As scary as all this looked, there was one more thing about these guys that told me you didn’t want to mess with them. It was their faces. I don’t know how else to describe this except to write that their faces were big. And square. They almost looked like cartoon bad guys, with sharp jaw-lines and deep-set eyes. They had no expression. Even as they carted off a guy who was yelling and squirming to get loose. Their faces remained stone blank. They didn’t give instructions. They didn’t tell the guy to calm down. They definitely didn’t say where they were going. They simply kept moving. The guy didn’t have a chance.
They dragged him past two more police guys who were standing on either side of the aisle. They had entered from two different directions to surround their quarry. When the loser guy was dragged past these two other uniforms, I saw that the two new guys were standing stock still, their hands behind their backs, surveying the crowd. Nobody else in the arcade made eye contact with them. It seemed pretty clear to me that they were afraid of these police dudes. Heck, I would be too if I lost at a pinball game and my punishment was to get dragged off by a couple of Terminator-looking guys. I now understood why all the players were so intent on their games. Losing wasn’t a good thing.
The two sentries followed the others. One of them took one last look around the arcade, scanning the room, until his gaze came to rest… on me. The two of us made eye contact. I felt a chill. This may sound weird, but it was like I was staring into the eyes of a doll. A big, living doll.
“What’s he looking at me for?” I asked the bald guy “I wasn’t even playing.” I looked to the bald guy for an answer, but he was gone. I was alone. I snapped a look back to the doll-man-police-dado-whatever that was suddenly so interested in me, and my knees went week. He and his pal had changed their minds. They stopped following the others…
And came after me.
(CONTINUED)
QUILLAN
I’ve been a Traveler for a couple of years now. I’ve learned more about time, the universe, and everything in it than I ever thought possible while growing up in sleepy little Stony Brook. Above all else I’ve learned a very important rule that I try to live by:
When big, scary-looking guys chase you, run.
I wanted to know who these dado police were. I wanted to know why winning and losing at these video games was so important. I wanted to know what “challengers” were, and why I was given a shirt that marked me as one. I wanted to know what this eerie “loop” thing was that wouldn’t let go of my arm. There was a whole lot I needed to know about Quillan, but I wasn’t going to find out by letting myself get dragged off to who-knows-where by a couple of Frankenstein-looking thugs. It had to be on my terms. So I took off.
Trouble was, I had no idea where I was going. The arcade was big and loud, but it wasn’t very crowded. I couldn’t lose myself among the people. Especially since I was wearing a Bright freakin’-red shirt that made me stand out like a tomato in a bowl of blueberries. My best shot was to get out of the arcade. At least that was my hope. I had no idea what I would find outside, either. We could have been in the middle of a desert. But I knew that if I stayed inside I’d be caught for sure. Outside was better. Or so I hoped.
I dodged around a couple of game machines, ducked low, reversed my direction, and walked calmly the other way. I didn’t want to draw attention to myself and alert the goons who were chasing me. It didn’t work. It was the red shirt. Many of the people in the arcade ran up to me, and with the same look of desperation that the bald guy had, they pawed at me while asking, “When do you compete? How good are you? What is your event? Please, tell me!”
I gave up trying to be inconspicuous and took off running. I glanced back to see if the dado dudes were following. They were. Their dead doll eyes were locked on me as they stormed their way through the arcade. People had to get out of their way or risk getting run down. Who were these guys? At least my misdirection bought me a little space. I had a few seconds to find the exit before they’d catch up. But the main floor of the arcade was huge and I had no idea which way was out. All I could do was run, and hope. I blasted through the rows of machines like a running back dodging tacklers. The strange electronic music offered an odd accompaniment to the chase. As I ran along, people would see me and start applauding, as if I were running a race. I wanted to shout out “Shhhh!” but figured that would have been a waste of breath. It was clear that I wasn’t going to make a quiet exit; all I could hope to do was make a fast one. But after running for about a minute, snaking through the arcade to ditch the dados, I still hadn’t found the exit.
The thought hit me that there might not be any exits, and that Quillan was all one giant arcade. I’m not sure if that would be a dream come true… or a nightmare. Right then it felt more like a nightmare. I was getting a stitch in my side and had to stop to catch my breath. I ducked behind a tall game and gulped air. That’s when I saw it. It was nothing more than a thin shaft of white light on the floor, but it stood out amid the brightly colored flashing strobes. Daylight. I knew I had to be near a door. Or a window. It didn’t matter, whatever it was, I was going through it. I ran for the light, and after ducking past two more rows of games, I saw it: double glass doors leading to the outside and safety.
I was only a few yards from… what? I wasn’t sure. But I had to get there. As I ran for freedom, I saw something else that I knew would help my escape. Next to the door was a long row of hooks with jackets hanging on them. My first thought was that these people were pretty trusting to leave their jackets where anybody could steal them. My second thought was that I had to steal one. I’m not a thief, but this was an emergency. If I was going to blend into this territory, I couldn’t go around wearing a uniform that made me stick out like some kind of rock star. So I swiped one of the hanging jackets that looked to be my size, though the fit really didn’t matter. All it had to do was cover up the red shirt. Note to self: Return the jacket if you get the chance. Like I said, I’m not a thief. But this was an emergency.
As I put the jacket on, still headed for the door, I glanced back into the arcade. The police thugs were gaining fast. I had to get outside and get lost as quickly as possible. While still jamming my arms through the sleeves of the jacket, I backed into the door, banged it open, and spun outside.
I found myself on the sidewalk of a busy city, jammed with people. That was good. I could blend in here, no problem. I quickly pulled the jacket around me to hide any sign of the telltale red “challenger” shirt, and walked quickly through the crowd to get as far away from that arcade, and the dados, as I could. I kept my head down and moved as fast as possible without knocking anybody over. That wasn’t easy. The sidewalk was pretty crowded. Mark, remember when we’d take the train into New York City and walk up Fifth Avenue to go to Central Park? Remember how crowded it always was, with hundreds of people all going one place or another? I always wondered why people didn’t keep bumping into one another. Well, that’s pretty much what it was like. I was in the center of a very busy downtown of a very busy city, but I didn’t take the time to stop and look around until I was sure I had lost my pursuers. It wasn’t until I had made a couple of turns, crossed a few streets, and finally turned onto a wide boulevard that I felt sure I had ditched them. I slowed down. My heart stopped racing. I had escaped. But to where? It was time to take a look and see what a city on Quillan was all about.