The Escape

Last time, we left winfry all alone and knocked out in a dark cellar, which wasn’t too nice of us. And you probably were wondering why didn’t they, whoever they are, just censor winfry’s myth. Well, they tried. It didn’t work out so well.

jacob martin, remember him? winfry’s editor friend?, well he, he was suspecting both the censorship of winfry’s myth and the stability of the nilbmahian government so he pulled, without traces, the aces out of his sleeves. Before even the second issue of winfry’s myth, jacob, in a completely convoluted fashion, had the rest of the myth published at a smaller publishing company in episodic pamphlets that got stored in various places throughout the citadel. How all this exactly went down is a tale for another day; suffice to say jacob martin was foxier than the, the, philip moor, the infamous chief investigator of the nia himself. So when censorship did anchor onto winfry’s myth, these pamphlets started trickling out in even higher demand than before. In other words, censorship was the best thing that could have happened for winfry’s myth but probably not for winfry because that’s when he got napped into the cellar.

winfry woke completely disoriented. He couldn’t see anything; his head was pounding; his memory was shot; and his senses of time and balance had been twisted sideways. All he could tell was that he had been lying on a hard, cold and concrete floor and that his spinal cord was taking its revenge.

winfry had just begun to bump out the layout of the room and he was cursing the bruise he would inevitable have after crashing his knee into what he guess was a bulky wooden table, when an uncannily neutral voice shattered winfry’s solitary confinement.

“I trust you know why you’re here, mr. winster.” It wasn’t a question but it was for winfry.

Why was he there? Presumably because of his myth, considering all the phone calls, but it wasn’t like locking him in a cellar was going to stop the myth and his disappearance would probably just trigger another tidal wave of popularity. And then he remembered the nights isa and he had spent in the periodical section of the library. They had been collecting articles about LusciousLocks leading up to the sudden and mysterious black curtain that sealed it off from all communication. Obviously that means they thought the same thing might be happening to nilbmah. But they hadn’t found out anything too interesting – the credibility of most of the stories was questionable and the only worthwhile knowledge they could glean was that before the curtain, the government had also become much more active. And besides, who would have seen them? mrs. weatherwood had left and there was no one else even in the library. And then there were all those discussions with jacob martin about what would happen if nilbmah had a similar black curtain dropped over it. Even without any explicit proof, jacob was convinced that whatever it was that happened to LusciousLocks was happening to nilbmah – there was something his political connections refused to, or perhaps couldn’t, tell even him. So jacob had begun to gather his closest friends to begin resistance. But the movement, if it could even be called one, was nothing more than a group of 20 or so people having coffee at mr. martin’s apartment; they talked a lot, but the only real thing they had done was publish winfry’s myth against censorship. And surely they didn’t know anything about the librem. He had finally grasped on to some inkling as to how to use it.

No. There’s no way any one except for isa knew about that. Definitely not. And then winfry realized that all this was probably what they were hoping to hear, trying to hear.

“Actually, I don’t. Why am I here.”

The blow launched his head into the wooden table and he blackout again.

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In the meanwhile, isa was wreck. For the first time in, well for the first time since falling out with sarah mitchells in the 6th grade because isa couldn’t yet wear a bra like the rest of the girls their class, for the first time, isa felt truly comfortable with someone else. She didn’t have to worry about putting on a mask for winfry; she of course understood this in a much less cliché way but your stuck with me who has to live vicariously through my characters so deal. Anyways, isa was more elated with winfry than a 6 year old on his birthday in a candy shop. She finally had someone to cry to, to rant to, to worry to, to reveal herself to. And more importantly, she finally had someone to distress with, to drink tea with, to laugh with, to be with. And now that someone was missing.

Panic came over her like a slug: slow and nauseating. It licked her slim ankle when winfry didn’t meet her at the periodical section of the library like he normally did on Tuesday evenings. And coiled around her calf when he didn’t answer her 14 calls. And it slimmed up her inner thigh when she found his apartment completely trashed and deserted. That’s when she almost lost it.

