“This is kind of abstract,” I said, staring down at my tattooed hands. The branches seemed to move as the shadows the candles cast danced from left to right. “I’m not sure I grasp how I’m supposed to deal with these things.”
“How does a boat deal with its own anchor?”
“Haul it in,” I said. “Get it onboard. Oh fuck no.”
“Yes,” she said.
“That’s the answer?”
“It’s maybe a part of the answer,” she said. “This doesn’t make an exit magically appear. If I’m right, it does free you to walk through an available exit.”
I stared down at my hands.
“You know,” she said, “I came up with this theory based on personal experience. Glimpses of what was waiting for me if I made it back scared me off when I was drawing closer. I decided it was easier to remain here, than to resolve the issue and face reality.”
“I can’t be complacent,” I said. “It’s just not in me.”
“That realization sounds like the first step you need to take.”
“It’s the next step that terrifies me,” I said, my voice quiet.
“Rightly so,” she answered.
A silence lingered.
“I was going to ask about medical care, how to treat my injuries, but I’m already worried I owe you too much. I jumped into the questions without asking what the proper price would be. The shirt was just for the sit-down?”
“The shirt was a convention, not a rule,” she stressed. “As for this… if and when you fail, stop by and tell me. Or leave me some sign if you can’t speak. Further my research.”
“If I succeed?”
“Then I won’t have any answer at all,” she said. “Forcing me to wonder if you’ve died or escaped. Another data point, if nothing else.”
“I owe you more than an obscure data point or vague sign,” I said.
“If you felt compelled, and if you were ever able to travel like you dream, I think my family has a gravestone with my name on it in Wisconsin. Zoey Artana. A flower would be nice.”
“That sounds like a proper wizard name,” I said. “I’m jealous. You’ve got a deal.”
I started to get to my feet.
“It’s going to get uglier before it gets better,” she said.
“Believe me, I know,” I said. “Thank you.”
“We’re all on the same side here,” she said. “Us against this place. Doesn’t mean we’re all friendly, but it does make this sort of thing easier.”
“You’re not wrong,” I said. “If there’s anything that might make me want to stay in this place, having people be decent to me is a hell of a trap.”
“Godspeed, stranger.”
I wasn’t sure what to say in response, good luck with this thing here, so I stayed silent.
I walked until I reached the poles. Pillars of stonework spearing up from the darkness, until it felt like a strong wind would make them wobble. Rickety bridges of debris stretched between each of them.
I stood there, in the darkness, cold and hungry, my woolen sweatshirt clammy against my skin, the seams rubbing at my shoulders, hurting from a dozen things at once.
I waited.
There was no standing water for me to glimpse Rose and the others. I wasn’t about to sleep to confront the future, and I wasn’t sure that was the route I needed to take to pass that particular hurdle.
My focus lay elsewhere. The first hurdle, the most concrete one.
I heard footsteps and turned.
Carl stopped as I made eye contact with him.
“You got me,” I said. “I’m not running.”
“Think of everything you could have avoided if you’d done that from the start,” he said.
“Fuck you,” I said. “Do what you gotta do.”
He approached, and I had to stop myself from taking a step backward.
He stopped a foot from me.
He wrapped his arms around me in a hug.
I found myself someplace else.
I’d expected something bad. The shelter, cold, fear, panic, shame.
This place wasn’t that kind.
I felt warm, sunshine, safety. I smelled literal bullshit and cut grass.
I felt at peace.