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WHEREVER WE were in the Everywhere and Everywhen, Susana—if that’s what it was—was a dark and gloomy place. The sky was thick with clouds. I was unable to tell whether this world had a sun, a moon or stars.
The ground was colorless, separated by streams of water that bent and twisted like veins and arteries. The color of the water reflected silver sky. The waters of a Nowhere.
Ivory unclasped her arm from mine and brought her hands to her face. “This is the most depressing place I’ve ever seen. Nick, where did you bring us?”
“I can’t take issue with that, love. This world is absolutely dreadful.”
Our arms stayed linked; none of us budged. There was no point in grounding.
There were Chars everywhere, Uproars too. More than enough to absorb the impact of our arrival. I tensed, feeling the agonies of their presence, but they didn’t pounce. As time passed, I realized they weren’t after me or our motley group of travelers. Stranger yet, they seemed completely uninterested in us, ignoring us as if we weren’t there. Instead, they directed their attention toward ghosts of human forms that wandered aimlessly, listlessly along the ground, bodies stepping over streams as if they couldn’t remember who they were or why they were there.
The Chars taunted the poor creatures, and the Uproars blasted them with flashes of light, with no effect that I could see. What was happening? Were we among the living or their ghosts?
“This must be the place,” said Plaka. “I’ve never felt so much need for healing. I have no doubt that we’ve arrived correctly. Susana appears to be a limbo for beings who have become lost through their travels in time and space. How or whether they ever pass on from this state, I have no way of knowing. But this is certainly a place of despair. The place of the lost.”
I licked my lips, genuinely feeling sorry for the beings. Glad that Edgar had died—that Calla had helped him realize what he was becoming—before he ended up in this awful place. The look on the face of Edgar’s silhouette confirmed his feelings on the matter; this was not where he’d wish to be.
“Why do you suppose the Uproars continue attacking, over and over? The people aren’t defending themselves or bothering to move away,” said Ray.
“Remember,” replied Plaka, “Uproars are beings that feed on the blood of travelers and the lost. That’s what I’ve observed from having seen the Uproars pummel their victims, knocking them to the ground.”
Ivory snorted. “I agree with you that Susana is a feeding ground. But the blood part is bunk. The Uproars are sucking the life out of them.”
“Life’s blood is still a form of blood.” Plaka glowered.
The air chilled. I couldn’t tell whether it was because of the environment or our predicament. If Calla was here, then we could revive her and take her home. But that would also mean she’d suffered while I wasted time, agonizing over whether to search for her. I had to stop her suffering. And as soon as possible, before those of us who felt the presence of multiple Chars and Uproars passed out from the constant drain of pain.
“Let’s split up,” I said. “The Chars and the Uproars haven’t noticed us. We’re not what they want. We’re not lost.” I pointed. “Ivory, Nick, please...follow that stream and search for her. Edgar and Ray, take the opposite direction. Plaka and I will continue forward.”
Ivory’s eyelids pinched together, but her jaw was set—likely against the pain. The others frowned and looked around them as if expecting to be attacked at any moment, before forming their couples and beginning their searches.
Plaka and I commenced our walk in silence, hastily, as if the glooms of Susana would absorb into our skin and turn us into ghosts if we stayed in one place for too long. There were no buildings, no trees, nothing that would suggest it was a habitable place. Yet, there was substance. Reaching out with my World Builder talent, I could feel it. How I wished it was a blank canvas. That I could color the world with vines and flowers, fill the water with blues and the sky with sunlight. But it wouldn’t work. Susana was already full of dreary coldness and endless gray.
I tensed as we approached a man and a woman being tortured by The Chars, enduring punches and kicks. The ghostlike beings stared at the space in front of them, paying their attackers no mind, as if they couldn’t see or feel them.
Plaka brought a clenched fist to his lips. “How do we help?”
“We’ll need to find a way. But, first, Calla.”
We walked farther, passing more bodies of silver water sprawled across the ground in varying shapes and sizes. Some were ponds, some streams. The far end of the horizon looked like it contained an ocean. All were still and lifeless.