Afterwards she would be surprised how, after a decade of utter independence (by 16 she bought her own food with the money she made working on the university gardens) – even after all that, it only took a month to almost forget her former independence. In spite of her 16-year-old grocery shopping, in spite of learning to completely disregard the disdain and ridicule of all the other girls in her middle and high school classes, in spite of pulling herself together after being blown to bits by her family’s deaths and her car crash, in this moment, without winfry, isa thought, for the first time ever in her life, that all hope was lost. And although this thought was as fleeting as ephemerid, it was no less terrifying for being so. Such was her falling for winfry.

When isa did snapped out of it and stepped back into her former poise, she knew exactly what to do. The first thing she did was search winfry’s room for the librem and sure enough there it was, dumped on the floor with all winfry’s other books, in the guise of Alexander Bates’ “Myths and the making: the influences of mythology.” But when she picked up the book, it rippled back into the rough leather journal strapped up with a bronze buckle. She also looked around for his fountain pen but couldn’t find it and assumed it must be in his pocket. The next thing she did was pack a bag for winfry and take it to her place, where she packed her own bag. They were leaving nilbmah; they no longer had a choice. The librem’s clairvoyance was proving itself 20-20.

What’s more, isa had been dreaming about this. In her dreams, she and winfry were sleeping together (only in her dreams mind you) but when she woke up in her dream winfry would be gone; only his undershirt and night shorts remained as if he had evaporated. But before depression could overcome her, winfry’s night clothes became animated and started to push her out of her apartment. When she went back to do her dishes the undershirt barred her reentry and she knew she would be leaving for good. The next thing she knew, winfry had filled in his night clothes and they were running through the great LusciousLockian symias searching. What they were searching for always remained elusive; the sensation of her dream was like what she imagined having Alzheimer’s was like: remembering you were looking for something but forgetting what it was.

But at that moment she wasn’t bothering herself about what they needed to find; she knew who she needed to find and she knew where to find him. She just needed to talk to jacob martin first.

__________________________________________________________

“Good evening, ms. englewood. This is quite a surprise. Would you come in?”

“I don’t have time for all the niceties, mr. martin,” isa replied as she reluctantly entered the apartment, “How much security do you have at the basement of the lemnyn building.”

Something about her tone and the way she said ‘you’ must have offended jacob because he became very defensive. “Look, ms. englewood, I don’t know why I rub you the wrong way, but surely you must know I’m not actually with them.”

“It’s hard to trust someone who keeps secrets from even his best friends.”

“Fair enough,” jacob said with a shrug, “So why do you need to know about the lemnyn building?”

“They’re holding winfry there.”

jacob cursed and kicked over his mahogany coffee table sending a flock of old newspapers and magazines flying. “I thought I had taken care of that. What is landers up to now? … Wait. How do you know winfry’s at the lemnyn building?”

“Surely, you of all people, mr. martin, will permit me a few secrets. Just trust that my information is sound.”

“Ok. Ok. Fair enough. The lemnyn building? Really? But that’s only where they take the worst…” the flash of panic across isa’s face immediately made jacob regret letting that slip. Man, that woman was quick. “So you’re planning a rescue. I don’t know ms. englewood; the lemnyn building isn’t exactly your local police station. I can take care of this.”

“No.” isa’s look was all the reasons he needed to give up convincing her to let him deal with the fiasco.

An hour later, 11 pm, isa left jacob completely at a loss. She had refused all his offers for help, refused to tell him what she was doing, refused to calm down. There parting was just as peculiar.

“Good bye mr. martin. winfry and I are leaving and I trust all three of us will see much more than we would like before we see each other again. You’re a better man than I thought. Take care to stay that way. It won’t be easy. Till we meet again. Adieu.”

“Ahh… same to you ms. englewood?”

__________________________________________________________

The second time winfry woke up in the cellar was a little better than the first, but not by much. As far as he could tell, he was in the same room and more importantly he was alone with only his thoughts for company. Of course I never had the privilege to meet his company but why not speculate. Maybe he was planning his escape. Maybe he was remembering about all the messages the librem had been slipping him lately about leaving to look for whatever it was they should look for. Well, it’s sort of hard to leave when you’re locked up. Maybe he was worrying about isa and how she would feel when she realized he was gone. Maybe he guessed that isa had used the quilaire to see through space to find him there in the cellar and was on her way to bust him out. Maybe he regretted not having the librem with him because then he would surely be able to find some way out. Maybe, maybe, maybe. But he probably didn’t think about how much confidence he surprisingly still had – about how much he had changed since isa and the librem. If this had happened to him a year ago he would have lost it sooner than a toddler losses a pacifier and they would have had a much easier time with him.

