Time for the Lost

by Chess Desalls

  Plaka stood by, his forehead creased. Together, we watched as the last remnants of the dock and the lake disappeared, along with the clouds in Calla’s eyes.

  NICK LOCATED the portal to the Clock Tower.

  He and Ivory linked arms, ready to lead the way back. Ray joined them, keeping careful watch over Calla as he folded her arm in his.

  “Come on, Edgar,” Ivory said as she pulled him into the chain. “Plaka makes an amazing cup of tea.”

  That was probably a good idea. Leaving a silhouette to fade in Susana sounded less than humane.

  Plaka nudged me. “Go on, Valcas. I have the baglamas and will follow shortly. I want to stay a while to further study Susana. Calla’s return from the Lost has inspired me. If I can return here with more silhouettes, either directly or with Nick’s help, through the Clock Tower portal, we can save a lot of lives.”

  “I’m happy to unlock the portal for you to transport silhouettes. But that’s a huge job for one man, friend.”

  “As I am well aware,” said Plaka. He turned to Calla, with fire in his eyes. “But I am one of two Remnant Transporters. With my daughter’s help, the work will be cut in half. Once she regains her strength, she will learn her talent’s purpose—”

  “And finally understand why she’s so important,” added Ray. His gaze was complex. I flinched at the layers of meaning there. He looked at her with awe, but also in the way a man looks at a woman—even in her present state, unkempt and gaunt.

  I slowly inhaled a breath as I linked arms with Ray.

  Leaving Plaka behind, we returned to the Clock Tower.

  I KEPT my distance. Having waited so long to see her again, and given the circumstances under which she was found, my words would be meaningless. How does one welcome a loved one back from the dead? I missed you and I’m sorry suddenly seemed inadequate; yet I had no other words.

  Ivory and Ray found a spot where Calla could gaze up at the Clock Tower with some measure of comfort. They pointed out the different timepieces and attempted to explain how we’d found her. She stared in wonder as Ray explained the link between Susana and his tattoo.

  I watched them from afar, inwardly cheering when her lips formed a smile, and looking down each time she turned toward me.

  Calla was in good hands; she seemed happy right where she was. I, on the other hand, was a bundle of chaos.

  I followed Nick and Edgar, who were on their way inside the Clock Tower.

  Nick elbowed me lightly in the ribs. “What are you waiting for, friend? The one you thought you’d lost forever has been found.” He pointed with his chin. “She’s back that way.”

  I shook my head. “I’m not ready.” Or worthy.

  He dragged his foot along the ground and tapped it a few times. “I never thought I’d see Ivory again before making your acquaintance.”

  “It’s not the same. You and Ivory are both in good health. Calla’s still in danger. She doesn’t need me; she needs safety and healing.”

  “Ah, but did you ever stop and think that, perhaps, you are part of the treatment?”

  I shrugged. No, I hadn’t thought of that. It was unimaginable. “I was the cause of her distress and pain, her sickness. And it would kill me to be part of her death.” It nearly had already.

  “Hmm, then perhaps you should take a closer look at your situation. See those big, gray eyes of hers?”

  “They’re supposed to be dark brown,” I snapped. “She’s ill.”

  He stroked his chin as he squinted his eyes in Calla’s direction. “Hmm, well. Either way, she can’t seem to keep them off you.”

  If he’d noticed it too—that she kept looking at me—then, at least I wasn’t imagining it or just being hopeful. “Thank you, Nick. I appreciate your concern. This just isn’t the time.”

  Nick glared down at me. He was a tall and willowy man, but his scrutiny blazed power. “I don’t buy that, friend. There’s no special time or place for anything. You can travel to the past and the future, and waste away your days on the path to becoming Lost. You can wait for later, only to watch as later passes by…”

  “I get it, I’m a traveler—”

  Nick raised his hands in retreat. “All I’m trying to say is that there is now, and that you should use it before it’s too late.”

  I ground one side of my teeth, then the other. He was right. I was being a coward. Nick had shown me a kindness by not saying so directly.

