The Belongers

By Vivian Unger

Louanne's popular cousin invites her to ring in the new year/decade/century 2100. She's excited--and a little scared. But her first-ever New Year's party is a disappointment, and Louanne is fed up. She's tried so hard all her life to get into the popular cliques and make friends, and nothing works. It seems so easy for other people. What do they have that she doesn't? Charm? Charisma? Self-confidence?

Imagine Louanne's surprise when the answer turns out to be less nebulous and more physical than she'd ever suspected, as she uncovers a conspiracy that turns out to have its roots in a time decades before she was born, the time of the Green Wars....

Excerpt:
The door opened. "Hello," said the man behind it. He looked to be in his late thirties or possibly early forties. He had dark hair with only the faintest hint of wave at the bottom. It was long enough to brush his collar. His striking blue eyes looked past Scott as if expecting to see someone standing behind him.

"Hi. I'm Scott." Scott smiled nervously. He leaned a bit in an effort to get his face into the man's field of vision. The blue eyes flicked across him and stared off past him on the opposite side. "Yes. I'm expecting you." The man took one large step towards the wall, pulling the door with him. "I'm André. Please come in." Scott wandered in, and André shut the door behind him. Scott saw a living room with a large TV, a thick dark rug and a small table stacked with science magazines. The walls were covered with bookshelves. "Nice place you have here," said Scott.

"Thank you," said André. Scott turned to look at him. André was gazing at a spot above Scott's left eyebrow. Scott found himself flicking his hand over that area, wondering if he had something in his hair. André's eyes moved to stare at the same point to the side of Scott that he had been gazing at when he first opened the door. "Come see my nanobots," he said, and turned and walked up a staircase that lay behind the front door.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Vivian Unger
• Release date: Jul 11, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301911004

Vivian Unger

Vivian Unger lived most of her life in Montreal, Quebec, where she graduated from McGill with a B.A. in Classics and Computer Science. In 2006, she moved to Fredericton, New Brunswick, where she currently resides with her husband. She reads widely in both fiction and non-fiction but her favourite genre is speculative fiction (science fiction and fantasy). Her first stab at self-publishing was back in the 90's with Louis Rastelli's Distroboto (a repurposed cigarette machine) in Montreal. She sold a novella in a format small enough to fit in a cigarette pack. Since that time, her fiction has appeared in the online magazines In My Bed and Inscribed, the anthologies Twisted Tails V: Apocalypses Now and Then and re:myth: Stories and Poems by the Blacktop MotorCycle Gang, and in the print magazine The Rejected Quarterly. Aside from literary pursuits, Vivian enjoys gardening, cooking, wild plant identification and occasional spurts of knitting. Please send feedback (praise, blame, etc.) to Vivian Unger (all one word) at yahoo dot com.

Book preview

The Belongers

by

Vivian Unger

Copyright 2013 Vivian Unger

Smashwords Edition

https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/VivianUnger

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

To my husband James

Table of Contents

Chapter 1 – The Primordial Question

Chapter 2 – Post-New Year Loneliness

Chapter 3 – Clubs and Conspiracies

Chapter 4 – A Time to Die

Chapter 5 – Susan's Education

Chapter 6 – The Have-Nots and the Haves

Chapter 7 – The Society

Chapter 8 – Applying and Plotting

Chapter 9 – Parley with the Enemy

Chapter 10 – Ryan Hood

Chapter 11 – Meeting the Maker

Chapter 12 – Difficult Decisions

Chapter 13 – Louanne vs. Lorraine

Chapter 14 – Parley with the Enemy, Take 2

Chapter 15 – Auld Lang Syne

Acknowledgements

About the Author

Chapter 1 – The Primordial Question

Louanne stood in front of her full-length mirror and examined herself in her new dress. It was a shapeless tube down to mid-thigh. Ropes of beads hung from her neck and her hips were covered in black fringe. On a thinner person, perhaps it would have looked more elegant, she thought. Whereas she was a beaded, fringed sausage with a bump sticking out of the middle. She sighed and told herself that nobody would notice. It would be dark, and who would be looking at her anyway?

Maybe, she thought, the matching beaded headband would improve matters. She jammed it on her head, looked in the mirror and sighed again. Maybe she should just stay home?