__________________________________________________________

Entering the lemnyn building was easy. isa just used a crow bar to pry open one of the windows. With jacob’s information and what she had seen of the building while searching for winfry with the quilaire, she felt fairly comfortable with the layout of the building; she guessed winfry was two floors down on the far side of the building. All she would have to do was avoid the security that jacob had told her about. The building was dark except for the exit lights, so she made it to the stairs fairly easily.

__________________________________________________________

“Ok, mr. winster, it’s time you talk”

It was the same uncannily neutral voice from earlier. But this time winfry could see the woman behind the voice. They had moved him to a different room where they tied him to a chair in the middle of a concrete cube and she was pacing the room. She would have been attractive if he weren’t tied to a chair, if she weren’t wearing military boots and a trench coat, if she spoke with even the tiniest bit of expression, if he had met her at the park on a sunny day with introductions and all. But there in the concrete cube, tied to the chair with her pacing inches behind him with who-knows-what up her trench coat, he was very much intimidated.

“Ok then, lets go to auntie mays. They should still be open at this hour. I hear the ambience there is nice for a conversation.” In retrospect, it was a really stupid thing to say but winfry must have found it funny. auntie mays was a whore house.

No sooner than winfry could chuckle at his own crudeness than the flat, pale yellow face, blank as ever and framed by straight black hair down up in a bun swooped down into his. And without even lowering her eyebrows, she spit in winfry’s face.

“Cut the jokes, mr. winster. They aren’t going to help you.”

With his hands tied down, there was nothing winfry could do except shake his head to no avail before resigning himself to having her saliva slip down his face and into the collar of his shirt.

“So wooing you won’t work? Shucks.” winfry was probably also wondering how he could be so snarky but, maybe that’s just me.

winfry felt the pain before her boot even hit his groin. It took a few minutes for winfry to regain anything other than his sense of excruciating pain.

“Tell me what you know about the quilaire.”

“You’re a bitch. You know that?”

__________________________________________________________

Isa knew it had been too easy when she got to were winfry should have been without running into any security.

“Well isn’t this lovely,” she muttered to herself when she realized winfry was no longer being held there. Under normal circumstances she of course would have developed several backup plans, but at this point she had to muffle that side of her personality with a plastic bag. What really concerned isa was that there was no real reason they would abduct winfry just because of the myth; there were other more effective ways to deal with that. Something else was going on and it couldn’t be good. And whatever it was would probably get worse the longer they had winfry. It was sky high time they left so the least we can do is permit isa this splash of rashness.

isa considered looking through space to find winfry but that would waste too much energy and time and leaving with out winfry wasn’t an option so she decided to explore the rest of the basement.

__________________________________________________________

“I repeat. What do you know about the quilaire.”

“What? I don’t exactly follow?”

“mr. winster, even your jokes are better than your lies. Tell me what you know about the quilaire.”

winfry was finally starting to sweat. How could they know about isa’s quilaire? Did they even know about her quilaire? Had they done anything to isa? Oh god this could be bad. What should he say?

“What’s the matter mr. winster? Did they turn the thermostat up?” Even this sarcastic comment was delivered with a neutrality that was slowly starting to cheese-grate against winfry’s face.

“Why would you think I know anything about the quilaire? I’m just a boring actuary in case you didn’t know.”

“I doubt that. And I ask the questions,” she paused only to backhand winfry, “Don’t ever forget that, mr. winster.”

__________________________________________________________

“Who’s there?”

A security guard with a flashlight and a pistol heard isa trying to pry her way through a locked door. She could easily take care of him with the quilaire but she needed to conserve her energy. So she slipped behind a corner and held her breath as a beam of light flickered back and forth down the hall.

The footsteps were about to reach isa’s corner and she was ready to mesmerize the guard when his intercommuncatory piece buzzed. He was so close to isa that she heard the other voice buzz, “lieutenant tern, report to cell d12. mr. winster is proving more feisty than we imagined.”

“What’s your name?”

“Excuse me?”

