The Train to Impossible Places

by P. G. Bell

  Everyone stared in confusion.

  “A snow globe?” said Wilmot.

  “It’s not mine,” she said. “It’s the Lady Crepuscula’s. I stole it.”

  The silence was broken by a collective gasp of shock, and Wilmot’s eyes opened wide. For the merest fraction of a second, she thought it was because of what she’d said, but then she saw the movement reflected in his pupils and just had time to throw herself forward, catching him around the waist and hurling them both to the floor.

  CRACK! The spot where they had been standing erupted in splinters of granite.

  Suzy rolled off Wilmot and onto her back as a statue withdrew the tip of its sword from the fissure it had cleaved in the floor. She looked up in horror at its twisted face, as it raised the blade above its head, ready to strike again.

  19

  SURROUNDED

  “Run!” Suzy shouted.

  She jumped to her feet, dragging Wilmot with her, but there was movement all around them now, as every statue in the room stepped forward, sword drawn, and Suzy cursed herself for not recognizing them sooner. They had been hiding their faces, but she should have realized these were the same statues she had seen at the Obsidian Tower.

  “What’s happening?” said Wilmot, then let out a squeal of fear as the second sword blow whistled a few inches over his head. Suzy ducked and felt the stone blade brush the tips of her hair. While the statue was still twisted around, she sprinted past, pulling Wilmot with her behind the nearest pillar.

  “We need to get out of here,” she said. “Is there another door?”

  “There’s a secret exit.” It was Gertrude’s voice, and they turned to see her behind the adjacent pillar. She had Derrick and Mr. Trellis with her. “At the back of the room, behind two of the lockers.”

  “Get everyone out through there,” Suzy ordered. “I’ll try to lead the statues away.”

  Stone hands reached around the pillars and grabbed at them, forcing them to break from cover. Two more statues swung their swords at Suzy as she raced across the aisle, but they hadn’t had time to prepare and their blows both fell short. She made it to the cover of the opposite pillar, pursued by flying shards of granite. Wilmot joined her a second later, pale and breathless.

  “How will you do that?” he panted.

  “I’ve got what they’re after,” she said. “They’re bound to follow me. You help get the others to safety.”

  Before he had a chance to argue, she slipped into the middle of the aisle, straight into the midst of four of the large figures. Fear made her catch her breath before she found her voice.

  “I’m here!” she shouted, holding Frederick aloft for all to see. “If you want him, come and get him.”

  “You’re going to get us killed!” Frederick cried. But the ploy had worked. All four statues lunged for the snow globe, momentarily forgetting their swords. And each other.

  They crashed together with a noise like a cannon firing, as Suzy threw herself down on the ground and crawled on her belly between the nearest statue’s legs. The blow seemed to disorient them, giving Suzy just enough time to regain her feet and start a desperate sprint down the aisle away from them and toward the main doors.

  “Everybody out!” she shouted at the Old Guard, who had taken shelter behind the other pillars. “Follow Gertrude! Through the back.”

  The statue nearest to her raised its sword, and Suzy saw, too late, that its aim was sound. She skidded to a halt but slipped, landing on her back and staring helplessly up as the blade swung down in a vicious arc toward her head. She didn’t even have time to close her eyes.

  That’s why she saw the tip of Mr. Trellis’s stick appear and strike a glancing blow on the statue’s arm. The stick shattered into matchwood, but it was enough to deflect the statue’s swing by a few inches, and the sword buried itself in the marble beside Suzy’s head. The noise it made was deafening and ran through her like a bolt of electricity, making her scream, but when she rolled clear and put a hand to her ringing ear, it was still attached to the rest of her. She scrambled to her feet, dizzy and in shock.

  “Upstart furniture!” Mr. Trellis shouted. “Overblown shopwindow dummies!” He gesticulated with the shattered nub of his stick, until Dorothy appeared and seized him by both arms. She dragged him away toward the back of the room, where Gertrude had succeeded in opening the hidden door.

  Suzy turned and fled. The distraction had saved her, but it was over too quickly, and as one, all six statues marched on her. There was nothing between her and the doors now, but she felt no sense of triumph as she reached them, just a finely tuned panic.

