 
# A Town Called Wonderful, Part 1 (of 4)

### from Book 1 of The Underlands Series

## Michael Lacey

Copyright © 2018 Michael Lacey. All rights reserved.

* * *

No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

# Become an Underlander

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Each part is better than the last, and I'm sure you'll love how it all comes together.

Join the tribe, become an Underlander!
_This one's for you, mom. You are missed and never forgotten._

### Contents

1. Into the Adventure

2. Sky Thrill

3. The Strange Place

4. Hurting Boy

5. Off Road

6. Mysterious Glade

7. An Unexpected Landscape

8. Surviving the Fear

9. The Rush

10. How Convenient

11. Enter Sheriff

12. On Saunters Mayor

13. Now Entering Wonderful

14. Letdown

15. Your Friend, Pickup

16. Leery

17. Unknown Location

18. Mad Dust Dash

19. Inside Mechanic's Shed

20. Nervous Ned

21. A Close Inspection

22. Needs Restoration

23. Thomas's Plan

24. Hidden Shack

25. Enraging

26. Revived

27. Enter White

Request

About the Author

## 1

# Into the Adventure

_I know they're still out there,_ Thomas thinks as he studies the unchanging darkness through the windshield of his trusty, old Bronco. "Presumed dead" was a statement he refused to accept. The possibility of their survival is one of the few hopes he still holds on to.

Hidden treasures came to mind when they first found the map on the back of the letters, thanks to Emily's deductive skills.

This relentless feeling in his soul has only grown stronger as of late. It has become a calling, inexplicable and unavoidable.

He's not usually one for such action and has only been driving a year. This time, however, he has help. He glances over at the pretty girl in the passenger seat.

He isn't exactly sure how he convinced Emily to join his adventure; when it comes to crazy exploits, she was usually the one doing the convincing. Now, the most popular girl in school—in her own right—is riding shotgun on his soul-searching trip.

_How did this happen?_

"Thomas," her chipper voice pulls him from his thoughts. "Are you awake?"

He lifts himself up with the steering wheel.

"Yeah, I'm good," he says with a deep breath, glancing at the aged map in her hands.

"Isn't this fun?"

Emily shines when she smiles, her joyful spirit one of her best traits.

"Of course," Thomas says, still waking up.

According to him, they are dating, but he's not sure she sees it that way. He knows his steely demeanor makes him hard to read.

_Hopefully, this trip will help with that._

They're just getting to know each other again after a decade of on-and-off friendship.

He watches the road while studying the thick atmosphere. It's still dark, but he expects the sun should be out soon.

There's something about this trip that nags at him—a feeling he doesn't understand. He knows one thing for sure; he wouldn't want to be with anyone else right now. He can't help but admire Emily every chance he gets.

_This morning is beautiful, almost as beautiful as she is,_ he thinks as he sees her feet in the seat and arms around her knees. She pivots her head slightly on her knee with her eyes closed, as anxious to soak up the sun as he is and smiling as though no one is watching.

To him, she is a new way of breathing; to turn away is to suffocate, but staring too long is like trying to breathe through a cheap snorkeling tube, each measured breath holding both the hope of life and the fear of death simultaneously.

When his parents went missing ten years ago, Emily was there for him. Having lost her own mom and having a dad in the military, she understands Thomas more than most.

Though neither know how to verbalize it, they'd both agree that the colors of the world changed with loss, as if certain hues had gone away with no promise of return.

A thin fog hovers low over the road as the sun starts to rise. The darkness is chased away by a golden flood and Emily mulls over the map.

Thomas speaks as he yawns and ruffles his thick, brown hair, "I'm still not sure why we had to leave so early."

"To get the most out of the adventure!"

"I guess so, but it's fairly interesting as is. I mean, who knows where those will lead us." He points to the stack of papers in Emily's hands, still amazed that she'd figured out how the random drawings on each one formed the map. "I'd still be dreaming of this trip if you hadn't cracked the code. And I'd still be dreaming if you didn't want to start so early."

"What can I say? I'm just special like that."

"Oh, you're special alright," he jokes and she hits him with the stack of letters. They haven't interacted like this in years, not since they were kids. Thomas loves it. He needs it.

He never let go of the hope that his parents are alive, lost or trapped because of wild adventures of their own. They had to be. Otherwise, why wouldn't they have come back for him?

_It's never been this hard to read guys before_ , Emily thinks as she rests the map on her leg. Staring out of the window, she reflects on a brief conversation she'd had before agreeing to go on this trip.

"What do you see in him?" Her friend had asked. "I mean, sure, he's cute and mysterious and all, but he's also kind of . . . I don't know . . . quiet, boring. And he talks funny."

It's true that Thomas has a somewhat romanticized speaking style. It's something he picked up from his father's letters. Emily doesn't mind. In fact, she likes how it makes him different from other boys she's known

"What's wrong with that?" Emily asked. "Maybe it's time I tried dating someone who is a little different, like Thomas. And besides, I know him better than you think. Maybe better than he knows himself, in some ways."

Her friends didn't see it, and maybe they never would. Maybe Emily is making it up, but she swears she sees something great in him. With college coming up within the next year, she knows that this could be their last chance to explore this thing between them.

The old letters from Thomas's dad, Lewis, really are quite fantastic and fill her with wonder about where he was while writing each one. She unfolds the stack of papers, revealing the map formed by the drawings on the back of each letter.

Thomas speaks up, "So, where's the X? Where's the treasure?"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, you never said anything about treasure," Emily's eyes light up in their golden hue.

Thomas interrupts, "Treasure to me, I mean. But . . . you never know. Maybe my dad left me more than just an old Bronco and some mysterious letters. Just learning anything else about them is worth the trip."

"I see," Emily gets lost in her mind for a moment. "I suppose I'd like to know more about my dad if I could . . . "

She trails off as she studies the map again. The sunlight grabs at its thick, dark ink as she flips it over to read.

> _Son,_
> 
> _You don't know it yet, but you have amazing things in your future. I look forward to the day you're old enough to understand. I do apologize for my many trips as of late. I'm so close to finding what I'm looking for. Your mother will join me, and though you aren't ready just yet, I'll soon bring you along. For now, enjoy one more piece of my puzzle on the front of this parchment. It should all start to make sense in time. Until then, keep studying and growing. Stay bright, my Luminant son. One day, you'll be smarter and stronger than your mother and I combined. That will be the day you truly start to change the worlds. May adventure find you as you find it._

_—Your Loving Father, Lewis._

* * *

"Worlds, huh?" Emily comments. The word Luminant caught her attention as well.

"Oh yeah. He was a little out there," Thomas answers. "Are we somewhat on course? I don't think we need to aim for anything in particular, just a road that heads into that big shaded part."

She examines the section he's talking about. There's a jagged perimeter, similar to the shape of a country.

"The part that kind of looks like Australia?" Emily asks, "Are we going _down undah_?" She butchers an Australian accent. Thomas finds it adorable.

She forms an impish grin as she studies his reaction. In the sunlight, his light brown eyes flash some green and his smooth jaw cuts a hard shadow. Though he's the one looking ahead, she feels like _she_ just stared into the sun. She looks away while fighting back the blood-rush to her face. She glances back, wanting to admire him once more. Though they hadn't spent much time together in high school, Emily had certainly noticed how he gotten more attention from other girls each year. Of course, he never noticed it.

"Not a bad accent," Thomas fibs. He hopes she'll try again. "I have no idea where we're going, but I don't think Australia is on this particular map. Just a place called Terra Viva? Or something. That's all I could make out of those scratchy letters."

"Where does it say that?" she asks.

"It doesn't show up right away. You have to look at it in darkness. I think he used some kind of glowing ink. It used to be brighter, but it's faded over the years."

Emily pushes the map towards the floorboard and hunches over to see it. Faintly, she makes out a few letters, which look to have been etched into the shaded region.

"I see it now! How cool," she says. "I never noticed that before. Of course, I've never really looked this closely. Any other hidden messages?"

"Maybe," Thomas does his standard quiet treatment. He isn't trying to be rude or anti-social, he just doesn't know what to say sometimes. Some moments don't need words, he's realized. He decides to give Emily a task.

"How about you look for them, and see if you find any more?"

"You're on. I'll find them before the next exit." Based on the map, she knows there really isn't another turn planned. She traces the thick, veiny line along the road they're on, the only one that matches any real maps. The rest shows a web of lightly drawn lines all over the shadowed area, few extend from the main road while others are closed-down paths of old.

Thomas grunts sarcastically, "Sure thing. Just let me know when we reach the shaded area on the map."

"I don't think we'll be able to tell, but I'll try. From here on out, we're just gonna have to feel it. Now if you'll excuse me . . ." she pulls her jacket from the back and begins to cover herself and the map. "I've got some searching to do." Putting her feet on the dash, she reclines into seclusion. She's curious to see if he is still watching her.

"Don't get too comfortable. We don't want to miss anything." He knows he's a bit too wound up sometimes. She knows that as well, and he knows that she knows.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spies Emily's exposed legs in prime position to soak up the incoming sun. He looks and then quickly flicks his eyes the road. He wonders if she saw him look.

"Whatever happens, happens." She says from under her cover. She definitely notices his eyes dart back to the road and realizes he's feeling guilty. She wasn't trying to get attention, but she is used to it happening by now. When she has the chance, she also admires him. He is wearing a form-fitting shirt, and she studies his upper body. His arms and shoulders have a nice shape, especially for a guy who never really played sports. Somehow, he looks athletic. _Maybe he's been working out?_ She wonders.

"Just chill out a little," she blurts out. "We'll figure it out along the way, and we'll probably have a great story to share afterwards. Have I led you astray?"

"Hmm," he starts, "let's just say, you haven't always taken me to the safest places. I guess it has always been memorable though, I can't argue with that," Thomas says as he comes around to seeing it her way, and his grin starts to catch up to hers. "Besides, we're intelligent young adults, how hard can it be to survive a road trip anyways? We, as a human race, have survived more than that, right?"

## 2

# Sky Thrill

"Let's go, Bananas!"

The wind whipped all around them as Thomas considered backing out.

" _I'll go if you go,"_ he had regretted it as soon as he'd said it. He wondered why those words could always get him on board for whatever crazy adventure she planned next. He remembered, _Oh yeah, because it's her_.

"Come on!"

They could barely hear the instructor's shouting over the roaring engines. He'd explained it all beforehand, leaving only key words for the jump procedure. "Banana" was the shape they were told to relax into during the dive.

_How did I get talked into this?_ Thomas asked himself again as he looked down the row of people and saw her, Emily.

Catching his eye, she grinned back at Thomas. _I knew he was made of more than what everyone else says,_ she thinks.

For that moment, it felt like they were the only two people on the plane. Even through the goggles, her amber eyes shimmered in the light, brighter than usual as they were so close to the golden sun.

He remembered a few years ago, the first time he really considered their color. He couldn't recall it because they were so intense. _Brown? Hazel?_ he'd thought. Every time he'd gotten close enough to see them again, he was so mesmerized that he forgot to remember. Like when she invited him on this jump, nearly begging him to join.

She'd somehow talked him, and her friends, into sitting through a day's training so no one would have to jump tandem. Each of them would get the full experience of falling all alone. For many, they went along with it because their fear of being outcast outweighed their fear of the fall.

"If we only do it once, we might as well do it right." She'd quoted her grandpa while trying to convince them. Her wisdom, like always, was beyond her years. Thomas was in awe of her. Everyone was.

He didn't remember being this scared since he was a boy. But seeing everyone else do it gave him ignorant courage. He would choose to be left out in an instant, but he chose to do it for her. The consideration that they all felt the same hesitancy didn't even cross his mind. He assumed he was the only one feeling this way, like always.

These were the popular kids. He didn't belong here with them or on the plane. _For one thing, men weren't made to fly_ , he reminded himself of the same thing he'd told Emily when she asked him to join. He wasn't sure if his anxiety was from sitting among strangers or the inevitable plunge awaiting him.

For Emily, such risky adventures were her way of rebelling. John Hunt would never allow his little girl to break the law or even bend the rules. She had learned to respect authority, especially in relation to anyone—like her father—in the armed forces. So while she would do as told in school and life, she stretched her freewill in choices such as skydiving and rock climbing.

One of the main reasons she invited Thomas was that she knew he needed something. Even as a child, when they'd first met, she recognized his propensity for feeling things deeply, almost too deeply. He never seemed to have gotten over his heavy losses as she'd been able to. So when this opportunity came along, she knew he needed it. He needed to wake up, to experience life, to experience other emotions, even if one was fear. She also knew he wouldn't want it. But she'd always been the only one to push him.

"I'll go if you go!" She had taunted him with that phrase. Those five words had defined their friendship as children.

When he heard her say that, he felt responsible not only for his adventure, but for hers. Though it may not have been true, he felt that he held her choice in his hands as well.

He was surprised she remembered it. Though they'd been friends for years, the last few had seen them grown distant. Friends come and go, people change. Thomas didn't think she was going to wait around with him forever.

She was always the brightest light in the room. A fuse had been lit in her from birth as far as he could tell. All the popular kids gravitated towards her like loose iron to a newly introduced magnet. What he didn't know was that she didn't care to be popular. She didn't try to be, it was somewhat natural, even primitive.

She fit in like an apex predator in a new territory. She was going to do what she wanted and everything around her would just have to adjust or leave. She really didn't care. Life was her adventure. She didn't belong to anyone.

But he wished she did. _Maybe one day_ , he considered, _if I try to be the man she thinks I can be._

## 3

# The Strange Place

As is common with Emily, she lost interest in the hidden parts of the map after failing to find anything immediately. She prefers action over planning. Thomas is quite the opposite, but he is learning to embrace such moments with her. If he wants to earn her affections, he knows he'll have to keep up.

They laugh together along the way. Nothing they say is particularly hilarious or groundbreaking, but they chuckle nonetheless as the drive continues. There's a comfort between them—the same one since childhood, an unspoken connection that just feels right.

In a moment of awareness, their eyes meet in a way that has only happened a few times before. Emily sees a brief admiration coming from Thomas and returns it.

He has seen that look before in her doe-like eyes and feels some pressure to respond. But like the times before, his mind goes blank and he escapes awkwardly by looking back to the road.

And, like a balloon freed in the wind, the moment drifts away.

Emily turns back towards the windshield and looks up and out, wondering if she's done something wrong, if maybe he doesn't feel the same.

"I'm gonna write in my journal for a minute."

"Anything in there about me?" Thomas tries to ease the tension. He lurches over to peer at the open pages.

She gasps as she grasps the canvas binding, pulls it against her chest, and withdraws towards the door. She peers mysteriously at Thomas.

"It's an old notebook, so there's no telling. Probably something in here about the time you wrecked my bike, therefore breaking my heart. Just kidding, it doesn't go back that far." She struggles to remember what could be in this hardly used diary. She begins to chronicle her thoughts as she glances back at the previous entries.

"You just focus on the road, sir, and be guided by your boldest whims."

"How poetic," he says in a mocking tone, but realizes that he didn't mean it that way. _Maybe she knows I was kidding . . . about kidding_ , he thinks, confusing himself in the process.

All he gets in response is a mousy glance before she turns back to write. She breaks away intermittently to stare out the window. When she finishes writing, she puts the journal behind the overhead visor. Part of her wants Thomas to find it.

The morning is taking its time and the fog is holding on. In fact, it's a bit heavier than earlier, so much that the late morning sun seems to have fallen into the mist, overtaken by its thickness. The yellow rays of sunrise have gone away but have not been replaced by blue skies as expected. The young pair wonder if they are headed into a storm as they watch the atmosphere grow darker with each new mile.

They have made it out of the city and onto a wide, curvy road. No longer a highway but not quite a country road either, it's something in between. Strangely, there are no other vehicles on the road.

The road travels along a slight decline, barely noticeable but consistent nonetheless. On each side of the two-lane road stand trees, some reaching over to form a canopy that further lends to the darkness. The open fields and landscape are now growing dense with wooded forest. It's difficult to see past the tree line. The leaves, dirt, and broken bits of limbs scattered among the road indicate that it is indeed a road less traveled. It appears that nature is encroaching upon the shrinking slab of humanity's asphalt footprint.

In the silence, Thomas and Emily feel more connected than they have in a long time. It's a comfort level they experienced as kids but haven't known for years. Thomas doesn't want to take the moment away, but he is curious of their location.

"Are we in the shadow region yet, Em?" Their growing intimacy gives him the courage to use the affectionate nickname.

"Ooh, the _shadow region_. How mysterious" she says with wide eyes.

"Ha, ha," he scoffs. "Are we still on the actual highway? Maybe try checking it on your phone."

"Just keep driving, you're doing great. We don't seem to be near anything yet, which in its own way is kind of exciting." Emily fumbles with the map, flipping, spinning, and trying to decipher the unfamiliar markings. Then she notices that her phone has lost service.

As their casual bickering continues, Thomas begins to worry about the atmospheric changes. He takes note of their slight decline in elevation amidst the looming weather.

"Do you think it's going to rain? It's so dark already, it seems like we're headed towards a storm. Maybe we'll get through before it gets too bad."

"Maybe so," Emily says apathetically. She's tangled up with the map and it's taking most of her concentration. "My phone lost signal, so we must be in the _shadow zone_." She has modified the description with an eerie tone in her voice.

"Isn't it crazy how we almost can't function without these things?" She waves the dark brick of technology. "Like, if you asked me to call any of my friends, I couldn't do it without my phone."

"I'm pretty sure that's how it works." Thomas laughs as he glances at her with a think-about-it look.

"You know what I mean!" She hits him with her phone. When she looks back at the map, she says, "Seems like we're in the right area though, or close to it." She looks uncomfortable with the old map, spinning it around as if it makes a difference. She traces some of the random, thread-like lines.

"Hmm," she mumbles something.

"What?" Thomas prods.

"Well, um. I don't know how to tell you this. But, I think it's just one road all the way through. I thought these would be side roads, but there's nothing out here."

They peer through the sparse openings and find nothing but nature.

"Really? You didn't find any other signs or numbers on there earlier?"

"To be honest . . . I have a confession." Emily bites her lip and her eyes look up from the map as her head stays down.

Thomas is nervous, as he often is when Emily takes control of a situation. _What would she have to confess? Is she going to tell me why she_ really _wanted to come on this trip?_ He feigns a coolness that he's never been good at faking.

