Propped up awkwardly on one elbow, all I could do was stare at the closed door. At a loss for words, let alone coherent thought, I found myself passively taking in my surroundings. The double doors that separated me from the outside world were made of painted black wood. All except for the windows, which had metal frames and bars. The light they permitted to enter the carriage interior was dim. Not that there was a lot of light to begin with on an overcast day like this. Maybe after my eyes adjusted I'd be able to see whether or not there were even benches to sit on. Not that it mattered that much, really. I doubted that I'd be able to get up onto one anyway what with my hands cuffed behind my back.
What was I going to do? What could I do?
I sighed, letting myself sink back onto the wooden floor as the carriage started moving. It was hardly a smooth ride, with frequent bumps and rattles. The sway of the carriage had no real pattern, but compared to the violent turbulence I'd experienced while trapped in the blue box that was somehow bigger on the inside, it was hardly worth mentioning. It did nothing for my bruised and battered body, though. I ached almost everywhere from the abuse I'd suffered thus far today.
I shifted, trying to get a little more comfortable. The chain on my handcuffs rattled slightly with the movement. I shook my head, trying and failing to get my long blonde hair out of my face. The somewhat damp strands only moved a few inches at best, sticking stubbornly to my skin. I didn't bother with a second attempt. Instead, I lay still, staring blankly at the wall of the carriage as it bounced along beneath me. It was shadowed by a narrow wooden ledge that could just barely be considered a bench, but even through the dark coloration I could still see the natural whorls and patterns in the wood. Some of them resembled rather unpleasant looking faces. They seemed to stare at me condemningly, even though I didn't know what I'd done wrong. I tried not to look at them for too long. As my eyes wandered randomly over the faint natural lines, I wondered what was going to happen to me.
Would I ever get home?
Well, I suppose to do that I'd have to find the blue box again, and there was no chance of that now. Even if I did get out, there's no way that I'd ever be able to figure out where it was in this city. I didn't know the layout, which streets led where, or anything like that. I didn't even know what city this was; just that it definitely wasn't St. Louis. More than that, I wasn't even sure what country this city was in. The multitude of British accents had me thinking that it was probably England, but that wasn't the point. There could be hundreds of alleys like the one the alien ship had landed in, and I'd never know just which one it was. No, my odds of ever seeing that box again were slim to none. Even if by some miracle I did manage to find it, there was no guarantee that it would take me home. I might even end up worse off than I was now. There was just no way to know.
It's pointless anyway, I thought dejectedly. To find the alien ship, I'd have to somehow get out of these handcuffs, break open the back of the carriage, and make it back to the exact alley way I'd come from without getting arrested again. But, of course, that scenario broke down at "somehow get out of these handcuffs." I had no clue how to pick a lock, and I didn't have a toothpick or bobby pin or whatever else people used for that sort of thing. Getting out the door would be impossible, seeing as it was bolted shut. I weighed barely one hundred pounds. No way was I strong enough to force that open, even if I tried ramming it with my bony shoulders. And, well, I'd only been here for roughly five minutes before getting myself arrested. There was no way on Earth that I'd be able to get back to the alley without being noticed.
I was stuck. At an impasse. Trapped. Whatever you want to call it.
There was no way out of this situation.
Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, and I bit my lip as I tried to hold them back. Crying wouldn't help me. Crying was weak, and I had to be strong.
Oh, who was I kidding? I had nothing to prove, no way out, and no way home.
I broke and gave into the despair that was threatening to drown me.
I don't know how long I cried. Long enough, certainly. Even after my tears slowed and I grew emotionally numb, the carriage still rolled onward. I stared blankly ahead, unmoving and unfeeling. Even my thoughts faded into nothing.
When the carriage finally stopped, I hardly noticed. Nor could I really bring myself to care.
"Come on, then," I heard a male voice say.
I didn't move. I couldn't find the motivation to do so.
There was a creak as the police officer stepped up into the carriage. A boot nudged me in the back.
"Come on. Up with you" he said, giving me a second, harder nudge. I flinched as the toe of his boot dug uncomfortably into my ribs. Awkwardly, I rolled over onto my stomach and tried to get up. It wasn't exactly easy with my hands cuffed behind me. Fortunately, the officer took hold of my upper right arm and helped me up the rest of the way.
"All right. Now, don't give me any trouble, y'hear?" the officer said.
