Rule 3
Check Your Card & Earn Money
Statement: I am worried. I am exceptionally worried. Yet, there is a space in the back of my head that keeps me moving. If I’m not thinking about anything in particular I hear two thoughts. These thoughts are opposing directions. One states: ‘Follow directions.’ The other states: ‘Don’t follow directions.’
Why are these thoughts opposing? Another concern occurs to me. Why does neither thought imply I should run? This leads me to believe that both thoughts are coming from the same source, as a test of sorts. But who is issuing the test? It feels like I’m still missing details, even in hindsight.
Reiteration: Further following this train of thought only increases my anxiety.
The bus rattled on. We hit no bumps, but the vessel’s speed went higher than my county bus driver ever dared. It jerked us around, but still more people arrived on the bus. I squinted, trying to see the front entrance from this far back. The main door should have been closer than it currently had become.
“Hello, Adamschild,” a woman said. I shook my head to brush off the dizzying sensations. They lingered while I struggled to focus on one of the stewardesses.
“I’m not Adamschild. I’m Lance. Lance Underwood.” The Adamschild’s name sounded like one for a legal firm. It was probable she confused me with another man from another bus ride.
“Oh, you trust me with your name, Mister Underwood? And indeed, an auspicious one at that. Still, rules are rules, by which we all must abide.” I blinked at her words. They made no sense, nor did the soft tone which made me feel like I strode along a field of wheat during a sunny day. She continued, “You like moneys right? I’ve an offer for you, sweetling. Fifty moneys for your crutches. Yes?”
She pulled out a set of thick oven mitt-sized gloves. They snapped on. Her pointed teeth aggravated me. They reminded me of an extreme makeover show, where they put people like lizard men or doll girls. Those who believed in modifying themselves so much they no longer looked human.
But she offered me money for a crutch. It struck me as a prank, or a dare to see what foolish actions men would take for money. I needed them walk. My legs tightened around the crutches. The other side of this trip would probably also involve a lot of standing, and I felt level headed enough to keep long term priorities in mind.
“No. I need them to survive,” I said. My words shook violently with anger. Why, I couldn’t say. I felt nothing but muddled and mentally muted.
The pale skinned stewardess smiled with rose red lips. Her eyes reminded me of an emerald’s light, one which sparkled with a darkened hue. She almost looked soft, were it not for the sharp teeth.
“Survival is everything, is it not? Broken as you are. Then one? One of these crutches for fifty moneys and a hint? You do like money, yes? Hints are better.”
“A hint about what?”
“Life.” She panted after speaking. Her weight pressed upon my lap and I felt a rush of pleasure to my groin that didn’t fully manifest. The medication hampered any actual arousal.
In addition, her words made no sense at all. “Life?” I struggled to ask. One word felt like forcing myself to stay calm. My eyes drooped and I felt myself in the car crash again. Absentmindedly I waited at a light, then the world jerked sideways as the other car hit me.
“Focus, mortal man. Focus. On life, yes.” She panted.
I took a sharp breath and reminded myself of the situation at hand. The car wreck had ended. I needed to address the stewardess’s question. I weighed the price of crutches against her words. Getting around with a single support might be possible. The damage to my hips existed mostly on one side. The important part was watching which way my weight balanced to reduce strain.
Getting around with two was easier. Fifty dollars would barely pay for a new set of crutches but it might be a few days before I could buy new ones. The amount leftover might get me a microwave meal.
Yet, part of me believed I might never get a crutch to replace this one if I sold it.
“No deal,” I said.
“Truly? Would you not be parted from such nasty and unloving metal? Do you need them both?” She whispered in my ear. This scent smelled nothing like the girl from before. Honey hung heavily at the nape of her neck, which I noticed, despite the medication. Smooth skin stretched over a well formed collarbone. Her weight hardly existed, and I wondered if that meant something.
My crutches were to the side. They’d been between my legs and somehow moved so she could sit down. I didn’t remember them moving and struggled to retrace what happened. Something inside me clicked, and for a single moment the world felt completely clear. She’d shifted them. These ladies were playing games. Everything about this situation was wrong, then that suspicion slipped away.