"I kind of gave up on that right away . . . But, I'm on it now." She sits back up and attempts to stare a hole through the map.

Thomas is disappointed that she didn't give some insight into the nature of their relationship as he hoped, but he should have known she wasn't about to confess something outright like that. He just would like to know where he stands, if there's a chance. _There must be, if we're on this trip together_. He decides to point his head towards the abundance of actual nature all around them.

"Oh, okay." he says. When he looks back at her, he sees that she is as uncomfortable as he is. Her eyebrows raise, and her face begs for forgiveness of the minute sin.

In that moment, Thomas realizes that she has revealed more than he first thought. He sees that she has put her feelings in his hands. _Maybe there_ is _something here more than friendship,_ he thinks. A slight fascination manifests on his face as he realizes that anything is still possible.

"It's fine, really," he decides to take the lead again. "I didn't find much either, but I did see something on there, once. It looked like it said '413' maybe?"

He leans over, "Right . . . around," and puts his finger on the map. "Here." He continues to watch the road while glancing at the paper. He points at a line, slightly darker than the others. As he does, he accidentally presses the map too hard and pushes it out of the light. Emily sees what looks like a flash on the paper.

"I see it!" she exclaims, "I don't know how I missed it before. I guess I didn't try hard enough," she says with an apologetic tone. She arches over in her study mode near the dark floorboard to analyze the marking.

"I don't think it says 413, it looks like a number and a letter . . . 4 . . . B? Which I guess kind of looks like 413 since the B is a little sloppy."

"4B or not 4B?" Thomas says with a goofy grin. As he studies it, he finds it clearer than ever, brighter than before. He gets excited just thinking about it.

Emily rolls her eyes and say straight-faced, "That was rough." When she can't hold it in anymore, she cracks out a laugh. It feels good to know that he can still joke—or try to joke—around.

"How about we aim for it?" He suggests.

Emily nods, "Sounds like a plan."

She looks out of the window for a few minutes as they continue to drive, partly searching and party daydreaming.

"What if . . ." she speaks up and looks at Thomas with the sweetest sadness. "And don't take this the wrong way, but what if we don't find what you're looking for? Whatever it is."

Thomas decides to look back out of his window. He's been wondering that all along, most of his life really.

"Honestly," he starts. "I don't expect to find much," he lies again. All his life, he has dreamt of learning more about his father's explorations. Lewis had such amazing stories, though Thomas doesn't remember most of them, other than what was shared in the letters. He does remember them being hard to believe, perhaps made up so that Thomas would revere Lewis all the more.

He continues, "Maybe just being out here will remind me of him, and that could be enough."

Emily hasn't heard Thomas speak of his dad much, or his mom, for that matter. She knows how cathartic it can be to relive such memories, so she decides to stay on the topic.

"Well, maybe we'll stumble across some clues by learning more about him? I know he left you this mysterious map. And I know he gave you this Bronco, which, you gotta admit, was a piece of junk at first, right?"

Thomas smiles, "Let's say, it had potential."

"I didn't think so, but you proved me wrong once more. And I know your dad's name was Lewis . . . Clark." She turns her head sideways, "Wait. How have I never noticed that? It's like—"

"Lewis and Clark," Thomas finishes her thought. "Yep, _the_ Lewis and Clark from the Corps of Discovery Expedition of the western U.S. So, I _may_ have looked them up a few times. Dad said he was made fun of for it, which only encouraged him to prove everyone wrong, or right, I suppose. So he became an adventurer. He even told me once, and I think it's probably a myth, that we really are related to William Clark himself, and because of that we carry the same adventurous spirit inside us. He claimed it was genetic. But, like I said, he was always full of tall tales, a little bit larger than life."

"Sounds pretty fun. All my dad ever says about his trips is that he goes on them for me, so that I will stay safe. He always says the details are too sensitive to share. That's the military for you."

"Yeah, that sucks," Thomas says, as he realizes that over-the-top stories are better than no stories. "How about we forget about all that and just try to enjoy this trip. It's still an adventure after all. And we have each other, so we should be fine." He knows that he won't stop thinking about his dad but doesn't want to keep talking about him.

"You won't be disappointed if it's just about us?" Emily asks sweetly.

Thomas laughs before he registers what she said. "Just us? As if we can't be amazing."

This time, she sees something in his eyes that she can't ignore: possibility. _Wow,_ comes into her mind, not so much the word as the thought. _Maybe he's not so clueless._

"It's actually a relief," he interrupts her musings. "At this point, _Emilily_ ," he pokes fun at her childhood nickname, but leans in with sincerity in his voice, "I'm looking forward to whatever you decide to get us into. I'm learning to enjoy the not-knowing." He grins and she sits up excitedly.

"See! I knew you'd come around. We're on this journey _together_. That's the fun part! It's not really about where we go or even what we find, but what we experience along the way." Emily is back to her bubbly self. She sits on the edge of her seat as if searching for something.

"Okay, so let's find 4B at least, and then we'll go from there. Maybe we can wait out the storm somewhere off road." He cranes his neck upwards to study the hidden sky.

She agrees with her trademark twinkle. Then, she squints her eyes while bringing the map within a few inches of her nose. "Maybe 4B is a dirt road, or mud if it rains. I've always wondered if this thing could even handle off-road." She takes a jab at the fact that he babies his Bronco a little too much. Her winsome impulse begs for the thrill of hitting the trails. "What's the point of having these big tires if you don't get them dirty?"

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. I'll show you what she's capable of," he says.

"A _she_ , huh? Should I be jealous?"

"Definitely."

He thinks about how much he loves that smile of hers. It reminds him of the little girl who was brave enough to approach the hurting boy in the toughest time of his life. She's mostly been there for him since then, save for the last few years. But she's made sure to include him in a handful of adventures as teenagers. Though they've drifted apart, Thomas never forgot how their friendship started.

## 4

# Hurting Boy

A girl on a bike. That's the last thing Thomas expected to see that day. She was the brightest thing for miles, especially after his dark day of black suits and matching dresses.

She rolled up to him on a pink bike, complete with white streamers exploding from the handlebars.

"Hi, I'm Emily, but my grandparents call me Emilily, or just Em, like the letter but not really."

"Hi," he responded shyly. He wished he had his bike too. He could just ride away from everyone, from everything. "My parents aren't dead." He volunteers the information that he's been told not to share. "They went on an adventure and just haven't come back yet."

"Okay. My parents are gone too, kind of," she said bluntly, as children tend to do. "Pop-pop says Momma had an early ticket to Heaven 'cause God needed her for something. I hope it's something _real_ special. I didn't want her to go. She's not coming back . . ."

She looked down and twirled the streamers. With a quick breath, she stifled her own tears and continued to over-share. "He must need her more than I do, which feels like a whole lot. But I've got Grands and Pop, and they say they need me too. And Daddy, sometimes. He's busy fighting the bad guys. He's a soldier."

"I'm sorry for your loss," he quoted the words he's heard for the last three days.

"Oh, it's okay. I don't think about it much. I know it's all you can think about right now, but it'll get better, I promise." Her crooked, one-tooth-missing smile made her even cuter somehow, something he was surprised to have noticed.

"Thanks, I guess. I don't know if I want to feel better though," Thomas spoke more candidly than he had with anyone else. No one _really_ knew what he was going through except maybe her.

"It's like my bike," she held the handlebars. "When I don't have it, I want it."

He understood that very well in the moment.

"And when I got it for Christmas, it's all I thought about. I even wanted to bring it into my bedroom at night. But now, I only think about it sometimes, like when I want to ride it."

"I have a bike." He loosened up when he realized she was not as reserved as most girls. "Do you want to . . ." he trailed off, wondering why she would want to spend any time with a hurting boy.

"Ride bikes?" she finished his sentence and he nodded. "I'll go if you go," she smiled again. Lurching forward to build momentum, she pushed one foot off the ground and the other against a pedal. She awkwardly shifted her weight as if the bike was too heavy for her until she was moving with ease.

He ran after her. He's been chasing her ever since.

## 5

# Off Road

"Look for any kind of sign—"

Thomas barely hears Emily's instructions. _Why is it so dark?_ He contemplates once more. _It's only ten in the morning, but it feels like dusk._ He wonders if he's ever seen anything like this before. Then he remembers the shaded part of the map. _Maybe that dark area is a lack of sun coverage for some reason._

"Thomas, are you listening?" Emily says.

He unfurls his eyebrows and gives his attention, acting as if he hadn't just been lost in thought. His playful smile earns another playful hit on his shoulder. Thomas appreciates how this more frequent contact.

"4B should . . . be . . ." Her words are intermittent as she searches the roadside. "Pretty . . . close." She looks for anything pointing to the deceptively marked deviation on the map. "There!"

They see an old sign labeled "DETOUR" and a more decrepit sign behind it reading "ROUTE 4B," complete with hanging moss, as if it weren't ominous enough. It's quite the classic sign, further proved by the rust around the bottom corners. It leads them onto a dirt road with trees tightly lining the sides.

"There it is, Route 4B," Emily says.

"What are we getting into, Emily?" Thomas looks up through the windshield and around to see the constricting foliage. The road has two parallel tracks. Between the paths and on either side, the grass is nearly as high as the hood.

"It's just an old road, but I bet it's full of ancient history, never before discovered!"

"If that were true, it probably wouldn't be a _road_ to begin with." Thomas says. He realizes she's trying to stay positive, so he adds, "but I'm sure there's something interesting out here, maybe a long forgotten . . ." He searches for something that won't sound patronizing, ". . . historical . . . thing." _Not my best save,_ he recognizes. He speaks up again to try to get out of his hole.

"Good thing we brought my Bronco instead of your car. Good gas mileage won't get you out of a mud hole."

"Oh, so it has actually seen mud before?" She jokes again about how Thomas seems to care more about his truck than most things in life. She does appreciate the capabilities of the four-wheel-drive vehicle as they approach the rougher terrain.

"I know it's a little creepy, but it's kind of beautiful out here," she adds.

Thomas doesn't think so at first. He's been so focused on the drive. He finds it hard to see much, so he slows to a crawl. In between the brief avoidances of nature, he begins to appreciate the mysterious appeal.

Again connected in silence, they study their surroundings, enjoying the views of the seldom-touched earth. Branches seem to reach out for contact, to touch and be touched. Some aggressively rub the metal exterior like a child petting a dog, unrestrained and rough. Others gently caress the roof or fenders like a sculptor testing clay or a cat stealing contact by pressing against someone's leg.

As they drive towards the dense haze, it thins out as if making way for them or avoiding contact. The headlights, still on from their early morning departure, reflect and refract, illuminating the vapor particles. There's something magical in the mist. The blanket around them makes the world feel so intimate. With that, there comes a promise for what waits on the other side, still unknown for the time being. As nature appears to crawl through the atmosphere with each wheel's revolution, the hope of discovery wells inside Thomas and Emily. They wonder what could be waiting and are willing to explore to find out.

## 6

# Mysterious Glade

As the road widens, it fades into dirt and thick grass. Soon enough, Thomas drives onto an exposed woodless area with scattered patches of little-to-no grass under the shade of the trees. It's reminiscent to a swamp but not as muggy. The hazy darkness is a result from the wide coverage but is still bright as light dances off the mist.

Emily begs for them to stop and explore. It's not like he has a choice anyways, as there is no longer a visible road, so he abides.

As they peer through the windows, they observe heavily populated hills and valleys. Trees, coniferous evergreen and deciduous alike, are scattered around in tight congregations. Based on their size and the dense tree canopy, they've been undisturbed for a long time.

The darkness is less intense than it was while on the road. There is a new glow permeating throughout the glade, emanating from a source far away. The threat of storm is dampened yet the environment is like the calm before a great tempest, a temporary relief in eye of a hurricane.

To Thomas, it feels like early morning. _Maybe because we can't see the sun through all these trees. It's like a rainforest. The fog hasn't even lifted yet._

"Do you think we're below sea level?" He asks, "I think that would explains the density out here."

"Use your Extreme Survival Army knife thingy . . ." Emily jokes, recalling a toy that Thomas had packed for the trip. "Five thousand," she adds flippantly as she quickly opens the door and jumps out of the Bronco, falling a few feet before landing firmly on the ground.

Thomas calls her bluff as he retrieves the tool he'd worked so hard to earn as a child. As he gets out of the SUV, he holds it up proudly and speaks in his best advertising voice, as if he's attempting to sell it to the next wannabe adventurer who's easily conned into buying twenty boxes of cereal for a twenty-dollar trinket. "It's called the _Survival Tool 2000_ , complete with pocket knife, matches holder, and whatever you may need to survive _your_ adventure. It even has an _altimeter_ , for your mountain climbers!"

Emily is surprised to see Thomas goof off like this. She hasn't seen him like this in years.

He continues with sarcasm, acting as if her suggestion was sincere. "Thank you very much for that _great_ idea. I think I will use it." He unhooks it from his pack and begins to read the altimeter, a function he found entertaining as a kid and while rock climbing when he got older. As he watches the dial move past its limits, his face contorts.

"This is strange, is says we're _below_ sea level . . . like way below."

"Is it possible to be below sea level?" Emily asks sincerely while she steps carefully through the grass. She finds some mossy areas to explore as they talk.

"Sure, I mean, I think so. But not like this. I don't know if _this_ is possible." He shows her the reading as it bounces off the altimeter peg.

"Must be busted," he says as he bumps the meter against his palm and shakes it around. He holds it up to whatever light he can find.

"It is just a toy. It probably never worked in the first place." Emily says sympathetically but honestly.

"Yeah, maybe you're right, but I was sure it worked while rock climbing . . . Maybe there's some kind of interference out here. Could it be from being in the _shadow zone_?"

"Maybe," she answers sincerely. "I don't know if this road keeps going on the map." She traces a few of the harsh, veiny lines on the map.

"Let me see," Thomas borrows the map. As he traces the 4B line, he sees that it ends just like the road ended. But something else happens when his finger follows it. A glowing network of lines appears to flow out from the thicker road line.

"Em, look at this." He holds the map up to her.

"What? I don't see anything."

He turns it back at to himself and finds that the glow has once again faded.

"It lit up again, but I guess it wasn't strong enough to last this time." He remembers glow-in-the-dark toys and tries to find some light to potentially recharge the ink.

"It's a charming place though, isn't it?" Emily shares as she moves with a winsome spin, gracefully with her head turned up and arms spread wide.

Thomas admires her before his mind comes back to where they are.

"Charming? Sure, if you like that _calm-before-the-storm_ feeling. I guess it's intriguing, but something about it bothers me. I wish it would either clear up or the bottom fall out and a real storm break out. This in-between has me anxious."

"Well, I think we should check this place out." She starts to wander without him.

Thomas glances back at the Bronco, then ahead to the girl who has carried his heart from the beginning. Against his cautious nature, he once again chases her.

## 7

# An Unexpected Landscape

The sun is still hidden, though it's about noon. Some of the scattered rays appear to be coming from beyond their sight line. They imagine it's the sun but farther away than normal. There is some unfamiliar luminance around them, a residue of unique light, not yellow or white, and the sun is yet to be seen. The hazy glow is like being deep in the ocean, knowing that sunlight is somehow there, yet so distant through the salty mass all around.

In all this, no sky is visible in this otherworldly place, just fog or mist. A cool, thick blanket barely allows warmth or light in. All the while, there is an almost relentless rustling as though there's a persistent breeze, one not felt, only heard. To add to the eeriness, abnormal groanings can be distantly heard from different directions. It's as though the brewing storm has fallen asleep, but these sounds, as natural as they are, make up for the clamors of the missing thunderstorm.

They've stumbled upon a place unlike any they've seen or heard of. The strangeness of everything draws them into it even more. It excites their curiosity for exploration, regardless of their lack of experience. Youth undermines caution, and nature longs to adjust.

"How cool is this place," Emily says. She wonders if she's ever heard of anywhere like this before, considering the likelihood that it's not the only one in the world.

Thomas doesn't answer. He alternates his admiration from the atmosphere to the girl and back. He still thinks there's a storm coming. Either that, or they've stumbled into the strangest place on earth.

They begin hiking together and enjoy the time while surveying the land. The landscape, with its rolling hills and strange separations of earth, form small, cliff-like protrusions. They have fun climbing down.

As they descend a steeper section, Emily brags about the time she _forced_ him to go rock-climbing.

"I guess it wasn't such a waste after all, huh?"

Thomas just laughs. He's actually gone climbing several times since. For one thing, it reminded him of Emily, which inspired many of his trips. He also found that something about it calmed him down when few things else did. It felt right to hold something so tightly, so close and natural. He almost felt like he was one with the earth when he was climbing.

"I've actually been climbing a lot since then," he confesses.

"I can tell." She smiles as she studies his strength and agility as he scales down another embankment.

They find a new bottom and begin to wander around. Thomas begins to get worked up as he tries to lead them. He's typically good with directions and knowing his whereabouts, but begins to fear getting lost. The trees and random paths don't seem to make sense.

Emily soothes him by taking his hand. When their hands make contact, it's like a new itch and finding simultaneous relief. He feels a spark jump between them. He wonders if she feels it too. It works to snap him out of his distress.

Hiding her own worries, she continues to try to calm him down. "It's fine, let's just go back to the truck."

As they do, he wonders again why there is no rain or even a breeze, "I haven't felt so much as a misty drop or sprinkle. How about you?"

"None that I've noticed."

Always the inquisitive type, Thomas says, "And I keep hearing these leaves and branches move, but can't seem to catch sight of anything moving. Every time I look . . ." he questions himself, wondering why he only recognizes some of the trees on their way back. "Never mind."

"Never mind what?" Emily releases his hand as she attempts to lead the way this time, bouncing across obstacles like a child.

Thomas peers into the dense fog. It almost seems to be glowing. In his periphery, he thinks he catches sight of something that startles him. A movement off in the distance. He tries to get a better look and leans against a tree. As he does, it falls away from him, or more accurately _scoots_ away from him. _What just happened?_ He wonders as he jumps away from it.

"Did you see that?" he rattles anxiously.

"See what?" Emily, still worry-free, asks casually. She's still looking down, calculating her next steps.

"This tree, it just moved," he squints, trying to make sure he really saw that happen. "And I think I saw . . ." He doesn't want to worry her, so he says, "I mean, I just leaned on it and it slid away."

