling that of a baby orca whale in a nature documentary.

            “Don’t worry, Brandon,” Michael huffed, clenching his fists. “I’ll help y"“

            Michael was too slow. In an instant, the hobo reached out and stuck him in the stomach, causing him to fall backwards in pain.

            “Money!” the homeless man shouted. “I need money!”

            I reached into my pocket, frantically.

            “Here,” I said, handing him a twenty-dollar bill. “This is all I have, I swear. This is all I have.”

            The homeless man looked down at the bill, disappointed. He turned his attention to Michael.

            “What about you, tubby?”

            Typical Michael. He lay, unmoving on the cement. I knew what a tight a*s he was about money. He would never hand over cash even if it meant saving our lives.

            “Hey, tubby!” the homeless man screamed. “I’m talking to you!”

            “I am not tubby!” Michael screeched. “I am big boned!”

            “Michael!” I yelled, exasperated. “Give the guy your money so he’ll go away.”

            “No!” Michael said, sounding outraged. “You know,” he said, turning his attention back to the hobo. “Stealing is a felony. You could go to jail and"“

            “" Michael!” I shouted, slamming my fists down on the cement. This actually turned out to be a pretty bad idea because the instant my fists made contact with the concrete I felt tears well up in my eyes.

            I broke my own hand. I broke my own hand?!

            “Hey, tubby, hand over the cash now!” the hobo screamed. “You’ve got twenty seconds or you’re going to pay.”

            Michael shook his head, squinching up his face in anticipation.

            “Whatever happens, Brandon, know that I"“

            Bam. The hobo punched Michael in the face. He went out like a light.

            “You’re next, buddy,” he said, turning towards me.

            I scrambled backwards on the cement. Trying desperately to get onto my feet. Between my obviously bruised ribs and my broken hand, though, that proved to be more difficult than I expected.

            In one swift motion, the homeless man picked up his boot and slammed it down on my face. I didn’t even have time to cry out in pain before the darkness took over.

 

“Oh, poor thing. I see Joey got to you. Just hold still. You’ll be fine. Shhh. Shhh.”

            My eyes snapped open. I was laying down somewhere.

            The middle of the sidewalk, I recalled.

            I tried to sit up" tried to find Michael.

            “Lay back, you’re bleeding.”

            Who was talking to me? What was going on?

            “Where’s Michael?” I croaked. “Who are you?”

             “Your… friend, is laying right beside you.”

            I turned my head, slowly, to see Michael, lying unconscious.  

            “Is he hurt?” I asked, panicking. God, if Michael was hurt Aunt Jean would kill me.

            “Not really. But you are.”

            I craned my neck, hoping to catch a glance of the woman who was speaking to me. Something felt very strange about this situation.

            “Your rib is broken. So is you hand,” she said. “Don’t try to move.”

            “What’s going on?” I asked, breathlessly. “Are you a doctor?”

            “No,” she said. Slowly, the stranger rose to her feet.

            “I’ll bring my car around" drive you two to the hospital.”

            “Thanks,” I breathed. “Thank you.”

            So nice, I thought. So few people would even stop.

            “It’s not problem,” the woman replied, stroking my forehead. “Now hush. I’ll be back soon.”

             “You’re not… You’re not a doctor, are you?” I asked, already feeling consciousness slipping away again.

            “Not a doctor,” she said, shaking her head. “Just a friend.”

 

I woke up in complete darkness.

            “Hello?” I cried. My voice was hoarse and barely audible.

            Thirsty.

            I shifted around in terror. Suddenly, the floor seemed to drop out from under me. I was falling, falling.

            Oof. I gasped in pain as I made contact with the floor. It took me a full forty minutes of lying there, completely petrified, before I realized that I had simply rolled off a tall mattress or something.

            My eyes couldn’t adjust in here. I’d been awake for almost an hour and I still couldn’t see anything at all.

            “Hello?” I cried, hit again by how thirsty I was. “Is anyone there? Is anyone"?“

I heard the door open.

            Click. Clack. Click. Clack. The sound of someone’s shoes. Heels. Like the kind my girlfriend" ex-girlfriend" wore to parties.

            “Here,” a vaguely familiar voice said. “Drink this. It’ll make you stronger.”

            I heard something being placed beside my head. Then two hands found their way under my side and pushed me back up onto the mattress.

            “You’ve been sleeping for twenty-nine hours,” the stranger said. “It’s a wonder you’re still alive.”

            “Michael…” I groaned. “Where’s"“

            “" Your friend is safe,” the stranger said, cutting me off. “He’s here, too.”

            I opened my eyes. Nothing. I was still completely blind, though I was sure I didn’t hear the door close behind my visitor. Was this whole building pitch black?

            Was this even a building?

            For a moment, a terrible image of a cave my dad took Michael and I to as kids popped into my head.

            “Don’t go too far back,” he warned us. “If you get lost back there, no one will find you for hundreds of years…”

            “Please,” I stammered. “Please, let me go. I’ll give you anything. Money. Whatever you ask for. Just please.”

            The stranger clacked her tongue and placed a hand gently under my chin.

            “Hush, Brandon,” she breathed. “Hush.”

            I recognized her voice now. She was the same woman who brought me here to begin with.

            I couldn’t control my own anger. I was fueled by terror and survival instinct and nothing else.

            “Please!” I screamed, lashing out at her. “Please, let me go! I can’t take this! I’m blind! I’m blind!” I clawed at my face, feeling my nails dig into my flesh with no avail.

            “I know it’s hard,” Alaira whispered. “But you have to try to be calm. Things will get better.” Slowly, she pried my hands from my face.

            “Drink this,” Alaira said, firmly, placing a bowl in my hands. “It will make you stronger.”

            Click. Clack. Click. Clack.

            She was gone.

 

After a while, I just sort of lost track of time. I don’t know how long I stayed in that room" two days? Maybe three? I spent most of my time sleeping since that was the only way I could stay sane. The sick thing is, the water Alaira brought to me every four hours or so was highly caffeinated or something. It wasn’t like anything I’d ever drank before. It made me restless. It made sleep practically impossible.

            So I could die of thirst or go insane from sleep deprivation. Lovely.

            I heard nothing about Michael. Part of me hoped he was okay. I could picture him perfectly, running the streets and searching for me.

            Still, I think some; small part of me knew that he had to be here. If Alaira took me, why would she spare him? What was the point of any of this?

            Finally, after what felt like eternity, a door opened.

            “Brandon Ellis?” a low, garbled voice called.

            I twitched at the sound of my name.

            “Here,” I croaked, my own voice raspy and unfamiliar to my ears.

            “Come with me,” the new stranger said, grabbing me by the arm and hoisting me to my feet. I felt something closing in around my head" a bag.

