chapter 72

In Which Water Behaves Very Oddly (Part I)

The water continued on, past the broken edge, and hung in mid-air. Jackson rubbed his eyes. And blinked. And coughed for good measure. Was this even possible?

His fingers stretched out, and he felt the craggy rocks on the edge of the floor, the sharp splintered ends. But his fingers went right through the puddle at the end of the stream.

Jackson just sat there. Water that just hung in the air?

And then Jackson got an idea.

He pulled the toilet paper out of his bag, ripped off a piece, and crumpled it into a ball. He aimed and threw it into the canyon. And down it fell, disappearing into the blackness.

So why was the water not falling?

Something nagged at Jackson’s mind. Pulled at it, distracting his thinking. He thought about Stimple. He thought about the troll’s hideous nose hair, about his grouchiness and complacency. He thought about …

Wait. What if all of this was about faith?

But faith in what? Faith that he wouldn’t fall? Faith that someone would come looking for him? Faith that he would make it home? What to do, what to do?

“What do I do?” Jackson called out to no one in particular. And no one answered but his own voice, echoing from across the chamber.

“Tell me what to do,” Jackson whispered softly.

A hazy image formed briefly, hovering above the precipice, and then disappeared.

Jackson focused his eyes on that spot. “Tell me what to do!” he yelled. Nothing.

He frowned.

This was obviously something the Author had created. The Author wouldn’t leave him here to figure everything out all by himself, would he? What was the Author trying to show him? Was Jackson being tested? “Is this a test?” he called out.

Jackson waited.

“Tell me what to do,” he whispered, believing with all his heart that something would happen. And the hazy image appeared again, briefly.

Jackson knew what to do.