The Levels of Conspiracy

Annie

Annie was surrounded by darkness, lying on the ground. There was no noise around her, but it was like a thick grind too low to hear, pushing at her from all sides. It felt like a physical squeak, like steps in thick snow, from what Annie could remember of snow. It felt like she was the snow, and the steps were those of a great snow creature.

There wasn’t snow here, though. There was only very fine dust and mud. Annie was the mud and the dust. She was rich black dust. She didn’t remember black dust, only red dust. The snow creature’s thick legs were covered with mud, but the mud was dry and cracked. The legs were as thick as trees. She couldn’t tell if they were front legs bending like elbows or back legs bending like heels. Maybe they were human legs bending like human knees.

She couldn’t tell which way it faced. Its body blocked out the sun and its shadowy face came down to the mud. Annie’s mud. The rumble got thicker. It blew Annies dust away, and Annie blew away, through the trees, out away from the forest around the mountain and into the valley. She fell quickly across the streets of houses, the trees and the people in the yards. She fell faster toward the houses as the houses got bigger.

She woke up feeling nauseated from the falling feeling. It was day and Annie was in a spacious house with several glass walls and there appeared to be a tree in the middle of it. She was on a couch that sighed when she moved. 

Sitting up, Annie looked toward on of the doors and saw a row of shoes. The were pink and one pair had little  dots. She sighed.

There were low voices and footsteps. Some people came in the room, past the shoes.

"Hey, Annie," came the voices. The first to appear was Patrice. "We’ve got food and water, and whatever else."

The rest came in, they were the party that had arrived together and hugged Kris. They had easy communications through subtle looks that close friends have. Annie ached a little with jealousy. At least three were holding bowls of colorful triangles and were eating them with loud crunches. She hoped they would really be her friends but feared they were laying a long con to culminate in some awful prank, like murdering her for her organs. 

The folks sat on the bits of furniture throughout the main room that  were not attached to her couch. They set the bowls on the coffee table and continued eating the chips. 

Patrice set down a tray of cheese and other really delicious bits of things to eat with toothpicks.

It was possibly the most vegetables Annie had seen so far, most of them pickled. At one corner was something like a salad of green and white grains. At the opposite end was a thick white dip flecked with bluish green dots of herb. 

"This is from lax party," said Patrice, setting the toothpick-holder next to the tray. 

It was a cute little lamb, glazed with dark green. It looked like some kind of chess piece. 

"Eat as much as you can, or want," said a woman with flowing waves of hair. She scooted some artistically shaped woven chair up to the coffee table. "I’m Vanessa, and of all of us, I technically have the most medical training, for what it’s worth."  She shrugged as she sat, and continued with, "So here’s to asking medical questions about stuff that makes people faint."

Matt pulled up another artsy chair next to here. "We’re going to eat this, too." He said, getting a toothpick and eating a pale clove of garlic. "Aw, it’s the oil. It melts like butter." he said.

"So, did you get enough to drink in the past twenty-four hours?" Vanessa asked, not writing anything down, but looking attentively at Annie. It was the first time in a long time anyone looked at Annie like an equal. There was sing-song voice or crinkled up eyes. There was no accusation in her voice or her expression. She really was just asking honest questions, unless she was really good at faking it. 

"Naw, I didn’t refill until I got to Patrice and Jaylen’s house. All the drinks I had seemed to have alcohol."

"Yeah, they did." She bit her lip sadly. Matt apologized and continued eating.

"And I didn’t refill my bottle before I left Spiral. I don’t know how long it took to get through the mountain. I  don’t know how long it took to get from spiral to  the mountain." If she’d knows she was going to be sent here on her first day of work, she would have brought her stuff, for one. 

"Ah, that sounds awful. We’re glad you made it. Did you also not eat that whole time?"

"Yup. I mean, no, I didn’t eat." At this point, Annie knew she had to eat some more, she she scooted up to the edge of the couch and ate some of that delicious cheese. She got both and black and a green olive, then a little artichoke heart that felt apart rather than be picked up with a toothpick.

The others carefully moved in closer and got some of the food, as well. There were triangles of bread, which Annie and others wrapped around the artichoke and filled out with several other things.

Someone came in with another tray of little breads covered with cheese and blueberries.

He set it on the coffee table with one large hand, with the other he set down a tray of cups made of ice and herbs. 

"These are cool, but you’ll need some towels. They drip," But someone had towels and everyone who took one wrapped it in a towel.

When he stood up, the man was tall with long limbs. He had the slight build of a former athlete who stayed in shape. "I’m Lac, aka everything I lack, I make up in denial," he sang, and giggled the innocent-sounding giggle of a toddler pursuing a butterfly.  Then he morphed right back into a grown man voice and added, "The ice could help, if any of your fingers or anything hurt. It would be more useful helping a burn, but fortunately no one got burned today. It also helped us clear some space in the freezer."