            “Please don’t,” I pleaded. “Please, I need to see.”

            “You can’t see,” the new stranger responded. “Not yet.”

            And he was right.

            Even as we left the room and headed down what I thought must have been a hallway, I could still only see darkness.

            “Are you blind, too?” I asked, helplessly. “Did she make you blind? We can leave together, you know? Oh, please let me go. Please.”

            “Stop your beggin’, boy, Alaira’d have my head if I freed you so early.”

            What is that supposed to mean?

            “Here we are,” the new stranger said, pushing open what I thought was a door and leading me into a new room.

            “He’s here.”

            “Good work, Thomas,” Alaira’s voice, hissed. “Leave him here. I’ll take care of the rest.”

            “He’s already talking about leaving, Miss.”

            “They all do. Don’t worry.”

            I froze with panic. What was she talking about? ‘The all do’? Who are ‘they’? And what happened to them?

            I gulped, hard.

            “Don’t worry, Brandon,” Alaira sighed. “You’ll have your sight back in a minute. Just relax.”

            “Let me go,” I snarled, as she lifted the bag from my head. I reached for her, angrily swinging my fists, but connecting with nothing.

            “Brandon, Brandon,” Alaira said, sounding surprised. “Don’t you ever want to see? I’ve got the antidote, you know,” she said. I felt her place a tiny glass bottle in my hand. “Don’t try to use it yourself. Too much will kill you.”

            I released the bottle, letting in fall to the floor.

            “Here. Stay calm. You’ll be seeing again in a minute.”

            “Where am I?” I asked. I was starting to sound really pathetic. “And where’s Michael? And the cops. The cops should be looking for me.”

            “Cops don’t know about this place,” Alaira snapped. “What? Do you think I’m an idiot?”

            “I don’t know who you are,” I panted. “I don’t even know what you look like.”

            “Well, you will in a minute if you just calm down.”

            I forced myself to relax, placing my hands by my sides. “How do I know you wont use too much" kill me, like you said.”

            Alaira made a noise a little like a sigh and placed a hand on my shoulder. “You can’t know anything for sure, Brandon,” she said. “You just have to take a chance.”

            I tipped my head back and felt Alaira’s fingertips spread my left eye open and hold it like that.

            “One drop,” she whispered. Something cold fell onto my eye and I heard a sizzle noise. A smell like lavender filled the room. I could see light.

            “Two drops,” Alaira murmured.

            There was a long pause and then, “Three… drops…”

            Alaira released my eye and I slammed it closed, blinking rapidly as my vision cleared.

            “I" I can see!” I stammered.

            “Yes, but only out of one eye,” Alaira hissed, tipping my head back once again.

            She repeated the process and then it was done.

            I breathed a sigh of relief, looking down at my hands in awe. I turned them over as if it were the first time I’d ever seen them. It might as well have been.

            “Better?” Alaira asked.

            That’s when I saw her.

            The first thing I noticed was her skin. Alaira was young" mid-twenties, tops" and she looked strong. Still, her skin was the same pale white you’d expect from someone who never saw sunlight. It wasn’t ugly just… shocking, especially in contrast with her pale blue eyes, dark hair and makeup.

            She smiled at me, a look of curiosity flickering across her face. There was something almost… terrifying about that look.

            Sharp features, I thought. She looks like a fox.

            “You seem worried,” Alaira said, raising one, high-arched eyebrow. “Is something wrong?”

            “Hell yes there is,” I said, feeling the panic return. “You still haven’t told me where I am. How long have I been here? Where’s Michael? Why are you doing this?”

            Alaira didn’t answer for a long time, choosing instead to pace the length or the room, examining the necklace she wore around her neck.

            “I told you, your friend is safe,” she said, dropping her hands to her sides.

            “Yes, but where?”

            Alaira waved me off. “Its not important,” she said.

            “Yes. It is!” I shouted. “Where are we? Just let me go! What are you trying to do with me?”

            “I’m not trying to do anything,” Alaira replied, calmly. “I don’t have to try. Everything’s going according to plan.”

            “What does that mean?” I asked, hopelessly. I collapsed on a small couch sitting behind me.

            “It means,” Alaira said, taking a step closer. “That you don’t have to ask any more questions.” She stroked my forehead in an almost loving way. “Everything’s being taken care of.”

            Suddenly, I felt overpowered by exhaustion. Sleep was finally catching up to me after all that time laying awake in the dark.

            “Alaira…” I breathed, feeling more confused and disoriented than ever.  

            “Hmm?” she asked, still trailing her hand over my forehead again and again.

            “Why is… everything red?” I asked, allowing my eyes to drift around the room for the first time since regaining my sight.

            Everything gave off a faded, red glow. The chairs the walls. Even Alaira herself seemed to radiate and soft, red light.

            Alaira turned her head towards the ceiling. I followed her gaze up to see large, boxlike stage lights blazing with the color.

            “It’s just the lighting,” she said, with a small smile.

            Little did I know that was one of the few truths she would ever tell me.

 

I woke up with one of the worst headaches I’d ever experience.

            “Ugh,” I groaned, rolling around on the couch. It took me a long time to get my bearings.

            “Eat this,” Alaira said. She was sitting in the exact same position she had been before, with my head rested in her lap.

            Slowly, she pressed a pill to my lips and I had no choice but to swallow it. I felt dizzy and achy and instantly nauseated.

            “What was that?” I asked, feeling my gums go numb.

            “It’ll heal you,” she replied, calmly.

            “Heal me?” I asked. “Heal me from what?”

            “The water,” Alaira said. “The water I gave you. It made you sit. If makes everyone sick.”

            She smiled slightly and got to her feet, letting my head hit the couch cushions a little to hard.

            “Stay here,” Alaira commanded. “This is your new room.”

            I sat up, slowly and glanced around.

            Red. Red. Everything sill looked red.

            “Are there any… normal lights in here?” I asked. “Lamps or something?”

            “This is better for your eyes. Trust me,” she said, pausing in the doorway to add, “Natural light will blind you.”

            I gaped at her. “What does that mean?” I asked. Slowly, I stumbled over to the walls, pressing my hands against them. I had to get out of here. I had to get out of here.

            “It’s no use, Brandon,” Alaira said, placing a hand on my forearm. “You can’t get out of here.”

            “Why not?” I asked, pathetically. “Why not? Why can’t I just go? What do you want from me?”

            Alaira looked up at me, sympathy in her eyes. “It’s not so much what I want but what you need, Brandon,” she sat, patting my cheek. “Just sit tight. Everything will work itself out.”

           

I started working on a plan the moment Alaira left.

            “Okay,” I whispered, pressing my eyes closed as tightly as I could. “There has to be a way out of here. Just think.”