Emily relaxes her petite body against one. It stands immovable. She even tries to put more weight on it, pushing and pulling at it for fun. "Seems pretty well-rooted to me. It was probably just dead."

"Maybe," he says. _But that doesn't explain what I saw further out_ . . . _don't worry her,_ he tells himself. _You'd better make sure before you say what you're about to say._ He narrows his eyes in attempt to spot another movement.

"I don't want to bring you down or spoil the adventure like I always seem to do, but I feel like . . ." he pauses and shakes his head. "No, that's not possible." _Is it?_ He wonders.

"What's not possible?" She slips off one of the gnarled roots and Thomas catches her outspread arm.

He doesn't look down to verify his footing. Instead, he keeps his eyes fixed on the distance. This time, he's sure of what he sees.

"There! I saw it this time." Thomas says.

"Saw what?" Her curious eyes dart in every direction until she looks back at him puzzled.

"I think . . ." He doesn't want to sound crazy or scare her, but he feels he should let her know. "Maybe I shouldn't say it. You'll think I'm crazy."

"It's okay, Thomas," her soothing voice is enough to coax him from his mood. "Tell me. I won't call you _crazy_. I might think it, but I won't say it." She laughs and it even gets him to smile for the briefest moment.

"Well," he nervously attempts to hop around like Emily. He hopes it will ease their minds, but it makes him seem more out of it. His movements are unnatural and forced compared to Emily's graceful frolicking. He gives up on it and tries to regain focus on the task at hand.

He isn't sure how she'll take the revelation, "I think that our path is changing."

Before she jumps to conclusions, as if he were talking about _them_ and the state of their _relationship_ , he speaks up. "I mean, physically."

When he sees her eyebrows raise slightly, he realizes that statement isn't very helpful either.

"I mean out here." He swings his arms around, spinning slowly like an awkward presenter. The branches of the trees around him wave as though a breeze is coming through but the air isn't moving. In his rant, he doesn't notice. "We've tried circling back and nothing seems familiar. But I know we haven't gotten lost, exactly. Do you think . . . the path could be moving?" He's not even sure of what he's suggesting.

She doesn't seem phased by the news or the sudden presence of a wind that wasn't felt. To her, inexplicable events aren't curious enough to explore until they become threatening. She's still in adventure mode after all and focused on her romping, which is far more impressive than Thomas's sad attempts. She was always the best at physical activities, especially anything with graceful movements involved. As she chooses the next place to jump from, she wonders where the walkway came from. In her absent-mindedness, Thomas's words still haven't sunk in.

_It must be some sort of animal trail,_ she thinks. She looks up and admires the beauty of a natural arch over their walking path.

"At first, I thought I wasn't remembering well enough," Thomas continues. "But since I began to actually look for it, I've noticed that these paths are definitely not the same ones we've been on. And I'm fairly sure I saw some things moving in the distance."

"Wait, what?" Emily's eyes grow as she rips herself from her play. She may not comprehend the moving landscape, but she understands the threat of mysterious things in the distance.

"What have you been waiting for? Let's get out of here!" She catches herself before she yells too loudly.

Thomas realizes that he's upset her but not for the reason he expected.

"Calm down. I don't think there's some _one_ or some _thing_ out here. Not exactly."

"What are __ you saying?" She's not enjoying Thomas's mysterious qualities as much anymore. "Let's just climb back up that . . ." She searches for the embankment they had scaled. She finally notices that the fog has gotten too thick to see farther than twenty feet in any direction.

"That's what I'm saying, I've kind of been trying to."

"So, are you saying we're lost?"

"Um, maybe. Not lost as in 'we took the wrong path' but lost as in our path took us the wrong way, literally."

"Okay, no big deal," she says unconvincingly. "Let's just back-track and find where we went wrong." She tries to believe what she's saying and to remain optimistic for the time being, though she's mostly trying not to let her emotions take over. She channels her nervous energy once again into creatively moving from one place to the next.

"That's not going to work, obviously." Thomas says.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, the rock wall. I've been trying to find it again. We've only been on this one path. But it's different. Okay, I'll just say it . . ." He stops walking to show his urgency. "I think the path or the trees are _moving_ or changing somehow."

Emily looks at him, half expecting it to be a joke. But she knows that's not Thomas's type of humor. She searches his face and finds nothing but sincere conviction.

"What?" She asks as she processes it. "How? That's not even possible. I know I said I wouldn't say this, but you're crazy."

She turns back around and tries to move along the path. She doesn't want to believe it.

"No, I mean it," he says. "I wouldn't joke about this."

"Oh, I know your jokes, and they are few and far between," she says. "So you really think things are moving around us? _Is_ that possible?" She stands up straight like a defiant child, "Well then, how have I not _seen_ it?"

"You haven't been looking for it like I have. I swear I saw movement. I don't really know if or how it's _possible_ , but think about it. We've heard the rustling leaves this entire time but we somehow keep missing the breeze. And it would explain how we can't seem to get back to the hill. If there is movement, it's happening behind us or far enough away that we don't notice it." As he hears his sparse logic, Thomas questions the possibility again. _How can it be? It's too confusing to comprehend._

_"_ Maybe there's an explanation, but I've never heard of anything like this."

During their musings, the rustling gets stronger but not enough to alert them.

"Now you're starting to worry me." Emily is struggling to keep her hopes up. The light of adventure that once sparkled in her eyes is dulling to an anxious shimmer. As light keeps diminishing, so does the amber hue in her eyes.

"I know, I'm sorry. I promise I'm not losing my mind, at least I hope not. Let's just try to get out of here somehow."

He looks at a nearby tree. _I wonder if we have anything to do with the movements._ He watches Emily lean against a tree, and it hardly even shakes. He moves towards it, trying not to seem obvious and lifts his hand towards the same place Emily just touched. As he reaches for it, he feels a vibration in his hand and then sees the tree shake as if a squirrel had just jumped out of it. Then it starts to bend away from him, ever so slightly.

"Thomas." Emily says in a hushed yell.

He looks up at her, wondering if she saw it too. She's facing him but hasn't been watching the tree. She reaches for him, her hand trembling as she raises it.

"What's wrong? What is it?"

Looking past his head, Emily stares blankly towards the area they had just traversed. She clearly remembers the archway being there before but doesn't see it now.

"You were . . . you were right." Her eyes widen, and her eyebrows raise slowly. Her broken breaths come out as though she were shaking in the snow. Her lips unfurl and leave her mouth open.

In her countenance, Thomas no longer sees the confident young woman she's been for the last few years. Now, he sees a frightened girl, a girl he hasn't seen in a long time.

## 8

# Surviving the Fear

Best friends came and went for Emily. The same wasn't true for Thomas. Emily was his closest friend until they'd both started changing from the outside in. He was more of an outcast while she remained comfortable as the center of attention. Her happy-go-lucky spirit and natural beauty certainly played into it.

After about age eight, he didn't have a dad to teach him the things he needed to know to be a socially adjusted young man. Other family members tried to help occasionally. His grandma did what she could for him, but she knew little about pubescent boys. She had no idea how to help him with some things, especially when he didn't even know what he needed. Something inside of him had always yearned for direction and ambition, but few things showed him how to harness it.

However, Thomas always felt drawn to Emily, even when their lives started to separate. Emily would sometimes reach out to him despite his reclusiveness, especially when she suspected his deep sadness had returned. She wondered if it was always there. He would have told her it was.

There was one day, a notable exception to their dynamic, when Emily was the more melancholy. It was just before autumn, and the weather had yet to turn.

They were both in the same classroom when the television was turned on. It wasn't the right time for the TV to be on. They'd already watched the morning announcements in first period. At this time, they'd usually be taking turns reading a story aloud or working on a writing assignment. This morning, they were staring at the TV, unknowingly watching history take place.

Thomas wasn't as affected by the live footage at first. He didn't realize what it meant for the country and the future. He usually took a little longer to work things out, so he didn't realize that the accidents shown weren't accidents at all. They were acts of terrorism on native soil, the largest ones in the contiguous United States.

To Thomas, who had been dealing with his own losses for years, it was just another way that this world came up with to take something away. He was never a person of hope, no matter how much his grandmother preached it to him. Hope had been a struggle since he was told that his parents were really gone. It isn't hope that keeps him believing they're alive, it's some other feeling he can't seem to shake. Perhaps fear.

For a long time, he imagined they were on some dream vacation or adventure. It helped him to imagine them happy. In their travels together as a family, he remembered his mother always smiling and laughing in the sunshine, usually with the salty breeze blowing through her thick, dark hair. She loved the sea, so that's where she was now, with Lewis by her side. Though it seemed he wanted to be somewhere else, perhaps on his own adventure, he would smile when he watched Thomas's mom dancing in the wind.

But that's not really where they were, not likely. Thomas hoped that, if they were in some after-life, that they'd found their paradise. What he did fear, regardless, was they were never coming back. The world found a way to take them away, and started taking something else as well: Thomas's hope. Whatever future would've happened wasn't even worth imagining to Thomas. Everything was different.

So, the attack didn't phase Thomas much. But most of the students were attracted to the screen like ferrous nails to an earth magnet. Teachers echoed phrases such as, "Don't worry, you're safe," while the events on the screen were saying the opposite, that they'd never really be safe again. Many students left early from school that day.

Emily took it hard immediately. She worried about her dad, the military man. Though he wasn't around much, she loved him deeply. When she remembered that he was already in New York, near the attack site, she experienced a fear she didn't know existed.

Within a few hours, the irreparable damage was done. Those were the longest hours of Emily's life, wondering if her father was involved. Knowing the character of John Hunt, she knew that he would risk his life to save another. It's something she didn't understand. In fact, part of her hated that about him. She felt that such a selfless act was just the opposite, a selfish need to be a hero. _I'll never forgive him,_ she thought as she considered losing him.

Thomas was sitting next to Emily in that particular class. As the events unfolded and the truth of what happened came to light, Emily's hand found Thomas's. She'd held it before when they we were children, but Thomas never noticed it like he did this time. It was cold and quivering.

Emily's faith was shaken that day. She'd often carried an ignorant belief that she was immune from further tragedy beyond losing her mom. Her security was not challenged, it was taken away.

She had learned to love the world that was thrust upon her. But now, that world was under threat. The impossible was now more than possible. It was inevitable. Her world became increasingly precious, and there was nothing she could do about it. And to see this boy in a new way, as a strong young man—well, it was enough to ignite a spark in her. Though she didn't act on it then, she knew she wanted to see who he would become, and she hoped she'd be close enough to be there for it. While she had other boyfriends throughout the years, she couldn't shake the feeling that there was something between herself and Thomas. _One day_ , she though, _I'm going to have to find out if there is._

By this point in life though, Thomas felt he had already lost everything that mattered, so he felt he had nothing else worth losing until that moment. He could be strong for her in his ignorance.

Through the look on Emily's face, Thomas began to understand that something in his world—someone endangered and endeared—had once again brought worth to life.

## 9

# The Rush

Thomas recognizes the terror in her eyes. Once again, they stand together, lost and fighting fear. The impossible is creeping through the veil of reality, quite literally it seems. He almost doesn't want to look but knows he must. For her, for both of them. He wants to be brave but has no idea how. He thinks about his dad possibly being in this same situation at some point in life.

He gathers what courage he can and turns around. He finds that the path they had just walked has been overcome by dense foliage. The natural arch has disappeared, dissolved, or was swallowed up. A solid tree line stands where they once did, the narrow trail on the ground extending from it vanishing as well.

It's clear that the trees have moved to cover the former footpath. They've been herding the young couple all this time. Without further hesitation, Thomas grabs Emily, whipping her around as he pulls her along.

"We've got to get out of here, somehow." He keeps looking up, as if he's found something to follow and knows which way to go. They dodge through the trees in what seem like random routes. He tries to avoid the more open options, but the path seems to anticipate his plans. At some point, he has to release her hand, but she makes sure to stay close.

"How do you know where you're going?" Emily shouts as she follows without slowing.

"Just trust me!" Thomas hollers as he jumps over a fallen tree and finds a deserted animal trail to follow. He doesn't really know where he's going. He's just trusting that the lesser known paths might eventually lead them somewhere familiar or safe.

It's darker now that the trees are closing in on them, which affects their visibility. Emily attempts to make a leap but doesn't lift her trailing foot high enough. She lets out a pained yell as she tumbles over the log.

"Thomas!"

Thomas hears the moan and rushes back to her, "Emily! Are you okay?" He wonders how this could have happened. Emily has always been the most athletic person he's known. _Moving too fast opens the door for mistakes,_ he thinks as he considers slowing down.

She's embarrassed as well and tries to hide it. She chastises herself, _Stupid! can't believe I let that happen._

"Can you stand?" He squats to her side and puts his hands delicately on her knee and ankle.

"I think I'm okay, I just couldn't keep up with you." Her passive lashing, like her physical clumsiness, is out of character. "I can't see what you see. You have to learn how to lead better," she sniffs heavily until she's able to stop her tears, trying to hide her pain from Thomas. For some reason, she still feels the need to impress him, and—for some reason—she thought dancing like a whimsical fairy was the right move. _Bad idea,_ she thinks, _that's not me anyways, not really._

One of the few things she remembers her father teaching her was to "suck it up" when things got tough. Of course, it was in his nature to be tough rather than tender. In this time of need, she wonders why she still heeds advice from a man who was hardly around.

"I'm sorry. You're right." Thomas proves that his philosophies are quite different, and she admires him for it, even as she winces upon standing. "Here, lean on me. We'll go together now."

She puts her arm over Thomas's shoulder and lets her weight rest on him. She is surprised to find him as sturdy as he is, regardless of his lanky frame. Of course, he has to squat down to help her walk.

As he experiences more of her against his own side, he tries not to enjoy it too much. He doesn't want to take advantage of her by receiving a physical intimacy she isn't offering. _This isn't the time_ , he thinks, _I need to stay focused on whatever is happening out here._

He tries not to enjoy the way she smells or how easy she is to carry. He tries not to think about the fact that she may be wondering if he's strong enough for her. _I am . . . I will be._ He tries not to feel different parts of her touching different parts of him. He imagines he's a medic helping a wounded soldier off the battlefield. It's not so easy to disconnect when he can feel her every breath and body against him.

_Slow down,_ he thinks. They continue with intention, less panicked and more precise. Together this time, they traverse the forest along whatever paths they can find, tight or wide. Neither of them really know where to go.

"How's this for _feeling_ it?" Thomas says to lighten the mood.

Emily isn't so amused as is evident by the edge in her glare. She realizes that it isn't helpful to blame anyone so she grunts some sort of laugh.

"Real funny. It's not exactly what I had in mind. Speaking of feeling though, I think I can walk on my own now."

Thomas is sad to let her go but abides. She takes a few steps with their arms hovering around one another before they're both confident enough to relax.

With no real knowledge of where they are or where they're headed, they simply choose the way that looks best to them. The only things guiding their escape are random openings they stumble upon and the little light the trees allow. They haven't seen anything move again. Before Emily asks, Thomas offers a plan.

"Let's just keep moving away from those groaning sounds and the rustling. I'm starting to think we may have over-reacted. With this strange fog and the other-worldly scenery, we might've just convinced ourselves of something that isn't happening. You know how the mind can play tricks on you, especially if you give in to it."

"Sure, but that doesn't change the fact that we're lost. We may never get out of her now." Emily's once exuberant spirit has waned. It has reverted to one of survival.

"Don't think that way. We'll be okay. Like we said before, we have each other, and this is an adventure, our adventure." Thomas says with surety in his voice, although his faith also wavers within.

"Where is the nearest town? Do you remember if there was one on the phone map?"

"It went dead before I could really check, but I don't think there were any towns anywhere near the shadow zone. Maybe this is why, because it's cursed or something." She questions it as she hears herself say such a strange word. "What if we never get found? Like your parents. We should've told someone where we were going."

Sensing a breakdown, Thomas ignores the part about his parents and speaks up.

"It'll be _okay_ ," he emphasizes the word this time as he squeezes her shoulders. "We'll find a way out. Let's just keep moving, I feel like there may be something over that way."

He nods his head towards the mysterious radiance that's closer than before. They continue to hold hands again, and they walk hurriedly together. Emily follows Thomas on the narrow paths they find.

"I don't know what I'd do without you, Thomas."

"Fortunately, you don't have to think about that, cause I'm not going anywhere without _you_." Thomas's face gives a promise as they make eye contact briefly, only to quickly glance back at the ground to check their footing.

Just a few years earlier, he had been there for her in that classroom. As children, she was there for him when he most needed it. With his own home being taken from him as his parents disappeared, she has become the nearest thing to home for him. He feels that he owes it to her to be a better man than he is.

A coy grin accompanies his next question, "Should we go towards the light?"

Affectionately, she agrees by speaking the response she hopes will never change, "I'll go if you go."

He leads the way, knowing this must be done. Even though he doesn't like chancing something he's never experienced, he knows it's the only choice right now, which really makes it not a choice at all.

Emily admires Thomas for his newfound confidence. The boy she had spent most of her life with is more than a boy after all. She wonders if perhaps he is someone who can keep up with her after all and perhaps even lead her when need be.

## 10

# How Convenient

As they continue to walk hand-in-hand, Emily watches Thomas lift his head to peer at something through the trees.

"Look! There's something over there," Thomas exclaims as he quickens his gait. "It looks like a sign, maybe it's a gas station!"

Emily pulls on his hand, not to slow him, but to pull herself along faster.

Thomas turns briefly towards her and watches the growing glow in her eyes reflect the distant light. Her enthusiasm is coming back as well.

Through the trees, an old sign is visible, ancient and unfamiliar. Moss hangs from the dilapidated and dirt-covered banner, and the colors have faded to almost indiscernible hues. The characters are hardly distinguishable and read "Fuel-n-Service."

Of course, the darkness doesn't help. Old filament lights illuminate small portions of the station as it still tries to hide in the thick, nightly air. One flickering light reveals a sale on something unimportant. Though the out-of-time station appears to be decades old, the weak light sources are still quite powerful amidst the darkness of the forest.

As Thomas and Emily continue through the wooded areas, they can see the tall pole running from sign to ground. Through the slightly opened areas of tree branches, more of the gas station becomes visible. They are excited to find a road as well. This inspires them to quicken their steps. They've accelerated to a blistering speed, swatting away the few remaining branches as they run feverishly through the brush.

