Alisiyad Chapter 25 ~ Gates (Part 4)

The alley was empty when he finally looked around.  He stared at the street beyond for a moment or two, thinking it was funny how quiet everything was.  The place seemed pretty dead.  No one went in or out of the building across the street, or passed by the alley opening.  Come to think of it, he hadn’t seen or heard a single Azmanvallian since waking up.  He listened closely for a moment or two, and thought he could hear some distant city noises . . . or maybe it was the breeze whistling through the empty buildings . . .  He shook his head.  It didn’t feel right.

Russ sighed, stretching his legs out and rubbing his eyes.  Then he stared bleakly at the stone wall before him, and thought on Alisiya’s parting words.  She might be right.  He hadn’t eaten in . . . when was the last time he’d eaten?  Everything had been so hectic since Varaneshe, and Leeton didn’t seem to care for food any more than Liseli did.  Russ hadn’t brought up the idea of eating, too constantly nervous and worried to think about something other than what was going to happen and what might have happened.  So the last time must have been . . . two nights ago, at the inn with Currun.  Shit.  His stomach rumbled, encouraged by his line of thought.  He was starving.  And thirsty.  But . . . .

I’m just tired.  He lowered his hands and eyed the pile of rags and dirty furs he’d been lying on before.  He hadn’t really slept long in days, either.  He’d have to venture out to find food, but he could try to sleep on the pile of rags, though he didn’t exactly relish the thought.  He didn’t know who or what might come upon him as he slept, and maybe even Alisiya would be coming back.

Russ pushed himself to his feet, and after a moment decided to venture into the doorway.  It was one step up, and he lifted one foot hesitantly, holding onto the crumbling frame as he peered inside.  He could swear there was no Gate there, and never had been.  But then again, that was the way it had seemed in the trees where he’d entered Alisiya from the Mill.  One moment, a Gate, the next, nothing.  He swallowed, fearing that the Gates disappeared as soon as you used them.  But, he reminded himself firmly, Leeton had used that Gate to get to Alisiya and he’d still been able to get to Adayzjia through it.  Maybe he was just trying to use it again too soon, or maybe it was because he was weak from just having gone through.

Maybe that had been the reason back in the woods, too.  If he’d just waited, he’d have seen the Gate again and they could have been back home on Tuesday afternoon.  It was his fault that they hadn’t; he’d been the one who wanted to go exploring, find water.  Shit, if he’d stayed there like Liseli wanted, right now they’d probably be . . . back home at the Burger House on a slow Sunday afternoon. 

Fuck it.

He didn’t want to be in Fayette either, getting spattered with greasy hot cooking oil and aching after Liseli all day long only to sleep alone every goddamn night.  That was no life, and for all the bad that had happened because of the Mill, he couldn’t regret the change.  Maybe it was better to be separated from a Liseli who loved him than to be with a Liseli who didn’t.  Just so long as he could get back to her, eventually.  To her, not to the way things were before.

He got up the nerve to walk inside the hallway beyond the door.  It was too dark to see, but he ran his hands along the walls as he went.  He had only gone a yard or two when he stumbled into steps.  He caught himself before he fell, then hesitated, wondering if he should climb them.  Maybe this building wasn’t the sort of place he really wanted to be inside of . . . or maybe there was food.

Russ carefully stepped upward.  There was no railing, but he kept using the wall as a guide.  About ten steps up he felt a wooden door in front of him, and groped for the handle.  Finding it, he twisted the round metal knob, hearing an obliging click.  He wondered if it had been locked, or not.

The door swung in, and he peered into the dimly lit room.  There were no lights, but the subdued sunlight shone in through empty windows.  The area before him was a mess.  The stone walls were crumbling, and another doorway at the end of the room looked as if a wrecking ball had smashed against the right side.  The door lay on the floor in two pieces.  Broken shards of glass and chunks of the wall littered the floor, which was otherwise empty.

Russ walked in, crunching over the glass.  He went over to one of the windows and looked out.  He saw a weedy yard surrounded by the fence he’d seen in the alley, and the walls of more ruined buildings rising up on all sides.  There was no sign of human life, as far as he could tell, and he was too low to see past the tall gray walls.  He leaned over the ledge and craned his neck, peering up at the stories above his own.  Maybe if he found his way to a room further up he could see over the rooftops to get a feeling of what the city looked like.

But why the hell do you want to do that? he asked himself.  The idea was to get back to Liseli, not explore Azmanval.  She was waiting for him, and would be mad as a wet hornet if he took forever to get back because he’d been dicking around in abandoned buildings looking for—

He heard a noise, and ducked back inside.  At first he couldn’t identify what he’d heard, but as he listened and heard it again, he realized it was a door closing.  Someone else was in the building, nearby, walking through rooms with doors . . . .

Russ held his breath.  He heard voices, but couldn’t make out their words.  They sounded like women, or children, and his curiosity got the better of him after a few moments.  He crunched as quietly as he could over the glass, stepped around the broken door, and peeked around the side of the doorway.  There was an empty hallway beyond, lined with doorways, some with cracked doors hanging crookedly from their hinges, and some without.  It looked as if someone had rampaged through the whole floor, if not the whole building, smashing the walls and breaking the windows and doors.

He heard the voices again; they were coming from a room to his left.  Maybe these people had some food . . . or could tell him a bit about the place.  It was a risk, but hell, if he wanted to eat he’d have to take it.