            Admittedly, thinking would have been a lot easier if I knew where here was.

            A few hours later, the door reopened and a man dressed in all black appeared with a plate of food.

            “This is for you,” he said. “Alaira says you gotta eat it all.”

            I pushed the plate away. “I’m not hungry,” I said, crossing my arms.

            The stranger clacked his tongue and grabbed the plate back. “Alaira won’t be happy to hear that,” he said, shaking his head.

            “Oh yeah?” I asked, slamming my fists against the ground. “Well you can tell Alaira to go f**k herself. I want out of here! What kind of place is this?”

            The stranger looked appalled.

            “One word of advice,” he said, his voice low and quiet. “Don’t you ever, ever say anythin’ like that in front of Alaira, ya hear me?”

            I glared at him. “Why shouldn’t I?” I asked. “She can’t just do this, you know? She can’t hold me against me will, it’s illegal. My family will find me.”

            “Oh,” he said, shaking his head. “Your family ain’t comin’ for you, kid. No one’s comin’ for you.”

            “Who are you?” I asked. “Who are any of you? Why are you saying this?”

            “Why are you askin’ so many questions?”

            I buried my head in my hands, feeling like a little kid lost in a department store.

            “I have to get out of here,” I said. “I don’t even know where I am.”

            Slowly, the stranger knelt down beside me.

            “You’re in the necropolis,” he breathed. “Didn’t Alaira at least tell ya that?”

            I shook my head. “What the hell is the necropolis?”

            The stranger paused. “It’s a city,” he breathed. “An underground city.”

            “Underground?” I asked.

            “Yeah, ya know, like unknown,” the stranger replied.

            “Oh.”

            I paused.

            “So is Alaira the boss, then? Of the necropolis?”

            The stranger laughed at this. “She ain’t just the boss, kid,” he breathed. “Alaira’s the queen.”

            “The queen,” I repeated, lamely, as if saying the word aloud might help me understand.

            “Do you have… police? In this city?” I asked. “Do you know anyone who will help me get home?”

            The stranger just shook his head. “Once Alaira takes ya in, you ain’t never comin’ out,” he said, simply. “This is forever, kid. The necropolis is your home.”

            “But why me?” I asked. “And why my lame cousin? Why are we here? We’re nothing special…”

            “Rumor has it Alaira’s lookin’ for a new mate,” the stranger said, clapping my shoulder. “You’re gonna be here a long time, kid. If I were you, I’d try to impress her. It’d be quite the honor to be chosen.”

            I gulped. “Mate?” I asked. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

            “Well,” the stranger said. “She’s the queen of necropolis, but we ain’t got no king. It makes Alaira sad, you see. So sometimes she taken boys off them streets and tries ‘um out. If she likes ‘um, they can stay with her here in necropolis.”

            “And if she doesn’t like them?” I asked, hesitantly.

            “Well,” the stranger said, getting to his feet. “That’s way I warned ya about insultin’ her. You don’t wanna get on Alaira’s bad side, Brandon. That don’t end well for anyone.”

            The stranger turned to leave.

            “Why don’t you fight her?” I asked, frustrated. “I’ve met three of you guys just today. You could overpower her. You could be free. Why not try it?”

            The stranger smiled at me. “We can’t,” he said, in a tone so dull and hollow it would haunt me for nights to come. “We just can’t.”

 

She let me out of my room four days later.

            “Feel free to walk around. See the sights. Just don’t talk to anyone working a guard post. They’re all very busy.”

            I didn’t reply. I’d vowed I wouldn’t speak to Alaira. I wasn’t going to play her game like the others did.            

            I was going to wait. Then, one day, I planned to do what the others couldn’t" I would overpower her.

            I would leave this place.

           

Turns out the Necropolis wasn’t much of a city, after all. Instead, it just looked a lot like a large cylinder-shaped room, twenty stories high and a block wide. Everything was red here, too. Each wall was covered in cement staircases and open doors all identical to mine.

            Surely, there weren’t people in every room.

            In the center of the necropolis there was something that looked a lot like the above-ground pool Aunt Jean bought for Michael a few summer’s ago. Except it was bigger, a lot bigger, and it was completely covered in a black tarp that prevented us people from seeing inside.

            Dispersed around the room were several groups of men who looked a lot like the stranger who visited me the day before. They all wore the same attire" black turtlenecks, black pants, black beanies, black shoes" and stood with the same all too straight posture. Most terrifying, though, was the fact that each man held a large machine gun in their hands.

            No one was getting past them. No one.

            “Braaaaaaaaannnnnnndddddooooonnnn!”

            I whirled around just in time for Michael to wrap me in a large, flabby hug.

            “BrandonBrandonBrandonBrandonBrandonBrandonBrandon! Boy am I glad to see you!” he shouted, crushing my ribs.

            I patted his arm. “Nice to see you, too, Mike,” I said, wheezing.

            Michael let me go, gasping.

            “Brandon,” he began, his eyes flooding with tears. “We have to get out of here. Aunt Jean will be so mad at us.”

            I decided not to yell at Michael for being such a huge dumbass and approach the situation from another angle, instead.

            “Look, Michael, we’re gonna figure this out, okay. But for now, stay close to me and be nice to the girl.”

            “The girl?” Michael asked, raising his eyebrows. “What girl?”

            I frowned. “The one who brought us here, moron. Who else?”

            “Oh,” Michael said, glancing around. “Have you… seen her, or something? I’ve only seen the guys over there,” he said, jerking his thumb in the direction of the guards.

            “I’ve seen her, alright,” I breathed, grabbing Michael by the arm and steering him towards the center of the necropolis. “And she isn’t… Well, she isn’t right, Michael. Something’s wrong with her. She’s totally messed up.”

            “Messed up like how?” Michael asked, skeptically.

            “Messed up like crazy,” I said. “She wants to keep us here because she’s looking for.” Cringe. “A mate.”

            I really should have expected Michael’s reaction to this would be alarmingly positive. See, Michael is not exactly a ladies man, per say. And he’s wanted a girlfriend since he was like, twelve, despite my ongoing suspicion that he’s gay. So the idea of any girl" and I mean any girl" paying any attention to him at all get’s Michael so worked up he can’t think straight.

            “So what, is she looking for a boyfriend?” Michael asked. “Because I could be her boyfriend. Maybe, if I say I’ll be her boyfriend, she’ll let us go. Then she can come to school with me and hang out with me and"“

            “Michael, I’m pretty sure she’s too old to register for Hidden Hills High, okay? Just play it cool. She isn’t going to let us go anywhere anytime soon.”

            “Right,” Michael breathed. “But maybe if"“

            “" No, Michael,” I said, throwing my hands up in the air. “Whatever scheme you’re working up in your head, stop it right now. Alaira’s not looking for a boyfriend, okay? She’s weird. She’s… looking for something different.”

