Em blinked into the darkness.
She'd been waiting quite some time for the fire to start, and she was beginning to think that perhaps she hadn't just careered headfirst into the factory's furnace.
But if I'm not in the furnace, then where am I?
She searched around blindly, her eyes still acclimatising to the blackness engulfing her. Her heart was starting to calm to a steadier rhythm and her stomach was finally beginning to settle after her terrifying descent.
How could Mr. Salt have done that? After she'd helped him save his daughter? And what would Charlie think? He must be worried sick, she thought, dolefully. His tour of the factory was ruined all because of her, because she hadn't listened to Mr. Wonka. If she'd just stayed put it would be Veruca and her father down here right now, instead of Em.
Wherever here is, she mused, sourly.
She reached a tentative hand out slowly, moving it guardedly through the air, afraid of what she might find. She was met with no resistance, her hand simply disappearing into the never-ending expanse. She clutched it back to her chest fearfully, her heartbeat quickening once again. How was she meant to find her way out if she couldn't see anything?
She blinked again, willing her eyes to adjust, to make out some shadow in the distance.
"Bucketa?"
She screeched as a voice sounded behind her, her body automatically scrambling forward, away from the offending sound. She felt herself slide downwards a few feet and grimaced as her hand landed in a cold pool of liquid. She scrunched up her nose and searched frantically for the source of the noise.
She heard a rustling to her left and struggled up onto her knees, her bare legs cold against the damp ground.
"Huh-hello?" she stuttered, taking a deep breath in, praying that whatever it was wouldn't reply.
"Bucketa?"
She whipped her head around to the left, suddenly aware that there was more than one voice. The first voice had sounded childlike – harmless even – but this one was much deeper, and sounded much bigger than the first.
"Wha-what do you want? Where am I?" she could feel herself beginning to panic. What was down here with her, lost and forgotten in the dark depths of the factory?
"Ma makap!" something called, close to her now, it's voice high and jarring. She could hear it moving as she shifted anxiously. She attempted to stand up, the ground beneath her uneven and spongy, her knees shaky.
"Makap, makap!" it called again, more urgently this time.
"Oom!" a voice answered in response. Em continued to search blindly, the voices sounding from all around her and echoing through the dark expanse.
She took a disoriented step forward and felt her foot slide out from underneath her, her body following as she skated further down whatever it was she was stood on. She came to an abrupt stop as she landed on something very hard, her legs sprawling out in front of her, a loud thump reverberating around the room.
"Haha!"
She held back yet another screech as a bright light appeared, shining painfully into her sensitive eyes. She shut them tightly, grimacing away from the blaze, praying that it wasn't a flame about to engulf her.
"Bucketa."
She sensed the light lowering and edged her eyes open, wary of what she might find.
She was greeted by a shock of bright orange hair, spiked up in various directions and distinctly untameable. The owner of the hair was looking at her patiently, his small features stretched eerily across his face from the light of the little torch he was holding, his pint-sized hand outstretched.
Em glanced down at the offered hand and back up to his face.
"You're – you're an Oompa Loompa?" It was more a statement than a question, but she couldn't help the uncertainty that escaped through her words.
The small man nodded purposefully before shaking his hand at her, the gesture suggesting she take it.
To her left, another beam of light appeared, revealing a similar looking Oompa Loompa, but with much shorter hair. He was banging his torch on the floor in frustration, apparently in an attempt to get it to switch on.
He glanced up at the two and let out an excited, high pitched cheer, his small arms waving above his head in celebration.
"Makap," the first Oompa Loompa ordered, his voice much deeper and authoritative. His companion nodded and disappeared behind a large pile of empty milk cartons, the light from his torch vanishing from sight.
She stared at her rescuer for a few more seconds before slowly lifting her hand to his, her eyes never leaving his face. His slender fingers clamped around her index finger and he smiled.
He lifted his torch once again and shone it towards her feet, revealing a battered looking oak table that Em was currently sat on, all four of its legs missing and with a deep crack running down its centre.
"Up?"
She jumped in fright as he spoke, taken aback by his use of English rather than … whatever it was they spoke.
"I – you speak English?" she queried, placing her other hand on the table to steady herself as she pushed herself up. The surface was slightly sticky and she tried not to think about what substances she might be covered in all together.
The Oompa Loompa looked at her quizzically before turning sharply and tugging at her hand.
She followed obediently, the small man far more sure footed than herself on the uneven ground. They descended slowly, however, and Em only slipped a few times. She was thankful that she didn't fall over, as she feared she would have most definitely crushed her rescuer.
As the Oompa Loompa's torch lit the way, Em caught glances of what appeared to be piles of rubbish and discarded bits of machinery, each item broken beyond recognition. She imagined the room must be huge, piled high with failed inventions that would forever be forgotten.
She shivered.
Thank goodness the Oompa Loompa's had found her, she didn't fancy becoming another lost thing in this wonderous but eerie abyss.
They reached the bottom of the junk pile and Em let out a relieved sigh when her feet touched solid ground, her Oompa Loompa rescuer still guiding her through the darkness.
They walked for about five minutes more, skirting the edge of the clutter, the Oompa Loompa's torch their only source of light, a ghostly silence settling over the room, save for their footsteps.
She resisted the urge to giggle, despite her current situation, when the second Oompa Loompa reappeared, the light from his torch back on and swinging madly as he ran towards them, his tiny legs working furiously.