Post Note: As I later discovered, this was not merely the drugs, or being physically broken. They were doing something to us. Something that made children and parents leave their homes in the dead of night. Still, this portion is key. Her advice helped me later, when I truly needed it. Still, I often wonder, late at night, if this was a trap.
My head shook. I could survive without either crutch but walking hurt. Tearing more muscles would put me further back in therapy. I waffled on the subject and shook my head in again. Both braces kept me from falling on the ground and making my current health problems even worse.
“Then a simple bit of advice, in tribute to your name’s potential. This is different than a tip for your handicap. Would you accept that? With a promise, of course, to tell no one.”
It struck me as odd that this stewardess needed my permission for anything. Still, it required nothing from me at all. This time, I nodded.
“A secret, on survival. My best secret.” She nodded happily. “Heed the clues. The bold are quickest to die. The fearful die almost as fast. A clever man may be tempted to lie, and also die. But to survive, one must be a little of all three.”
I dared ask, “Why did you tell me?”
“A secret no one else knows is worthless. A secret only two know is dangerously delicious to keep. Maybe you’ll find me, and give me a secret in return. One only we two know.” She wiggled on my lap, and the drugs no longer suppressed my reaction. Despite her glowing eyes and sharpened smile, she felt great.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed another one of the stewardesses exchanging a man’s phone for one hundred dollars. The price struck me as odd. I slowly came around to this weird idea that everything could be exchanged for money. Especially since, I and many others probably hadn’t brought our wallets.
“How much was that worth?” I asked.
“How much is your life worth? A secret for a secret? It would be so tasty to share a secret of an Underwood.” She smiled again.
These stewardesses were always grinning in wide expressions that threatened to split their faces into two. As she walked off, I drifted. The bus kept going but it felt nothing like a normal vehicle roaming the county. People walked down the aisle and vanished up and down the stairs. Once again, it struck me how odd this entire trip was, which got buried as I read the letters E-X-I-T and wondered what part of town we were in.
Rain splattered against the windows. Darkness fought with flickering firelight from inside the vehicle. Lightning outside flashed, illuminating more houses from suburbia. I saw creatures moving between the houses again. They were long spindly creatures that were probably regular people being distorted by shadows.
I pressed a hand against the glass. It felt warm, almost burning, despite the cold weather outside. My eyes closed and the world spun. Many nights of broken sleep pulled me into unconsciousness. Vaguely, I felt a body thump down into the seat next to mine. Then they left, and another person, much lighter, arrived. Every so often I’d pop my eyes open then look around.
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“Come on!” someone shouted next to me. “It’s time for all adventurous men and women to exit! Prizes await the bold.”
The sudden noise shook me. My crutches banged against each other, earning me a sour glare from one of the women. People walked by me with dull faces. Others shook, and a young boy kept tugging on his mom’s sleeve, begging to go home.
I waited for enough clear space to get myself into the aisle. It took time. The crowd got thinner and thinner and once again it struck me odd how full this bus had been. Yet, the exit that everyone left through was right next to me. Every person stepped off the vehicle and safely got into a long line outside a convention center of some sort. Huge walls were decorated with smiling creatures.
A long line of people milled around right outside the doorway. It went on forever and a day.
Post Note: I now know how long a forever really is. This measurement turned out to not be an exaggeration. Forever, it turns out, is not as long as we wish it to be but longer than mere mortals can withstand.
The bus emptied enough for me to stand. Someone lowered a ramp and out I went, with even more pouring out behind me. Ahead, the stewardesses, or perhaps a set of identical triplets to the first trio, cheered us on happily.
“Now remember, everyone should follow the rules and work together.”
“Those who break away from the pack may become very unhappy at what they missed.”
“But if you want to live, be sure to pay attention.”
“We do pay for attention,” they said in unison. This set of three wore slightly different clothes and had their hair pulled back with scarves. I turned to see the three behind us, with puffed up hairdos, and wondered why the group ahead wore their attire differently.
A man broke up their circle of talking. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’ll learn. Now, everyone take a card! Come on, as you pass by, take a card! It will help. You’ll see. If you’ve the eyes.”