Thomas reaches the road first. He slows down after seeing desolate emptiness to his left and right on the vacant and weathered two-lane road. He glances behind him and waits for Emily. Their hands connect once again as they move hurriedly across the road, glancing side to side simply by habit. They run past the antique pumps and towards the building.

"Hello! Is anybody here?!" Thomas shouts as they get closer. He tries to calm down when he realizes how wild their behavior might seem. Here they stand in a place of civilization, as eerie as it is. There's no longer need for panic.

He tests the door and finds it locked. Then he reads a hand-painted directive pointing to a button. It reads, "Press Here for Entry."

Looking to Emily, then out into the darkness of the trees, he wonders about the time. A quick glance at his digital watch shows it malfunctioning, but he knows it can't be much after noon. He follows the instructions near the door. They hear an old-timey bell ring and hear the lock clack as the door vibrates and a bit of luminescent dust floats away.

They must decide, braving the unknown station's interior or taking their chances in the wild once more in an even more mysterious place. Emily follows Thomas's lead as he decides that the security of the building brings more comfort that staying outside. Thomas tries the ancient door again. This time, it opens.

As they walk in, they begin to regain their composure. The other-worldly feeling is replaced immediately with the familiarity of an old service station. It's a simple store, complete with a cynical station attendant sitting lazily behind the register. He returns to reading a magazine as he hangs up a telephone within arm's reach.

"Hurry up, shut the door, you're letting the outside in," he barks. Following their harrowing journey in the forest, the clerk's words snap them back to reality, especially as it reminds of the days their grandparents would say the same thing. He waits for the soft clasp of the closing door and then asks between gum-chewing, "Can I help you?"

It's clear that he's instantly frustrated at having to do some sort of work. The lock snaps back into place and Emily jumps. Thomas sees a button that will allow them to leave, so he holds back his fear for now.

The clerk cranes his neck, searching for their vehicle. "You lost or somethin'?"

"Yes! We're so glad to have found civilization again." Emily says as she excitedly moves towards the register. "You'll never believe what is happening out there."

The attendant perks up a little and looks up curiously from under the brim of his cap.

Thomas, sensing a strangeness, squeezes Emily's hand and pulls her back. He notices that there's something different about this place, something not right.

Confused, she stops and turns to read Thomas's face.

"Yeah, looks like _some_ storm is coming in." Thomas speaks unhurriedly as he twists his head around, trying to act nonchalant as he peruses the store. He notices that there aren't many new things on display. In fact, what is there almost looks staged, as if he could just push over the cardboard cut-outs of antique boxes. Most of the signs are old too, and not by a few years, more like decades. The hand-lettered ones are fresher than any.

When they'd first arrived, he noticed the archaic pumps outside and assumed it was an out-of-service station. When they found a live person manning the store, his suspicions grew.

Emily's eyes have grown larger after Thomas's interaction with the clerk.

The clerk relaxes back into his chair. "Yep, must be," he says in a drawn out, apathetic tone.

"We happened to get lost on a walk near our vehicle in a little glade. We were lucky enough to find your station here. Is there any way we could get a map or some assistance finding our vehicle? Maybe a local police department?" Thomas tries to move the conversation and work on getting them out of that strange place as quickly as possible.

"I suppose so," the clerk says, upset that he actually has to do something. "Let me make a phone call and see what we can figure out," he says as he slothfully reaches for the phone hanging on the wall.

"What kind of food do you have here?" Thomas says as he begins to look around, picking up an old dusty box, pretending to read the label, and surprised to feel real weight and hear the sloshing of internals. "Other than, you know, gas station food."

The clerk speaks up as he holds the phone, the dial tone inaudible to Thomas and Emily halfway across the store. "Not much here, but there's a place called _Eats_ in the town, a little diner on main street, it's wonderful," he says unconvincingly. "Maybe the Sheriff can show you around when he gets here."

Thomas can't help but take notice of the strange choice of word, _Wonderful? This guy is clearly not a fan._

"The Sheriff? Isn't there a regular officer who could help? We don't want to bother . . ."

"You don't want no help?" The clerk holds the receiver to his chest. "It's a small town, he ain't up to much anyhow."

"Oh, I see. Yes, we'll take the help. Thank you."

"Okay, head outside if you want. He'll be up here soon as I call him."

"Could we look around a bit?" Emily finally speaks up, feeling more comfortable with the situation. She follows Thomas's lead and peruses the shelf next to the entrance.

"We don't have a lot right now, haven't done inventory in a while. Most of everything is just display so it doesn't look so bare."

"It's fine, we can wait outside. The storm hasn't hit yet anyways." Thomas says calmly as he takes her hand again and they head towards the exit.

As they make their way towards the exit, the clerk speaks into the phone, though Thomas thinks he can hear the old dial tone sound that he remembers from childhood.

"A couple of kids got lost again. Yep, see you soon."

_Again?_ Thomas thinks as he tries to open the door. It doesn't budge. Then he remembers the lock.

The clerk hangs up the phone as he says, "You gotta push the button first."

Thomas tries it and pushes the door simultaneously. It still refuses to move.

"No," the clerk lets out a frustrated breath. "Button, wait, then push."

Thomas, the rule follower, gets it to work this time and holds it open for Emily. He glances back once more as they exit.

The curmudgeon pulls his magazine back into view and slouches onto his stool, resting against an empty wall of goods that have yet to be re-stocked.

## 11

# Enter Sheriff

The looming atmosphere makes it feel as if at any moment a powerful storm could still be produced, yet there is peace, an ethereal calm unlike any place Emily and Thomas have been before. It looks and feels as if it's evening, although it should only be early afternoon. Every time they look towards the sky, they see nothing but a dark mass with some strange, bluish-green luminance that looks like thousands of lightning bugs all over. There's not even cloud outlines or any evidence of sky.

In the other direction, behind the station, there's a distant, glowing mass emanating from a source far away, closer to a white or yellow radiance. They can see most of what's near them due to that dulled shine and the powerful luminescent hues, like the dulled hues of the moon, though no moon is in sight.

The isolated station is haunting, like a ghost town or a place out of its own time. In addition to the strange interior of the store, the oddities found outside suggest a time passed. There are obvious things from the past such as the two antiquated service pumps with the rounded, retro-styling of refrigerators from the 1960s. On top of each one, there are round, almost clock-like globes, shallow and with hand-made glass. Each one indicates the type of fuel they house below, or perhaps did house at one time.

From a distance, the pumps look like two old friends standing close enough to share stories. But from a different angle, they seem much closer, the filler hoses like arms almost touching one another, like sweethearts anticipating embrace. Standing side by side, they have a common goal, to fuel and to be fueled, just like two friends or even lovers.

There is no overhanging roof to guard the patinaed pumps from the elements, so they have their wear, rust and all. A small eave off the building only covers the sidewalk that wraps around the quaint store. Around it, there are hand-lettered signs—all capital for some reason—that remind of a different time. Some of them are hardly faded at all.

To make it more unusual, there are also a few modern appointments such as the neon signs in the windows and advertisements from various eras for multiple products, some products that don't even exist in most markets anymore. The strangest thing that Thomas notices is the presence of a few security cameras. Of those he can see, two monitor the road, one is aimed at the street or just across it, and one overlooks the push-button store entrance.

Thomas and Emily wait outside, as the clerk so adamantly suggested. They try to converse quietly.

"Something's not right here," he half-whispers to Emily while looking away from her. "There are cameras and maybe microphones so don't speak too loudly."

Emily's eyes narrow at the prospect and she quickly turns away from Thomas as though they aren't speaking. "I don't like this," she says with motionless lips. "Not one bit. What are we going to do?"

"We need help regardless. And who better to help than a sheriff? I'm sure it'll be fine, we just need to play along and stay aware." Thomas holds Emily's hand and glances at her, "Just follow my lead."

They hear a vehicle come down a gravel road behind the station. Relief inches in at the heartening appearance of an old tow truck. It has the normal shape with a single cab, truck front end, and towing apparatus filling the rear, but it also has all the police accoutrements.

There is a light bar atop, push bar on front, and the doors read "SHERIFF" in the same old hand-lettering they've seen so far. The truck rolls up slowly, almost cautiously, and squeaks to a stop.

Thomas and Emily wait patiently and try not to speak or appear suspicious. Upon closer inspection, the truck isn't as charming as they first thought. It's actually quite rusted in several places, and the patina reminds them of the old 4B road sign.

Out steps an officer, a large man, not around the middle but in stature. He's not dressed as expected either. He has some of the standard appointments: gun holstered on the side, utility belt of sorts, badge and name tag which read "SHERIFF," and heavy dust-covered army boots. He appears even larger when he tilts his head forward to replace his wide, almost black uniform hat over his black hair.

He's a tall, powerful man and would seem quite the physical specimen if not for his stooping, vulture-like posture. The way he hangs his head down and forward makes him appear shorter and weak. Though he seems to be young—nearly as young as Thomas—they can't tell for sure because of his dark sunglasses.

As he walks up, his height is still overwhelming. He appears to be stooping down but he's still a head taller than Thomas, who is around six feet tall himself. The towering man removes his impractical sunglasses, unnecessary in the night-like ether. A lack of wrinkles proves that he isn't as old as he seems. He stares with squinted eyes at Thomas first, then to Emily, and once more at Thomas. His eyes carry a similar green in them as Thomas's, and his furrowed brow adds to his intense glare. The edge of his kempt mustache raises slightly as he moves the corner of his mouth towards his ear.

With no greeting or warmth at all, he asks, "You lost?" His voice is raspy, as if he hasn't spoken in a while. He waves his sunglasses toward the interior of the store, "Clerk called us."

_Did he say 'Clark' or 'clerk'? Doesn't matter,_ Thomas quickly dismisses the thought.

"Yes, sir. We were driving down some road, Route 4B, and decided to stop in this . . ."

"Route 4B?" the Sheriff interrupts. His words seem to experience every vowel sound equally, "Road's closed."

"Oh, I see, we didn't realize . . ." Thomas's speech becomes broken as they hear another vehicle approaching from the same secluded gravel road.

"Um, so we stopped to . . . look around . . . and, well, we got lost." Thomas cranes his neck to see around the building. As he finishes his statement, an SUV parks near the tow truck. This time, an even more peculiar man steps out of the passenger side.

## 12

# On Saunters Mayor

This new arrival looks like a shorter, fatter version of Sheriff. However, he stands straighter and awkwardly proud. The way he carries himself suggests that he is important. He seems a man of power and class but is not dressed as such. From the polished boots, starched jeans, and buttoned shirt, he seems approachable but uncomfortable. His midsection is trying to escape the cotton prison of his fitted vest, while the buttons are fighting equally as hard to retain their prisoner.

His appearance contradicts itself over and over again. His pressed white shirt and well-composed garb suggests a lack of getting his hands dirty, but his sleeves are rolled up and he appears battle-worn. Most noticeably, he wears an eye patch over his left eye and his walk suggests some interesting history.

As he saunters over, even his gait shows inconsistency. There is an uncertainty in his steps, as if he's measuring each one. As is common with large-heeled boots, there is an odd front-to-back rocking motion as he moves towards the porch, heavily swinging his arms in all manner of directions to maintain balance and pace. Soon enough, they realize that he is limping and trying not to show it. Something about his walk reminds Thomas of an old western character.

His rapid movements do not pair with his lack of speed. He takes much longer than anticipated to traverse the small parking lot. The closer he gets, the older he looks in the face but still tries, unconvincingly, to seem spry.

Oddly enough, a warm smile escapes his face intermittently as he gauges his path, each step more awkward as he remains silent. The only sound is that of crackling and shifting gravel under his boots.

He peers ahead, nearly close enough to be heard. They notice a large scar, which extends from his forehead, under the patch, and nearly to the middle of his cheek. His age is more calculable now as the wrinkles in his weathered face surface, yet his almost-black hair, like Sheriff's, suggests some semblance of youth. Thomas and Emily find his age difficult to figure out.

The strangeness of this man's approach has stretched that thirty seconds to what feels like a minute or two. He finally gets close enough to be heard. A disconcerted look crosses the man's face as he stops and squints. He leans in, only ten feet away by now then takes a step back.

"Lewis?" he asks.

Thomas's heart skips. _Did he know my dad?_ Everything inside him wants to ask, but he trusts his instincts and hides his reaction.

Emily turns, wondering why he hasn't said anything. She knows that Thomas's dad is the main reason they are down here. She is about to speak up when Thomas interrupts. He takes a small step past her and brushes her hand.

"No sir, my name is Thomas."

The man raises his only exposed eyebrow before his posture relaxes. He continues to move towards them. "I apologize young man. Fer a minute there . . . Clearly, I was mistaken . . . ya just look so much like—" He finally decides to let it go, "Never mind."

He turns towards the man towering beside him, "Sheriff, what are ya doing to these here young'ns? Tryin' to scare these poor kids fer some odd reason?" The more empathetic nature of this new man is quite the opposite of the cold Sheriff, and his country drawl adds to his charm. His similar brow adds a bit more intensity than his voice suggests, "I'm sure they've been through a lot already, let's just work out how we might could help them."

The man's southern nature takes Thomas straight back to his grandpa's couch when they would watch old westerns. Even the man's speech is reminiscent of a John-Wayne-like cowboy character.

He smiles at Emily first and then at Thomas.

Something about the man reminds Emily of her dad. _Maybe he has a military background,_ she wonders. Whether that's true or not, she knows to show him respect immediately. It's something she learned easily as a girl who worshiped her father, whether he was around or not. Either way, this man has authority and had to have earned it one way or another.

"You can call me Mayor, this is Sheriff, and ya done met Clerk." He shakes Thomas's hand, both of his hands cup Thomas's with a relaxed touch that Thomas finds unnerving.

_Clerk?_ Thomas considers the unique pronunciation once more. This time he's sure he heard it correctly. _Surely that's not just his accent, unless that's the clerk's name by chance?_

"Hello Mayor, thank you for your kindness. My name is Thomas and this is my g—um" Thomas stumbles over his words as Emily glances wistfully at him and then to the ground, "my good friend, Emily."

She produces a polite smile. Mayor uses a more antiquated greeting as he holds her fingers, gently pressing her palm up, and includes a slight bow. Though it seems sweet, there is something unsettling about it to her.

Thomas questions the strange name-calling, "Why Sheriff, not _the_ sheriff? And did you say clerk or Clark? That's his job, not his name, right? Unless he's a clerk named Clerk, or a Clark who's a clerk." Thomas chuckles while trying to infuse the moment with humor.

Emily musters a grin but struggles with the tension.

Mayor gives a sympathetic smile but clearly doesn't appreciate the comedy. "Ah, an inquisitive soul," Mayor grins as he slows his words to pronounce them properly. "I like that, boy. It'll serve ya well down here."

Sheriff turns slowly towards Mayor who doesn't break eye contact with Thomas. He clears his throat and speaks again.

"We seem to be all mixed up with names today, don't we? Well, 'round these here parts, as far as the name calling goes, we have a unique philosophy in our Wonderful town," he motions towards the area he'd come from. "We don't have common, overused names like the rest of the world. There are no _Johns_ or _Eleaners_. Instead, we have purposes, or jobs if ya like. Our motto is 'My name is my purpose; my purpose is my name.' Name and purpose are one 'round here, not two. But don't you worry yer souls about all that right now. What can we do for ya?"

Having never heard of anything like this, Thomas speaks openly, "I guess that makes sense. We just need to find our vehicle so we can get back on the road, if you could spare an officer to help us search."

"We'd be glad to," Mayor says with an odd sparkle in his eyes, "but it's about to get dark, and no one should to be out there when night falls. Animals ain't to be worried too much 'bout, it's the gettin' lost part that's nigh impossible to come back from."

"We've been wondering about that, the darkness I mean," Thomas interjects. "It's been like this for hours. After we got lost in the glade, we thought a storm was coming since the light was fading. The main light seems to be coming from somewhere far behind this service station, maybe from your town?"

"That's a fine observation, son. My town is certainly the brightest place 'round. She's the apple of my eye. As far as time, perhaps y'all lost track. That's easy to do down here."

Thomas glances at his digital watch. He remembers why he stopped checking it when he sees the blank screen.

"There's good reason far whatcha been experiencing. I'd rather y'all come with us before I try and explain it all." Mayor continues. "I'll be more than happy to explain what I can when we get into the town," Mayor says as he moves toward the SUV and waves his hand to suggest they ride with him. "Speaking of, I'm surprised y'all didn't fall into one of those sinkholes out there. They cause all kinds of strange things to happen 'round these parts."

Emily and Thomas share a look, wondering if sinkholes could explain some of what happened. Thomas doesn't spend much time thinking about it. He stops Mayor before he gets too far away. He raises his hand and steps towards both men as if trying to pull them back.

"Are you sure we can't do anything now? We don't need to go into the town, though I'm sure it is wonderful. My truck is probably just through those woods somewhere." Thomas knows that he may be pushing the limits but really doesn't feel right going with them. "It's just that," he tries to sound sincere, "We really were hoping to get to her mom's house by tonight. She'll be wondering where we are and what's keeping us."

Emily starts to turn towards him and stops herself in order to seem less suspicious. Besides the pain of remembering someone so long gone, she wonders why Thomas would lie like this.

His pleas work enough to draw Mayor back over. Sheriff stays close to his tow truck.

Thomas glances at his broken watch, "And it's not even noon," he guesses. "We haven't been able to make any calls. Cell service must be down."

"I understand." Mayor puts his unfamiliar hand on Thomas's shoulder. "I'm afraid there aren't any service towers 'round here. We've got a working landline in my office. We'll be able to ease yer minds and her mama's," Mayor says as he pulls his pants up around by his front belt straps, "once we get to town."

"It's Wonderful," interjects Sheriff, almost mechanically, like it's in his job description.

"It sure is!" Mayor says loudly in agreement as he slaps Thomas's back. "Y'all will love it, I give ya my word. And if ya don't, I'll do whatever it takes to convince you," he says with a clever grin. "Not much we can do right now, not without a search party anyways." He turns back towards his SUV. "So what do ya say you two ride with me? I can see that Sheriff here has gotten yer feathers rumpled. He's got some rounds to make anyways."