            “And how would you know, Brandon?” Michael demanded, crossing his arms. “You don’t know everything, you know.”

            “I know I don’t know everything!” I shouted, alarmed by my own voice as it echoed off the walls around me. “But I know this. She isn’t looking for love, Michael. She doesn’t want to hold your hand or hang out with you at school or eat McDonald’s French fries with you. She wants to hurt you, okay? She wants to hurt you and maybe she even wants to kill you. I don’t know! Don’t you remember that water she made you drink? Huh? Didn’t that hurt?”

            Michael looked shocked and confused. “Water?” he asked, frowning. “What are you talking about? Brandon, are you okay?”

            “No,” I said, shaking my head. I sunk down on my knees and rested my head against the large, tarp-covered poolside. I swear I could feel something on the other side of the tarp moving around.

            There was a long pause.

            “She really didn’t give you the water?” I asked, as Michael took a seat beside me.

            “Nope,” Michael said, looking sympathetic. “Brandon, maybe you hit your head…”

            I sighed. “Just let it go, Michael. There’s no point. We have to focus on getting out of here.”

            Slowly, I rose to my feet.

            “Hey,” Michael said, glancing up at the open doors all around us. “Do you think there are others?”

            “Here?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. “I’m sure. Why else would they have all this space?”

            Before I knew it, Michael was racing up a staircase, already breaking a sweat.

            “Michael, what the hell? Slow down, you’ll have an asthma attack.”

            “I don’t have asthma!” Michael shouted, but he slowed down, anyway.

            “Michael hey,” I said, resting a hand on your shoulder. “What are you doing?”

            “You said you there must be others,” Michael reminded me, a pleading look on his face. “We have to find them.”

            He started up the staircase again before I stopped him.

            “Come on, Brandon, we have to go,” Michael said, trying to push past me.

            “Michael, we’re talking about complete strangers,” I said. “You can’t just waltz into these rooms. We don’t know what we’ll find.”

            Michael looked determined. “Exactly,” he said. “Listen Brandon, maybe you don’t care about them, but if there are other people here I want to help them. I mean, they’re probably just like us" trapped, scared, maybe even injured…”           

            “Oh yeah?” I asked. “And what do you propose we do with these people when we find them?”

            “Well, we help them of course,” Michael said, as if I were a complete moron. “And then maybe they can help us.”

            “Help us?” I asked, skeptically.

            Michael lowered his voice.

            “You know,” he whispered. “Help us out of here. The more against Alaira the better.”

            “Right,” I said, trying not to roll my eyes. See this is the thing with my cousin; he’s always way too optimistic. It’s like he expected that coming across some strangers here might somehow set us free.

            “Now come on,” Michael said, pushing past me. “We have to go.”

            I reluctantly followed Michael up another three flights of stairs, until we were stopped by an armed guard.

            One I recognized. He was the one who talked to me the day before.

            “Brandon,” the guard said, nodding in my direction.

            “Hey,” I said, meekly, giving a small wave.

            “I’m afraid I can’t let you go any farther,” the guard said. “The rest is restricted.”

            “Restricted,” I repeated. “Of course.” Jesus Christ, this place was just swimming with secrets.

            “Hey who’s room is that?” Michael asked, pointing at a doorway over the guard’s shoulder. Sure enough, this room did show some signs of life. For one, there was a small, pink M painted on the doorway.

            “Oh that?” the guard asked. His expression softened. “That would be Little Mercury’s room.”

            “Little… who’s room?” I asked, confused.

            “Little Mercury. Alaira named er,” the guard said, nodding. “She’s the sweetest little thing you ever did see. With the prettiest eyes. She’s a kind little girl. Only thirteen.”

            “Well… is she still here?” Michael asked, a glint of happiness in his eyes.

            The guard shook his head sadly. “Not for a long time,” he said.

            I frowned. “What happened to her?” I asked.

            “Alaira had to take care of her. She wouldn’t quit talkin’ back.”

            “W" What does that mean?” Michael stuttered, obviously afraid.

            The guard only nodded towards the center of the necropolis where the large, covered pool stood. There was a strange look about him. He seemed genuinely… upset.

            I shuddered. Whatever was in there couldn’t be good.

           

 

I waited for Alaira for five hours. I did everything I thought to do to pass the time. I worked on my escape plan. I paced the floor of my spacious room. I tried to perfect my handstand" no luck there.

            Finally, I decided to take a nap on the large four poster bed in the room. Sleep came quickly, probably as a result to the stress.

            And when I woke up, she was with me.

            “Hello, Brandon,” Alaira said, her voice quiet and almost… soothing. If I didn’t no any better, I would trust her just because her voice sounded so nice.

            Looking at her… I wanted to trust her. She was beautiful. If only she wasn’t holding me against my will…

            “Who are you?” I blurted out, though I already knew the answer.

            “Alison Claira Conrad the first,” Alaira said, reaching under her jacket and retrieving a necklace that looked a little bit like a dog tag. There it was" that name" printed clearly across the surface.

            She cocked her head to the side, admiring the necklace in the dim, red light.

            “Pretty?” she asked, holding it out for me to see.

            “Yes,” I choked out, unable to think of a better response.

            Alaira’s eyes grew cold and she chucked the necklace across the room.

            “Wrong answer,” she said, crossing her arms across her chest. “It’s not pretty, its horrible.”

            “Why?” I asked.

            Maybe if I only understood her… Maybe if she believed I was her friend… Maybe then she would let me go.

            “It’s a thing of the past,” she said, firmly. “It distracts me from what’s really important.

            “What’s really important?” I asked.

            Alaira looked at me curiously. Her expression softened. “Well,” she said, wracking the back of her fingernails across my cheek. “Keeping you alive is important, of course,” she said. “Which reminds me…”

            Alaira reached onto the bedside table and retrieved a bottle of pills.

            “Take these twice a day,” she instructed. “Once in the evening and once when you wake up.” She smiled, eerily. “That is, if you want to survive.”

            I froze. I couldn’t exactly refuse that, could I?

            Slowly, I placed a pill on my tongue. Alaira nodded. I swallowed it.

            “My turn,” she said, taking her own pill and swallowing it. She closed her eyes, smiling. “There we go,” she said. “Another twelve hour’s life. Tastes nice, right?”

            I nodded, even though it was a lie. The pill tasted horrible" fishy" like the sardines Aunt Jean ordered on her pizza.

            “Did you give one of these to my cousin?” I asked, shaking the pill bottle around.

            A wicked smile crossed Alaira’s face.

            “Your cousin. Right,” she said, snatching the bottle from my hands. “I’ll take these to him right away.”