I nodded dumbly and allowed him to steer me towards the door. I jumped off the end of the carriage, and the officer stepped down behind me. Tugging firmly on my arm, he led me towards what I assumed was a police station. Except, it looked nothing like one. I thought it looked more like a warehouse. It was large and rectangular like one, anyway. The few windows I could see were all opaque, and appeared to be made of thick, sturdy glass framed by some kind of metal in a grid pattern. The building's structure was mostly composed of bricks, and what little stone work there was on it was not particularly ornate. In all, there was nothing that seemed to positively indicate that this place was where one could find police officers. I assumed there was a sign somewhere labeling this building as a police station, but I didn't see it. There weren't really any identifying markers at all on the building. It was odd, to say the least.
The officer led me up to the heavy wooden door at the front, reaching down to grab a sturdy-looking handle. There was an ominous creak as he pulled the door open. Increasing the pressure on my arm, the officer ushered me into a dimly lit space. I blinked a couple of times, trying to get my eyes to compensate for this second sudden change in lighting. A slight pull backwards on my arm told me to stop after we were just inside the doorway. As the door clicked shut again, I took a good look at my new surroundings.
The first thing I noticed was the bricks. The floor was made of bricks. The ceiling was made of bricks, and so were the walls. If there had been benches along the walls of the small room where I was standing, they probably would have been made of bricks too. The only things that weren't made of bricks were the two windows behind me. They let in a decent amount of light. More than I'd had in the carriage, anyway, but the opaque glass filtered the light in a way that made the space feel almost claustrophobic. There were no desks, chairs, or any other type of furniture. I didn't even see any lamps. Straight in front of me, there were three hallways, also composed of bricks from the ceiling to the floor.
"Warden!"
I sucked in a sharp breath and started in surprise at the officer's shout.
Warden? I thought in confusion. Like a prison warden? This can't be a prison, can it?
"Yes?" another voice answered, interrupting my thoughts. It sounded from somewhere down the middle hallway.
"Got another one for yeh!" the officer standing next to me returned.
There was a scraping from the back of the center hallway, and a short, balding, somewhat portly man – the warden, presumably – emerged from a well-camouflaged doorway near the end of the hallway. He walked steadily towards us. The warden was clearly not in a hurry, but he didn't seem hesitant to approach either. As he strode ever closer, I noticed that his uniform wasn't the same as the police officer I was with. It almost reminded me of a military uniform. An old, antiquated military uniform though. Not a regular, modern-day one. Instead of being the green camo pattern that I would have expected, the coat and pants the warden wore were a deep black. There were fancy patterns embroidered on the front of his coat and the brass buttons on it contrasted sharply with its dark color, giving him a crisp, clean appearance despite his physique. Straight, pressed pants tucked neatly into well-shined boots completed the look. Altogether, his outfit kind of looked like something I might have imaged Napoleon or someone like that wearing.
Except, Napoleon always wore that funny hat and had more ornamentation on his uniform, I thought.
"We caught this one near Adams Street," the officer said as the warden reached us. "She stole a horse and we had to chase her down."
Surprise was evident in the warden's features as he looked me up and down.
"Really?" he said. He didn't seem to quite believe the officer. "Stole a horse, eh? Little wisp of a girl like her? And what's she doing in her underthings?" The warden directed a stern, warning glare at the officer.
"She was like that when we found her, sir," the officer said stiffly, deliberately not looking at me.
The warden blinked in surprise, then sighed and shook his head disapprovingly.
"You ought to be ashamed of yourself, young lady," the warden said, addressing me for the first time. He turned back to the officer before I could ask why. "See if you can get in contact with the girl's parents," he said with resignation. "And send for the Inspector as well."
The officer nodded and proceeded out of the building, turning me over to the warden's supervision.
"All right, you," the warden said, taking hold of my upper arm. "I'll be taking you to a cell for a hopefully short stay. We don't need the likes of you cluttering up the prison."
"This is a prison?" I asked, still not believing it.
"Aye," the warden answered as he steered me down the right-hand hallway. "What did you think it was? An inn?"
I didn't have an answer for that. I blinked as I tried to come to terms with this new knowledge. No, I hadn't thought it was an inn or a hotel, but it was still a bit unsettling to find out that what I had initially thought was a police station was actually a prison. They couldn't just throw me in prison. It wasn't legal. At least, it wasn't legal in America. Maybe things were different in England? Because I was pretty sure that's where I was. Not sure exactly where in England, but definitely somewhere there.
