Best tea party ever.

The White Rabbit sat on the other armchair and sipped his cup of tea with Jean Miller, ate biscuits and talked about all sorts of things, mostly about what we’d gotten up to today.

I sat on the bed and watched them. It was the strangest sight to see a two foot, snowy white rabbit sitting on an arm chair, drinking tea and behaving like a human and yet, it was an utter delight to watch.

Jean Miller didn’t mind in the least.

“What a day the two of you have had,” she laughed softly, “and what a triumph! I am very impressed.”

“I mightn’t have been so aware of his fear if it had not been for Wiess’ suggestions of clothing and WR’s remark on how strongly he could smell fear on Griffin.”

“Even more so than the sewer water,” the White Rabbit lamented, “I feel I must apologise again, dear lady, for my appearance. My waistcoat is still a little damp…”

“Don’t you worry about it at all.” Jean assured him. “Besides, I think you look rather handsome in that outfit.” WR preened a little and lifted his teacup to sip his tea. Jean turned to me. “I am sure E.J. enjoyed every minute of walking into the Agency HQ with Griffin who came willingly. It’s a true testimony to kindness and compassion trumping brute force.”

“Here, here!” WR declared. “Are you, ah, going to eat that?”

I was surprised when Jean handed over her last cream biscuit. WR took it gratefully and enjoyed its flavour. Jean saw my expression and smiled.

“I cannot tell you how much I am loving this moment. I know E.J. and Weiss try not to make their visits business based but it does seem that every time anyone visits, they have a book in their hands…and not a biscuit as incentive to not die tomorrow.” She winked at WR dramatically. He put down his teacup and looked her solemnly in the eye.

“Truly, that would be a loss to the entire world.”

Jean put her hand to her chest and smiled. She blinked away a few errant tears.

“Oh you are a bit of a charmer, aren’t you?” She laughed then turned to me. “Does E.J. or anyone else know of your house guest?”

“I think Weiss might have guessed but I didn’t tell E.J.” I admitted.

“While E.J. would never betray you, you’d best not make a habit of it, however much I am enjoying the company.” Jean insisted. “The Oversight of the Agency does not take kindly to their rules being broken.”

“Just a little bent, that’s all.” I insisted. “He is going to go home but he was a big help to me yesterday.”

“I quite enjoyed the endeavour.” WR remarked, wiping some crumbs from his nose. Jean held out a handkerchief to him which he used to clean himself up. “Except for the part where those other people threatened to get rid of me themselves.”

“The other agents?” Jean asked.

“Yes, those guys. There was Patch, some jerk called Taylor, a man I didn’t get the name of and…”

“Ryder.” WR offered.

“That’s the one.”

“E.J.’s old Agency buddies. A bad crowd to bump into.”

“Why? I mean, E.J. and Weiss said that the only people allowed into this business are those who understand the dangers behind it all.”

“They do, Sam, all too well.” Jean assured me. “They do their job but come at it from a different perspective.”

“They treat incursions like acts of war and interlopers like spies that have to be eliminated?” Jean nodded. “But that’s not how Weiss and E.J. work.”

“No. And it’s their philosophy that alienates them from the rest of the Agency.”

I thought about this. “Even if they didn’t agree with E.J., there seemed to be something more to it. Like he was being punished and they were just looking at an excuse to throw the book at him.”

“Or throw him into a book.”

I froze. “They can do that?”

Jean nodded. “There were experiments, E.J. tells me, in the early days, of trying to send agents into books…but they didn’t belong there. Their names were not in the books, they had no part to play in the story and so they simply became background characters, lost in fiction.”

I shivered. “That’s horrible. Couldn’t they just pull them out?”

“It became very clear very quickly that once the book was closed then reopened, the agents were gone and the attempts were stopped. But it’s always been used as a threat.”

“Not that I don’t think it’s cruel and unusual,” I insisted, “but would it really be so bad? Some books are great, at least, what I’ve seen about them in movies, anyway.”

“What book does not have a degree of heartache and sorrow in it? How many blockbuster movies based on books have not had war after death after war and hopelessness rising like a never ending tide?” Jean asked. “Sam, really, truly, if you thought about it…would you even dare?”

I did think about it. It didn’t take long for me to feel very uncomfortable at the thought.

“At least they have happy endings, right?” I said softly.

“Those that ended.”

“What do you mean?”

Jean looked terribly sad. “There is nothing more heartbreaking, Sam, than a book series that was never finished. Its characters remain forever suspended between the heartache they are in and the end that would resolve so much. Eternal torment for its characters is the book that was never completed.”

I was chilled to the bone by the sad turn of conversation. Jean blinked it away and looked at the White Rabbit who was studying us both.

“Thank heavens yours are finished.”

“And as different as they are to this place, it is my home.”

“So, you’re ready to go back?”

WR sat up straight on the chair. “Ready, perhaps not. But late? I am always late.” He gave a polished bow to Jean who nearly clapped her hands and giggled in delight. “Farewell dear lady. It was indeed an honour to have made your acquaintance.”

“Likewise, sir.” She said and he allowed her to stroke his ears just the once.

I had to get him to hop into the bag before we left the room.

“Goodbye Sam,” Jean called as I went to the door, “and make sure he gets home.”

“I will, that’s for sure.” I promised. “Bye Jean.”