            “W" Wait!” I stammered, reaching for her. “Don’t" Don’t I have to take these again? At night?”

            Alaira looked confused. “I thought you wanted your cousin to have some,” she noted, curiously.

            “I" I do,” I breathed. “But aren’t there enough to"“

            “" There’s never enough,” Alaira snapped, eyeing the bottle. “There’s hardly enough as it is, can’t you see that? We’re all dying. All of us. Now do you want your cousin to have some or do you want to keep it for yourself? It doesn’t matter to me, I just like you better.”

            I stared at her, literally shaking with fear. If she was telling the truth" if these pills truly were the only things keeping me from death" could I really afford to give them up so easily? Even to Michael?

            Alaira looked at me, her eyes cold.

            “I don’t have all day,” she said.

            I didn’t answer" I couldn’t answer. I needed time to think.

            “F**k it,” Alaira swore, tossing me the bottle of pills. “Enjoy your stay,” she said, and then she walked out.

            I sat there for a long time, looking at the pills. The bottle was blank. It didn’t look like much at all.

            We’re all dying. All of us.

            Alaira’s words echoed in my head over and over, haunting me.

            And again I asked myself, what is this place?

 

There were four pills in the bottle. That meant… forty-eight hours until… what?

            Finally, I made my decision. I had to talk to someone. I had to get some answers.

            When someone finally came to open my door in the morning, I ventured out into the necropolis with one, set goal in mind: To find the guard who spoke to me the first day. He was the only person who ever gave me any kind of answer. He had to know something about the pills. Especially since Alaira implied that everyone took them.

            My stomach knotted up at the thought of Michael, lying on a mattress somewhere, dying because I was too selfish to sacrifice just twelve hours of my life.

            I walked a little faster.

            “Hey!” I shouted, when I caught a glimpse of my guard. “Hey you!”

            The guard turned to me, weapon in hand.

            “Don’t move, son,” he said, aiming his gun.

            I help my hands up in surrender. “Wait, wait,” I stammered. “I just came to talk.”

            “Ain’t no temporary ever talkin’ to me while I’m at my post,” the guard spat, looking angry. “Now scram.”

            “Temporary?” I asked, taken aback. “What does that mean?”

            The guard flinched. “It means you ain’t gonna be here long. Alaira’s made ‘er decision. You ain’t gonna be no mate of hers.”

            My stomach sank.

            “W" What does that mean?”

            The guard nodded his head towards the center of the necropolis. I followed his gaze to the large, covered pool.

            My stomach sank even farther.

            “What is that thing?” I asked, my voice shaking.

            “That ain’t nothin’ you need to know,” the guard said. “Yet.”

            “Please,” I said, turning back to him. “I need your help.” I reached into my pocket for my pills. “You have to tell me about these things. Alaira said"“

            “" Put those in your pocket, you damn fool!” the guard hissed. “Don’t you know any man in this damn hole would kill you for those?”

            I did as I was told, shoving the pills back down in my pocket.

            “Why aren’t you killing me?” I asked, eyeing the gun.

            “Because I ain’t like the others,” the guard said, forcefully. “I’m here by mistake, ya here me? I’m just a normal guy, ya see? This is all some big mix up. I’m a good man. A good man!” his hands shook on the barrel of the gun. “Now ya’ll better run off right now because if Alaira sees me, I’m afraid I’ll meet your same fate, Brandon.”

            “Why do you let her control you?” I pressed. “Why do you let her run this place?”

            “Because she gets the pills, goddamn it!” the guard shouted, stomping his foot. He began mumbling after that, his eyelids fluttering. It took me a long moment to realize he was whispering a prayer.

            “Hey,” I said, pushing his shoulder. “Hey, please. What are the pills? What do they do?”

            “They keep you alive, man,” the guard whimpered. “There’s dust in the air, see. That dust’ll kill ya after a while if you don’t get the proper medicines. That’s why Alaira takes care of all of us. We can’t ever leave, cuz’ she’s got the damn pills.”

            “Why not take them?” I asked. “Why not take them all and escape?”

            “She makes ‘um, man!” the guard said. “She makes ‘um and she ain’t tellin’ nobody the recipe. That’s how her last mate died, you hear? He tried to get her to tell… Tried to save Little Mercury…” the guard broke off, choking on his own tears. He met my eyes.

            “There’re so few pills, Brandon. Less ‘n’ less everyday,” he said. “I’ve seen men go sick and out of their minds without ‘um. I’ve seen ‘um rollin’ on the floor, foamin’ at the mouth. I’ve seen ‘um claw their own eyes out and cry themselves to death cuz’ of the achin’. He gotta have the pills, man, but Alaira can’t make ‘um all that fast and when she can make ‘um she’s gotta choose who gets ‘um.” The guard sniffed, wiping his eyes on his sleeve.

            I stumbling backwards, grabbing the metal railing the separated me from a two story drop.

            “I’m sorry,” I said, abruptly. “I have to go.”

 

When night fell, and someone came to lock me in my room, I began devising a plan.

            I didn’t know how long I could last" I didn’t know how long Michael could last" without the pills.

            I gulped. Hell, for all I knew Michael could already be dead.

            Aunt Jean would kill me.

            I shook the thought from my mind. I had to get out of here" I had to get Michael out of here.

            But first, I had to see what was in that pool.

            Getting past the door was going to be the easy part compared to actually getting past the guards. I just needed to know how to unlock it from the inside. Unfortunately, the only other things in the room were furniture, and using furniture to take down a door might be a little too noisy.

            I paced the length of the room, trying to devise a plan that might actually work. If I wanted the door open, I needed a key. A key or… something like a key.

            I vaguely recalled all the stupid cartoons I watched as a kid, where someone would use a bobby pin to unlock a door or safe.           

            Unfortunately, I didn’t exactly have a bobby pin, either.

            I walked over to the door, pressing my hands against it and giving it one, pathetic push. Nothing. Of course there was nothing. The door was locked. There was no way I could get through.

            With a sigh, I took a step backwards, frowning.

            Crunch.

            I jumped at the sound and whirled around to see what I stepped on.

            There, resting on the cement floor, was Alaira’s dog tag necklace.

            I knelt down and grabbed it. Without thinking, I stuck it into the keyhole on the door. This was a crazy plan, but it was my best bet.

            “Come on, come on, come on,” I whispered, jiggling the necklace around the way people did on T.V.

            Suddenly, there was a click noise, and the door gave way.

            I fell on my face on the cement, panicked. I was hoping to make a more graceful entry into the necropolis, preferably one that allowed me time to assess the outside situation.

            Immediately, I realized there were no guards out at all.

            Low security, I thought. They think I’m locked away.