It's not just any New Year's Eve, Louanne, Susan had pointed out over the phone. Twenty-one hundred—a new year, a new decade AND a new century. You just have to go out and party. She had then invited Louanne to attend a house party her friend Patty was throwing.

Her first invitation to a New Year's party. That was exciting... for a while. Louanne had been to parties before, either at her office or because she happened to be at the right place at the right time and got issued an invitation. These parties were never much fun. She would stand around feeling awkward and devouring chips to keep her hands busy. But this was a New Year's party. New Year's parties were special. They represented friendship. After all, wasn't that what the song, Auld Lang Syne, was about, as much as any non-Scottish speaker could understand it?

And this was a special New Year, as Susan had said: the beginning of a new century. Perhaps for her, too, it would be a turning point. She would make some friends and maybe even hit it off with a nice, attractive man. Then at the stroke of midnight, when everybody hugged and kissed, she would be a part of it and feel that warm glow of belonging.

She felt a surge of dread. She wanted to yank off the headband, wriggle out of the dress and throw it across the room. She could change into sweatpants, stay home and watch the festivities on TV, the way she had on so many New Year's Eves. When she was growing up, it was a yearly tradition: just her and her parents in front of the TV, watching the ecstatic crowd churn and roar.

What's the matter with me? she wondered.

She had to go. She'd told Susan she would, and she couldn't back out now, nor could she let herself down by taking the coward's way out. It could be different this time. It would.

She looked at the clock on the wall. It said half past eight. Still? Louanne muttered to herself, and then remembered that she'd forgotten to wind it. Damn. She lifted the clock off the wall and vigorously twisted the key until she felt resistance. Then she went in search of her watch, which she was pretty sure she had remembered to wind. Slightly after ten. That seemed more reasonable. It also meant that she ought to get moving.

She stepped out onto the sidewalk, wet from the rain that had fallen earlier. Between it and the one across the way was a tangle of dry vegetation and autumn leaves. That was where they planted vegetables during the growing season. At one time, she'd learned in school, the gardens had been city streets. All but the major thoroughfares had been torn up during The Urban Hunger, and the space planted with vegetable gardens to feed the starving city folk.

Louanne walked to Wellington street and waited for her bus. It was only a little noisier here, with people passing by and talking, or huddled in groups at the bus stop, on their way to parties or bars. Louanne heard the jingle of beads from several directions. The people were noisier than the vehicles. The swish of passing electric buses made too subtle a sound to contribute much to the noise level. The damp pavement shone in the glow of the solar-powered street lights.

It took Louanne two buses to get into Westmount. She walked down The Boulevard reading the signs, looking for the right garden.

She didn't even know these people. Why did Susan have to meet her at the party? Why couldn't she have met her somewhere else beforehand so they could go together? Then she wouldn't have to look like a gatecrasher, showing up all by herself at a party where she knew nobody. In a city like Montreal, with a population of a hundred thousand, the likelihood of meeting someone else she knew there was a bit low.

Louanne reflected that she might have asked Susan to meet her somewhere before the party, so that they could go together. But she'd been afraid to go against Susan's plans. She hadn't wanted to annoy her.

She found the right garden and walked slowly down one of the sidewalks bordering it, checking addresses: 456, 458... here it was, 460. Louanne withdrew her glasses from her purse and put them on. Even after several months of eye therapy, all she could afford, her prescription was still around -3. She kept the glasses off while walking outside, as the therapist had recommended, but a party was difficult enough without having to navigate a roomful of blurry heads.

She rang the bell. A tall dark-haired young woman in a tight black sheath answered the door. Her eyes swept over Louanne and past her into air, as if she expected someone more interesting to be standing behind her. Yes? she said tersely to the air.

Louanne forced a smile.. Hi. I'm Louanne, Susan's cousin.

Oh, Susan's cousin! Come in, then. Leaving the door ajar, the tall sheathed woman swirled around and walked out of the vestibule and to the left into the noise and colour of the party.

Don't introduce yourself or anything, muttered Louanne under her breath. She pulled the door shut behind her, hung up her coat in the closet and put on her party shoes, then ventured out of the vestibule, following the party sounds.