They were both dressed in the same baggy, deep blue overalls that the workers in the Inventing Room had been wearing, the uniform appearing almost black in the gloom.
The Oompa Loompa's began to chatter hurriedly as they walked, Em unable to make out a single word. She thought she heard 'wonkata,' which she assumed could be referring to Mr. Wonka, and 'bucketa,' the same word that they had been calling earlier – perhaps that was an attempt at Bucket?
"Excuse me?" she ventured, interrupting as politely as she could. The two men looked up at her obligingly, the Oompa Loompa that had been guiding her dropping her hand momentarily to rummage through his many pockets, his torch gripped in his mouth. She pointed to herself. "Bucketa?" she asked, dubiously.
The second Oompa Loompa nodded eagerly, pointing a long finger at her.
"Bucketa, Bucketa!" he cheered as his friend placed his torch on the floor, apparently still searching for something. The excited Oompa Loompa then pointed to himself. "Lampa," he said, watching her expectantly, waiting for her to do the same.
"Lampa?" she responded, pointing hesitantly towards him. Yes, she could speak German, but she didn't have a clue about Loompa language.
"Lampa!" he agreed, smiling proudly up at her, before pointing at his friend. "Macas," he recited once more. She mirrored him and pointed to the other Oompa Loompa.
"Macas," she repeated, more confidently this time. The Oompa Loompa clapped his hands in appreciation, his torch falling out of his hands and rolling away noisily.
"Lampa and Macus," she smiled to herself, nodding in agreement. "Wait till Charlie hears that I made friends with some Oompa Loompas!"
Lampa began to talk to her excitedly in his native tongue and Em could only smile politely back. He seemed to think that if she could grasp names, she could hold a full conversation. He was, unfortunately, mistaken.
He fell silent, however, as a minuscule clang reverberated through the room, the noise drawing the Oompa Loompa's attention, Macus' head shooting up as he patted down his seventh pocket.
"Aha!"
Macas hurried over to where the torch had finally stopped rolling, apparently convinced it was the source of the noise.
Em watched in confusion as he searched the empty area, Lampa following and gesturing for her to do the same. The two Oompa Loompas looked like they were waiting for something to happen, and just as she was about to ask what was going on they took a large step forward. They looked at her expectantly.
"Bucketa," Macas called, waving her over with his hand.
She looked at him in confusion before following, searching for whatever it was that they could see. She reached them and took a cautious step forward, her feet hesitant as she walked, waiting to trod on something she couldn't see.
She stood between them, unsure if this was some kind of game they were playing. Lampa reached a hand out and seemed to press something mid-air, Em's brows drawing together as she heard a clicking sound.
Stretching up onto his tiptoes, Macas reached his hand up, his fingers fumbling through the air, searching for something else.
She watched with growing confusion, a surprised gasp escaping her lips when a small ring of light appeared beneath one of his fingers, floating eerily in the darkness. He looked at Lampa cheerfully before turning to face Em with a smile.
"What's going –"
But Em's question got lost in her throat, her knees buckling as the three of them hurtled upwards through the air. She threw her hands out involuntarily, searching for anything to grab hold of in order to avoid falling flat on her face. Her palm connected with something hard and cool, flat against her hand. She grasped her fingers across the invisible surface and tried to steady herself, her palms sweating and slipping across the polished surface.
Just as she regained some of her balance, she careered into another invisible wall as they swiftly changed direction, this time shooting forward, rather than up. Her knees really did give way this time and she collapsed onto the floor, the endless blackness beneath her threatening to swallow her whole once again.
She glanced around wildly, the two Oompa Loompa's leaning casually against invisible walls, talking animatedly to one another, unaware of her predicament.
She winced as a bright light appeared ahead of them, growing substantially bigger with each passing second they spent charging through the air.
Was she dying? Had she actually died during her fall down the garbage chute? Was she on her way to the pearly gates?
She shook off the ridiculous thoughts and backed herself into an unseen corner, bracing herself against the wall.
They plunged unceremoniously into the light and Em blinked rapidly, willing her watery eyes to adjust once more.
Free from the blackness of their previous scenery, Em could finally make out what it was she was standing in, or rather, cowering in.
It was a rectangular, glass box, completely see through, its walls and ceiling filled to the brim with buttons, each one labelled with a different room name. She glanced up at the illuminated button Macas had pushed and saw the words 'Reception' printed clearly.
She attempted to stand, hoisting herself up as best she could against the smooth glass, her surroundings blurred by the sheer speed they were travelling.
"What is this?" she inquired, squeezing herself further into the corner in an attempt to keep her balance, gesturing around with her head.
Lampa looked at her curiously before pointing to a piece of writing above the doors they had entered through. She squinted at the small words etched into the glass.
"The Great Glass Elevator," she read aloud, her stomach churning as the elevator took another sharp dive downwards. She tried desperately to keep her balance, her feet sliding out from under her as they careered – she could only assume – through the factory.
She closed her eyes tightly and willed the ride to stop.
She prayed it would be over soon. She prayed Charlie would be waiting for her when she got off. She prayed he would forgive her for ruining his tour.
She played these thoughts over and over in her head, trying to drown out the nauseating elevator ride, but she couldn't help one final thought that kept sneaking its way into her head amongst the others.
A tiny part hoped Mr. Wonka would be waiting for her, too.