  “Thank you,” I said.

  When he and Edgar entered the Clock Tower, I chose not to follow.

  Ivory and Ray exchanged wide-eyed glances when I approached. I froze. Were they worried I’d harm Calla again?

  “I’m sorry,” I said, turning to go. “I don’t want to—”

  Ivory rolled her eyes. “It’s about time you get your brooding behind back here. I’m going inside to help make dinner while you guys catch up.” She yanked Ray’s arm and shot me a cheesy grin as she led him away.

  Calla and I were together, alone, for the first time in what had felt like eternity. It wasn’t enough; I could have used more time to prepare.

  I scratched a nonexistent itch behind my neck as I searched for something to say. Something kind and comforting. Something that didn’t sound stupid. Seconds ticked by. Nothing.

  I cleared my throat, a preface to more silence.

  “You came for me,” she said in a small voice.

  “I did.” Two words down, both of which made sense. A fine start.

  “Did you change your mind?” She gulped. “About me?” She was clearly much better at this than I was.

  “No,” I said.

  Her shoulders sank. I caught her hands before they covered her face.

  “That didn’t come out right. I misunderstood. What I mean to say is that I’d never changed my mind one way or another to begin with.”

  She stared at me, confused.

  “I broke up with you—if that’s what we’re calling it—at the Workshop in the Woods, not because I didn’t want or need you. I do. I was afraid.”

  “Afraid? Of love.”

  “No, not love,” I said, surprised by how the collar of my jacket began to stifle me. “I feared I was hurting you by being around you, that my presence would lead to your death. But visiting Susana changed everything.”

  Unconsciously, my hand grazed my pocket, the one hidden on the inside of my jacket, where I kept the declaration I’d signed admitting to my part in my father’s death. I’d kept the document close, having believed my bond with my father had led to a fatal Uproar attack, one that occurred while I was present. I’d worried the same would happen to Calla.

  I wasn’t sure how to explain all of this to her. Or whether now was the right time or place. I tucked her in my arms, grateful that she didn’t resist. “It’s complicated,” I said. “I promise I’ll tell you everything. Right now, I just want you to know that I’m sorry.”

  After letting go of her to take her hand in mine, I noticed tears streaking down her cheeks. But she was smiling. I wanted to know where she’d been before she ended up in Susana. How she’d avoided me. How she’d stayed alive.

  But those were topics we could discuss at length, later, when she felt better. “Let’s get you something to eat.” I pointed to the Tower. “Believe it or not, Nick lives inside.”

  A TAUNTING grin spread across Ivory’s face as Calla and I entered Nick’s loft, our hands bound together. She passed us each a plate and escorted us to an impressive spread.

  “You two came in at the right time for food, and the wrong time for conversation,” she said. “The boys are geeking out about time travel theory. Philosophy. I can barely stay awake.”

  “You’re not interested in learning the finer details of our comings and goings through the Everywhere and Everywhen?”

  “I’d much rather pilot a fighter jet.” She smirked. “In the thick of battle.”

  Of course she would. I piled slices of cured meat on my plate, along with various other odds and ends. An
d relaxed for the first time in days, weeks, months? I wasn’t sure.

  “But…temporary?” Nick’s voice rang out over the others’. “What exactly does it mean?”

  “Our lives in these worlds,” Edgar said, opening his palms and stretching his arms out wide. “All of them are temporary. Our temporal bodies end like the close of each day. In that allotment of time we accomplish what we can before the sun fades and life runs out.”

  I suppressed a smile. How ironic, I thought, coming from a silhouette.

  “But what about the Lost?” Ray thumbed an eyebrow. “What is time…for the Lost?”

  “The same, young Mr. Raymond. Temporary. The difference is in how they perceive it. How long they remain there likely feels longer or shorter depending on how well they handle the pain.”

  “What would you know about how the Lost perceive time, friend?”

  “I, well—I would expect they lose sight of the temporality of time. The loss of that sight, I would imagine, is what makes them Lost.”