Beyond the vestibule, the hallway opened on the left to a living room. Cliques of people dotted the gleaming hardwood floor. Louanne glimpsed several women dressed like her, all dangling fringe and beads. Some chairs and a sofa were shoved up against the wall. Louanne took a few more hesitant steps forward and saw a dining room table beyond the horde. It was covered with a white tablecloth and laden with a buffet. In the corner of the room beyond the table, a stereo was thumping, though nobody was dancing. The singer was purring about how she'd rather have hot sex than good love.

Louanne scanned the room for Susan but couldn't see her anywhere. Apparently she had seen fit to show up late and leave Louanne all alone in a room full of people she didn't know. It was just like her. Louanne could just imagine what Susan would say if she complained. It's a party. You mingle. What do you need me for?

Louanne made a beeline for the buffet, and a serving plate piled high with meatballs. A box of toothpicks sat nearby. Louanne speared a meatball and transferred it to her plate, then took another and another and another. Five meatballs later, she stopped and asked herself if she was overdoing things. It was just exciting to come across meat. Just a few co-ops raised chickens and the occasional sheep or goat. Louanne's co-op did not produce meat, and she could seldom afford to buy what little was available for sale. Now here it was, free.

She filled the remaining space on her plate with cucumber slices topped with cream cheese and dill sprigs, and poured herself a glass of bubbly apple cider. That accomplished, she studied the stereo. These people, she reflected, were clearly well off.

Louanne popped meatballs and cucumber rounds into her mouth as she surveyed the room. Groups of people chatted and laughed. It reminded her of the playground in elementary school—she would approach the groups of chattering girls, and they would shift position in front of her to close ranks and keep her out. Like a finger caught in a door, such experiences taught lessons one didn't soon forget.

Louanne hunted for easier quarry and spotted it: a young man standing by himself cradling a bowl of potato chips. She hadn't seen him immediately, as he was partially obscured by a group of giggling women with piles of curls on their heads. Louanne ate the last of her meatballs, set the empty plate on the table, picked up her glass of cider and headed for him, weaving her way between the cliques.

She inched her way along the wall, then fixed her eyes upon him and waited awkwardly for him to look up. When he did, she said, Hi.

Hi.

I'm Louanne.

Scott. He stuck out his right hand. She shifted her glass from her right hand to her left and took the hand. His shake was firm and strong, despite his long, delicate-seeming fingers. He was thin, his shoulder-bones protruding under the fabric of the black shirt he wore over black trousers. A fuzzy moustache clung protectively to his upper lip. His head hair was also fuzzy and projected from his head in a way mildly reminiscent of Einstein. He peered at her through glasses that made his eyes and the surrounding head area appear smaller. Clearly he was myopic, even more so than her.

So, who brought you here? she blurted out, regretting it immediately. But Scott laughed. That obvious, is it? he said. He pointed. He did. Louanne followed his finger and saw the tall blond man, filled in in all the places that Scott wasn't. "His name is Adam. He's my boss, actually. Who brought you here?"

"My cousin, Susan. But she didn't really bring me... she doesn't seem to be here yet, even." Louanne couldn't keep a note of irritation out of her voice.

What did she do then? asked Scott, Tell you she'd meet you here? And then you get here and she's not here?

Basically, said Louanne. But... how come you're not over there talking to them?

Oh, I was, Scott responded. But I got bored.

Louanne's eyes widened. What she wouldn't give to be a part of one of these groups... and he had turned his back on them. She wouldn't even care if they were boring, as long as they let her hang with them for awhile.

On the other hand... there was something appealing in the idea of turning the tables on the popular people that way. She imagined it would give one a feeling of power. Perhaps it did give Scott such a feeling.

Anyway, added Scott, They let me stand with them but they don't pay attention to me. You know, if I say anything, it just kind of hangs in the air. Know what I mean?

Yeah, I do. Louanne nodded.

I'll introduce you later, if you want, said Scott. When your Susan shows up.

Yeah, all right, said Louanne, scratching behind her ear. She didn't like the idea of Susan being introduced to that good-looking man. What if she just scooped him up? Not that he'd look twice at Louanne, but still... Susan had enough; she didn't want to give her any freebies. Certainly she didn't want to reward the woman for leaving her high and dry at this lousy party.

Look at me, I'm forgetting my manners, said Scott with a grin. He held out the bowl of chips. Want some?

Oh—just a couple. Louanne grinned and picked out a couple of chips. Thanks.