            I got to my feet, creeping over to the staircase and down two flights. The pool wasn’t far away now. I just needed to make it a few… more…

            A loud, buzzing noise made me jump and cry out in terror. I hit the floor, covering my head incase the guards showed up with baseball bats or something.

            “What do you think you’re doing?” a familiar voice snapped.

            I looked up to see Alaira looming over me, shaking her head.

            “I was, uh, looking for, uh…” I stuttered.

            Alaira raised an eyebrow and glanced over at the pool, still concealed under the black tarp.

            “You’ve waken them,” she hissed, angrily. Alaira strode over to the pool and ducked under the edge of the tarp, disappearing from view.

            I could hear her whispering, though.

            “Shhhh… quiet, I won’t let him return. Shhh… quiet, my loves. You’ll be just fine.”

            I coughed, getting to my feet.

            “Come here,” Alaira commanded, still out of sight.

            “You want me to"?”

            “Come here!” Alaira commanded.

            I took a few steps closer to the pool.

            Alaira ducked back out from under the tarp, looking angry as ever.

            “You should see what you have done,” she said, lifting up the tarp and pushing me against the side of the pool. It took me a long moment to realize what I was looking at.

            And when I did, all I wanted to do was run away.

            Alaira had pushed me up against the thick, glass wall of something….

            A tank.

            A tank that contained about a hundred, very large, and very active stingrays.

            “These are the rays,” Alaira commented, dropping the tarp down behind us so we were concealed. “You’ve provoked them.”

            I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know how to answer.

            Alaira reached out and rubbed her hand back and fourth against the glass in an almost… loving manner.

            I watched as the rays swam about in their red, red water.

            “Is that… blood?” I asked, half afraid of the answer.

            Alaira rolled her eyes.

            “The rays don’t hurt people, Brandon,” she said, pointing at something on the floor of the tank. “It’s just lighting. Just like the rest of this place.”

            I cocked my head to the side in confusion. “Then why…? Why do you keep them here?” I asked.

            Alaira’s eyes were locked on the tank.

            “They keep us all alive, Brandon,” she said, with a smile. “They keep us all living.”

            “What do you mean?”

            “It’s the flesh of the rays in the pills you eat,” Alaira explained. I almost gagged.

            “What? How does that save us?” I asked, gaping at her.

            “It doesn’t,” she said, with a smile. “Or maybe it does.”

            “What?” I asked, confused. “Please. What does that mean?”

            Alaira placed a hand on my shoulder. “You’ll figure it out in due time,” she said, with a smile. “But until then, I’d advise you keep this our little secret,” she said. “After all, the rays don’t hurt people.” A flicker of anger lit up in her eyes. “Unless I tell them to.”

            I ducked out from under the tarp, stumbling backwards and falling flat on my a*s. Alaira walked over to me, nudging my side with her heel.

            “Get up,” she commanded.

            “I have to get out of here,” I said, tears filling my eyes. “Please, I have to go.”

            “If you leave, you’ll die, You’ve already been exposed to the dust.” Alaira motioned at the air around us.

            “I don’t care!” I screamed. “I don’t care! I don’t care! Just let me out of here!”

            Alaira placed her heel on my throat, pushing me against the cement.

            “If you leave,” she said, cocking her head to the side. “Who will be my king?”

            “Someone else,” I chocked out. “Anyone else. Find another kid.”

            “You’re so quick to sacrifice others but you don’t want to be hurt yourself,” Alaira commented. “Self preservation is a good quality.”

            I nodded, hoping simple agreement might sway her to free me.

            “You’re a stupid boy, Brandon,” Alaira said, pushing her heel down farther on my throat. “Stupid and naïve. You don’t know anything about anything.”

            “No,” I said, shaking my head. “Let me go. Please, let me go.”

            “And what about your cousin?” she asked. “You’ve left him dying. Clawing out his own eyes in his room. You’ve left him in so much pain just so you could have a few more hours.”

            “Make more!” I choked. “Make more pills! Save us.”

            “Oh I’m afraid I can’t do that,” she said, putting more pressure on my throat. “If I made more pills, why would anyone stay with me? They could just take more and go.”

            “They’d need more,” I tried to reason, though I was feeling lightheaded from lack of blood flow to the head.

            “They wouldn’t,” she said.

            And then she pressed her heel down on my face and I passed out right there and then.

           

When I woke up, I was blind again. I was stuck in the same, pitch-black room with the bowl of water that keeps me awake. I grabbed for it, desperately thirsty.

            “Please…” I whispered, to no one, before taking a drink.

            The moment I put the bowl back down, the door swung open.

            “You’re coming with me,” a gruff voice said. Two, strong hands hooked under my arms and dragged me from the room.

            “Please…” I whispered again.

            I was going insane here.

            I felt the cool mist hitting my eyes and slowly my vision returned.

            “Please…”

            “Stop mumbling, boy,” the new guard said.

            I felt the tip of a needle dig into the crook of my arm, slowly breaking the skin.

            “Uuuugh,” I groaned, collapsing against the floor.

            The red ceiling was spinning around in circles. I couldn’t hold any kind of image in my mind.

            “Just shut your eyes, boy, or you’ll make yourself sick.”

            I glanced over at the guard.

            “Please…”

 

I was taken to a small room with a projector screen on the wall. I was tied to a chair and fed a pill.

            Ray flesh, I thought, but I ate the pill, anyway.

            “Wake up, boy, you gotta see this.”

            My head lolled forward. I couldn’t hold it up.

            “Damn it, Michael, you’ve given him too much,” a familiar voice shouted.

            I opened my eyes a little bit.

            “M" Michael?” I croaked, trying to turn around.

            “Calm down, Brandon,” Alaira said, coming up behind me. She placed her hands on my shoulders and pressed something into the palm of my hand.

            “Where’s my cousin?” I asked, tiredly. “I want to see my cousin.”

            “You’re cousin is safe,” she said. “Now look down at your hands.”

            I did as I was told.

            In my hand was a remote.

            “What is this?” I asked, barely coherent, as it was.

            “That,” Alaira began. “Controls the big screen up there. I’m going to play a movie, but when you want it to stop, just hit the big button at the top, okay?”

            “Okay,” I nodded, wishing I could just fall asleep instead.

            A moment later, the room darkened and the film began.

            The movie showed a man in a white coat, sitting behind a table, hooked up to a polygraph.

            “What’s your name?” Alaira’s voice asked, from out of view.

            “My name?” the man asked, looking confused. “My name is Anthony Richardson.”

            “Who am I?” Alaira asked.

            “You are Alaira, Queen of Necropolis,” he said, with a small nod.

            “What is your relationship with me?” Alaira asked.

            “I’m the king of necropolis.”

            “That doesn’t answer my question.”