  I cringed, thinking about Martha and Rachel, who were still trapped in Susana. The only person in the room who knew what time felt like to the Lost was Calla. She sat cross-legged on the floor with a plate full of food balanced in her lap. She chewed slowly, her eyes bouncing back and forth between Edgar, Nick and Ray, following the ping-pong match of verbiage.

  Ray stared. “Surely they know they won’t live forever—”

  Or maybe they’d already lived past their allotments of time. I swallowed a lump in my throat. From what Calla had told me, Edgar had eventually become Lost—what the version of him represented by this silhouette of Edgar would become. I wished I could warn him, to tell him not to use the youth elixir. But his silhouette-memory would forget without a Daily Reminder. The real Edgar—the version that had lived—was already dead. Where was he now? His temporal body was buried at Enta’s Homestead. But where was he?

  Edgar smiled, grimly. “That is true. The Lost should be cognizant that their time will run out.” He fidgeted with his spectacles. “Some more than others.”

  But were they really? The Lost in Susana seemed aware of few concepts, among those being fear, pain and loss of a loved one—the subject of their search. None seemed cognizant or concerned about having lived past their timelines, their temporalities. I clamped my jaw, unable to stop thinking about Edgar’s life-extending elixir.

  He smacked his lips and continued, “It is as if the Lost live in a parallel world of illusion—delusion, perhaps—uncaring of their limits and temporality.”

  I grimaced. Edgar had stopped traveling from place to place and time to time when he’d become Lost. He’d stayed at the Workshop in the Woods. He’d taken his youth elixir as time slipped by. I wanted to ask him if this would be another way to become Lost. I already knew the answer. To reveal this fact to Edgar’s silhouette without a Daily Reminder would be pointless. He’d forget all of it the next morning.

  He squinted a moment and then looked as if he’d decided on a more satisfactory explanation. “Yes, they travel from place to place and time to time, deluding themselves with the illusion that they will, in this life, live forever. The Susana that we saw today appears to be a place of forgetfulness, a lack of awareness.”

  “No,” said Calla, her fingers clenching her plate. “It’s not like that. There, you feel everything, every memory, every moment—all of it hurts.”

  Ivory growled like a mother bear defending her cubs against a pack of coyotes. “It’s bedtime, boys.”

  Nick, Ray and even Edgar flinched under the darkness of Ivory’s glare. One by one, their faces registered shock, pain and foolishness.

  Gently, as if nothing had happened, Ivory turned to Calla and helped her up from the ground. “Have you had enough to eat and drink, my sweet?”

  Calla bobbed her head once.

  “Great. I’ll introduce you to the camp shower Nick rigged up in the basement.”

  She practically dragged Calla out of the room, but not before releasing another death stare.

  TIME PASSED at the Clock Tower.

  Nick imported goods as needed to support our team.

  Edgar faded. Each day we reminded him where we were, why Plaka had transported him and how he’d helped us to rescue Calla from Susana.

  Calla recovered. Food and the company of her friends built her up. She began to look more and more like the Calla I remembered. Soon I’d be ready to have a long discussion with her about what had led her to Susana, and what was to become of us.

  Until then, my more immediate concern was what had happened to Plaka. He hadn’t visited since we’d left Susana. So, I decided to go to him.

  Nick helped me to port back through the glass ball, the timepiece that represented the place of the Lost. I was sure I could have found it again with the travel glasses. I’d burned plenty of my memories there inside the glasses and would need to rely on them to return to the Clock Tower. But Nick was the type of person who couldn’t help but help, so I let him.

  Plaka was easy to spot when I arrived. He was the colorful one, leading a trail of silhouettes, like the Pied Piper parading a mischief, a group of mice. Only his instrument of choice was a time-traveling baglamas instead of a magic pipe. As if anticipating my analogy, he played a folkish tune while he walked among the Lost. He’d obviously found a way to leave and return to Susana using the baglamas, given his failure to show up at the Clock Tower. There was plenty of room to generate speed and create a vortex here.

