YesterWorld (Book 2 of the Down World Series)

Original Edition: Chapter Twenty-Three

Can't wait to read your comments on these two chapters! Thank you again for reading! 

XO- Rebecca

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"This isn't my best work," Ado said from between his teeth as he peered into an ancient relic of a microscope at my fake identification papers. With tweezers, he began to painstakingly affix a very thin sheet of translucent paper with a hand-drawn pattern on it. "The real papers have watermarks on them," he explained, "which is pretty much impossible to duplicate. This will do, though. As long as you don't let them look too close."

Adam's ID had been finished first, and it was hanging to dry by a clothespin over the tub in Sage's bathroom.

From her perch on the edge of her little cot, Sage watched Adam work with an impassive face, betraying only the slightest flicker of worry in her eyes. "When will you leave?" she asked.

"As soon as they're dry," Adam answered for me. "The longer we stay, the longer people might start talking about us being here. We'll take the overnight train."

Sage nodded, and I wanted desperately to hear her confirm that she didn't think our plan was insane. For a minute, it seemed like her silence was closest thing to an answer I was going to get. But then she shot up out of her seat and headed to a corner of the room, where she inched an old filing cabinet out of the way.

From behind it, she opened what appeared to be hidden door in the wall, and brought out a small locked box, which she now placed on the table next to Ado's work.

"Once you get back to the forties, you'll need some money. Obviously everything I have will be dated wrong, so..." she pulled out an old jewelry box and revealed a very delicate diamond ring with a simple silver band. It was clearly quite old, given as an engagement gift by someone who had probably spent half a year's salary on it.

"That's beautiful."

"It was my grandmother Golda's. You can pawn it when you get there." She tried giving it to me, but I held up my hands, refusing to take it.

"Absolutely not, we'll find something else."

"I want you to, Marina."

"I'll pawn my own ring," I suggested, holding up my pinkie which once again was encircled by the small ruby ring my parents had given me.

"That won't be enough," she said. "No offense. And besides, you didn't know my grandma. She would have loved that it was being used to help the freedom fighters. I would go with you, but the MPs are on to me. If I disappear, they'll be on me like flies."

Once again, Sage tried handing me the ring, but I just couldn't bring myself to take it from her, until Adam settled the argument by yanking it out of her hands. "Thanks," he muttered, practically dumping it in my palm.

It felt sacrilegious to put it on my left hand, so instead I slipped it onto my right ring finger for safekeeping. "We'll try to get it back to you if we can," I offered, but she merely shrugged, already dismissing the possibility.

*

The walk to the train station had the ominous feel of approaching a gurgling volcano. Every corner seemed fraught with peril, every set of eyes seemed to bore into mine, as if knowing what I was up to. As if they could see that Adam and I did not belong. The town had built up considerably in the time since I'd been there, now having the feel of a mid-sized European city. There was something timeless about the attractive but sterile new structures and the well-ordered streets that divided them into neat, orderly blocks.

I tried to keep my eyes straight ahead, my face neutral, but my wobbly knees betrayed me by making me miss several steps. Frustrated with my pace, Adam finally grabbed my elbow and guided me along like a misbehaving dog on a leash. I tried yanking my arm away, but he simply grabbed it again. "Just be cool," he whispered to me, and I forced myself to begin my deep exhaling trick that was designed for exactly that purpose. It didn't work.

As we were approaching the square in the center of town, about halfway to the train station, a booming voice suddenly echoed down from above, making us both freeze in our tracks. In an instant, the side of every building turned into an enormous screen, projecting in stereo the crystal-clear voice of the woman who appeared on those surfaces.

As we were surrounded by buildings, that meant that over a dozen iterations of my mother now surrounded me. I hadn't seen her—or this version of her, anyway—since the night I'd gone through Yesterday with my friends. But of course, I'd only had a glimpse of her that night.

Here she was now, a couple years older, although it was impossible to tell under the heavily pancaked makeup, the plastered-on smile, and the glassed-over eyes that made her look more like an android than a woman.

"Citizens," her voice boomed down all around us, so loud I could feel the ground rumbling beneath my feet. "I have wonderful news. President Koenig, in his benevolence, has decided to create an opportunity to visit him in the palace."

Now images of the man they called President Koenig filled the screen, smiling broadly under his own thick layer of foundation and obviously dyed jet-black hair. An array of images of a beautiful palace, bedecked with golden furniture and an impressive collection of world art, played under my mother's next words:

"Young people will have five days to submit to the palace account a letter, in your own words, extolling the virtues of our president. Do not hold back. The author of the most impressive letter will be treated to a fine meal and a relaxing afternoon in the palace grounds."

Looking around through my horrified eyes, I saw all the thin-cheeked children of the town clinging to the their mother's coats, gazing up in wonder at the parade of fantastical images before them. A sumptuous meal, fresh fruit overflowing from a Grecian urn, a roast leg of lamb, and golden goblets filled to the brim with clear water.

The parents watched the screen too, all with the same hardened and desperately sad look in their eyes.

"One lucky winner," my mother continued as the screens cut back to her, "will even have a chance to ride a real pony through the garden."

Now the children could hardly contain themselves with excitement. Their sunken-in eyes glowed with a new promise as they turned up to their parents and tugged on their coat sleeves.

"Five children will be chosen," my mother beamed. "Will you be one of the lucky few? Only if your letter to President Koenig is impressive enough. Again, hold nothing back. List all his accomplishments, and don't forget to be grateful and gracious. Good day, citizens."

And with that, my mother evaporated as quickly as she had appeared, and the building wall screens went back to projecting almost real-looking bricks.

As the commotion around us had died down, Adam resumed walking, but I couldn't bring myself to move. He glanced over his shoulder and whispered fiercely, "Walk, Marina," but even he seemed to soften a bit when he saw the tears rimming my eyes.

He circled back slowly, his eyes darting around to make sure I wasn't attracting too much attention. When he reached me, he simply dipped his head down to be near mine, his emerald-green eyes conveying as much warmth as he could muster. "We'll talk about it on the train, but now you need to walk. Do you understand me?"

I nodded dumbly, which made a solitary tear wind its way down my cheek. Adam wiped it away with his sleeve, took my hand, and continued walking at the same abrupt pace.

We stormed along in that way for several minutes, and we were almost at the train station when a guard stepped before us, her arm outstretched and her fist flat in our faces, telling us to stop.

"Papers," she demanded.

*****

Keep reading for chapter 24!