“Now. You must hold your card for the entire duration of this trip. Those who don’t will be never make it back. As you can see by the weather outside, getting home without our assistance will be difficult. Though you are certainly free to try.”
I repositioned the crutches and turned slightly. Two people went right by me while I studied where we were. Each building looked exactly like this one and stretched on forever. On the other side of the street sat another bus, just like ours, with people getting off of it. Lightning flashed, and I assumed it to be a trick of the drugs when thunder distorted the air between our buses.
Someone grabbed my hand off the crutch. My body swayed to one side. One of the scarf wearing stewardesses shoved a piece of paper into my hand. She licked her lips and wrinkled her nose. The crutches bothered her.
“Do be careful with your card, everyone! This is yours and yours alone. Letting others touch, see, or nibble on your card can result in undesired side effects. It also functions as a… what do you people call them? Debt card.”
“Debit,” someone next to me muttered.
“Yes, a debt card. See? It’s all very technical I’m afraid. In lame man's terms, simply touch the money we’ve given you to the card. It will store your debt.”
I re-situated the crutch and pulled out money from my shirt where it’d been sitting. The cash I’d been given did not look like normal dollar bills. Instead, these had a long, drawn-out face upon them. The ears were pointed and drew back and swallowed by unruly hair. The green upon the bills reminded me of the stewardesses. They had the exact same eyes.
When money touched the card, it burned to ash that fell apart before they touched the ground. The value on my card changed to reflect a new number, six hundred and twenty dollars. That value struck me as odd but I couldn’t place why.
“Very technical! No need to question such a minor miracle. By far the least odd thing you’ll see. But money, and prizes, await near the end of the line! And remember.” She took a deep breath and all three shouted in unison, “Don’t let anyone else touch your card!”
They waved us on. Their words were strangely acceptable to me. I stared at the card. Upon it displayed three items: my name, a dollar amount, and a blank space in between that said [Wanderer].
Post Note: Were it not for the metal of those crutches, I might not have noticed anything, much less survived. Oddly; a crutch means both physical and mental support.
“All you need to do, to be done with this place, is reach an end,” one of the unending clones said. Her eyes, however, were yellow. Not green like the three from the bus.
“Make it to the end of the line, and you’ll be able to go home with prizes!”
“Great prizes,” a third stewardess said. She nodded and smiled. All three had the same thin lips which only revealed the barest hint of teeth. Their eyes were all yellow, a sick glowing yellow that reminded me of those store bought glow sticks for parties.
“Hey, you can’t keep us here!” a man who lived in my neighborhood shouted angrily.
All three stewardesses turned at the same time to face him. They exchanged glances and tittered, which turned into outright laughter that had each one clutching their sides. Finally, one wiped away tears and said, “Of course we are capable of doing so. But if you want to leave, go right ahead. There’s an exit at every corner.”
After that they spoke in turn.
“Of course you can walk away, at any time.”
“At least until you get to an exit. There are two, do pay attention to the differences.”
“Yes. An exit lets you quit our little adventure. The exit may give you more prizes! After that we’re not responsible for you.”
“Though, we’re not responsible for your decisions. Silly, Adamschild.”
That name struck me as odd. They clearly thought we were all lawyers. The man blanched and drew back. His head shook and eyes glossed over. He stood in line a bit longer, clutching the card in his hands.
“Oh no. That’s not our job at all.”
“Not at all.”
“Nope.”
The three of them all glanced toward each other and covered their mouths with their hands. Again, they tittered in unison and turned toward the burly grump.
“The first exit is right over there. A shortcut to an end. Losers get no prizes and miss chances at more.”
“We can go home if we go through the exit?” the mother ahead of us asked. Her son looked over with a wide expression.
“Of course, an exit lets you escape. Or reach the exit and you’ll get to return with prizes.”
She and her son both stared at each other and exchanged a hushed conversation. Their faces flickered through a range of emotions, then in unison they got into line. I watched as their eyelids dragged and bodies slumped.
I clutched the bracing bar of my crutches and ran my fingers against the metal siding. My gaze stayed focused upon the trio of girls who all took turns shouting out their strangely worded encouragements. With every second it felt like they were clearer. I clenched a fist and the idea faded.
