Hugo was waiting by the south door of the Fifth Point. He lifted one yellow-gloved hand as Alma pulled up to a stop.
“Greetings, Alma,” he said.
“Hi, Hugo,” Alma replied. She locked her bike to a lamppost, then joined him at the door.
“Remember the ShopKeeper is a little strange,” she warned him. “But I’m sure he’ll know what to do.”
Then she knocked on the south door.
No one answered, so she knocked again. And again. And again.
Five minutes later, Alma’s fists were red and stinging, and all four doors remained shut and locked.
“He is not here,” Hugo informed her.
Alma felt like crying as she pressed her nose to a display window. She shielded her eyes, but she couldn’t see anything inside the shop, not even the blue light. She was slightly consoled by the thought that the ShopKeeper had said that he would be in and out. Maybe he was “out” today.
“We’ll come back,” she said after giving one final knock on each door. “We’ll just have to keep coming back until he’s here.”
“Does that mean you’re finished?” Hugo asked. “If so, I propose we purchase some supplies.”
This had not been part of the plan. “Supplies?” Alma said. “Like what?”
“I haven’t had much time to research,” Hugo admitted. “But I thought I might find some promising materials at the General Store. Let us proceed.”
She didn’t want to go inside anywhere. Her stomach had already begun to churn and her throat had already begun to constrict at the thought.
They approached the store, which was a great, red warehouse-like building. At its entrance were big, heavy barn doors that were propped wide open. Open doors, Alma told herself, were a good thing; she would be able to get out quickly if she started to have an episode. Through the doors, she could see that the store was brightly lit with a high ceiling and wide aisles. And there didn’t appear to be many people inside. Two more good things.
Maybe she would do it. Maybe she would go into the store. She still had that spark inside her, that little-bit-of-Alma-ness. And she was here for a reason. She was here because she wanted to help the Starling.
But at the entrance to the store, Alma stopped.
“I’m going to wait right here,” she called to Hugo, who was selecting a shopping basket. “So I can keep an eye on the Fifth Point. In case the ShopKeeper comes back.”
Hugo glanced over at her, frowning slightly, then shrugged. “That’s your choice, I suppose,” he said. “It will be easier for me alone. But you are the one who wanted to find the elements.”
“I do,” Alma said, her voice choked and high. “I do but—”
A delighted shriek of, “Daddy, it’s Hugo!” cut her off.
In the middle of the store, there was a counter with a cash register. Behind it was a man with buzzed dark hair, deep brown skin, and a child hanging from each of his arms. The kids were young, maybe three years old, and they were both laughing hysterically. The man tried to free one hand to wave, but then settled for a shrug and a smile when the giggling kids refused to release him.
“That’s my stepfather, Marcus,” Hugo said. His voice was even more robotic than usual, and while he lifted his still-gloved hand, he didn’t wave it. “He owns this store. And those are my twin siblings, Lexi and Isaac. Whenever my mother works a night shift on the weekends, they come here so she can sleep.” He sighed. “Usually, I stay home too. It’s so quiet and peaceful.”
“I’m sorry you’re missing that,” Alma said. “I’m at home a lot. Or at my parents’ office. I don’t—I haven’t been going out very much.”
Hugo picked up his chosen basket. “I will return,” he said.
From the door, Alma watched as Hugo moved methodically through the store. He went down every aisle and he took a very long time on each one. When he finally started back toward her, Alma stepped just inside the store’s barn doors to meet him. She was surprised to see that after all his searching, there were only two things in his basket: water-purification tablets and a rock-polishing kit.
“The problem with the tablets,” Hugo said, holding up the packet, “is that they add iodine or chlorine to the water. Chlorine water isn’t pure. Iodine water isn’t pure. And the polishing kit will make stones prettier, I suppose. But not—not—”
“Earthier,” Alma finished. “Not true earth.”
“As I’ve said, I don’t know what true earth really means,” he replied, “but it seems unlikely that it means smooth and shiny.”
Alma tried to think of a way to save the trip, an idea, any idea that would help Hugo. “What about a windmill? For wind, I mean.”
Hugo blinked his eyes, squinty and warm brown behind his visor-glasses. “That’s a possibility,” he said. “But typically windmills are used to convert wind into energy. The wind itself is a means to an end. Fascinating fact: windmills were invented by Hero of Alexandria, an inventor and mathematician during the first century. He used the energy to power an organ. He also invented the steam engine. And vending machines.”
“Really?” In spite of her disappointment that they were no closer to finding the elements, Alma laughed.
Hugo didn’t reply, and for a moment, Alma worried that he hadn’t been trying to be funny. Then he smiled back at her.
“Really,” he said.
“Okay, so no windmills,” Alma said. “What about a funnel? Like a huge cone that would catch the wind and then direct it into a—a bottle or something?”
Hugo pushed up his glasses. “I understand what you’re saying,” he said. “There are some wind turbines that use funnels. But once the air is bottled, it would be cut off from the things that make it move—the forces that make wind. It would be regular air in a bottle. And fire—I have no idea what to use for fire. Maybe a flint stone? A lightning rod?” He shook his head in frustration. “No. Nothing is right.”
In the end, Hugo talked himself out of every purchase. Alma slouched against the outside wall of the store as she waited for him to put his basket back. The ShopKeeper hadn’t been at the Fifth Point, and now they were leaving the General Store empty-handed.
But when Hugo said, “We have to think harder. And I have to do more research,” she felt a little better.
They weren’t giving up.
They were just getting started.