  I assumed the beings that followed him were silhouettes because they chatted with each other and pointed out The Chars and flashes of light. They, like Edgar’s silhouette, seemed disturbed, but not nearly as horrified by the place of the Lost as those of us who were alive and real. Their flatness of character was what had always helped me to recognize them as silhouettes. Had I wanted to, I could have confirmed their transparency—that they were shades or illusions—by recording them in my travel glasses and viewing their pale, washed-out forms captured inside the glasses.

  I waved to my mentor, amazed by how devoted he was to carrying out the full use of his travel talent.

  Plaka acknowledged my presence with a grin. “Over here, Valcas!” he bellowed. “I want to show you something fascinating. Come, observe.”

  He introduced a male silhouette to a man of the Lost. The former called the latter Father. Plaka called forward another silhouette, a female. She too addressed the man as Father. Three silhouettes later, I felt like I was crashing a family reunion. The silhouettes embraced the man.

  Plaka flashed a wide grin. “Some of the Lost need more healing than others, but I’ve found that their visitors do not need to be the persons they’d been searching—although, that is a powerful connection and helps tremendously.”

  Slowly, the Lost man’s silver body of water—a winding stream—began to fade.

  The more the merrier, I mused, understanding now why Calla had come back to us so quickly compared to Martha and Rachel, whose bodies of water had remained. A group of us had visited Calla, all friends, except for Nick, whose role she’d recognized anyway.

  I regarded Plaka with awe as he placed his hand on the head of the Lost man. His treatment seemed to be going according to plan, until an Uproar attacked.

  A flash of light snapped across the Lost man’s body before anyone could anticipate or block it. His back bowed forward. He fell to his knees.

  Silhouettes gasped when the Lost man cried out. Another flash. More sounds of distress and pain. The family of silhouettes formed a circle around the man, protecting him with their bodies and soothing him with their words.

  I rubbed my eyes. The stream faded again—I’d expected that. But the Uproar suddenly looked less bright, less intense, as if it too were fading. All this kept up for some time. Plaka’s grin stayed plastered on his face. He was truly fascinated, and so was I.

  Eventually, the attacks stopped. The stream, along with the man’s Uproar, diminished completely.

  “Freei
ng the Lost destroys the individual’s Uproar,” I said, mystified.

  Plaka held up a hand. “Just wait—there’s more.”

  One of the silhouettes who’d called the man Father helped him to his feet. Together, the family celebrated. The man’s eyes were sharper and his countenance more aware. His body was filled with life.

  But then it began to change.

  The edges of the man, the outline of his being, began to shimmer as if it were slowly separating itself from the backdrop of Susana. The shimmering crawled inward, enveloping his body in glittering light until it covered him completely.

  My breath hitched. A tingling sensation spread across the back of my neck.

  The freed man, however, smiled the entire time, as if it were the best feeling in the world. His relatives-in-silhouette stared. Some were slack-jawed as they raised pointed fingers. Others stared on curiously, peacefully. No one seemed sad to see him go.

  I shaded my eyes from the brightness. When I thought the figure of the man couldn’t get any more dazzling, he disappeared.

  I shook my head. “Why did that happen?”

  “He was an old man who’d been here in Susana far past when his life should have ended.”

  “He should have already died according to his timeline,” I said, understanding.

  “Yes,” mused Plaka. “He’d been trapped here, and tormented. Now he’s free.”

  “But where did he go?”

  Plaka lightly slapped my shoulder. “What is after this life? Is there any time at all?”

  After this life. I was not a religious person. My parents had followed my mother’s Aborealian traditions in which no religion existed. Although, I often wondered what the Everywhere and Everywhen might be, what the source of the white light was, and who or what gave us our travel talents.

  “I don’t know,” I admitted in response to both of Plaka’s questions. “Do you?”

  “Not for certain. But the Freed are happy. I can’t help but imagine, and hope, that they go to a better place. Perhaps to another world, one that the living cannot access. One for which even Nick doesn’t have the appropriate key.”