            The man’s eyes darted around the room, nervously.

            “Anthony, what is your relationship to me?”            

            “I am… your husband,” he said, finally.

            A loud beeping sound filled the room.

            “Interesting,” Alaira said. “The polygraph says you’re lying.”

            “I’m not!” the man said, his eyes growing wide. “You know I’m not.” He grabbed for her hand. “You know, Al. You know we’re married. What’s wrong with you?”

            Alaira was sitting beside him now, a wicked look on her face.

            “I think you lied to the polygraph, Anthony. I don’t think you’re my husband anymore.”

            “W" What does that mean?” Anthony asked. “You were there when we were married, Alaira. You were the bride. You saw it all.”

            The polygraph beeped louder and louder.

            “Guards, take him away. He’s lying.”

            Two men walked over to Anthony, grabbing him by the arms and hoisting him to his feet.

            “Wait,” Alaira said, holding out her hand. “Anthony, answer one more question for me,” Alaira said.

            Anthony nodded, a sweat breaking out on his forehead.

            “What is capitol punishment here in the necropolis?”

            Anthony gulped.

            “The tank.”           

            A slow smile crossed Alaira’s face.

            “Right,” she said, eyeing the guards. “The tank.”

            Suddenly, the film jumped to a new scene.

            There was the ray tank, uncovered and in full view. There was a thin wire strung across the top. Two guards held Anthony over it while he screamed.

            “Walk the wire or fall to your death,” Alaira said. She smiled. “You wanted justice, Anthony. You wanted to help Little Mercury when I hurt her, remember? This is real justice. You ate the rays, now they can eat you.”

            “No!” I screamed, shaking in my chair. “No! Don’t!”

            “Just push the off button, Brandon,” Alaira said. She stood beside me, her eyes glued to the screen.

            “No!” I screamed, watching the video. “No, he’s your husband. The lie detector was rigged or something. He didn’t do anything.”

            “Just push the off button, Brandon,” Alaira repeated.

            Hot tears ran down my feet as I watched the guards lower Anthony onto the wire. Within seconds he feel from the wire and into the tank. I heard him scream out as the first, starled ray’s barb pierced his skin.

            “No!” I screamed. “No!”

            “Damn it, Brandon, turn the video off!”

            I craned my neck to see Michael standing in the doorway, a horrified expression on his face.

            It occurred to me then that he was dressed like a guard.

            No, I thought. No.

            “How long was I out?” I screamed, looking up at Alaira. “HOW LONG WAS I OUT?”
            “Four weeks,” Alaira said, as the film ended. “Long enough to offer your cousin a deal.”           

            “I didn’t want to, Brandon,” Michael cried. “I just needed to pills so bad.”

            “You’re working for her?” I demanded, feeling betrayed. “You’re doing things like this?” I asked, pointing at the screen.

            “Well, you’re marrying Alaira!”

            I gaped at him.

            “What?” I asked, looking back and forth between my Alaira and my cousin. “What are you talking about?”

            “Tonight,” Alaira said, turning to walk out of the room. Her eyes narrowed. “It’s either that or the rays.”

            I sat there in silence, more afraid and broken than I’d ever been in my life.

            “Brandon…” Michael began, rushing over to untie me. “Brandon, I’m"“

            “"Don’t touch me!” I screamed, once my hands were free. “I can’t believe you. Now we’ll never get out!”

            “I know,” Michael said, grabbing my hands. “But remember, Brandon? Remember what your dad said to you? Maybe this is what we’ve been waiting for. Maybe the necropolis is our fate.”

            “You’re crazy!” I screamed. “You’re all crazy. We don’t even know where we are.”

            Michael’s expression softened.

            “We’re dead, Brandon,” he said, squeezing my hands. “We’ve been dead for a long time.”

            My eyes went wide. “What?” I gaped. “Are you that insane? Did she really get to you so fast? Michael, if we’re dead, how come Alaira can still kill people? If we’re dead, what did I just see on that screen?” I asked, motioning at the large projector on the wall.

            “I don’t know,” Michael whispered, shaking his head. “I don’t know. Brandon, I don’t understand any more than you do but I know that we’re dead. I know for sure.”

            “How?” I demanded. “How do you know?”

            Michael shivered, hugging himself for support. “I’ve seen things,” he said, plainly. “I’ve seen things you wouldn’t believe.”

            “Michael, you’re crazy.”

            “No I’m not!” Michael shouted. “Don’t tell me I’m crazy because you don’t know!”

            “You said it yourself, you don’t know, either,” I shouted back at him.

            “You’re right,” Michael hissed. “I don’t know the answers. I don’t know if we’re dead, or alive. I don’t know how to explain the things I saw while you were locked up in that room. I don’t know where we are, or what we’re doing or who Alaira really is. I don’t know if we’ll ever make it out of here or not. But you know what I do know, Brandon? I know that this place" this… necropolis, is painful. Everything you do here, results in pain. You forget to take your pills? Pain. You drink the wrong water? Pain. You talk back to Alaira and end up in that tank? Pain. And I don’t want to get hurt, Brandon! I’m sick of getting hurt here. And if we really are dead and we die again, who’s to say it isn’t just going to get worse next time? What if we’re traveling the levels of hell, Brandon? What if it gets worse and worse and then you"” Michael choked up, unable to finish.

            I sat in silence. How was I supposed to respond to a thing like that?

            Finally, Michael raised his eyes to meet mine.

            “I think you should marry Alaira.”

            “What?” I demanded, freezing up. “Michael, if what you say is true" if we are dead and stuck here" marriage seals the deal. I’ll never get out if I’m the f*****g king of hell.”

            “The devil,” Michael breathed. “You’ll be the devil…”

            “Woah, woah, woah. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves here,” I said. “If anyone’s the devil it’s her" It’s Alaira. Now, we need to focus on getting out of here.”

            Michael cracked then. He placed his hands on my shoulders and started to shake me" hard" the way he did when we fought over toys as kids.

            “Don’t you get it, Brandon? Don’t you understand?” He screamed. “We’re dead! Dead! I’m dead, you’re dead. We’re dead and you know it! Think, Brandon! Think really hard.”

            “There’s nothing to think about, we’re fine!” I screamed.

            Michael was shaking all over now. He took my arms in his hands to keep me from running away from him.

            “Listen to me, Brandon. Think. Back on the street, when that homeless man got to us. Who was it who saved you?”

            “A" Alaira! It was Alaira!”

            “No. Wrong. It wasn’t Alaira. It was someone else.”

            “Who?!”

            Michael shook his head. “I don’t know, Brandon, I don’t know.”           

            “Why does this matter?” I demanded.

            “Think harder, Brandon. Just think,”

            I closed my eyes and tried to remember something" anything.