  I can fix this, she told herself. I’ve got the NeuroGlobe. If I can get to the Express, I can get to the Ivory Tower, turn Frederick back to normal, and fix this. I can fix everything.

  She crashed through the doors but, instead of finding the corridor, ran face-first into a smothering darkness. It was as black as night, as cold as frost, and had hard, pinching claws that held her fast. She fought against them, but was carried, helpless, back into the vault.

  With a crash, the statues stopped their pursuit and stood to attention.

  The shadow set her down on her feet and flowed around her, pouring itself into the room like a tidal wave of ink.

  “What have you done?” wailed Frederick. Suzy barely heard him—she was too intent on the hunched figure now emerging from the seething darkness. Her one consolation was that the trolls had had time to escape.

  “There you are, my girl,” said Crepuscula, drawing to a halt in front of her. “Aren’t you tired of running yet?”

  20

  A GOOD DEAL GOES BAD

  “You’ve kept up quite a pace,” said Crepuscula, folding her hands over the head of her cane. “I might choose to be impressed if the experience hadn’t been so utterly frustrating.”

  Suzy looked around for a way out, but she was surrounded. Crepuscula and the shadow blocked the main doors, while the statues stood in a tight semicircle behind her. So she was a little surprised to discover that her earlier panic was receding. She had spent so long worrying about Crepuscula catching her that it was almost a relief to have it actually happen. It gave her mind a little room to think.

  “How did you know we’d be here?” Suzy asked. Then she noticed the tiny figure slinking into the room behind Crepuscula, as though trying not to be noticed. “Fletch,” she said.

  The engineer flinched. “None of this was my idea,” he muttered. “I’m just here for what’s mine.”

  “As are we all,” said Crepuscula, extending a hand toward Suzy.

  “Don’t do it!” Frederick cried. “Don’t let her take me!”

  Suzy clutched the snow globe to her chest. “You’re not having him.”

  Crepuscula sighed. “I’m a reasonable woman. Return Frederick to me, and I might be persuaded to let you walk away.”

  “Why should I trust you?”

  “That’s a little rich coming from a thief, my dear.” She flexed the fingers of the outstretched hand. “Come on. My patience isn’t infinite.”

  “Run, Suzy,” said Frederick. “Or fight her. But don’t just stand here. Do something!”

  Crepuscula’s face twisted into a grim smile. “You know, Frederick, it occurs to me to wonder precisely what you told this young lady to convince her to run off with you like this. I bet it wasn’t the truth.”

  “I’ve told her everything,” Frederick protested.

  Crepuscula turned a questioning look on Suzy, who wanted to squirm. She knew Frederick hadn’t given her the full story, but she wasn’t about to give Crepuscula the satisfaction of knowing that. “It doesn’t matter what he told me,” she said, hardening her resolve. “I wouldn’t leave him with someone like you.”

  “Then you’re even more foolish than I feared,” said Crepuscula. “But since you’re so clearly open to persuasion, and you’ve nowhere left to run to, perhaps you would accept an exchange. Something of yours, for something of mine.”

>   “Don’t listen to her!” said Frederick.

  “I’m not making any deals,” said Suzy.

  “Wait until you hear my offer.” Crepuscula reached into her jacket and drew out an empty glass jam jar, sealed with a lid. Suzy gave it a look of suspicion.

  “What’s that?”

  “The thirty minutes of your life that I took from you,” she said, holding the jar up to the light. “Yours in return for Frederick. Oh, and for this pitiful creature’s wand, which I understand is also in your possession.” She indicated Fletch, who looked as though he was waiting for the ground to open up and swallow him. “I think that’s more than fair, don’t you?”

  “You must think I’m stupid,” said Suzy. “It’s just an empty jar.”

  Crepuscula scowled. “And what, exactly, did you expect time to look like? Would you prefer me to fill it with tinsel?”

  Suzy didn’t know what to say in response to this, so said nothing. She was still trying to think of a way out.

  “This is a measure of the most precious resource in existence,” Crepuscula continued. “Every living soul wants more of it. And it’s yours, if you just give Freddie back to me.”