“What’s your name?”

winfry's question completely caught his inquisitor off-guard, which gave him the instant he needed to throw himself back in the chair and send his legs crashing into the woman’s knees. Her scream as her knees bent awkwardly and she slumped to the floor was the most expression she had shown all evening.

Unfortunately for winfry, he was still tied to the chair that he had cause to fall to the chair. He hadn’t really thought that part through. All he knew was that he felt the influence of the quilaire pushing him to do it so that meant isa was near.

But after two security guards ran in and kicked him in the ribcage several times, he started to doubt whether it had been such a good idea. At least the woman was having a hard time getting up as well. But eventually she seemed to recover and return her face into the disturbingly blank stare.

“That wasn’t wise, mr. winster.” She hid her hand within her trench coat and pulled out a rusty old pair of pliers.

BOOM!!!

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The explosion was much more dramatic than isa excepted but that was for the best, or at least that’s what she thought at the time. She had followed the guard to the cell where they were holding winfry and she was able to recognize winfry’s voice through his screams as the guards kicked his chest but by that point there were far too many people around the door so she created a distraction. She had brought an aerosol can just for such an occasion. She left it at the end of the hallway and then took cover before bending fire to set off her homemade fireworks.

It did the trick. Most of the guards ran off to investigate the explosion and the one guard and unemotional interrogator who did stay behind were so startled that isa easily knocked them unconscious with the crowbar.

“Wow isa, I didn’t think you could be so violent.”

“Yeah, well growing up in the country side and having to deal with the wildbeasts will do that to you and I believe people normally thank their rescuers instead of making sarcastic comments”

“Well, I’m still tied up actually.”

“It’s good to know you’re still ok.”

isa quickly untied winfry and they slipped out the room before any of the security returned from the explosion. Apart from hiding from a few more guards that were called in to investigation, the duo quickly made it back to the first floor. All they had to do was cross the main hall to the window isa came in through. They had practically made it cross the dark wide hall when a dark, in spite of the moonlight that lit the rest of hall, figure appeared on the other side of the hall.

“Surrender the quilaire and you can leave in peace.” The voice was very peculiar. It was like a wolf that had learned to speak but still had a thick accent. The jokes were no longer coming to winfry like they were earlier. The figure was slowly approaching but neither isa nor winfry moved. Something about the creature was stunning or maybe hypnotizing them like a dose of curare and it was more than just fear.

“Surrender the quilaire,” it said again, now about 10 meters away. But even from that distance it was still impossible to distinguish any of its features.

Then the side doors burst open, security poured in and winfry and isa snapped out of it.

“Leave! Leave! I can handle this on my own.” Even without seeing it’s features, it’s anger could be felt more strongly then a finger on flames and isa took advantage of the distraction to close the doors by bending wind and locking the people in by warping the wood.

“It’s of no use. I will destroy them all. I don’t care. Surrender the quilaire.” The creature swelled and continued it’s advance.

isa had taken the quilaire from around her neck and was clutching it like a knife, or better yet, a wand. “Never.”

Letting herself go to the quilaire she lunged forward like a fencer and blue flares sparked towards the creature who somehow managed to grab hold of them and pull isa forward. A strange struggle of tug-of-war ensued over the blue flares and isa was losing ground. The creature managed to pull her within a meter away and he started to stretch out a charred black hand towards isa’s face.

“Feel yourself slipping. Let yourself go. Enter the abyss.” The wolf accent was now completely overbearing and only isa could really understand what he was saying. In spite of all her efforts the influence of the quilaire was slipping and she was overcome by a falling sensation.

winfry watched in horror as isa was overcome by the creature that had now swelled to twice the size of a human. He panicked when he saw isa’s eyes glaze over as the creature spoke some strange language meters away from her. And then the presence of the quilaire rushed into him and he ran, diving full force into the creatures knees bringing it crashing to the floor. It’s legs felt like charcoal scrapping up winfry’s face and arms.

Ignoring his ripped up upper body, winfry got up, rushed to isa, grabbed the quilaire out of her hand, pulled her to her feet and ran like lightning, literally out the door that the creature had come through.

The next thing they knew they were at isa’s apartment gathering their things sneaking out to nighline with a stolen car, which they would abandon to head into LusciousLocks by foot.