"We don't have the space or the time to deal with simple public nuisances like you," the warden continued, heedless to my current train of thought. "Not when there are murderers with the likes of Jack the Ripper still roaming the streets."
Jack the Ripper? I thought in confusion. Didn't he commit his murders a way long time ago?
"It's the real criminals that need to be in here," the warden said with conviction. "Pretty young women like yourself should be at home, sipping tea and choosing suitors."
I raised an eyebrow at that. Tea? Suitors? What?
"With those blue eyes of yours, I bet you have a fair amount of men interested in you, eh?" the warden asked.
"Umm…" I said, not sure how to respond.
Fortunately, the warden stopped beside an empty cell at that point. He pulled out a ring of skeleton keys and bent to unlock the door, still maintaining his hold on my arm. He then swung the door open and gestured for me to go into the cell. I stepped inside slowly. The warden followed behind me.
"Now, I'm going to take your cuffs off," he said. "Don't give me any trouble, or I can just leave them on, all right?" the warden finished, warning in his tone.
Remembering that the officer had said the same thing before helping me out of the carriage, I thought, Little me, a seventeen-year-old girl and practically a stick figure cause trouble?
Even if I wanted to, I wouldn't be able to; though something told me that the warden wouldn't appreciate it if I voiced that thought. So I just silently nodded my agreement. The warden then unlocked the cuffs and slid them off my wrists. As I turned to look over my shoulder, the warden left the cell, relocking the door. Once it was secured, he walked off without another word.
I turned away from the cell door, staring at the small, square space I was confined to. There wasn't much to see. Like the rest of the building, my cell was made entirely of bricks. I had one window on the wall opposite of the door. It wasn't a particularly large window, and was made of the same opaque glass I had seen in the windows at the front of the building. On the right wall there was a rather rickety looking bed. Stepping up closer, I grimaced at the sight of the mattress. Its questionable appearance made me hesitant to sit on it or even touch it. It smelled a bit too, and the blankets looked greasy, like they hadn't been washed in months. Maybe years. Shaking my head slightly in disgust, I decided not to sit down and turned away from the bed. I saw a plain metal bucket in the opposite corner as I looked across the room. I didn't have to go closer to determine what its use was. The revolting scent of human waste gave it away.
I turned back towards the cell door and just sat down on the floor. It probably wasn't much cleaner. I had never seen such a disgusting, gloomy, and just depressing room. Though, I supposed that prisons and prison cells weren't meant to look inviting and cozy. That would kind of defeat their purpose as a crime deterrent. But this was downright unsanitary! No sink, no toilet, no shower, and the sorry excuse for a bed wasn't even clean! All the more reason not to hang around if I didn't have to.
With that thought in mind, I got up and walked over to the bars. I grabbed hold of them and rattled them experimentally. The structure seemed pretty solid. Not that I was all that surprised. It wasn't like I could actually break out of here, no matter how much I wanted to. But still…
I sighed and turned away, feeling that emptiness and despair from the carriage ride take hold of me again. I sat down heavily in the middle of the cell, wondering yet again what I was supposed to do. I stared down listlessly at my crossed legs and started playing with my pant legs. It wasn't like I could call anyone to come get me out of here.
I froze.
Hang on…
I jerked my head up as realization dawned on me. Then I groaned in frustration with myself.
"Stupid," I said, smacking myself on the forehead and jumping to my feet. "Call someone. Of course! That's what cell phones are for! Why didn't I think of this earlier?" I dug my cell phone out of my pocket, ready to bring up Mom's number and call her. Surely she'd be able to explain to the police that this was all a big misunderstanding and get me out of here. I flipped the phone open, fingers poised and ready to dial, but didn't so much as press one button once I saw the screen.
No reception.
Figures.
I tried holding the phone in different positions, standing near the window and near the door. When that didn't work, I moved around my cell, searching for that magic spot where I could get even just one bar. Just one bar, that's all I needed. I even tried rebooting it, but nothing worked. There must have been too many layers of bricks between me and the outside. I lowered my phone with a frustrated huff. If only I'd thought of this while I was still in the carriage! I might have had my cell phone with me, but without reception, it was useless.
"So much for that idea," I said softly, snapping it shut and putting it back in my pocket. I sat down on the floor again, feeling utterly crushed. I was back where I'd started. Stuck, with no way out. I pulled my knees up to my chest and buried my face against them as tears spilled over once more.