Thomas stares at Mayor, then Sheriff, and knows he must decide quickly. Thinking of Emily, he concludes that the best way to protect her is to play along. _They really haven't given enough reason to run. Just can't shake this unsettling feeling._ _Besides, we already tried it alone. What else can we do?_ he wonders. He also realizes that this wonderful town has him intrigued. He's hardly ever this curious. Within a few seconds of the Mayor's invitation, Thomas decides to take the chance.

Emily follows, worried but choosing to trust Thomas. _If he's in, I guess I am, too._ They load into the SUV a bit hesitantly. The driver takes them towards the town while Sheriff goes down the other road.

## 13

# Now Entering Wonderful

The slight glow in the ether, that hue that makes the almost-night atmosphere feel more like an evening sky than the usual bright afternoon cover, grows in intensity as they roll down the gravel road. As they move along, they notice that the spaces around them are becoming more visible. Trees lining the road are more than mere shadows of giants, they are now perceptible pillars of wooden strength, no longer veiled by darkness. More things become visible, like the occasional sign that reads, "APPROACHING WONDERFUL!" in the same handcrafted and all capital letters.

Drawing closer to the town, things get brighter. It's becoming clear that the town houses a main source of illumination.

Thomas and Emily are holding hands as they ride in the back of the Mayor's SUV. Oddly enough, they don't notice much of an odor, no must, no aged vinyl smell, not even one of those lemon-scented chemical fragrances. Instead, the air from the vents is as fresh as if the windows were open, perhaps more so in this atmosphere. Thomas spies a few gas masks dangling from the seat-backs in front of them. He notices a faint rattle, like the tiny bells in the distance, and searches for the source. Below the masks bouncing by their elastic straps are the culprits, some shiny chrome tubes in the see-through lattice pocket. He wonders what these could be, _Maybe emergency oxygen masks, like in a plane? I've never heard of having them in cars though._

Thomas and Emily choose not to speak to each other at all. They fear that Mayor and his driver, a quiet soldier in vintage army garb, would hear even the slightest exchange. The vehicle rattles down a gravel road.

"We'll be there soon, y'all ought to love Wonderful," Mayor shares, turning his head towards the back. "It ain't just the name of our town, it's our description of everythin' there. It ain't very big, surely not like whatever city you two may be from, but it's quite an amazin' place. There's a diner, 'Eats.' It has the best pie. Everyone in town agrees," he says with a wink.

Something about that rubs Emily the wrong way. She decides to dismiss it for the moment.

"We have one place for visitors to stay, but we treat guests like family, so ya can stay wherever ya'd like. There's the mechanic shop where Mechanic maintains all our vehicles." Mayor speaks like a child bragging about his favorite amusement park.

"What else? Oh yeah, I forgot the best part, the people! The people are just, well, they're just wonderful. Get used to that word, yer likely to hear it a lot. And we never have any issues with crime or quarrels 'cause people understand their purposes clearly. Our purpose as a town is to be united, to watch out for everyone. It's like my favorite kinds of movies: old westerns, always about a town working together to fend off whatever threats may come. And the Mayor is _usually_ one of the good guys." He smiles his crooked, cowboy grin.

Thomas is amazed at how well Mayor has spouted out this information. His charisma proves that he is the leader for a reason. He's interesting, mysterious, and oddly charming—disturbingly so, in fact. Thomas tries to embrace the experience but can't shake this feeling of dread.

_It all sounds a little too good to be true_ , he thinks as he gently squeezes the hand he's been holding so tenderly throughout the ride. His emotions are running wild, from suspicions of Mayor and Wonderful altogether, but also at the excitement of holding Emily's hand again, feeling that spark, that tingling connection.

He knows he must be calm, strong for the both of them, but he has no idea how. His short span of life hasn't prepared him for anything like this. He looks at Emily. _Just stay strong for her_ , he tells himself.

She has kept her attention on Mayor for most of the ride. When she looks at Thomas, she tries to be brief, knowing that her eyes can be overly expressive. She conveys similar concerns in the quick glances but breaks them often to avoid suspicion.

Looking through the windshield, they see down the road to an overwhelming light, which they imagine is the afternoon sun finding its way through the thick tree coverage. Whatever the waiting light, it peers from behind a gated entrance. A large banner over the gateway reads "NOW ENTERING WONDERFUL!" in that vintage handwriting. This need for a gate, no telling how large, worries them more, but after all this time in inexplicable darkness, the presence of the light awaiting them on the other side outweighs the fear for the moment.

They've been in this mysterious haze for so long that they've grown accustomed to it. Any light, even the slightest, illumines their entire world, from the trees and fence line around the gate to the details and faces inside the SUV.

More soldiers in matching olive drab hustle to open the gate. As they are driven through the gate, they squint their eyes, lowering their brows and raising their hands to block the light. They didn't realize they missed light so much and, in the excitement, barely notice the soldiers rushing to shut the gates.

The atmosphere they've been in for the last few hours—the darkness with a distant light source—changes immediately. They have finally discovered its origin. No longer dark, dreary, and dim, light now engulfs them all around. It's like when the sun peaks through the clouds to remind that it hasn't gone away, even if momentarily forgotten. In this place, they see the sky again, and what they consider to be the sun. They find it surreal. Maybe due to the time they were lost, this new atmosphere seems fake, almost like a projection of what they hoped for. Either way, it brings relief.

"Here we are, Wonderful!" Mayor exclaims as they drive through the gates.

Regardless of whether the hype is real or not, Thomas and Emily are growing anxious, almost excited, about this mysterious town. They also missed lunch, so any promise of food is welcomed. They can't help but be a little intrigued as they are driven through the gate. Other than wondering what just happened to the atmosphere and why it seems to be contained within the town, they both have similar thoughts and hopes: _What could be waiting on the other side? Maybe it's a long-forgotten attraction for people of the past. Or maybe it's a people group who've intentionally avoided the rest of the world for some reason._ The yellow rays of light even give a brief hope that it could be something like a lost city of gold. Or a paradise hideaway, a well-kept secret for a select few.

## 14

# Letdown

Stepping out of the vehicle, Thomas and Emily try to hide their excitement. With stone-faced demeanors of children at someone else's birthday party, they try unsuccessfully to lower their expectations. They look eagerly to discover what oasis awaits.

At first, nothing stands out. It's not what they imagined, a grand haven, a beautiful sanctuary, complete with waterfalls, breathtaking landscapes, and adventures beyond dreams. Instead, they come upon a simple country town with dirt roads and old buildings. They're at least arranged in an interesting way, with circular roads rather than straight paths.

_I thought he said there weren't any towers,_ Thomas wonders as he studies a large, sturdy tower rising out of a central building. _Must've meant cell towers . . ._ he dismisses.

They see a lengthy fence surrounding everything and disappearing into the forest. It worries them, especially as they notice that even the houses look dreary, like a military fort or a prison camp.

Upon closer inspection . . . it still underwhelms.

It becomes clear that the tower building is in the middle of town. Even it doesn't know what it's doing there, it appears to be a house, a headquarters, home base, or some amalgamation of these things. Mayor, if he did design this place, seems to have taken the western theme further than his own appearance and speech. Surrounding the odd tower building is a wooden, wrap-around porch reminiscent of an old ranch house. A slight breeze pushes some of the knee-high weeds away from the raised concrete foundation.

In fact, the whole town is like an old western settlement, except instead of two rows of shanties and shops, there's one building in the middle with concentric rings of dirt roads and buildings. The aerial view would surely resemble alien crop circles. Thomas half expects to see a tumbleweed roll by.

The main road becomes a roundabout and surrounds the epicenter with multiple junctions that diverge to less-worn paths. Those things, along with the exhausting luster of daylight and highly trafficked dirt, add to the dullness of the whole place. That incessant unsettling feeling, though craftily concealed by their roused curiosity, is now returning. They're coming back to the realization that their original qualms about Sheriff and Mayor may not have been far off.

Sensing their uneasiness, Mayor speaks up, "Well, we're home! It may not look like much, but give it some time and it will certainly grow on ya. It sure is the apple of _my_ eye," he jokes as he points to his one good eye. Thomas and Emily don't know if they've earned the right to laugh, so they smile cordially.

"This is my town," his chest swells as he looks around, as if to show his appreciation and authority over his quaint hideaway. "It's called 'Wonderful' and she really is just that, wonderful."

"I'm sure it we'd love it, if we planned to stay. Maybe we'll come for a visit some day, but we'll have to leave as soon as we can this time. First thing in the morning if not sooner." Thomas shares candidly as the SUV comes to a stop, parking in front of the central tower-building.

Emily feels she should speak but isn't sure what she can share. She assumes Thomas has a plan but tries to help anyways.

"We do believe there are some . . ." she nods at Thomas, "well, wonderful things here. Sometimes the best things need to be searched for."

Their conversation takes a recess as it is interrupted by creaking doors and heavy movements while they get out of the vehicle.

"Yer certainly right," Mayor continues when they are all again within earshot. "But don't get in too much of a hurry. I do hope y'all stay through the night and have breakfast. I've gone ahead and asked Sheriff and some of his men to start searchin' as we speak."

_When did he do that?_ Thomas wonders.

Mayor continues, "I'm sure somethin'll turn up." He begins to walk away from the innermost building where they parked and heads towards the next circle of stores.

They follow Mayor on the short walk, only fifty feet or so from where they park the vehicles, and survey the area. The circular row of buildings is comprised of stores, each about two stories high and of a different shape and purpose, but many seem to be connected as one structure. The thing that makes this place different is how the wooden porches and storefronts curve around rather than extend linearly.

One sign across the way behind them reads "MECHANIC," the lettering quite faded from perhaps decades of existence. Another direction reveals a unique shack coupled with a large silo. While exploring the height of the silo, Thomas's eye wanders back to the tower protruding from the building they'd just parked next to. He tries to see how high it goes, but is overcome by the glare of light overhead.

Emily finds herself looking at people rather than structures. The few she sees are dressed similarly to one another. Like the soldiers at the gate, the clothing is anachronistic, dated in styles of the fifties or sixties rather than current times. Most people are uniformed for their positions, as though the town is one large company rather than a place for individual expression.

"Thank you very much, Mayor, for all of this." Emily speaks up, trying to compensate for Thomas's steely demeanor. "It's so kind of you to help out a lost couple—" she hesitates, knowing she may have spoken out of turn, "—of people. We were really getting worried out there. So much that I'm afraid our minds were turning against us. It's good to be in a safe place . . . to be found."

"Well, we couldn't very well leave y'all to fend for yerselves out here. And I understand the fear. The world is a scary place with scary people, 'specially when you're lost. It can feel like there's nothin' but darkness, that any glimpse of light draws ya to it, like a moth to a flame. That's why our town here is so wonderful. We are the light in the darkness. I'm sure ya noticed it as you entered the gate. Did not the world light up the way it should?"

"We did notice that," Thomas speaks for them. "But why is it so dark outside the gate? And is there really anything out there to be afraid of?"

"Yer curiosity strikes again. That's a good trait." Mayor winks with his one good eye, or perhaps he's just blinking. The tilt of his hat suggests it's a wink.

That last word, or Mayor's inflection of it, stands out to Thomas. _He didn't answer the question_ , Thomas wonders. _Why does he keep avoiding that one?_

Mayor continues to lead them, "Let's get some food, and I can give ya the rundown. Are ya hungry at all?"

"Famished!" Emily says in her enthusiastic way, her chipper mood returning. She wonders if it's the sunlight helping, or maybe the open air of the town.

Looking up, they see a sign that reads "EATS," the diner they'd heard so much about. Before they can enter, they see an overly excited young man rushing towards them.

## 15

# Your Friend, Pickup

The man is nervous, as if he isn't used to talking to people, but he bounces towards them without making eye contact. He carries a clawed stick, and a bag hangs off his belt. The rustling of the bag matches his nervous energy as he seems to barely keep his clothes in place with each measured step. Thomas and Emily can see his mouth moving as he approaches, and they hear him muttering, "W-w-wonderful, wonderful!"

He excitedly rushes up to say, "Huh . . . huh-hi there." His stutter is quite prominent and affects most of his words. He extends his hand towards them and stares at their feet. "I'm-uh-I'm J-j-juh," he pauses and stares at Mayor. Then he takes a breath and starts again. "P-p-Pickup. M-m-my name is P-pickup. W-w-what's your n-n-name?" He spouts his consonants like a machine gun firing as he works hard to find each word.

Thomas and Emily each shake Pickup's hand.

"I'm Thomas."

"And my name is Emily. It's nice to meet you, Pickup."

Pickup almost interrupts her, "N-n-no, what's your n-n-name and p-p-purpose in W-w-wonderful, Wonderful?! I'm Pickup, I p-p-pickup the t-t-t-trash," he says excitedly as he lurches towards Thomas with his drawstring stick. He snaps it open and shut, then leaves it open.

Thomas reflexively jumps back, pushing Emily away from the man. Thomas is on edge as it is and is alarmed by the man's disheveled appearance, though he seems harmless otherwise.

Emily appreciates Thomas's protective instinct but feels no threat from Pickup. In fact, she can see that he is a sweet man, genuine though possibly lacking in some mental faculties. It makes sense that he would have a job that isn't too important. _If everyone has such clear purposes,_ she thinks, _then there's not much need for a clean-up crew._

She realizes her theory is flawed when Pickup's tool retrieves a piece of trash from the very place Thomas had just stood. The clawed end retracts and captures the garbage before it can escape. He places it carefully in the bag tied to his waist. "See?! Pickup!" He smiles and finally makes eye contact. There is a bit of wonder in his dark eyes accompanied by a mysterious plea, much like the way a dog in a pound looks at prospective owners.

"Alright Pickup, let's leave the nice people alone." Mayor intervenes and opens the diner door, his tone more authoritative towards Pickup. "We don't want to overwhelm our vis'tors."

"B-b-but they d-d-don't have a n-n-ame and p-p-purpose!" His stammer fights pronunciation of most words starting with consonants. "W-w-what's your n-n-name and p-p-purpose? I'm P-p-pickup!" He stands a bit taller and waves his bag. Mayor lets the door close as he moves towards Pickup. The enthusiastic young man cowers and looks at the ground.

"They haven't found their purposes yet. Just like you, Pickup, when ya first showed up, ya had to find your own purpose,"

Mayor grabs Pickup's arms near the shoulders and Emily begins to worry for the poor man.

Pickup continues to mutter, "W-w-wonderful, wonderful."

"And now you are Pickup!" Mayor flips his reprimand to a pep talk.

Pickup still doesn't make eye contact with Mayor.

Thomas senses the same thing as Emily and speaks up, "You can call me Wanderer, and she is, um, Passer-by. That's all we are anyways, just here for a little while."

This seems to calm Pickup as Mayor releases him from his stern grip. Pickup smiles, nods, and shakes their hands again, "N-n-nice to m-m-meet you W-w-wanderer and P-p-passer-by. I n-n-knew a different P-p-passer-by, but he's d-d-different now. He's called Sc-sc-scout now. W-w-we gon' find you a p-p-purpose yet." Pickup looks around for more trash, fixing his head occasionally like a bird spotting a worm.

"That's enough of that, Pickup. Do ya think ya need to go to the Shack again fer more clean up?" Mayor threatens innocently enough. It gets a rise out of Pickup.

"N-n-no need for that M-m-mayor," he speaks quickly. "I-I-I'm g-g-gonna get back to w-work here. Pickup! See?!" He enthusiastically continues to mutter and chases down another piece of debris, "W-w-wonderful!" and then something new, "Wuh-wuh-wanderer, w-w-wonderful, w-w-wonderful," he echoes as he continues down the street.

Mayor nods to a nearby soldier and then to Pickup. Then he turns to Thomas and Emily to apologize for Pickup, "He's not all there, but he means well. Now, let's get some Eats!"

"I think he's sweet, he didn't worry me at all," Emily says as she follows Thomas in.

Mayor holds the door, stares outside, and shares the sentiment. "Harmless," he says with a slight twist of his head.

## 16

# Leery

In the diner, they find it mostly vacant. It's antiquated, like it was taken straight from the 1950s, or perhaps has been here since then. The scene comes complete with a waitress behind the bar wearing the garb of a time passed, a black uniform with a white apron and a soda jerk hat. Of course, her name-tag reads "Waitress," as if that's all she's ever been, her name and her purpose.

As they eat, Thomas prods for more information about the atmosphere and why it's so different outside the town. Mayor lets them know why it's dangerous outside the town. It's not about animals or people as much as the atmosphere itself. He says that they've been exposed to a gas emitted from the sinkholes but that there's nothing to worry about.

_Nothing to worry about?_ Emily mind nearly shrieks. _How can toxic gas be 'nothing to worry about'?_ She considers something her father once told her, "If you ever find yourself surrounded by an unfamiliar gas, do everything you can to avoid breathing it in." "I know, _dad_ , how dumb do you think I am?" she'd responded. Even though she liked taking chances in the physical sense, she knew well enough about avoiding mysterious substances.

"It's not so bad in small amounts," Mayor continues, "but it is known to induce slight hallucinations. It's called _amit_." It turns out that the glade is a common place for people to get lost.

"It's nothing special, that glade," Mayor shares, "but by the time people reach it, they've already been exposed to the hallucinogen. Then, or soon after, the visions start. That's why people get lost so easily. That and the apparent apparitions they experience often scare them into flight. We've heard all kinds of stories from people getting confused and lost to some even believing' that the trees are actually _movin'_! Ha! Can you believe that?!" Mayor goes into a laughing and coughing fit that takes a while to recover from.

During this, Emily squeezes Thomas's hand over and over, trying not to be obvious. Some of what Mayor shares calms her while others do the opposite.

Thomas is not so easily convinced. On a normal day in a normal place, he would've believed every word. But nothing about this trip has been normal.

"Are we going to be okay?" Emily asks anxiously, her eyes seeming to grow with each word.

"Oh certainly, dear girl. You've got nothin' to worry about. My SUV has fresh oxygen pumped in to help get the amit out of yer system. Normally we wear masks—ya might've seen some in there—but we know how scary that can look. So instead, Sheriff and I are willing to risk a little exposure since the lost are usually terrified when we meet. If we need to be exposed fer an extended amount of time, we'll even use an O-cartridge.

"The drive over here should've been enough to help ya more clearly experience the real Wonderful and not a skewed, amit-clouded version. Did ya notice as ya came into town that everythin' seemed to light up? Maybe become clearer?"