They both stared at the cliques around them as Louanne munched one of the chips. Louanne searched her brain for conversation subjects. So... have you seen any good movies lately?

I don't go to the movies very often, Scott replied. I'm more of a book person. How I got these. He grinned again as he pointed to his glasses. Right now I'm reading Shyanne Sawyer's Intelligent Monsters series.

Oh, I like her too, said Louanne. So you're a fan of fantasy?

Actually, I'm a science fiction fan. But I think of Sawyer as more of a sci fi writer than a fantasy writer.

You do? But the monsters—

The monsters are perfectly workable from a scientific standpoint, Scott countered. Sawyer explains plausibly how they evolved the way they did, and how they function, biologically. That's what I love about her.

They discussed Sawyer for a while, then moved onto other novelists and novels, and Louanne also mentioned a science fiction movie that she thought was quite good, and recommended that Scott check it out. They'd been talking for about half an hour when Susan's head abruptly appeared in Louanne's field of vision.

You made it! squealed Susan.

"You made it, Louanne corrected her. Where were you?"

Oh, I ran into someone I hadn't seen for a while and we had a coffee and talked for a bit. But it's all good. You got a chance to mingle. I've got some people to introduce you to. She seized Louanne by the arm and began to tow her away.

Louanne staggered sideways against the tugging and waved her arm awkwardly towards Scott, which also helped her maintain her balance. This is Scott, she said.

What? Oh. Susan turned and looked blankly at Scott. Hi, um, um...

Scott, Louanne repeated.

Oh yeah. Hi Scott! C'mon Louanne.

Louanne watched helplessly as Scott receded into the distance; he smiled at her and waved.

Hey guys! Susan chirped as she bombed her way into a clique. There were some surprised ohs and some repositioning, but everyone smiled tolerantly at Susan. This is my cousin, Louanne.

Super, said a fellow with hollow cheekbones, a prominent Adam's apple and a page-boy of brown hair. He glanced into Louanne's eyes for a second, nodded, then looked away.

That's Craig, Susan informed Louanne. Never mind him, he's not important. She grinned mischievously in Craig's direction.

Hey! Craig protested.

This is Patricia, our lovely hostess. Louanne saw with a small jolt in her belly that it was the sheathed woman who had answered the door. Patricia nodded while staring at a point somewhere at the top of Louanne's head. Call her Patty, 'cause it really pisses her off.

Shut UP! cried Patricia. She leaned over, gave Susan a playful shove, and giggled. Louanne noticed the warmth in her eyes as she looked at Susan, something that a woman like that would never, ever direct at her. She felt a sinking feeling as the usual question dropped into her belly with a thud; with an effort, she dismissed it.

That's Andrew, our lovely host, Patricia's boyfriend. Susan held her hand out towards a man with a small pinch beard.

Charmed, said Andrew. His green eyes skated back and forth restlessly.

It's the eyes that give them away, thought Louanne. They just can't bring themselves to land on you.

And last, but certainly not least, Yvette.

All Louanne saw of Yvette was a back and a long dyed-blond braid cascading down it. Without a word of response, the woman drifted in the direction of the buffet. Louanne looked at Susan, who watched Yvette's retreating back with a look of concern. So check these out, she said. She shot a hand into a dainty black purse and pulled out a strangely-shaped pair of glasses, which she unfolded and put on. They spelled out 2100 in gaudy glittering faux gold. The two 0s became the spectacles for each eye, while the 21 protruded to the right of her face. What do you think?

Oh Susan, that is sooo tacky, said Patricia, rolling her eyes.

Here, try them on. Susan whipped the glasses off her face and held them out.

No! shrieked Patricia, leaning backwards as if Susan had offered her a scorpion.

Andrew grinned. Yeah, put 'em on, Trisha. He tried to force them onto her face, while the others laughed.

They don't go with my outfit at all! cried Patricia.

After a struggle, during which Patricia flatly refused to wear the glasses, Andrew stuck them on his own face and crossed his arms while the rest laughed and made comments about how flattering they were. Yvette drifted back and smiled at their antics as she picked daintily at some crudités.

We were just saying, remarked Craig, before, I don't know, some incredibly rude person busted in on us...

Guilty! cried Susan, sticking up her hand and giggling idiotically.

Have you heard the latest about Richard?