"I must say that I am surprised that you could come so quickly, Inspector Thompson," the warden said, his voice echoing down the hallway and into my cell. I looked up, tears still streaming down my cheeks.
"Yes, well, I was in the area," another unfamiliar voice answered. "and considering the situation as you described it, I thought it best to get this girl back home to her parents as soon as possible. They are, no doubt, quite worried."
"Yes, I imagine so," the warden replied. "But they could have at least instilled a better sense of propriety into her. Running about in her underthings." I heard him huff disapprovingly.
The warden walked into view, looking none too pleased and holding out his hand in a weak gesture towards me as he finished his sentence. Another man was with him, slightly taller, with short brown hair, and wearing round glasses. He was, presumably, Inspector Thompson. The Inspector wore a uniform that was ever so slightly different than the warden's. His coat was plainer, and his boots and pants were wet and mud-stained. Inspector Thompson raised his eyebrows as he looked me over.
As the men approached, I stood and took a couple steps closer to the bars.
"What is your name, young lady?" he asked.
"Natasha," I said. "Natasha Bernard."
"And where might you be from?"
"Missouri. In the U.S.," I added after a short pause. "I didn't mean to cause any trouble, I swear. I just want to go home."
"You're from America?" Inspector Thompson asked in surprise.
"Yes," I said, slightly confused.
"Well, you're certainly a long way from home," he commented.
"Um… Where, exactly, am I?" I asked, not sure that I was going to like the answer, but I needed to know for sure.
"You're in England, Miss Bernard. London, to be precise."
"Oh," I said. I had still really been hoping that this was just a set for a Sherlock Holmes movie or something despite the fact that I was already almost positive that it wasn't. But how could it be London?
"Look," I continued. "I really didn't mean to cause any trouble. If you just could point me to the nearest airport, I'll get a plane ticket and get out of your hair."
"Airport? What's an airport?" the warden asked.
Inspector Thompson looked at me expectantly.
"You know, an airport," I said, feeling as confused as the two men looked. "Where the passenger jets land?"
Inspector Thompson sighed, pulling off his glasses and turning to the warden.
"I think we'd better send for Madam Vastra," he said.
"Yes, sir," he replied, nodding and leaving immediately.
"Who's Madam Vastra?" I questioned.
Inspector Thompson hesitated for a moment, tapping his glasses against his palm a few time.
"She's a private investigator who specializes in both difficult and… strange cases such as yours," the Inspector replied.
I frowned. I didn't see how I could possibly be either a strange or difficult case. I shook my head, dismissing the confusing thought.
"Look, I just need to get to the airport. That's all."
"Whatever this… 'airport' of yours is, Miss Bernard, I cannot take you to it. Nor can I release you until you have been properly clothed. Whatever your intentions may have been, you still created a great disturbance by going out in public naked."
"But I'm wearing clothes!" I protested, making a sweeping gesture to myself.
"Perhaps they dress differently in America, but whatever strange cloth you're wearing is far too indecent to wear on the streets here," Inspector Thompson said firmly. "Because you are foreign and unfamiliar with proper conduct here in London, I'm willing to let you off with a fine."
I gaped at him.
"You can't be serious."
"I most certainly am."
"I don't have any money with me," I protested.
"Then I would hope that whomever you're staying with does, as you cannot leave until the fine is paid." Seeing the distraught look on my face, he softened slightly. "I'm sorry, Miss Bernard, but that is the law."
He gave me an apologetic smile and left.
I was stunned. How could he not know what an airport was? That was just bizarre. I shook my head in disbelief.
Well, at least I for sure knew that I was in England now. Not quite sure that I believed that it was London, though. London should have been modern, not have horses and carriages everywhere. Either way, it didn't really improve my mood. England was, like, what? A twelve hour flight away from New York? And then it would be another… six hours from there to St. Louis. I wasn't sure, but either way, I wasn't going to be going home anytime soon. I supposed that I should be thankful that I was still on Earth in the first place. I could have ended up on another planet, after all. That would have been far worse than what had actually happened so far. Still, I wished that I had never set foot in that stupid box to begin with. Then none of this would have happened.
I sat down again, hugging my knees.
There was nothing I could do now but wait. Maybe after my emotions settled I'd actually be able to think my way through this clearly.