Thomas speaks up, "We did notice that actually. It seemed like the closer we got, the more we started to see." The prophetic words floated by without a second thought.

"That's because the effects were wearin' off," Mayor adds, "and you were only exposed fer a short amount of time. If it had been a few days, you'd have more to worry about, but this hallucinogen should be mostly out of yer system by now. It's basically harmless in smaller doses. We're trying to isolate these sinkholes with our covering stations, but we haven't found 'em all yet. But y'all are safe now, long as ya stay within the gates of Wonderful, of course."

## 17

# Unknown Location

"What is it ya said you were drivin'?" Mayor asks attentively. He holds the door open for them as they exit the diner. He hands Emily her jacket, "Don't forget yer jacket young lady."

She smiles cordially as she grabs it.

The light of the afternoon has traversed the sky a bit, though it's still too bright to stare at directly. As Thomas answers Mayor, they watch Sheriff's tow truck arrive with a small dust trail following it.

"I didn't say, but it's an older truck, a Bronco," Thomas's terse response reveals his anxiety about being stuck in the town. He and Emily are still nervous about what Mayor is planning to do with them.

"Sheriff! Come over here," Mayor wastes his words as Sheriff is already halfway there. Another soldier walks behind. "Any luck finding the boy's _truck?_ "

"Well," Sheriff nods towards the trailing soldier, "Scout said he saw what looked like a truck go into a sinkhole a few miles out, though he couldn't make out what it was. Probably the very one."

Sheriff deep baritone voice echoes in a shout, "Scout!"

The soldier hustles the rest of the way to Sheriff eagerly, "Yes, Sheriff?"

"Tell these fine young people what you saw earlier."

"Yes, sssir," Scout salutes and turns toward them. As he does, he acts more like a civilian, softening his edge. He shares his findings as if it's a well-rehearsed monologue. "I w-was out looking for your v-vehicle like Sheriff asked me, and I heard some e-extra rrrustling."

Thomas and Emily can't help but notice the slight stammer in his speech with intentional pauses and extensions of calculated words. They assume it's due to nerves as he reports in front of his most senior officer and the town's leader.

"So I w-went towards the sssound to just barely see the r-roof of a vehicle. It looked like a—" he paused to look at Mayor for an instant, "t-truck of some sort? As I shined my torch, my flashlight—" he pats the flashlight hanging from his belt and continues to push the words out, "towards it, the l-light barely had a chance to gllisten off the top of it just as it sssubmerged into a sssinkhole. Sssinkholes are c-common around here, and have been known to take down things as large as a v-vehicle."

He smiles as he finishes his recitation and steps back like he had just performed. As he does, a massive boom erupts from far behind the diner—outside of the town it seems. They all feel a rumbling in the earth. Mayor and Sheriff share a glance as if they know exactly what it is.

"What was that?" Emily's eyes explode with anxiety as she ducks instinctively.

Thomas covers Emily, proving he's there to protect her.

"L-looks to have c-come from another c-covering ssstation, northwest sssector, sssir." Scout's suggestion gets a stern look from Mayor. Sheriff, in turn, ushers Scout off quickly.

"It's nothin' to worry about." Mayor says soothingly as he turns back towards the young couple though his face communicates something different. "One of our amit collection stations had a malfunction. I'm sure no one was near it, and the aftershocks are basically harmless." He seems slightly distraught as he looks into the distance. "I reckon I should go check on some things, just in case."

He waves a hand towards Sheriff who mounts the driver seat of the tow truck parked at the gate. "I'm terribly sorry, but these things can be time sensitive. Please make yerselves at home and try to stay around the diner if ya can. Ask 'em for anything ya may need. Everyone knows to make themselves available, and don't worry about any kind of payment for the time bein'. We'll settle up later."

"Is there anything we can do to help?" Emily speaks up.

"Just stay close to this part of the town. See if you can get set up at the inn for the night; tell 'em I sent ya." Mayor points to a sign, which matches the diner's styling. This one similarly reads "SLEEPS."

Sheriff slowly pulls up next to them, and Mayor climbs into the passenger seat. "I'll be back soon. Enjoy our wonderful town! Oh, and stay away from Mechanic's shop," he motions clearly to a large building across the wide, bare road. "He's a little anti-social, and I'd rather be there personally if ya might need to speak with him about transportation."

_What an odd request,_ Thomas thinks as his curiosity deepens.

Multiple vehicles speed off, leaving a cloud of dust that begins to cover the entire roundabout around the tower building.

Thomas wastes no time as he squeezes Emily's hand as a warning to be ready for what comes next.

## 18

# Mad Dust Dash

Before she realizes what's happening, Emily is being dragged into the dust cloud. Thomas leads the way with his head low and one hand blocking the powdery particles.

"What are you doing?" Emily asks hurriedly, as she instinctively ducks her head also. "He said _not_ to go that way."

"I'll let you know soon, keep quiet for now," he shouts a whisper, as loud as he can speak without attracting unwanted attention.

"The mayor is hiding something," he continues, ignoring his own instruction. "We're going to Mechanic's shop first, and then we're getting out of here."

Thomas has turned into a sort of madman. The respectful and reserved young man is a savage as he runs headfirst into a dust cover, using it to cloak their movements. This _Jekyll and Hyde_ transformation has Emily curious but worried. She feels she knows Thomas, so she assumes something must be wrong if he is acting with such passion.

"Escape? What do you mean?" Emily catches herself as her volume rises. She tries to soften it as she matches his pace, relying on his hand to guide her. She trusts him but imagines that his path must be just as clouded as hers.

"Mayor said we're safe from that amit-stuff while in town. I don't know about you, but I don't want to go through that again. I'm staying away from that mess!"

"Do you really believe all that?" Thomas asks as his feet search for the next steps. He remembers the direction he'd started in and tries to stay true to that path. "I've never heard of such things."

Emily says, "There's a lot we haven't heard of, and this is all new to us. Maybe it's a new discovery or something? I'd rather be safe than sorry."

As the dust starts to settle, Thomas realizes they need to get out of sight.

"Quick! This way!" He tugs on her hand and pulls her along. "Stay low," he keeps his voice firm but quiet.

They make it across the road and dive behind the nearest shed just as the road becomes visible once more. Based on the tin walls, Thomas recognizes the building as the mechanic's shed. His aim proved true.

"We made it!" Thomas exclaims quietly as he squeezes Emily's hand, raising it slightly in celebration.

Emily is still unsure about Thomas's behavior. "Why are you acting so crazy? This place seems nice enough, and more importantly, safe."

"You still don't get it?" Thomas says confusedly. "There is something really off here, with Mayor and Sheriff and every person we've met. Pickup is clearly mixed up, like his brain is fried or something, and this amit stuff _has_ to be made up. I've never heard of it, and I really doubt that we've been hallucinating."

"But don't you remember seeing those strange things we saw?" Emily asks with intensity as her eyes grow larger. She moves closer to his face, "We saw, or _thought we saw_ the trees moving, the paths changing, and who knows what else wasn't real. Mayor said other people thought they saw the same kinds of things."

"That's the strange part. _We_ saw that stuff, together . . ." Thomas waits for Emily to comprehend. "Since when have you ever _shared_ a hallucination? It's like having the exact same dream as someone else. It's just not possible."

Emily looks off into the woods behind Thomas, then back to him, and then to the ground. Some part of her already knew the things that Thomas is sharing, but she has pushed it aside. Her world has been jumbled for the last couple of hours, and she just wants some stability again.

She doesn't want to believe Thomas this time. His way of thinking will likely lead them into a different kind of adventure, a great and dangerous escape, and one that she doesn't feel equipped to handle. _This is not what I had in mind for this trip_ , she thinks, _I just wanted to get to know Thomas better and see if there was more between us. That's all the adventure I was hoping for._

"I don't know, Thomas, I understand what you're saying, but maybe that's just part of what amit does? Maybe . . . well, since we haven't heard of it, maybe it does things we can't understand."

"Possibly, but I don't buy it. And I really don't think we should stay here long enough to find out. Technically, this place doesn't exist, remember? No map showed anything around here. I think we're lost in a way that can't be found." Thomas says as he stands up and looks around, now concealed behind the shed.

"I guess so," Emily's heart sinks when she recognizes the weight of their abandonment. Though she is fearful, she considers not following Thomas. She could go back to the diner or wait at the inn. In doing so, she would have to trust Mayor, putting her fate in his hands. _He must be in charge for a reason_ , she debates with herself, _but he could've gotten that position by shady means._

"I don't know about you," Thomas says, "but I'd rather not spend too much time in a place like this." Looking past the buildings, they can only see the top of the massive fence—nearly twenty feet high—that surrounds the entire town.

"He did tell us not to leave the town," Emily says, struggling with her adherence to authority.

"Of course he did," Thomas shrugs. "That's exactly why we should be trying to escape." He turns his attention the building that is keeping them hidden.

"This must be the mechanic's shed." The piles of rusted parts pressed against the back align with Thomas's assessment. He climbs one of the forgotten piles near a window and begins to scrub the dirt off with his sleeve. When he clears enough filth to see through, he makes room for Emily to see.

"Is that my . . . ? No, it can't be—how?" He ponders aloud. "It looks familiar."

## 19

# Inside Mechanic's Shed

The building is large but doesn't seem like it with the cluttered junk everywhere. There are half-a-dozen various vehicles with no particular organization. Automotive parts are strewn about the shop, and there are small, mole-like paths carved through the debris. The animalistic burrowing follows paths of least resistance, yet seems to have some method to the madness.

This mechanic seems to be incapable of organizing his thoughts, let alone his shop. The vehicles are as mad as the shop itself with no two the same. They resemble post-apocalyptic survival machines built for the toughest of terrain. They are mere skeleton of cars and trucks at this point, with more bars, equipment, and ground clearance than body panels. They hardly resemble automobiles, apart from the wheels. Each looks like an animal carcass after it's been picked through by scavengers and left to the elements. The roll bars built over each stripped chassis are like exposed but protective rib cages. Mounted to the roll cages are occasional pieces of equipment or tanks of various sizes.

Towards the front of the shop, near one of the massive garage doors, Thomas stares at a familiar shape. Though most of it is covered by a tarp, part of a tire is barely visible from the small amount of light coming through the window.

He stands taller and puts his face against the glass with his hands around his head to better see. "I think it's my Bronco!"

"I thought they said it sunk."

"They said a lot of things that weren't true. I knew they were lying about the Bronco because of the flashlight thing. No light would glisten, or whatever, off the roof because it's flat black. It won't reflect light, so it doesn't shine in any way."

Emily realizes that Thomas has been paying more attention that she has. She admires his foresight but still wonders if he is over-reacting somehow. As she looks through a different part of the window, she sees a door start to open from a small room in the corner. A hunched figure begins to move quickly through one of the tunnels of car parts. She backs away from the window but realizes that Thomas is too focused to notice.

"Get down," Emily jumps off the pile, pulling Thomas down by his jacket. "There's someone in there."

Nearly falling off the parts pile, he turns to Emily as soon as he regains his stability. "Must be the mechanic. Do you think he saw us?"

"He might have, but I'd rather not find out." Emily ducks and hustles around to the side of the shed, while Thomas follows. A group of large barrels, 55-gallon drums, provides cover.

Thomas glances back around the corner as Emily tucks into their hiding place. There's not enough light coming from the shop to notice any change from the window. With his back to the barrels, he looks back at Emily.

"We've got to get in there and see if that's my Bronco," Thomas whispers to Emily. "I swear it is. It's the right size and shape, and I'm fairly sure I recognize those tires, the same ones I worked so hard to save for."

"Well, I'm not going in there," Emily says under her breath.

"I need you to go in," Thomas says as he ignores her, staring straight ahead this time. He begins to convince her, "You're lighter on your feet, so you can move more quietly. I can try to talk to the mechanic as you sneak in through this window. All you need to do is look under the tarp to see if it's my Bronco. If it is, just grab what you can from inside and we'll find our way out of here."

"What if he catches us?" she says.

"Don't worry about that. I'll keep him busy the whole time. We can do this together." Thomas remembers the phrase that always convinced him to act outside of his comfort zone, "Come on, I'll go if you go."

Emily sees something wild in his brownish green eyes that she hasn't seen before. It thrills and frightens her at the same time. The boy she has known for a decade is acting like a man, like the man she hoped he'd be. She can't help but want to do what he asks, even against her better judgment.

She feels reluctant as she agrees but also recognizes a simultaneous spark, excited charge inside. She knows she can get through the back window and into the Bronco, and that she'll be much more discrete than Thomas. _I'd rather not be the distraction_ , she thinks, as she is not a great liar. That's a skill she doesn't want to have to perfect right now.

## 20

# Nervous Ned

A hollow, metallic clank reverberates as Thomas knocks on the mechanic's aluminum door. He tries to keep his face from being seen, but there aren't many townsfolk wandering around anyways. To him, what they find out from this effort is worth the risk.

It's solid with no window or markings of any kind, just a worn handle and a faded mark in the paint about four feet high, evidence of the years Mechanic has spent pushing the door open with his back. The metal building is in decent shape, despite its age and lack of maintenance. It's clear that the shop's owner cares more for function than form, as is further evidenced by the vehicular creations hidden within.

Emily is at the back window where Thomas had stacked some more things up for her to stand on. He has cleared the way by placing the bundles of electronic parts to the sides. They're surprised to see more wires amidst the junk than metal.

She climbs the small stack and tries to press the window open but can't get it to move. Assuming it will be loud, she waits for the mechanic to answer the door before she presses harder. She uses those few seconds to firm her footing.

When Mechanic abruptly swings the door open only a few inches to answer Thomas, she presses against the window with her palms up. Once more, it doesn't budge. Emily panics as she wonders if the window is locked.

The hunched-over mechanic peers through the cracked door at Thomas. He slides his bottle-top glasses up his nose, magnifying his eyes to an almost comical size. His rodent-like appearance fits all to well with the state of the building and its interior. He stares directly at Thomas without breaking his gaze.

"H-h-who are you? What do you want?" Mechanic speaks in a steady stream with no breaks. As he does, he opens the door and peers out, then up to meet Thomas's gaze a full foot higher than his own. Then he withdraws quickly, holed out between the doorframe and the door. He mutters, " _W-wonderful, wonderful_."

Thomas takes note of the initial stutter, similar to that of Pickup's and Scout's; however, Mechanic seems to have a better handle on the rest of his words, once he gets started. Thomas can see that Emily hasn't made it through the window yet.

Emily has turned around by now to set her footing and use her legs to lift. Thomas sees her squat, and attempt to lift the stubborn window. While he peers over Mechanic's shoulder, he also begins to turn.

Thomas instinctively bangs his hand against the doorframe, which rattles both the shop wall and the mechanic. Mechanic shirks away and his eyes bounce around his glasses as he refocuses on Thomas. Thomas hides his face under his arm as he glances around to make sure no one is watching him.

"Nice shop you've got here! Good, metal construction," Thomas improvises. "Are you the—I mean, are you Mechanic?" Thomas tries to glance discretely over the mechanic's shoulder.

Emily has successfully entered the shop. She pulls the window closed while standing on a workbench. As she disappears behind the mounds of parts, she makes her way to the vehicle under the tarp.

"Y-y-yes, what do you want? W-why are you here?" Again, Mechanic finds his words eventually, likely the same way he finds parts in his disorganized shop.

"I'm, um, I'm Wanderer," he says, remembering his self-appointed purpose and name. "I'm new here. Mayor told me to make myself at home, and I noticed your shop. My dad was a bit of a mechanic actually, nothing like you, I'm sure." Thomas tries to calm the mechanic down as he notices his guarded anxiety.

Emily moves stealthily through the shop, using the light from the window and open door. She remembers dance classes from her youth and mentally recites one of the repetitive mantras she'd learned, "The silent steps of the graceful doe are how we feel the beauty flow." She moves like a cautious deer, quickly and quietly, avoiding the numerous piles to find the best route towards the vehicle.

"Th-th-there's no other mechanic, only one. That's me, I'm Mechanic. Where's Mayor? What do you want?" Mechanic becomes aggressively defensive as he presses his pointy head out of the door to look around. The brightness of the outside light causes an intense squinting and slight nose twitching. He retreats to the door's threshold, muttering again, " _Wonderful, wonderful._ "

"I just wanted to see something familiar. My friend and I are lost. Don't worry though, Mayor is helping us. Are you busy or something?" Thomas asks as he peers over Mechanic's shoulder, using it to his advantage to check on Emily, who has managed to keep herself hidden.

## 21

# A Close Inspection

Undetected so far, Emily finds the vehicle. Without wasting time, she pulls the tarp up enough to see that it looks just like Thomas's Bronco. Still skeptical, she decides to get in from the driver's side, the side hidden from Mechanic's vantage point. She ever so quietly releases the door latch by pressing the button slowly, each tiny click and resounding pop makes her flinch in trepidation. The door finally opens after what feels like an hour, she climbs in and closes the door softly, pulling the interior door handle to make the shutting more covert. The tarp drapes back over the Bronco, clothing Emily in darkness.

As Mechanic stares at Thomas relentlessly, he pulls the door tight to doorframe, mere inches from being closed. He has gotten himself in a strange bind. His glasses have gotten wedged into that space. As he attempts to move backwards into the shop more, his glasses stay stuck, which forces him to move forward again. Oddly enough, he returns with courage and lunges once more into his question barrage.

"N-n-no one is allowed in here except Sheriff and Mayor. Are you Sheriff? Are you Mayor?!" Mechanic's combination of fear and bravery, even unintentional sarcasm, surprises Thomas.

Meanwhile, Emily fumbles around in the darkness of the Bronco, searching for anything familiar. She feels around the seats and floorboards but finds nothing.

Thomas starts to reply to Mechanic's suspicion, "Well, no, I'm not . . ."

Emily reaches for the visor on the passenger side and pulls it down; something falls and startles her. In her slight panic, she releases the visor, and it snaps back into place.

"But—" Thomas is interrupted by the two faint sounds coming from the direction of the Bronco.

Mechanic snaps his head toward the sound like prey being hunted. Then he oddly resets his glasses with his thumb. He doesn't even turn back at Thomas.