They slipped into an animated discussion about the doings of a mutual friend of theirs that Louanne had never heard of. She grew restless. They weren't closing ranks, but none of the talk interested her much, and nobody was paying any attention to her. She wondered why she was standing there when she could be talking to Scott. She turned to look at Susan. Susan was saying something about how she had known Richard's dog since it was a puppy. Louanne watched her for a full minute and Susan's eyes never flickered in her direction. Louanne backed off slowly. Someone bumped into her, but that was fine because it provided a distraction and allowed them to exchange apologies. Then she felt she was home free and scurried away from Susan's clique as fast as she could cut through the crowd.

Louanne cast about for Scott. She made a circuit of the room, squeezing past people and hearing beads jingle. She did not see him. Although Louanne was not a big fan of alcohol, she suddenly felt the need of a drink—something a little stronger than cider. Perhaps it would be one for the road; if Scott had left the party, she didn't want to stick around either.

Still the question gnawed at her. Susan got invited to New Year's parties. Susan had lots of friends. She was none too gentle with people's feelings, she had the characteristic Weisman family big mouth, and Louanne found her annoying. She put up with Susan, of course, because the woman was family. That didn't explain why other people, people not related to her in any way, were so eager to have her around.

Louanne was always careful of people's feelings, always making an effort to be considerate and polite. She kept hoping that it would pay off one day. She was still waiting.

People just weren't interested in her. Sometimes she'd meet another woman that she liked, and she'd arrange lunch dates and other outings, and maybe the other woman would see her once or twice and cancel on her about ten times. And Louanne would do all the arranging, all the phoning, all the chasing. All the effort was hers. Tired, she thought, I'm just so tired.

Then there was the eye contact. People looked at Susan. They kept looking. They smiled. With Louanne, they would glance and look away. Did they see something in Susan's eyes that Louanne didn't have? Or worse, was there something in Louanne's eyes that turned them off?

What was wrong with her?

Louanne made her way once again in the direction of the buffet table. This time, she cut right across the room, it being the shortest route to her goal. About halfway through, she spotted Scott, at the edge of a clique. She realized why she hadn't seen him before: having expected him to be in the same sort of wallflower position she'd first found him in, she'd investigated only the edges of the room. Scott was next to that Viking of a man he'd pointed out earlier: his boss, Adam.

She made a move in their direction, stopped, and resumed walking to the buffet table. She'd get that drink first. Scott might want to introduce her.

She started towards the buffet again, but behind her she heard, Hey, um, uh, Laura, no, Louise?

She turned. Louanne. Bad with names?"

Scott smiled and cast his eyes down. Yeah. But I make up for it with my other talents. He looked back up. Come meet my boss.

Louanne glanced almost against her will at the buffet table, then back at Adam. She almost said, All right if I get a drink first? But her eyes were pulled to Adam, and she saw in profile the line of his jawbone and the way his light hair curled behind his ears, and she found herself saying, Sure.

Adam? Scott prodded him. In height, he barely passed the other man's shoulder.

Adam turned and favoured him with a small smile. Scott.

Meet my new friend, Louanne.

Adam looked at her. She was momentarily startled by the blueness of his eyes. She flashed him her best smile and said, Hi.

Nice to meet you, Louanne, he said, then turned back to the group. Louanne saw him listen intently to what somebody else was saying, let out a gentle, masculine laugh.

Is that all I get? thought Louanne. He didn't even shake her hand. She hadn't realized until that moment that she'd been harbouring a fantasy, somewhere deep in her psyche, of her little hand being grasped in his big blond one, the warmth of his palm against hers.

She turned away, walked slowly to the buffet table, her hands over her middle. If she walked a perfectly straight line and didn't look left or right, maybe nobody would notice anything was wrong. Maybe she wouldn't notice. Maybe no tears would start to fill her eyes. What had she expected, after all? Little enough, really. A handshake. She wasn't about to get that, not even that.

She reached for a bottle of gin. She would just take a couple of fingers and top that off with a splash of cider, then drink it down as fast as possible. Then she would get the hell out of this crummy party.

She poured, drank. It occurred to her she ought to tell Susan she was leaving.

She's not going to like that, thought Louanne. She gulped her drink, felt the burning of the gin under the cider.

Louanne? She turned. Scott was standing next to her.

Are you OK? You walked off pretty suddenly.

I'm fine, Louanne lied.