  “Suzy…” Frederick sounded scared. She was certain he couldn’t be trembling inside his globe, but it felt like he was. Or was it her own hands shaking? “Suzy, please don’t.”

  She planted her feet more firmly on the floor and looked Crepuscula in the eye. “No deal,” she said. “It’s only thirty minutes. It’s not worth a person’s life.”

  Crepuscula’s expression was quick to darken. “Are you sure about that? I trimmed the end of your mortal span. Your life ends thirty minutes sooner than it should. Imagine what you could do with that time back.”

  “Not much.” Suzy was trying to sound like she didn’t care, but the awful truth was, Crepuscula’s words were sowing doubt in her mind. What could she do with that time?

  “They’re the most important minutes of your life,” said Crepuscula, her voice low and urgent now. “Your chance to make your last decisions, to bid a final farewell to family and friends, to tell a secret love of your true feelings, to finally set right what once went wrong.”

  Cold sweat glued Suzy’s pajamas to her skin. “The end of my life,” she said. “Have you seen it?”

  Crepuscula’s smile was like a shark’s. “Would you like to know when it’s due?”

  “No,” said Suzy, with absolute certainty. “And I don’t care what you tell me. I’m not giving you Frederick.”

  Crepuscula stared hard at her for a moment, then sighed. “In which case, we shall have to resort to unpleasantness.”

  Suzy backed away quickly as Crepuscula stalked toward her.

  “Stop!”

  Suzy froze in surprise, and even Crepuscula paused, a look of impatient confusion on her face. Suzy turned toward the source of the voice. “Oh no,” she breathed.

  Wilmot stood in the hidden doorway, his baggy uniform pooling around his ankles and his cap at a drunken angle on his head.

  “Wilmot, don’t—” she started, but he silenced her with a look of fire. She had never seen him like this before. He was furious.

  “Lady Crepuscula,” he said, striding down the length of the room toward them. The statues parted to let him pass. “I must ask you to unhand my employee.”

  “And who might you be?” said Crepuscula.

  “I am Postmaster Wilmot Grunt of the Impossible Postal Service,” he said, drawing to a halt beside Suzy. “This postal operative is my responsibility, and, as such, I believe I owe you an apology.”

  Crepuscula raised an eyebrow. “I don’t care for apologies, boy. I simply require restoration.”

  “I understand,” said Wilmot, ignoring the slight against his age. “Nevertheless, let me apologize, fully and sincerely, on behalf of the Impossible Postal Service. Our operative stole from you, and we take such breaches of our ethical guidelines very seriously indeed.”

  Suzy put herself between Wilmot and Crepuscula. “What are you doing?” she whispered.

  He calmly brushed her aside, but as he did so, replied out of the corner of his mouth, “Trust me.” He straightened his cap and addressed Crepuscula again. “Consequently, the Impossible Postal Service will be happy to return your item and to compensate you for the inconvenience caused. The disciplinary proceedings for Postal Operative Suzy Smith, however, must remain an internal matter.”

  Before Crepuscula could reply, the sound of rapid footsteps made everyone turn again, and Gertrude emerged from the hidden exit at a run. She skidded to a stop in the middle of the hall, the statues blocking her path.

  “Wilmot!” she cried, trying to fight her way past them. “Wilmot, darling, get away from here!”

  Suzy chewed her lip, but Wilmot turned back. “Don’t worry, Mom,” he said. “I’m just doing my job.”

  Crepuscula sniffed and turned her attention back to him. “You want me to leave your little pet alone? After everything she’s done?”

  “She is not my pet,” said Wilmot, “but yes. And you of course have the right to file a formal complaint, if you so wish. I have the necessary form here.” He reached inside his jacket and pulled out a small rectangle of paper, which he held out to Crepuscula.

  For a moment, the hall was silent. Then Crepuscula began to laugh, softly at first, but growing louder and louder, until her shoulders shook. Suzy took an involuntary step back, but Wilmot stood his ground, the complaint form not so much as wavering. Crepuscula pointed at him, and the shadow rushed forward.

  “No!” Suzy lunged for him, but it was already too late. The shadow swallowed him whole. His dwindling cry reached her as though from a great distance, and when the shadow receded, nothing remained but his cap, lying crumpled and forlorn on the flagstones.