Emily freezes. She realizes that the sounds were likely loud enough to be heard. She tries to move as quietly as possible and fumbles around the floorboard to find what has fallen. She thinks it may have been some sunglasses, the kind Thomas often wears while driving. But the thud suggested something heavier.

She remembers at the same time she feels the cool, canvas texture of something leaning against the bottom of the seat. _My journal!_ She thinks.

Rather than risk climbing out of the Bronco to meet Mechanic's waiting gaze, she decides to hide behind the back seat and continue searching for their things.

Thomas begins to panic a little, but tries not to show it as he moves slowly towards the door.

"But, well, um, I'd just like to look around if I can—" He speaks up but it's too late. His words bounce off the slamming door.

Emily hears it and her breath is taken away for a moment. She's afraid of what may happen if she gets caught. _Thomas can't help me now. Why did he send me in the first place? It should be him stuck in here with this Mechanic, this madman!_ Her mind goes to darker places than she expected it could.

Thomas can hear the sounds of Mechanic locking the door and throwing what sounds like a deadbolt. He realizes that knocking would be a waste of time. It may even push Mechanic further into a frenzy.

He begins to fear for Emily now as he sprints around to the back of the shop. As he rounds each corner, he struggles to keep his balance, sliding on dirt first and then on the overgrown grass. He dodges the barrels and stacks of old parts, remembering them from earlier.

_Please, no. No!_ He yells to himself, and part of it escapes his mouth as well. This is the first time he doubts himself, questioning his plan and whatever curiosity has driven him to this point. With no time to fall into a philosophical descent, he pushes himself harder. Against his will, he feels time slow his stride. He runs harder.

Emily tries to calm her breathing, and begins to think about her escape plan. The mechanic makes his way over after what feels like hours.

With a stronger willed push and keeping Emily's safety forefront, Thomas is surprised to find that he is able to move faster than ever before. In the feverishness of the moment, his momentum carries him past the window. He locks his legs and grabs a half-buried piece of machinery to slow down. He climbs up to the window.

As he peeks through, He doesn't see Emily anywhere. But he does see Mechanic moving towards the Bronco.

The mechanic approaches the Bronco and hesitates, but not from fear, "H-h-hey! Who's there? What are you doing in here?"

Emily flinches and closes her eyes, though she is already in complete darkness.

Thomas sees Mechanic turn his head towards the window. Thomas ducks quickly, hoping he wasn't seen. He tilts his head backwards and looks down his nose to more stealthily survey Mechanic. He watches the animalistic movements as he zigzags through the tunnels of parts and tools.

Emily can hear Mechanic's footsteps and rustling as he draws near. She grips the journal tighter and remains balled up behind the back seat. The Bronco is empty, no bags to be found, even the cargo area. The only thing she has found is her journal. Thomas's suspicions are true, something is very wrong with this town. And that instills more fear as Mechanic gets closer.

She hears the tarp as it's ripped off the Bronco. Though she can't see him, she can imagine Mechanic looking through the windshield in an attempt to find the disturbance in his lair. She hears him open the passenger door and tries to see inside.

Though the tarp is removed, the vehicle is still quite dark. She knows that he's probably used to the darkness. He's probably spent most of his days away from the light.

Emily feels the SUV shake side to side, more aggressively than it does when Thomas gets in. The mechanic fumbles in. His short legs and awkward arms require more work. She imagines him clumsily propping himself up with one hand on the dash and the other grasping the seat, arching his squatty neck to see into the back seat.

She measures each breath as she hears his impaired breathing, already winded in the brief excitement. With each movement, she winces, squeezing her eyes tighter and gripping her journal with whitening knuckles.

Emily feels the familiar wobble of someone exiting the truck. Unable, or more likely unwilling, to climb further in, it seems the mechanic is moving outside the vehicle again. She glances up to see the top of his head as he walks around the hood, stretching every muscle in his body to glare through the darkened windshield.

She slowly tucks herself back into her hiding spot, tight to the back seat, arms curled around her knees. She pulls her hair close so it doesn't give her away. At this point, Emily just wants to scream, to let it out. But she tightens her lips, partly an act of bravery and partly because she has no idea what to do.

The mechanic opens the only other door, on the driver side. Emily remembers when Thomas got the Bronco, and how she hated that it only had two doors. Now, she appreciates that fact, otherwise she'd be found easily. A thing she had once considered a flaw now brings momentary comfort. In that instant, she longs for one of those past summer days when she struggled to crawl in and out of that dreaded backseat, the very backseat that is currently protecting her from whatever may happen in Mechanic's greasy hands.

## 22

# Needs Restoration

Thomas looked out of the window of the old Bronco. It was one of the last times he remembers seeing his dad. The smell was that of old carpet, decades of dust, and summer heat cooking the vinyl upholstery.

"One day, she'll be yours, Tommy."

Thomas preserved that nickname in his memory. After his parents disappeared, he would correct anyone who tried to use it, sometimes even his grandmother. A terse, __ "It's Thomas," __ is all it took.

"My grandfather bought it new in _nineteen sixty-eight_ ," his father extended the words of the year, giving each consonant specific attention. "She's seen me through some great adventures. I'm sure she'll do the same for you."

Tommy smiled as he curled his little fingers over the window, jumping on the seat and being careful not to hit his head on the roof.

He remembered that moment for some reason. Perhaps it was one of the first times he registered the smell of summer. From then on, any humid heat would put him right back inside that Bronco, inside that memory.

Years later, before Thomas could drive, Emily asked why Thomas spent so much time working on it. She knew the answer before she finished asking.

It made sense. It was one of the few things he had left that connected him to his father, other than the letters and map. To her, it was just an old rusty truck that wasn't very practical. It only had two doors, so to get into the back seat, she'd have to flip the front seat forward, and they only seemed to move a few inches.

When they started riding around in it early in their sophomore year, Emily really began to disdain getting in the back. After getting used to newer SUVs with a door for each passenger, it was quite the pain. It was hard enough to climb up onto the doorsill or over the "rocker panel," as Thomas called it. Then she'd have to press herself through the narrow hole, often tripping onto the back floorboard, only to collapse onto the back seat. The same was true when she got out. She'd almost always have to catch herself on the door. Even though she was small and agile, she'd have a hard time with this. Others joked harmlessly that it was like going through birth again.

Thomas would never ride in the back. In fact, he never _rode_ in the Bronco. He was always the driver. That self-appointed law was firmly enforced, that he was the only one allowed to drive. Of course, the peppy girl wasn't going to give up so easily.

"Please, please, please-please-please . . ." Emily repeated fervently just a week after she'd gotten her license. After Thomas's heart-felt restoration, it was actually an impressive classic vehicle. Her big eyes got even larger somehow, a trick she'd surely perfected at a young age, not by deception but simple experience. It was much like the way a crow drops nuts onto the road to let the cars do the cracking for them. This instinctual behavior worked to charm most people she'd met. Though it was lost on Thomas when he was a boy, her magic eventually gained its power over him in these teenage years.

As nervous as he was to let her drive his prized possession, he couldn't help but smile when she was learning to drive the Bronco. The vehicle would lurch as she engaged the throttle. The powerful V8 engine roared and the tires squealed, her initial screams louder than both. Then she would just as quickly slam on the brake, sending them both forward to end up laughing in youthful mirth.

That particular summer leading up to junior year was already unforgettable for the boy turning young man as he began to become infatuated with Emily. To him, the attraction seemed to come out of nowhere. "Love" was not a word he used lightly. In fact, he'd barely used it since his parents were presumed lost.

This girl was becoming a woman. She already had his love as a friend from their almost sibling-like childhood relationship. But it began to grow from there.

In their early years of high school, he'd begun to notice the changes in her body as well, though they weren't as obvious as some of the other girls. There was something more that drew him to her. She'd always been fun as a kid, a bit too energetic, annoyingly so, if you'd asked Thomas.

As they matured together, it was that exuberance that started to excite him again. The darkness he carried began to long for light, and she had more than enough of that. He didn't want to stay away but felt he must while he struggled with his own awkward energy. He kept his distance, sometimes in fear and sometimes respect, two things that he realized find division in the thinnest of strands.

More than that, his connection to her was strong because she knew his pain, or at least some of it. He realized that no one could really know another person's pain, but empathy connected them deeper than anything else.

Emily had a similar journey of affection for Thomas. She wasn't the only one who noticed his attractive features. His brooding nature provided mystery for most girls looking his way, but she knew the main truth that kept him distant. He'd experienced unforgettable loss, perhaps unforgivable abandonment that battled with a hope that no one shared with him.

She'd found her own ways of coping with the loss of her mother and her father's limited presence. However, it didn't take much for her words to be overtaken by tears. She learned to avoid certain topics until she knew there was time to continue grieving. Thomas didn't seem to understand that grieving was a lifelong process that is best started early.

To Emily, Thomas was the boy finding his way. She knew he would be amazing one day, but she wasn't sure if she'd be around to see it. Until then, she made sure to be around him whenever possible, inviting him to group hangouts and even one-on-one outings sometimes. She thought of him when she'd studied figurative language in English class, specifically of the phrase: "With time, pressure, and darkness, diamonds are formed."

Thomas already saw Emily shine, sparkling in more ways than a diamond could shimmer in the sun. Emily chose to be around Thomas when she could, in case she'd be the one to help brush the dirt from the discovery. She believed that the mystery of Thomas would be revealed to her one day, and to him as well. It was merely a matter of time.

## 23

# Thomas's Plan

Crashes, clangs, kerplunks, and thuds create enough commotion near the front corner of the shop to get mechanic's attention. He leaves the Bronco's door open and scurries towards the noise.

As he gets to the doorway, he unlocks everything and opens the door slightly. He hesitates, weighing the risk of going outside. It must not be worth the trouble. He shuts and locks the door again. When he gets back to the Bronco, he goes straight to the back window. He has to climb the bumper to see in. He cups his hands around his face to better see and then shuffles down. He recovers the Bronco with the tarp and goes back to his business.

His chopping and cutting sends sparks flying all around lighting the spaces near him while casting disturbing shadows all around the shop, all the while murmuring to himself, "Wonderful, wonderful."

Emily pulls the window shut and starts to scale down the parts pile.

"You made it out?!" Thomas says as he rounds the corner to the back of the shop. His relief is greater than Emily may ever know. "I knew you could do it!" He says as he helps her down.

"I was so scared." Emily exhales as she falls into his arms and they embrace for longer than they have before. Tears edge Emily's eyes. "I can't believe you made me do that, he almost caught me! How could you have sent me in there?"

"I'm sorry," his candor is genuine. "But he didn't catch you," Thomas raises one eyebrow. "I tried to keep his attention. When he went back in, and I noticed you were still in there, I didn't know what to do. I just started pushing piles of parts against the shop. Clearly it gave you the time to get out as I'd hoped. So the plan worked after all." Thomas says as looks into Emily's anxious eyes.

"Well, I did not think that was the plan!" Her fearful eyes turn to anger, "Next time, we send you into the creepy man's lair!"

They both manage to keep their voices low enough to stay hidden but firm enough to show their emotions. Thomas pulls her to a more secluded place to talk.

"I really am sorry, Em. I should have gone in there, but with my clumsiness, I'm sure I would've been caught. And he wouldn't treat me as nicely as he would you. Don't you know I would've busted through that window to come after you if I had to?"

As they hide in the shade of a nearby tree, Emily's resentful eyes soften, "You would? I wasn't sure," she looks away. "I guess you're right. I wouldn't have known what to do if I were on the outside. Well, thank you for distracting him. I wasn't gonna stay in that Bronco any longer than I had to."

"So it was a Bronco? My Bronco?"

"Yes, you were right, but they took everything out of it, all of our stuff. I did find my journal though."

"That's fine, we can make it without our stuff. We won't be here long enough to need much of it anyways."

Thomas sees that Emily is clenching more than just her journal.

"I thought you didn't find anything else. What's that?" he says, reaching for her hand.

She pulls back at first like a cornered animal, traumatized from her encounter in the mechanic's shop.

"Sorry, I'm still shaken up from all of that," she apologizes as the contents emerge from her hands. "I saw these on the bench on my way out and grabbed them. I think it's one those breathing things we saw in Mayor's SUV and some of those oxygen tanks. Remember when Mayor talked about the amit?"

Thomas nods as he examines the mask-like apparatus. It's small enough to put in his pocket and only cover parts of the nose and mouth. He grabs the dangling elastic straps and tries the mask on. He breathes through it, not noticing much difference. Then he looks at one of the small chrome tanks that Emily grabbed.

"Well, I thought we may need it if—when we leave the town," Emily continues. "This tank says 'O' on it, so I assume it's oxygen. Maybe it's what they use when they go out there," she motions towards the fence line, which is only about thirty feet from them at this point.

"Yeah, you're probably right. I don't notice any difference with it on, but there's no amit in here anyways, according to Mayor." He continues to study the mask and happens across some more writing on the time-worn tag, "Oh look! Here are some instructions: 'Good for 1-2 hours; attach tank for extended protection and FS mode.' Looks like these could be helpful if we get stuck out there again."

Emily is nervous but chooses to trust Thomas, "I really don't want to go out there again if we don't have to, at least not without a vehicle. What are we gonna do?"

Thomas proposes a plan, "Did you notice the old gas cans sitting around? There were some at the mechanic's shed. I bet there are more around town. Let's collect some to take with us in the Bronco. There's no telling how far we may have to drive. Then we'll just have to get the Bronco out of the shop and bust through the gate if we must. It didn't look too sturdy and I have that push bar to help with the impact. After that, we can take that road by the service station, and we'll be out of this creepy town."

"I don't know, that's a lot of what-ifs and somehows. Assuming your plan to _ram through the gate_ works," Emily says sarcastically. "How do you even know where that road goes? Why don't we just go back to Mayor and let him help us? I'm sure he has good reasons for what he's told us. Maybe it's the other guys that we can't trust. I mean, Sheriff is super sketchy."

"I don't trust him or Mayor. Something is very wrong with this town and I think Mayor is a big part of it. How could he not be?"

"It's just a small town where everyone knows everyone and their stories. Being that close with so many people can make any outsider seem like a threat." Emily's assumptions draw from her limited life experience and her desire to let Mayor fix their problems. "It makes sense to me that they are leery of us. Why wouldn't they act a little peculiar around us? Besides, we haven't been the most upstanding people so far."

"I see. You may be right, but there has to be more to this place than some quiet, hidden town." Thomas looks around to survey their next actions, "Will you at least help me find some gas first? We can survey the town in the meantime and decide after."

"Okay, but I still think we should give Mayor another chance. As far as the gas, isn't that stealing, by the way?"

"Technically," he pauses, "yes."

## 24

# Hidden Shack

As Thomas and Emily move from the back of one building to another searching for fuel, they begin to notice that all the main buildings do in fact form a large circle. Each one faces the large tower building, making it the center of town. In the next concentric circle, just outside the buildings, they've located a few rows of housing with some paths carved for walking.

This is the strangest town layout they've ever seen. There are walking paths all around the town, maintained by Pickup or other town residents with other such "purposes."

Emily begins to appreciate Thomas's newfound strength, not just in direction and leadership but also physically. As he effortlessly places a gas jug near her, she assumes it's mostly empty until she tries to move it. She is surprised to find that it is mostly full. _Maybe this fresh air is helping . . . or some kind of adrenaline?_ she wonders. He hasn't seemed to notice it yet, staying focused on their mission.

"Um, Em?" Thomas says awkwardly. "Is it possible . . . ? I mean, by chance—" he isn't sure how to ask.

"Out with it, Thomas."

He laughs at the irony.

"Sorry, um, I have to . . . relieve myself. Could I get some privacy?"

Emily's face heats up as she feels the blood rush in. She, too, could use a few minutes to herself but dared not say anything for the time being.

"Oh, yeah. Sure. I kind of—" she says, "need some alone time also."

"I see." Thomas scratches the back of his head. Nothing itched, he just doesn't know what to do in the moment. "How about I go over there and chance being seen . . ." he points to the corner of a vacant building. "While you go, I mean, use, I mean . . . you know . . . behind those trees."

She cuts her eyes at him and thinks, _Oh my gosh, I can't believe he expects me to do that_. Then she realizes that walking into the town is a risk that may affect their escape. She considers the brief discomfort to be a minor inconvenience. _This would've happened while camping anyways,_ she remembers.

"Okay," she agrees. "Just don't come over there unless I scream or something."

Thomas nods, trying to relax his own blushing face. He can't help it. He laughs.

She stares at him like he's crazy until she can't stop it either. She chuckles and bends over as the giggle attacks from the inside out.

They look around and try to shush each other, falling into one another and just enjoying the moment. In the tension thus far, this is a much-needed break for levity.

As they finally calm down, Thomas says, "But seriously. I need to go."

Emily stifles a laugh as she over shares, "I may not have to _now_."

Another eruption flows out as her laugh gives Thomas permission to join in. Eventually, they separate and handle what needs to be handled.

They regroup and decide to move closer in towards the town. So far, the outer ambit of houses and buildings hasn't produced much fuel. As they move closer in, they find a large silo with an old, rickety shack built onto the side.

"Emily, wait," Thomas says in a hushed yell as he stops her from walking any further. "Look over there." He nods towards a tow-truck behind the shack, parked on one of the overgrown paths.

"Is that Sheriff's tow-truck?"

The truck looks strange in its covert location, as if Sheriff is also trying to hide.

"They must be back already."

They cautiously approach the shack and resume their covert window gazing. Just like at Mechanic's shed, they must wipe away years of dirt and grime to get a clearer view.

They are surprised at what they see; rather than a decrepit old barn, the shack houses some fantastic machines, antiquated and unfamiliar. As with the town's layout, the anachronistic sections converge to a central area.

Unlike the sleek computers and devices that Emily and Thomas are used to seeing, these have more visual and tangible components. There are levers and toggles, bulbs and labels, and mixed metals from copper and bronze to aluminum and steel, all worn by time and use. It reminds Emily a bit of what Dr. Frankenstein's lab might look like if it were built in the sixties or seventies. A leather chair sits centrally amidst the control panels in the dimly lit space. Above it, a weak light source emanates from a tube-like structure that extends into the ceiling.

Just as Thomas clears the glass with his sleeve, they hear the door open. Sheriff leads the way followed by Pickup and another soldier who shuts the door behind them. The little shack vibrates with the thud. It's hard to make out what they're saying, but it doesn't seem to be good. Pickup is more shaken up than normal, or what they assume is normal for him. His words take even longer to get out.

