Reaper Man

bright, domed area. Stairways led up and down to different floors, and there was a fountain and a grove of potted plants that looked too healthy to be real.
    “Isn’t it nice?” said Doreen.
    “You keep thinking there should be people,” said Ludmilla. “Lots of people.”
    “There should at least be wizards,” muttered Windle Poons. “Half a dozen wizards don’t just disappear.”
    The five of them moved closer. Passages the size of the one they’d just walked down could have accommodated a couple of elephants walking abreast.
    “Do you think it might be a good idea to go back outside?” said Doreen.
    “What good would that do?” said Windle.
    “Well, it’d get us out of here.”
    Windle turned, counting. Five of the passages radiated equidistantly out of the domed area.
    “And presumably it’s the same above and below,” he said aloud.
    “It’s very clean here,” Doreen said nervously. “Isn’t it clean, Arthur?”
    “It’s very clean.”
    “What’s that noise?” said Ludmilla.
    “What noise?”
    “That noise. Like something sucking something.”
    Arthur looked around with a certain amount of interest.
    “It’s not me.”
    “It’s the stairs,” said Windle.
    “Don’t be silly, Mr. Poons. Stairs don’t suck.”
    Windle looked down.
    “These do.”
    They were black, like a sloping river. As the dark substance flowed out from under the floor it humped itself into something resembling steps, which traveled up the slope until they disappeared under the floor again, somewhere above. When the steps emerged they made a slow, rhythmic shlupshlup noise, like someone investigating a particularly annoying dental cavity.
    “Do you know,” said Ludmilla, “that’s quite possibly the most unpleasant thing I’ve ever seen?”
    “I’ve seen worse,” said Windle. “But it’s pretty bad. Shall we go up or down?”
    “You want to stand on them?”
    “No. But the wizards aren’t on this floor and it’s that or slide down the handrail. Have you looked closely at the handrail?”
    They looked at the handrail.
    “I think,” said Doreen nervously, “that down is more us.”
    They went down in silence. Arthur fell over at the point where the traveling stairs were sucked into the floor again.
    “I had this horrible feeling it was going to drag me under,” he said apologetically, and then looked around him.
    “It’s big,” he concluded. “Roomy. I could do wonders down here with some stone-effect wallpaper.”
    Ludmilla wandered over to the nearest wall.
    “You know,” she said, “there’s more glass than I’ve seen before, but these clear bits look like shops. Does that make sense? A great big shop full of shops?”
    “And not ripe yet,” said Windle.
    “Sorry?”
    “Just thinking aloud. Can you see what the merchandise is?”
    Ludmilla shaded her eyes.
    “It just looks like a lot of color and glitter.”
    “Let me know if you see a wizard.”
    Someone screamed.
    “Or hear one, for example,” Windle added.
    Lupine bounded off down a passageway. Windle lurched swiftly after him.
    Someone was on their back, trying desperately to fight off a couple of the trolleys. They were bigger than the ones Windle had seen before, with a golden sheen to them.
    “Hey!” he yelled.
    They stopped trying to gore the prone figure and three-point-turned toward him.
    “Oh,” he said, as they got up speed.
    The first one dodged Lupine’s jaws and butted Windle full in the knees, knocking him over. As the second passed over him he reached up wildly, grabbed randomly at the metal, and pulled hard. A wheel spun off and the trolley cartwheeled into the wall.
    He scrambled up in time to see Arthur hanging grimly onto the handle of the other trolley as the two of them whirred around in a mad centrifugal waltz.
    “Let go! Let go!” Doreen screamed.
    “I can’t! I can’t!”
    “Well, do something !”
    There was a pop of inrushing air. The trolley was suddenly not straining against the weight of a middle-aged wholesale fruit and vegetable entrepreneur but only against a small terrified bat. It rocketed into a marble pillar, bounced off, hit a wall and landed on its back, wheels spinning.
    “The wheels!” shouted Ludmilla. “Pull the wheels off!”
    “I’ll do that,” said Windle. “You help Reg.”
    “Is that Reg down there?” said Doreen.
    Windle jerked his thumb toward the distant wall. The words “Better late than nev” ended in a desperate streak of paint.
    “Show him a