This reminded Annie that she had been injured everywhere, and now she had been injured again. 

She pressed her knee, it twinged slightly like a good bruise, and went back to minding its own business. It didn’t throb or anything. Her other muscles were only slightly sore. How many days had it been? He was referring to today, like it was still the same day. How had she healed so fast? 

There was also now a big watermelon with a faucet on the coffee table, set down by Jaylen, who was taking a seat by Patrice. 

"This one’s free of alcohol. It’s fruit punch," said Matt, getting some in an ice cup.

"Well that’s cool."

Lac spoke quietly, "I’m sorry for what it took for you to get here. There’s a lot happening and a lot going to happen. I’m sorry for all of it. There are lots of reasons we can’t explain everything right now, and we hope we’ll be able to tell you everything before long."

Patrice was still there, sipping the fruit punch. "Some of us remember a time before barbecues became the most formal events we have," she said. "We used to talk more."

"We used to even have visitors from outside, before the dry-out," said Vanessa. "We haven’t seen anyone in a very long time. You represent crucial resources.  To be honest, we’d prefer using them to further our interests, obviously." She looked around meaningfully. 

"Admittedly," said Matt. 

"Anyway," said Lac. "I left the apology line to come and make sure I got you. You, of all people, deserve an apology at least, in lieu of an explanation. Muffy insisted that you be brought here."

Lac paused and looked frustrated. He took a deep breath. "We live right across the street." 

Lac stood, then paused and unsnapped his watch from his wrist. He handed it to her, saying, "In case you want to get in tonight or tomorrow morning, this will unlock my house door. It really was an honor to meet you and it helped that you were there with Kris today. I do hope you’ll be able to spend time at out place while  you’re here." Unable to end, he trailed off as he turned and went past the shoes. He was visible through the glass walls as he crossed the street and went back to his house. 

Kris

Kris paced the long hallway on the lookout for anyone coming from any direction. Her skin crawled with anxiety.

Tarah was in the main room. Only the least desirable candles remained, including the chipped one Muffy had swapped. 

She over Annie’s backpack, carefully noting the original positions of everything she moved. On top was the main binder. 

"Aw, here," Tarah murmured nervously as she pulled out Annie list of checked out items. She then looked around and carefully dragged the bag into the nearby room and closed the door.

Kris continued pacing, touching the screen when she passed it and selecting a prayer before walking away.

Inside the room, Tarah carefully stacked the binders and the machines on the bed. She very carefully placed the little bag of clothes by itself where it flopped lightly over. Looking at the list, she mentally ticked off each item. She checked all of the zips on the bag, returning them back to their former positions immediately. She felt around for hidden pockets. She traced the inner lining.  Where was the multimeter? Where was the wirall? Tara pulled out her torchlight, searching for the orange plastic outline. 

Through the window she saw Lac coming home. She heard him walk in and murmur with Kris. Carefully, she stepped out of the room and walked up close to them. 

"Something’s missing." she whispered. 

"What?" they mouthed, turning to her. 

"Well, I’m not sure, but there should be a multimeter, a toolkit with spare parts, some wiring machines. Should, that is. Have a look and see if there’s a pocket I missed."

Lac strode with Tarah toward the room. Kris looked around, checking the doors and windows. 

There was crash of hollow metal colliding with something else, coinciding with the screech of a betrayed cat. Kris looked out the window and saw an orange streak flying out of sight "Oh, no! The Stone Soup Pot!" 

Lac and Tarah made for the door. The massive steel cylinder was rolling merrily from the top of the hill. 

But immediately, there were Matt and Vanessa, just leaving Muffy’s. With a dramatic lunge, Matt clapped it  between his hands. Vanessa moved to steady him. Lac and Tara stopped and turned back inside. Everyone sighed with relief as Matt and Vanessa carefully turned it, lifted it between them and moved around back toward the yard. 

Lac followed Tara into the room, as she said, "Check everything your way." Her eyes fell on the bag of clothes.  She grimaced. "I didn’t check her personal bag, it felt very wrong." But she could see the bag was had obvious sharp lumps.

Sadly, she unsnapped and unzipped the little bag and burst with disappointment and delight. 

"These," she sighed. "These could save us." She carefully arranged the objects on the bed and rechecked her list.  "Phew, they’re all here."

"Well done, then," said Lac, feeling the full weight of his need to return to the tent. He hugged Tarah once again and strode to Kris. They murmured some more  and then paced as Tara quickly put everything back. She left it in the room, thinking it safer there and stepped quietly down the hall. Her hand started shaking and she breathed heavily.

"Who?" Tarah stuttered as tears started to bloom. "Not someone who knows us. Not someone who knew Alain." The three hugged and then together they returned to the party.