"It-t-t-t-it's n-not m-m-m-my f-f-f-f-fault," they hear him say as he is placed in the chair by the other soldier.

Emily whispers to Thomas, "What's going on here? What are they doing?" She asks as the muffled voices continue.

"Hold on, I have an idea," Thomas shares as he searches the ground. "My dad told me about this trick when I was a kid." He finds an old can buried in the dirt among some other random items and brushes it off. Then he carefully places it against the window and applies his ear to the bottom of the can.

"Is it working? What are they saying?" Emily says. She tries to see inside without being seen. Both are intrigued by this fantastic room.

Thomas places his finger on Emily's mouth as he hushes her, noticing how soft her lips are. "Let me focus." He whispers as removes his finger and tries to get his mind back to the rudimentary listening device.

The distinct tone of Sheriff's voice, though muffled and tinny though the can, is clear enough to make out.

"You had a simple job, Pickup, and you messed it up. Mayor's not gonna be happy about this."

"B-b-but I l-l-lost them," Pickup's words almost sound melodic.

"Pickup is in trouble for something," Thomas whispers to Emily, "he lost something." Emily's eyes grow with concern.

"How _hard_ ," Sheriff puts his bodyweight into his actions when he tightens a strap on Pickup's right wrist, "is it to _follow_ "—more aggressively strapping down the left hand—"a couple of _kids_ , Pickup?" he asks with one firm tie down around Pickup's chest, breathing harder with each action and straightening his back with a sigh.

"N-n-n-not hard, not h-harrrd, Sh-Sh-Sh—"

" _Not_ hard," Sheriff interrupts. "But it's _okay_ Pickup," his tone lightens with an uncomfortable drawl. "You don't have to worry about that any more." He pats Pickup on his head, dusting away the few filaments of hair atop.

Thomas says to Emily, "I think he was supposed to be watching _us_ , or following us for some reason."

Sheriff goes over to a cabinet and pulls out a vial of a bright green substance and another of a darker color.

"Oh no, this is our fault." Emily's sympathetic heart is getting the best of her, "We never should've run away from that diner. We should go in there so he doesn't get . . ." she pauses, "whatever that is."

"Are you crazy, Emily?" Thomas sees that Emily is not her same sprightly self. It surprises him to see her change so drastically in the face of this trial.

" _We_ didn't do anything wrong!" He continues with a hushed passion, "They wanted us to be trapped or at least baby-sat so strictly that we'd basically be prisoners. How does that make _us_ in the wrong? Escaping is probably the smartest thing we've done."

Sheriff lowers the helmet onto Pickup's head and fastens leather straps around his chin. He double-checks the security of Pickup's restraints, tightening a few beyond comfort level based on the grimaces on Pickup's face. He loads the vials into needles that extend from the helmet. Then he swings them down until they connect with Pickup's neck. His brief scream causes Emily to squeeze Thomas's arm and close her eyes.

"We've got to get out of this place," Thomas continues. "We don't know what's going on in there or in this place at all. We need to understand it before we just run in to save someone we don't even know. What if we run in and all three of us get the same treatment?"

Thomas's passion startles Emily. She begins to look around, trying to figure things out. She's not sure if she should follow Thomas or follow her feelings. _Is this the man he's becoming?_ She wonders, not particularly liking this side of him. But even she can see the cruelty in this situation, and that Pickup's punishment is set regardless of their presence.

"Okay, Thomas. Let's not rush in. Sheriff would probably go through with it anyways. What are they saying now?"

Thomas puts the can to the glass again, but nothing is being said. Sheriff walks over to one of the panels and palms a large pole that extends out of the wall. Without a word or hesitation, he swings it downward. With a spark, the switch connects a current as it is pressed into the bottom link. The lights, not only of the building, but the entire town, dim momentarily.

Being outside the shack, Thomas and Emily notice something even more strange. The flickering isn't limited to the lights around town but seems to extend to the entire atmosphere. The brightness of late afternoon fades into brief darkness and back. For that instant, it feels as though they are in a giant enclosure or a sort of projected hemisphere. When the light goes away, they are taken back to the strange atmosphere of the forest, that all-too-familiar claustrophobia of feeling like the sky has fallen.

Before either of them can say anything, their attention is magnetically drawn back to the chair. They see Pickup's body shaking violently in the electric chair.

## 25

# Enraging

"I can't look," Emily covers her face and turns away again. "This is too awful, and it's our fault, it's all our fault," she begins to sob.

Thomas stares speechless. He didn't think the town leaders would go to such measures for a simple mistake. _Is this really my fault? But how could I have known the consequences? Maybe Emily was right, what are we doing if our own selfishness keeps us from helping someone else?_

Sheriff disengages the switch and the power surging subsides. Pickup's body keeps shaking intermittently, like a spider's legs reflexively kicking after being smashed and decreasing in severity each time.

Again, the muffled voice of Sheriff is heard and Thomas struggles to find the strength to place the can back on the window. He shuffles it between his hands and, shaking, tries to replace it.

"—Ought to teach him," Thomas hears those last few words.

His shock begins to turn to rage, H _ow could he?! What right does he have to—?!_ His anger begins to take over.

"I can't let this stand," he says as he nearly throws the can down. He turns away from the window, but Emily catches him before he gets too far.

"Thomas, wait," she says as she grabs his arm. "It's too late to do anything now," tears work their way down her face, which echoes her heartbreak. "You were right before. If we try to go in there, they may do the same to us, or maybe worse, since they seem to find us so important. It's best to stay hidden for now. We can't help him now anyways."

Thomas makes every effort to calm down. He nods in silent agreement as he puts his hands on the back of his head while pacing behind the shack, making sure to stay away from any angles of exposure.

Emily picks up the can and replaces it in time to hear a few more words. Despite her own feelings, she understands the value of not missing anything in this moment. She shares what she hears with Thomas.

"It sounds like they are leaving for a little while and then coming back . . . in twenty minutes. Something about him being ready by then."

He's amazed by her intrepid actions while he struggles to overcome his own anger and guilt. His admiration for her grows yet again.

They hear the door shut and move swiftly to the wall under the window. Thomas holds Emily closely as her courage wears off and she shakes, whimpering as she weeps.

"We need to get out of here," Thomas says as they wait. "Nothing good can come of this."

They hear the truck start up and drive away. When it seems safe enough, Thomas gets up and checks the interior of the shack. He sees that the lights are still on and Pickup's motionless body remains tied to the chair.

## 26

# Revived

Thomas and Emily collect themselves and the few containers they've gathered and begin to move away. Before they leave though, Thomas sees something that causes him to lurch towards the window.

"Did you see that?"

His animation surprises Emily. They both know that she wasn't looking. She shakes her head but refuses to look. Thomas doesn't take his focus off Pickup.

"I think I saw him move. Not like a twitch or reflex, more like his hand or arm. I think he may still be alive!" Thomas's excited state encourages Emily to chance another look, verifying the hoped-for claim.

"He is, he's moving!"

Since the entrance to the shack is exposed to the town, they decide to go in through the window, knocking the grime off the frame to press it open. It takes more force than they suspect, but they succeed together.

Pickup groans out a portion of a word, "Mmm . . . h-h-hel-l-l . . . hmmm . . ."

"I think he's trying to ask for help," Emily suggests as they come up beside him. "Pickup, are you okay? We're here to help you."

As they move in front of the chair, Pickup's eyes open as he raises his head and breathes in deeply. He lets out the breath and becomes fully aware at a disturbingly fast rate.

"H-hello," he speaks clearly, with only a hint of stuttering. "I'm P-pickup. Oh, isn't this town W-wonderful? What p-purpose may I s-serve today?"

This startles the young couple, and they step back in fear and wonder.

"Pickup?" Thomas grasps for words as he struggles to comprehend. "It's me, um, Wanderer," he remembers, "and this is Passer-by. Do you remember us?"

"Ah yes, W-wanderer and P-passer-by, so g-good to know you. Have you enjoyed your W-wonderful stay? We really should get you to Shhhhh-sh-sheriff. He will be quite displeased if he m-misses you again."

Though he's more articulate, Pickup seems less authentic in this almost robotic state as he seems to have to push some words out, like "Sheriff."

"We've got to get you out of here. What did they do to you?" Emily says as they begin to undo the straps.

They notice Pickup measuring his words, more carefully delivering each one and only moving his eyes from Thomas's to Emily's and back.

"I am p-perfectly fine. In fact, I'm w-wonderful," he says with an unnatural smile, "I just need some time at the Shhhh-shack to clear my head. It gets awfully j-jumbled sometimes."

As he stands up and thanks them for their help, he begins to move towards the door on his own.

"Pickup, where are you going?" Thomas stands in front of him to try to slow him down.

"Like a g-good h-host, I'm g-going to tell Shh-sheriff that you've been f-found."

"No, wait," just as Thomas speaks, Pickup immediately stops. _That's strange_ , Thomas thinks but continues anyways, "Don't tell Sheriff that we're here. We aren't ready to talk to him yet."

"Very w-well, as you w-wish. I will not tell Shh-sheriff that you are here. Is th-there anything else I can assist with? P-perhaps p-picking up some trash or cleaning of s-sorts?"

"You don't have to do that Pickup, we're trying to help _you_ right now," Emily gently palms Pickup's hand and touches his shoulder.

"Th-thank you v-very much, but I do have to do as you say. I m-must f-follow every direction g-given to me. It's p-part of the p-p-program."

"The program? What program?" Thomas asks.

"We make W-wonderful wonderful, and making it wonderful makes us w-wonderful," he recites this like an oath or motto. "M-m-mayor can show you. Or Shh-sheriff when he gets b-back soon."

"We don't want to see Sheriff. When is he coming back?" Just as Emily asks, they hear that familiar, ratty sound of Sheriff's tow-truck pulling up just outside.

Thomas looks at Emily while he tries to come up with a plan.

"Pickup, could you please go back to the chair?" Thomas asks politely and rushes towards the chair.

"Of course, but I don't need another p-programming. I am very clear in th-thought."

"Please hurry, Pickup," Emily begs.

Pickup picks up his pace.

"Emily—I mean, Passerby, help me secure the straps," Thomas reveals his plan as they work. "Pickup, please do not tell Sheriff about us or that we were here. If he asks any questions, just tell him you've been sitting alone, waiting for him."

"Of course, W-wanderer, as you w-wish."

They hear the truck engine turn off as Thomas gets to the last strap, "Emily, go, I'll catch up. Open the window and get out of here before we get caught."

Emily runs to the window, climbs through and keeps it open for Thomas. He finishes tightening the straps as they hear voices from just outside the door. Thomas runs quietly towards the window and dives through it, his hands grabbing the sill as he rolls his body through the opening. Emily forces the window closed just as the door opens, masking the sound.

Sheriff walks in and stops. He looks around and Emily drops away from the window. When she works up the courage to try listening again, she hears Sheriff ask Pickup what he's been doing.

"I've been sitting alone, w-waiting for you, Sheriff. Isn't this town W-wonderful?" Pickup says, just as directed.

With his sunglasses reflecting Pickup's face, Sheriff leans closer.

"Is that so?" He studies the straps, pulling lightly on one, and then glances around the shack. "Sure it is, Pickup, quite wonderful." Sheriff nods to the accompanying soldier as he begins to walk away in haste. "Untie him."

Thomas and Emily wait to converse until everyone has gone.

"Whew! That was close," Emily applauds Thomas. "You barely got out in time. I guess it was your turn to feel the pressure."

"I think I have a better understanding now. That was intense. Did Pickup follow directions?" He asks.

"Yep, he did just like we asked. How weird is that?" Emily ponders the implications of Pickup revealing their presence, _How strange to devote such loyalty so quickly to an outsider. Maybe Pickup is just following orders, no matter who they're from_.

Her thoughts are interrupted by a somewhat unnatural hiss from the woods behinds them. It's the sound of someone trying to get their attention.

## 27

# Enter White

"Hey!" A hushed voice yells in a low tone. "Over here!" The man beckons.

Thomas and Emily still their voices and quickly kneel back under the window of the Shack. They glance towards the woods, not knowing what to expect.

They see a man hunched near a tree. From what they can see of him, he seems nearly as young as they are, though his upper body and shoulders are a little more filled out than Thomas's. A red bandana tied around his neck partially covers his ruddy face. He looks like he's posing for an advertisement by the way he holds himself. He motions with his hand cautiously, ducking with each swing of his arm.

"It is okay, come this way, but do not let anyone see you," the stranger's voice says from the distance.

They notice that the man's forearms are whiter than other people's in the town. His skin tone is much like Mechanic's. A thick ruffle of black hair drops over his forehead while the bandana covers most of his face. They can't make out much detail from the field's length between them.

Thomas can't hold back his curiosity and begins to head towards him almost instinctively until Emily pulls him back.

"What are you doing?! We need to go back to the diner like Mayor said, and tell him what Sheriff did."

"Mayor? You mean _the_ mayor?" Thomas emphasizes, wondering why she has such faith in someone she barely knows and one who runs a town that is clearly off-kilter.

"That's what I said, Mayor. He's going to help us, he said so." While Emily isn't fully convinced of Mayor's good intentions, she is more willing to go to him than to a stranger in the woods.

"And we've got to tell him what we saw in that shack. There's no way he's okay with Sheriff running around on that kind of power trip. What if he doesn't even know about that crazy machine or whatever it is."

As Thomas feared, Emily is falling for the ways of Wonderful, believing its lies. He tries to honestly consider whether or not Mayor is as clueless as she thinks. _There's no way he doesn't know about that contraption!_

They both look back to the waving man at the edge of the tree line. He has calmed a bit, knowing that they've at least seen him.

"How can you trust that man?" Thomas's voice raises. He tries to quiet himself while ducking again and surveying their surroundings. "Or anyone in this town for that matter? They have my Bronco! You saw it, you were _inside_ it. Who knows what else they've lied about?"

"We don't know if Mayor is lying. It could be Sheriff the whole time. Think about it, his guy is the one who said the Bronco sunk, and he was probably lying, just reciting what he was told. We haven't seen Mayor do anything, just Sheriff. Maybe we can be the ones to expose Sheriff, to help Mayor and the town."

Emily's eyes again beg for Thomas's compassion, but he isn't convinced of Mayor's innocence. Thomas speaks discretely and with passion, "I'm just not sure. Why not talk to this man? He is like us, hiding and alone. He must know something that would help us. But I won't go without you. I really want you to come though."

Thomas is even more convinced to follow the guy in the woods now that he realizes that Emily is giving in to her naivety.

The pale newcomer continues to keep his head on a swivel as he signals for them once again.

"You would be wise to follow. You are Lewis's boy, are you not?" His voice carries the gravitas of an older man but his movements don't.

Thomas snaps his head towards the man and then to Emily. His eyes beg in a way she's never seen before.

"He knows my dad!" Thomas's eyes seem to shoot sparks as he tries to hold himself back for Emily's sake.

She doesn't want him to get his hopes up, but she knows that this means everything to him. She glances back to the shack and the center of town. A nod follows and they head towards the mysterious woodsman.

As they get closer to the tree line, the man disappears into the brush before they get a good look at his face. They run into the trees, Emily trailing behind Thomas who has nearly begun to sprint. They see the man's pace alternate between walking and jogging as he takes specific paths between a few houses and then through a tree-scape.

"Hey! Who are you?! How do you know my dad?" Thomas softly yells towards the fleeing man and checks behind to make sure they aren't being followed. All the while, he wonders why he is so convinced to give in to the chase.

"Hey! Guy! Where are you going?" Thomas lets his voice get louder as they get further from the buildings. Looking above, he notices that they are heading towards the fence line.

Just as Thomas begins to slow down, the man turns and waves his hand towards the ground. Thomas understands the signal and quietens himself.

"Follow me," he says. "I will tell you everything you want to know."

That promise is more than enough for Thomas's curiosity, but he knows he shouldn't drag Emily into it without consulting her. He waivers for one other reason also—his nature. He's never been one to chase impulses like this. If anyone would dive into such impetuous pursuit, it would be her. His gaze turns to Emily.

"Obviously we have to," she says before he has to ask. Reluctant or not, it's enough for Thomas.

They follow the man through the trees until they reach a small clearing, well hidden from the town and its inhabitants. For the first time since they entered Wonderful, they can see the bottom of the fence. The man stops near it.

The stranger turns around. His eyes suggest that he is smiling though the rest of his face is hidden. Even with this limited window into his thoughts, it's clear that he carries some of the answers that they want, especially with the next words out of his mouth.

"Your father was a gifted man. I imagine you may _bear_ some of his _traits_." The man leans in as if expecting a response. When he doesn't get one, he says, "Ah, I see you are not aware. He—and your mother—are something like legends in this land, Luminants in fact."

He sees a slight reaction from both of them.

"Maybe you know more than you think?"

* * *

<This concludes Part 1 of 4>

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Get Part 2 (and more) for free by signing up at MichaelLacey.me/Underlands

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# Request

**_May I make a sincere request?_**

Please leave an honest review wherever you can find this book so that others may find this series as well! It can be as long or short as you like, even if it just says how you can't wait for the next one

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And if that's true, then go to michaellacey.me/underlands where you can get Part 2, short stories, deleted scenes, exclusive content, and first (sometimes free) dibs on the rest of the books to come.

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Thank you for your support!

Godspeed,

* * *

Michael Lacey

* * *

P.S. If you've wanted to write a book, go to michaellacey.me/writetime to see how I wrote, published, and marketed my first best-seller, As We Fight, and my subsequent fiction series.

# About the Author

Is Michael Lacey the bad guy—Mayor—in his own book? Time will tell. Since losing his eye to a lawn dart incident when he was 11, Michael has gained unique perspectives. He writes from real intimacy with pain while striving for forward motion. Michael understands the value of experiencing emotions and giving them the room, but he pushes towards resolution and closure in encouraging ways. He is driven by the pursuit of purpose and hopes his books will help others chase their own true callings.

On most days, you can find Michael with a mason jar of sweet tea while his toddler son runs him ragged. He's always dreaming up new adventures for Underlanders as well as entirely new stories. By writing consistently, Michael is working towards a life where he can spend more time each day with his beautiful family. Keep up with him on Facebook, Instagram, or at MichaelLacey.me.

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