  Suzy stood, immobilized with shock. She could hear Gertrude screaming.

  “I’ve had enough of these distractions,” said Crepuscula, bearing down on Suzy. “If you won’t hand Freddie over, I’ll take him myself.”

  Panic struck, and Suzy’s mind went blank. All she could think about was Wilmot, vanishing into darkness. It was all her fault.

  “Suzy, please!” Frederick’s voice cut through the fog in her brain, and she saw that Crepuscula was almost on her. She couldn’t bargain. She couldn’t run. All she could do was fight. And so, in a final act of desperation, she reached into her pocket, pulled out the only solid thing she could lay hands on, apart from Frederick, and threw it at Crepuscula, hard.

  It was Fletch’s wand. Crepuscula saw it coming and brought a hand up to shield herself. It was the hand holding the jam jar.

  The rod struck the jar, which exploded in a nimbus of glass. Suzy shut her eyes.

  And that’s when everything stopped.

  21

  A GLITCH IN TIME

  Suzy opened one eye a sliver, expecting some sort of horror to strike her. Instead, there was just silence, and an unnatural stillness.

  Very cautiously, she opened both eyes and looked around. Crepuscula stood before her, her outstretched hand just a couple of inches away. But she didn’t move. She didn’t speak.

  And the jam jar, which Suzy had just had time to see shatter before she shut her eyes, was exactly as it had been—a burst of glass shards frozen in mid-air, winking in the light of the chandeliers.

  Very tentatively indeed, Suzy reached out and touched one. It didn’t fall, but it did move under a little pressure from her fingertip. It also cut her, and she snatched her finger back and stuck it in her mouth as she took in the rest of the room.

  Everything was frozen. Fletch had been caught reaching for his wand, which had bounced away from the breaking jar and now sat in the air just beyond Crepuscula’s elbow. Behind Suzy, Gertrude still reached for the spot where Wilmot had stood, her face a mask of sadness and pain, the tears as solid and immobile as glass on her cheeks. Suzy looked away from her quickly, feeling her own tears start.

  “What happened?”

  Frederic
k’s voice was so unexpected that she nearly dropped him. “I don’t know,” she sobbed. “Everything just … stopped.”

  “Except us,” said Frederick. “What did you do? Was it a spell?”

  “No, I…” Her voice felt thick and sluggish with tears. “I don’t know what I did.”

  “Well, whatever it was, it worked,” said Frederick. “This is our chance. Let’s go!”

  “No,” she said. “What about Wilmot?”

  “What about him?” said Frederick. “You saw what happened. He’s gone. Finished.”

  “No!” She ran to the shadow, banked like a static thundercloud behind Crepuscula, and passed into it as easily as if it were smoke. The room looked dark from inside it, the light from the chandeliers stained a sickly purple. She cupped her free hand around her mouth and shouted. “Wilmot! Wilmot, are you in here?”

  “He won’t answer,” said Frederick, and she very nearly hurled him across the room. This was all his fault. His … and hers.

  “Wilmot?” She raced from one side of the vault to the other, groping through the darkness for any sign of life. But when she stumbled back into the light behind Crepuscula, she knew Frederick was right. Wilmot was gone.

  “Please, Suzy,” Frederick pleaded. “I don’t know what’s happened here, but we have to get away before it all unsticks. The fate of all the Impossible Places—”

  “I know!” she snapped, pawing the tears from her eyes. “Just give me a minute, will you?”

  He was right of course—that was the worst part. Whatever was happening, it was their only chance at escape. They couldn’t afford not to take it. She blinked the salt sting from her vision and looked around. “We still need the wand,” she said.

  It didn’t give as easily as the glass had, but it twisted a little, and by leaning back and applying her whole weight against it, she was able to drag it slowly free of its spot in the air.

  “Now we can go,” said Frederick as she stuffed it back into her pocket.

  “Not quite,” she said. She patted her other pocket to make sure the NeuroGlobe was still safe, then crossed to the point where Wilmot had stood and picked up his fallen cap. She straightened it, dusted it off. Then she threw her own cap aside and pulled Wilmot’s down over her hair. It was tight, but it just fitted. “Now we can go,” she said.