The lost—the beings who wandered the grounds between the bodies of water, and who were presumably still living—appeared to have less physical substance than fading silhouettes. One thing about Susana filled me with hope. I saw no children there.
Still, my skin crawled as I saw shades of people I recognized from the past, travelers whom I suspected were now lost after having been convicted for infractions. The TSTA had sentenced them to find others who had become lost. If those beings I saw now were truly them, then they themselves had gotten lost during their missions.
“Plaka?” I paused, stepping out of the way of a waif wearing a top hat who was staring at his hands. “Do you think the TSTA knows about this place?”
“An excellent question. I doubt the TSTA knows about the Clock Tower, else Nick would be under its control. Are you starting to believe some of what I’ve been preaching all these years about the Travel Agency?”
“Perhaps. Some of the people here look familiar. Maybe it’s déjà vu, but I’m sure I’ve seen them at the Hearing Chamber, at TSTA Headquarters.”
Plaka grunted. “I’m not surprised that the TSTA’s convicted have gotten lost and ended up in the same place as those they were sent to find. It supports my theories.”
I was beginning to believe that the TSTA wanted talented travelers to get lost. But, given the lack of TSTA records—or access, even to Technicians like Ray—the TSTA could know that Susana existed even without knowing exactly where it was. “Is one of your theories that the TSTA is trying to weed out travel talents that are unmanageable—and therefore taboo—by corralling the talented toward impossible missions?”
He stopped to stare at a woman with a humpback pawing at a pool of silver water. He paled. “Yes, Valcas. I do believe that.”
“What’s wrong?” The edge to Plaka’s voice troubled me.
“I can’t stand by and watch this—these people—any longer. I must try to help, to see if my healing is at all useful here.”
He approached the humpback. She was shriveled and gaunt, and looked completely mad. I couldn’t blame him for wanting to ease her misery. She could have been somebody’s grandmother. Curious to see what would happen, I fought against fire pulsing through my veins and followed.
Plaka bent near the woman and placed one hand on her forehead; he pressed his other hand to the dome of her back. He spoke under his breath, words I couldn’t hear, but assumed were words of comfort and healing.
The woman’s pawing slowed until both hands hovered above the water. Silver beads dripped from her fingertips, forming circles on the pool’s surface. She sucked in a rattling breath and rolled her eyes backward to see who touched her.
“Breathe, my dear woman. Embrace all that is life.”
She brought her hands to her lips and trembled. “Charles, is that you?”
“No,” said Plaka, helping her to stand. “But I am a friend.”
“A friend. Where am I?”
“In a dreary place. My friends and I traveled here to find my daughter.”
The woman nodded. Tendrils of ash brushed her shoulders. “We have...a daughter, Charles and I. Her name...is Caroline.” She coughed. Blank eyes roamed from Plaka to me, then back again. “What is your...daughter’s name?”
“Calidora.”
“A beautiful...name,” she said, twisting her lips into a smile. “I hope you...find her.”
“Can you tell us your name?”
The woman looked at the pool of water and pointed. “I recognize...that pool. We had one...like that...in our backyard. Only the color...was different. The water...was blue.” She blinked, looking Plaka in the face. “Not silver, but aqua blue—like your eyes.”
“Do you know your name? Can you remember?”
“Martha,” she whispered, clasping her arms around herself. Her eyes watered. “I’m...Martha.”
“How did you get here, Martha?”
“I...don’t know. Charles? Where is Charles?”
“Have you been looking for him?”
She nodded. “I must...find him. To bring him...home.”
Plaka and I looked at each other. The poor woman. From what she was saying, she’d been searching for her husband. She was still looking for him. I felt concern for her, but then I felt something else. A presence that stood out among the rest of those that caused pain. One of The Chars was very near.
The wind shifted; a brush of air hissed past me as The Char stepped behind Martha and readied himself to kick her in the back.
“No!” I threw my body into the space between them.
A boot heel crashed against flesh. Mine. I managed to block the kick from hitting Martha before swinging my fist. My elbow stung with a snap. Hitting nothing but air, I fell.