The Secret City by Carol Emshwiller Page A

we both liked it here. How she was an old one who could see through all the jingoistic bullshit of our parents. All the more reason, then, that I’m right in wanting to stay. Why didn’t I talk to her more? My God, the things I could have found out that my parents never would have told me, but all I did was pay attention to Allush.
    I miss her, Allush, Allusha, but I keep telling myself, she got what she wanted. At least that. I hope she’s happy there. I hope she can come back if she doesn’t like it.
    I’ve no idea how long I sit there—it seems I’m mostly not thinking at all, I just sit—empty—then I see the sun is getting low. If I don’t hurry back to the trail, I’ll have to sit here all night. I can’t climb up in the dark and I left my flashlight back in my pack. And I completely forgot about that man I knocked out. I wonder what mischief he’s gotten himself into.
    When I take Mollish’s backpack and bedroll, she slides the rest of the way down the scree slope. As do I. Her backpack was what was holding her up. I leave her there next to the man. I walk beyond the scree and climb back to my backpack. I sling both packs … one on each sore shoulder … and go back to check on the man. I may be sorry, but if he’s stuck here he won’t know what to do. He’ll need me.
    H E’S SITTING WITH HIS BACK AGAINST THE HIGH side of the trail shivering. He’s dressed unsuitably for the side of a mountain in high altitudes and in this season. I unroll Mollish’s bedroll and lay it over his shoulders.
    I remember that odd jerk of the head, as if to throw back long hair. It means thanks. Mollish did that, too. All the old ones did.
    He says something. Though that was my first language, I don’t understand. I shake my head, no, but all my gestures are from here, he won’t know what that means.
    I sit beside him and get out some of our dried food and a canteen of Mollish’s tea. He tastes the meat and gags as I would do after half a bite of caterpillar. But he drinks the tea as if he doesn’t dare but is too thirsty not to. I don’t blame him his fear.
    Odd though, that they never bothered to learn one of these languages just in case of getting stuck here. Even when our parents first came they never thought it was important to know more than a few words of English or Spanish. Of course these men have no role but to snatch people back.
    I’d climb down and get the tubes I threw over and give them back to him if thought it would help him go home, but I’m afraid he’ll snatch me back with him or burn me if I won’t come. They all seem to think we’d be better off home whether we want to go or not. I suppose because it’s so much more civilized there, but I would have been happy up in the Secret City where it’s even less civilized … as long as I didn’t have to live underground. I was all set to stay up there. Maybe I would have except for Youpas.
    But strange how it was so empty—that I only saw those three people in all my wandering around. I wonder if there are any more of us up there, or if they dwindled away and died or maybe got bored like Allush was and left for the Down or got lost trying to find it. No wonder Youpas was upset that Allush was so taken with me, she’s his only hope for a mate, too. For sure, when he finds out we’re not there, he’ll follow us down, but he doesn’t know Allush has gone back to the homeworld. He’ll blame me for that.
    W E’LL HAVE TO SPEND THE NIGHT ON THE LEDGE . It’s going to be a dark, cloudy night. Too dangerous for two of us to walk this rocky trail single-file with just my tiny flashlight.
    He’s cold even after I wrap him in Mollish’s bedroll. And he’s frightened. When he looks at me, it’s wide-eyed—like a scared baby animal looking at the mother for help. I thought maybe it would be dangerous sleeping with him next to me after I’d knocked him out, but I can see on his face that I’m his only hope.
    I make him put on my long underwear