Russ walked softly down the hall, listening intently at closed doors and looking into the open rooms that he passed.  He finally found the room he was looking for.  The door was shut, but he could hear the voices talking to each other inside.  He couldn’t understand what they were saying; they must be speaking Adayzjian.  That might be a problem.  His stomach rumbled, and he swallowed drily, his mouth still tasting like vomit and Alisiya.  Even if they didn’t have food to spare they must have water.  Oh well . . . .

He knocked.  The voices fell silent, and no one answered, not even to ask who was there.

“Hello?” he squeaked, then coughed and repeated it in a more normal voice.  Still, no one answered.  He didn’t even hear movement.  “Can I come in?  I’m . . . er . . . lost.”

Silence.  He tried the doorknob, and it opened easily.  He looked in, but saw no one.  I’m not hearing voices!

“Um, hi?”  He stepped inside, looking around.  This room, unlike the others, had a relatively clean floor, and some battered furnishings.  A dilapidated sofa sagged against the wall, and two chintzy looking wooden chairs sat at a small wooden table.  The table had an unlit oil lamp in the middle, and was set with food.  It looked like he’d interrupted someone’s lunch; a couple of potatoes sat on plates with a loaf of bread half sliced between them.

He looked around, but saw no one.  There was another door, but it was closed.  He thought about opening it for a moment, then thought that maybe it was better if he didn’t have to come face to face with anyone.  Scaring them into hiding and stealing their lunch might be a shitty way to get a bite to eat, but . . . .  He shrugged, and walked over to the table.

He wondered, briefly, where the bread knife had gone, but broke off the top half of the slice and shoved it in his mouth, barely pausing to chew before swallowing.  The bread was dry, but taste wasn’t the issue; he was glad for anything.

The door to his left clicked open, and he looked up into the thin face of a young woman.  Her black hair was wild and her clothes little more than haphazard layers of rags; her eyes, too large for her gaunt face, were looking at him with a strange mix of fear and outrage.  He was just about to speak when she raised a bony hand and made a birdlike screech, leaping toward him.

Russ saw the short pointy dagger coming at him and tried to jump to the side.  The girl barreled into him, swinging the knife wildly, missing his body but slicing a hole in his sleeve as the blade grazed his left arm.  Russ stumbled and tried to grab her, but she was too fast, ducking away and spinning around to come at him again.  She gave another sharp battle cry, and Russ wheeled backwards.

He backed into someone, who shoved him towards the girl.  She slashed at his right arm and tackled him at the same time, knocking him to the ground with her unexpected strength.  Pain ripped through his arm as her erratic knife raked across his biceps.  He saw the other person as he fell, a younger girl with the same giant eyes, wild hair, and ragged clothes.

The older girl kneed him in the gut as she bore down on him with her bony weight, pinning him to the floor.  Russ instinctively reached to clutch at his wound, but she knocked his arm down and loomed over him, like an angry crow, waving her dagger before his eyes.  She yelled at him in a torrent of Adayzjian, the smaller girl’s face peering at him stonily over her shoulder.

“I don’t know what you’re saying!” he yelled, interrupting her flow of words.  She stared at him with furrows deepening between her eyes, and he added, “I just wanted some food . . . .”  He felt blood seeping into both sleeves, from the mirror slashes.  The cut on his left arm wasn’t as deep, but it still screamed in pain.  “Let me go and I’ll go . . . .”

She asked an angry question, but he just shook his head, shutting his eyes.  He didn’t dare try kicking her away, with that knife in his face.  It wasn’t the first time he’d been beaten up by a girl, he thought bitterly.  She belted out something in disgust, and jumped up off of him.  She barked out another word and gave him a kick in the side.

Russ struggled to his feet, holding his right arm and wincing.  The she-demon pointed at the younger girl as she continued to chew him out; perhaps she was berating him for taking half a slice of dry bread from a baby’s mouth.  “Fine, fine, I’m sorry,” he muttered, edging away.  She pointed to the door with her knife and he stumbled toward it, cursing under his breath.

I’m tired.  Been through a lot, he told himself as he left the room, glancing nervously over his shoulder to see if he was being followed.  Slowed down by all that, s’all.  You need rest, idiot.  Rest.  God you’re a pathetic wimp, Markson.  Can’t even fight a couple of anorexic girls.  Fuck it all . . . .

He looked at the blood seeping out between his fingers, then at the oozing cut on his left arm, and swore again.  He couldn’t keep a straight path down the hallway, veering to the right and almost knocking into the wall before weaving left again.  It was too damn dark to see.  Which doorway had he come in through?  Think, idiot, think!  The one at the end of the hallway, duh.  He found it, and found the doorway leading to the staircase, nearly slipping on a large piece of glass as he went.  His vision blurred, his head was spinning.  Need to slow down . . . need to rest . . . need to eat . . . drink . . . something . . . rest . . . .

He stopped at the top of the stairs and looked down at the opening to the alley below.  His swayed dizzily and the stairs seemed to sway with him, narrowing and widening as if they were his gasping lungs.  The bottom seemed to rush up to him and he leaned forward to meet it.  But he came to his senses enough to grab out for the wall, then sink to his knees.  There was no way in hell would be able to get down the stairs without tumbling headfirst.

Russ sat back against the wall and closed his eyes, squeezing his arm together and breathing hard.  Just rest, he told himself, just rest for a little while . . . .