Another three chapters! They're not very long though, so easier to edit. Not sure that what I had envisioned at the beginning is coming together in the right way. I guess 'trippy' is accurate enough, thank you hotandcoldwulf!
Thanks to you guys who have taken time to review. I hope you like where this is going. Everyone else, I assume that if you're still following that you're enjoying it in silence. I'd be interested in anyone's thoughts on this next chapter ;-)
Chapter Seven
Myka was scratching her head, trying to connect the dots in this puzzle. "Have you noticed anything odd? Symbols? Strange objects, people or places?"
She was looking at a bunch of street maps that appeared to be several hundred years old. None of her new acquaintances could tell her anything more. They'd inherited various resources when the group had decided to inhabit this building and, other that one or two journals and forgotten letters, there had been no record of the previous occupants. In short, no one knew how long Limbo had existed or how many people it had consumed.
"There's nothing in the logs and I don't recall ever having seen any strange objects." Stan confessed regrettably.
"Nor I," added May. "Anything out of the ordinary usually gets reported. As you can imagine, there's not much of significance that happens here, other than people coming and going. We entertain ourselves as best we can. Changes are a big deal and news travels quickly."
Myka sighed and nodded her head in understanding. They sat in the communal area with the old maps littering the table, a dozen or so eyes watching them and the occasional comment adding to the growing enigma in the agent's mind. She glanced around at their faces, noting the same resignation in their expressions. Perhaps some of them had tried and failed to find any solution to their predicament, or had simply not known where to begin. Perhaps they had lost friends and loved ones. Whatever the reason, most had given up hope and those who remained seemed to do so out of morbid curiosity.
Agent Bering poured over every scrap of paper until only one of her spectators remained. She slumped back in her seat and contemplated the young lad.
He was perhaps twelve years old, signs of the accelerated growth of adolescence evident in his gangly limbs and lengthening nose. Her mind searched for an explanation; how could they all keep aging normally when their bodily functions had ceased to be a necessity for any of them? Their environment had to be fuelling them somehow but she was damned if she could figure out how.
Seeing the agent break from her research, the young lad shuffled timidly towards her, all the while looking around nervously. Myka raised an internal brow at his odd behaviour and knew instinctively that she would have to tread carefully if he decided to speak to her. He had the look of someone who had a secret to tell.
She smiled warmly, hoping to put the boy at ease. "Hi," she said softly, extending a hand for him to shake. "I'm Myka. Who might you be?"
He shook her hand warily. "I might be Thomas," he quipped, causing the agent to chuckle at the unexpected comeback. "Most people call me Tom though."
Myka turned her body to face the boy more fully. The moment of humour had broken the ice and most of the nervousness in his eyes had waned. She watched with genuine fondness as he made himself comfy on the couch, feet tucked beneath him so he could look directly at her.
"Ok Tom. You look like a man in the know," she smirked at him playfully, hoping to boost his ego. "Have you seen anything out of place?"
His keen blue eyes quickly scanned the adults in the room again, his focus only returning to the newcomer when he was certain that no one was watching them. "I used to sneak out to explore by the lake," Tom began, his expression cautious until he was happy that she wasn't going to scold him. "There's a girl there sometimes. We used to play together but she won't talk to me much anymore."
Myka noticed the caution return to his expression and tried to assume an air of reassurance in response. "That's a shame," she commented, truly feeling bad for the kid. "Do you know why she won't talk to you?" she continued, wanting to get to the bottom of this conversation.
"She never remembers me," he began to explain, bringing to light the reason he'd approached the agent. "I used to think that she was ill; that she had a problem, you know? In her brain?" He appeared pensive for a moment as he tried to think of a better way to explain himself. "It never bothered me because we used to have so much fun. After a long time; I'm not sure how long but I grew quite a lot; I started to see that she never changed." He started intently at the agent, willing her to believe him. "I think she won't talk to me now because I'm a lot older than her, even though I'm sure she'd been here longer. She talks funny."
Agent Bering felt the hairs on the back of her neck stick up. This was the connection she'd been looking for, she could feel it! "Did you tell any of the adults about this," she asked, wondering why no one had mentioned it before.
Tom's cheeks flushed a darker shade. "They didn't believe me. She isn't always there and she won't come out if there are a lot of people." He glanced over at the group of elders that had naturally taken the role of leaders and then directed his gaze at the floor. "They said I was probably making her up because I was lonely."
Myka felt sorry for the lad and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "I believe you Tom." She smiled as his face lit up. "You must be about twelve years old, am I right?"
"I don't know exactly," he shrugged. "Time here is funny. But I think so."
"And this girl you used to play with, could you guess how old she is?" Myka found herself holding her breath, beginning to wonder whether her instincts were being powered more by wishful thinking than common sense. She had a hunch and prayed that she was right.
"She was older than me when I met her. I was seven. I remember she said it was her duty to look after me because she was a year older. She always said that her mummy would take care of us both when she came."
Swallowing hand, the Warehouse agent unconsciously leant forward, her expression expectant as she prepared to ask the million-dollar question. "Tom, did she tell you her name?" He nodded swiftly and shifted under the brunette's intense gaze. "What is it?"
After gently questioning agent Wells regarding the contents of her vision, Pete decided to call Artie. The grumpy Warehouse director had had little sleep and it showed both on his face and in his short temper.
"What... what sort of gadgets exactly?" He demanded to know once Pete had finished his mission report.
"The sort that are helping us to find Myka," agent Lattimer snarked back, his own patience beginning to wear thin.
Artie's face became redder as he took everything in. "Do you mean to tell me that HG Wells has been inventing new ways to detect artefacts!?"
"Artie..." Pete began with exasperation before having the Farnsworth snatched from his hand.
Having listened in to the conversation, HG's face appeared in the view screen, her expression far from happy. "What I choose to do with my spare time is none of your concern Arthur. But since I have tools at my disposal and our brightest agent and friend is missing, it seems the perfect opportunity to test them in the field."
"I expect nothing better from an opportunist such as yourself," he shot back, not the slightest bit interested in her concern for his charge.
"Bloody hell-fire, Arthur! I refuse to waste any more time with this pointless mud-slinging. Myka could be dying for all we know." Artie began to splutter but the Victorian inventor railroaded any defence he had. "Time is of the essence. Now, do you have anything helpful to add or should I ask Peter to hang up now?"
Steve hid his amusement behind his hand though couldn't obscure the snort of laughter that escaped through his nose. As long as Jinksy had known HG Wells, he'd seen her grovel and take abuse from Artie without complaint. He liked this more assertive woman. He could see why Myka had fallen for her.
Pete decided to take control of the conversation again by slinking a few steps away from his irate colleague and speaking in his best 'taming-the-tiger' voice. "Yes Artie, I'm keeping an eye on her... She wants to help." He hesitated when needing to fill Artie in on HG's vision, thinking for a moment before he decided that he didn't have much of a choice. "Artie, we think that the artefact has started to affect HG," Lattimer confessed while avoiding Agent Wells' death-stare. "She had a vision. Like Myka was falling into memories, HG saw herself with Mykes." He paused again, thought for a second and decided that he didn't need to add further fuel to the fire; Artie could add his omission to the list of things Pete would be chewed out for later.