            Something must have happened between my assault and waking up in the necropolis… but what?

            My eyes flew open.

            “Oh my God, Michael,” I breathed, tears flooding my eyes. “Oh my God.”

            “I know. I know.”

            Michael wrapped his arms around me, holding me close as I sobbed into his jacket. I had never needed my cousin before in my life. He was always just the fat, annoying kid who I was stuck with.

            But I needed him now.

            “Oh my God. Oh my God,” I repeated, choking on my own screams as the memories came flooding back.

            There was a woman who came to us. She helped Michael and I to our feet.

            She wasn’t Alaira. She wasn’t anyone I knew but I followed her because she promised to take us to the hospital.

            The woman brought us to her car.

            She’s so nice, I thought. So few people would be kind enough to help.

            As she drove us to the hospital, she told us a story about her brother who was once mugged by a street performer, desperate for cash. She said she couldn’t stand to see us lying on the street like that.

            I actually felt sorry for her.

            She pulled up in front of a dark, looming building.

            “Hey, this isn’t the hospital,” I said, weakly.

            The door was wrenched open.

            Two men dragged Michael and I into and alley.

            The woman stood and watched as they searched our pockets for money.

            The laughed at Michael" taunted him when he told them off and tried to get them to leave me alone.

            They hit him. I screamed.

            So they hit me.

            And they didn’t stop for a long time.

            Until everything went black.

            And we were blind.

            In death, we were blind.

            “Oh God,” I whispered to Michael. “Oh God, why didn’t I know?”

            “I think that’s part of it, Brandon,” Michael whispered back. “I think you have to figure it out on your own.”

            “How will we ever get back?”

            “We can’t get back. No one comes back from the dead.”

            I nodded. Of course.

            “I want to go home, Michael,” I whispered.

            “This is home now.”

            “For how long?”

            “I don’t know,” Michael said, honestly. “Maybe forever. I don’t know.”

            I took in a deep, shuddering breath, trying to calm myself.

            “My dad was right,” I said, stepping away from him. “We live to die. That’s our purpose. God, its horrible, isn’t it? It’s so, so bad.”           

            A strange, knowing look crossed Michael’s face.

            “Aw, Brandon,” he whispered. “It’s not all bad.”

            I sniffed. “What do you mean?”

            A small smile crossed my cousin’s face.

            “She’ll show you,” he whispered.

            “Who? Alaira?” I asked. Just the sound of her name sent chills down my spine.

            Michael smiled, resting a hand on my shoulder.

            “I know she’s a little scary…” he began. “But once she trusts you, you’re safe. She can show you things you’ve never dreamed of, Brandon. Things you won’t believe.”

            “Well… what about the video?” I asked, jerking my thumb in the direction of the projector screen.

            “I know,” Michael said, shaking his head. “I know its terrible and I can’t make excuses for her. But let me just say this; if you’re right" if Alaira is the devil" then there are many worse devils one could have.”

            “But"“ I stuttered. “She kills people. With stingrays.”

            “I know, Brandon. I know,” my cousin muttered, looking as perplexed as I felt. “But you have to think long-term, okay? This is it, Brandon. All that time you spent lying awake at night, wondering what it would be like to be dead. This is it. You can either take it, or you can face what comes next. Are you ready for that?” he asked. “Are you ready to die again?”

            “No,” I said, instinctively. “No, I don’t want to die.”

            “Good,” Michael said, clapping my shoulder. “Marry Alaira. She’ll show you things" wonderful things. It will get better. Give it time.”

            I gulped.

            “Michael?”

            “Yes?”

            Michael raised an eyebrow and I realized how much he’d changed to me. He definitely wasn’t my fat, annoying cousin, anymore. Now he was the man I needed to take directions from. Now, he was the man who knew what I didn’t.

            “Are you sure we’re really dead?” I asked, my voice shaking.

            “I’m sure,” he said, holding out his hand. “I’m positive.”

 

Alaira wore a black veil. The guard read the vows.

            I can’t believe I’m doing this, I thought. I’m seventeen and I’m getting married.

            Then I recalled everything that happened to me in the past few months.

            I’m dead and I’m getting married, I corrected myself. Somehow, that seemed even harder to believe.

            “Brandon, do you take Alaira for your lawful wedded wife, to live in the holy estate of matrimony? Will you love, honor, comfort, and cherish her from this day forward, forsaking all others, keeping only unto her for as long as you both shall exist?”

            I nodded. “I do.”

            “Alaira, do you take Brandon for your lawful wedded husband, to live in the holy estate of matrimony? Will you love, honor, comfort, and cherish him from this day forward, forsaking all others, keeping only unto him for as long as you both shall exist?”

            “I do.”

            Alaira reached out slowly, placing something around my neck.

            “What is it?” I asked, looking down to admire my new gift.

            “It’s a ray’s barb.”

            I smiled slightly.

            “It’s nice.”

            Michael reached forward, handing my an identical necklace for Alaira.

            The moment I placed it around her neck, I knew something changed.

            I large, genuine smile crossed Alaira’s face and the necropolis began shaking.

            “I knew it,” she whispered. “I knew from the moment you arrived you’d be the one to help me save us.”

            “Save us?” I asked, taken aback. “Save us from what?”

            I turned to see Michael, crying tears of joy as the walls of the necropolis began to cave in.

            My eyed widened. “We have to go. We have to run!”

            “No,” Alaira said, firmly. Her eyes were locked on something in the middle of the room. “We have to jump.”

            Where the ray tank had once existed was a bright red hole in the floor, radiating scarlet light from every direction.

            “Come on,” Michael shouted. “Everyone! Come on!”

            Alaira ran towards the opening, tugging me behind her.

            I stopped at the edge.

            “What’s wrong, Brandon?” Michael asked, coming to a halt beside Alaira and I. “Don’t you want to go?”

All around us guards jumped head first into the opening, disappearing before my eyes.

            I frowned, biting my lip.

            “I" I don’t understand it.”

            Alaira smiled beside me, looking as sinister and wicked as ever but also looking strangely… excited. She was happy about this. No, she was ecstatic.

            “Haven’t you figured it out yet, Brandon?” she asked, smiling at me. “You’re not supposed to understand. It’s all a surprise.”

            I nodded, shortly and took grabbed her hand with my right, and Michael’s with my left.

            “Are you ready?” I asked, one final time.

            “We’ve always been ready, Brandon,” Michael said. “This is what we’re born for. To die.”

            And then we jumped. 

 

           

           

           

           

 

Author's Note

FIRST DRAFT! Written for my creative writing class. Please try to overlook punctual/grammatical errors, those have all been caught by those in my Creative Writing class. Constructive criticism is welcome as long as it is regarding the plot!