One of them appeared right in front of me. She stared in disgust at the heavy objects propping me up. The women turned on her sharp toothed charm and asked, “Sixty moneys for your crutches?”
“No. I need them.” I blinked again. “You’re not human. Are you?”
The stewardess smiled and calmly pulled out a ten dollar bill. She tucked it into my jacket pocket and pointed along the quickly moving line.
“Beware speculation. Truth has been known to cost, Adamschild. A price higher than petty flesh. Keep going, but no need to hurry.”
“My name is Underwood,” I muttered.
“Oh my! How auspicious. But rules are rules, even for an Underwood. Traverse the line. Buy your favors with the debt card.”
I shuddered, but the line kept moving. My armpits braced against the crutches and I rubbed my palms together to fight numbness. The sensation dimmed my mind, and once I’d shaken off the latest haze, my feet had crutched around another corner. The line never stopped moving and my ability to focus on it shifted constantly.
Post Note: In hindsight, this reminds me much of cattle to the slaughter. Yet, so many people went on unquestioningly. Or, if they were like me, they questioned constantly but couldn’t connect thoughts together long enough to make a difference. We were all in a dream full of nonsense.
We kept moving. There were exchanges between the other people in line and an endless stream of identically dressed girls. I struggled to hear their words but frequently they slipped away.
After an unknown amount of time, I found myself turned around, staring back the way we’d come. Above me was a high open ceiling held up by huge pillars. In the far distance, beyond waves of people who wound around buildings and structures, almost farther than I could see, sat a reddish black wall. Above, in strangely gray clouds, seemed to be the letters E-X-I-T. They were colored nothing like the ones on the bus.
I turned back and saw a small girl, no more than four feet tall. She’d been one of my neighbors but her parents were nowhere to be seen. Constance, or Connie as her parents yelled, bent over the flowerbed. Connie got a smile from the next tour guide and twenty dollars. The tour guide planted the flower in her hair and chatted to her coworker.
“It’s lovely isn’t it?”
“Mine’s better,” her companion responded. “Yours is clearly dying. It’s wilted on one side and the petals are smaller.”
“Yes, but mine came from a much cuter source. Yours came from that bald old sack of meat,” the first responded.
The line kept going. I walked briskly past them and filed away all sorts of speculation. This place confused me and none of the rules made sense. At the least I established the following: there were lots of secrets. Spouting the right words to one of the lookalike women earned a small amount of change. Giving them a flower resulted in more money to touch to our cards.
Speculation: We are receiving cash in exchange for the right gifts, questions, and noticing key details. Money is being handed out too freely, therefore we’ll be exchanging it for something even more important.
I weakly clenched my hands, and resolved to keep alert. It would prove difficult since the feeling of all my medication still hadn’t faded. This place only heightened the effects. Clutching my crutches for balance helped brush away the fog.
A man walked toward the exit. I, and a large group of others, stopped moving in the line and watched. We had been told that quitting was simple, but so far no one dared walk through and give up on their prizes. I couldn’t tell how much time had actually passed. We all hushed.
Post Note: Penguins crowd each other over the edge of an iceberg, and in some cases push a weaker few into the water as bait for seals and orcas. Were I to know then what I know now, I would have been able to warn him. Instead, we all treated him like the first penguin being pushed over the edge.
“This is stupid.” His voice trembled. “Afraid of a doorway. I’m being silly. I’ll just, leave, and go get a cab home.” The man muttered to himself to build up courage and finally stepped through the doorway.
The shadows moved. He turned and lifted his hands to defend from something unseen. Then his body faded. A yell, loud enough to make even the bravest man tense, broke through the doorway. It lingered while we all watched in stupefied terror. Not one person stepped out of line after him. The blue letters flashed and the scream stopped.
Post Note: If you are confused by this recount, or don’t remember going through the choosing yourself, then trust me when I say, this happened. This happened over, and over, and over again. I believe they were not exiting the line, they were exiting life.
I glanced down at the card in my hand. The total dollar amount on my card had increased. It almost struck me as odd that watching a person die earned me money. Even drugs couldn’t keep me calm anymore. Yet, the line was full of people moving unceasingly toward the end.
So, on I went.