Conor agrees to stay behind at the mansion to analyse the incoming data from the collision—as a general rule, he doesn’t get out much. The others set out for Beringsford in the black van that they keep in Westcrest’s second garage. It is the first time that Jeremy has used the teleporter to travel to the mainland and it sends him to his knees.
“You okay?” asks Sarra.
Jeremy nods and picks himself up. “Yeah,” he says and already the colour is returning to his face. “Better than travelling by painting, that’s for sure.”
The two of them exchange a knowing glance that neither of them think Chatravati sees, though in truth there’s little that Westcrest’s leader doesn’t see.
Marcus drives and Chatravati sits in the back with Jeremy and Sarra. An awkward silence pervades until Jeremy says: “So… aliens, huh?”
“You’re an alien,” says Sarra and punches his thigh.
“If aliens are real,” Jeremy says. “Then why aren’t there more UFO sightings?”
“Because the Earth is hidden,” says Chatravati and Sarra and Jeremy both look to him in surprise.
“What do you mean?” Jeremy asks.
“You’re right, Jeremy,” says Chatravati, his mouth showing the slightest hint of a smile. “We should see a lot more of them—the universe is brimming with life. The Earth is but one tiny island adrift on one enormous, inky-black lake.”
“Woah,” says Sarra, rolling her eyes. “That’s deep.”
“So why don’t we?” Asks Jeremy. He’s thinking about a guy who he used to hang out with when he was living on the streets that had regularly insisted that he was from outer space. Maybe he had been telling the truth.
“A long time ago…” Chatravati begins—and for a moment his eyes grow misty with nostalgia. “A long time ago, things changed. The world changed. We hid it.”
“How do you hide a planet?” asks Sarra.
“You turn off the lights,” says Chatravati in such a way that makes it perfectly clear that he will say nothing further on the matter—at least, not today.
“Are we there yet?” calls Sarra and Marcus grumbles incomprehensibly from the front compartment.
Jeremy watches out the rear windows of the van as they pass familiar Genoa City landmarks. There’s the statue of Old Jameson standing beside his trusty wolfhound and the Tropical Palms Mega-Mall and the Shire Library, which has absolutely nothing to do with hobbits.
While stopped at a set of traffic lights, Jeremy watches as a homeless old lady is ambushed by police officers. Instincitively he moves to get out of the van, but Chatravati places a hand on his arm. “Wait,” he tells Jeremy.
The old lady has already thrown one police officer to the ground and another is backing away fearfully. Now, with her shawl thrown back, it is clear by the darkness in her eyes that the old lady is no longer human. Her skin is pallid and her mouth a chasm of ruined teeth—she is undead.
A third officer fires his gun at the undead woman and then the light goes green and Marcus is speeding away. Chatravati shakes his head at the scene he just witnessed. Something about the zombie infestation doesn’t make sense, but it’s no use concerning the others about it yet.
They pass through the suburb of Redbridge, so named for the colour of the bridge that seperates Genoa City from Beringsford. Brownstone buildings quickly give way to low white houses with overgrown lawns and holes in their chain-link fences.
A group of children playing together on the footpath look up at the black van as it passes. One of the children waves and although the rear windows of the van are darkly tinted, Jeremy waves back.