Even if we hadn’t been sitting in a taxi with the driver able to hear a rabbit speak, I don’t think WR and I would have talked much, if at all. It was the final drive, the resignation that our day off was coming to an end. I paid the driver then let WR out of the bag so he could hop to the front door with dignity. He had changed while in the bag from his overalls to his waistcoat, a little damp but no worse for wear. I handed him his pocket watch which he tucked into its pocket and patted it securely.

Weiss was inside, writing out reference cards. I felt bad, begging for a day off when I knew how much work she had to do but before I could apologise she stood up to her full height and pushed her glasses up her nose.

“Are you ready to go home now?”

She didn’t look at me. She was looking directly at the White Rabbit. She had been expecting him.

“I am.” He nodded.

She had already entered the code for the book and the clockwork hand went whizzing around the shelves and deposited the book on the little ledge.

“Shall we?” She asked.

WR hesitated. “Can Sam come?” He said tremulously.

I wasn’t sure how Weiss would feel about that. I’d never seen someone returned home before.

“Of course.”

I followed Weiss and WR to the back of the store where she lifted the trapdoor, revealing steps down into a drain. WR had to take each step carefully so as not to fall and I descended after him. The drain was the centre point of a junction, three tunnels going off in every direction except the one that would have run directly under the store. There was a pipe, of course, for the plumbing but someone, E.J. probably, had cobbled an extension onto the plumbing so that it dumped out further down the drain and not into the intersection.

A couple of lights were hung, tacked to the ceiling and walls, providing light to the intersection.

“Sam, stay at the bottom of the steps.” Weiss ordered and I did so, watching as she opened the book. “White Rabbit, what are your last memories before falling into this world?”

“Being chased by that silly blonde girl as I headed for my rabbit hole.” He said firmly.

Weiss stood a bit back from the direct centre of the intersection. She began to read. She had one of those voices that could lull you into a hypnotic state or fall asleep. It was textured, measured and warm.

“‘Alice was beginning to get very tired of sitting by her sister on the bank, and of having nothing to do: once or twice she had peeped into the book her sister was reading, but it had no pictures or conversations in it, `and what is the use of a book,' thought Alice `without pictures or conversation?'”

My body had begun to tingle and there was a charge in the air, like static electricity that was humming nearby without the shock of touching it. I held my breath and waited. Weiss continued to read.

“‘So she was considering in her own mind (as well as she could, for the hot day made her feel very sleepy and stupid), whether the pleasure of making a daisy-chain would be worth the trouble of getting up and picking the daisies, when suddenly a White Rabbit with pink eyes ran close by her’.”

WR, who had been near Weiss’ feet, sat upright, his nose twitching. He looked at Weiss who put a long finger to her lips and he nodded.

“‘There was nothing so very remarkable in that; nor did Alice think it so very much out of the way to hear the Rabbit say to itself, `Oh dear! Oh dear! I shall be late!' (when she thought it over afterwards, it occurred to her that she ought to have wondered at this, but at the time it all seemed quite natural); but when the Rabbit actually took a watch out of its waistcoat-pocket, and looked at it, and then hurried on, Alice started to her feet, for it flashed across her mind that she had never before seen a rabbit with either a waistcoat-pocket, or a watch to take out of it, and burning with curiosity, she ran across the field after it, and fortunately was just in time to see it pop down a large rabbit-hole under the hedge.’”

I jumped when I heard a ripping sound, exactly like when my mum rips old sheets into pieces to use as rags. But it wasn’t material that ripped. It was the fabric of reality. A tear tore right in front of our eyes, almost dead centre in the intersection. It was about eight feet high and three feet across in the middle though it was narrower at the top and bottom. The edges, which looked exactly like torn paper, rippled with power and I could see little threads of light streak across the tear as if it was trying to reach the other side and pull itself shut.

Weiss held the book open and remained very still except to look at WR.

“Time to go home.” She said softly.

“Thank you.” He said sincerely then turned back to me. I felt my heart quiver as he hopped twice towards me. “And thank you, Sam. I really have had the most marvellous day.”

“Me too.” I said, feeling my voice catch in my throat. I leaned forward and held out my hand. WR put his paw in it and we shook hands. “Bye White Rabbit.”

He nodded, went to go back to the tear then paused. “Do you know something, that really is a cumbersome name. I think, if you ever think of me, I’d like it if you thought of me as Whitby.”

A tear trickled down my cheek. I wiped it away. “I thought you hated it.”

He smiled. “I’ve warmed to it. Goodbye Sam.”

“Bye Whitby.”

He hopped towards the tear and, after an encouraging nod from Weiss, hopped through it. He landed on soft green grass and sat up to look back at us. He gave a little wave which I returned before Weiss gently closed the book and the tear sealed itself back up with a sigh.

Weiss said nothing about the tears streaming down my face.

“You did a very kind thing, Sam.” She offered softly.

“I didn’t think I was all that kind.” I sniffed and wiped at my tears, breathing out through the tightening of my throat. “It was a lot of fun. And it’s nice that he’s got good memories of this place and not just of being chased.” I saw Weiss’ eyes flicker and her jaw tightened. “What is it?”

She licked her lips. “Sam…when fictional characters go back into their books…they don’t remember anything from this world.”

I stood up as my heart hit the ground. “They don’t?” She shook her head. “And you let me say goodbye to him, thinking that he’d have good memories of seeing our world, meeting Jean, going on the Ferris wheel…”

“It would have made this moment harder on both of you.” She explained and I turned my head, angry and miserable all at once.

“You don’t know,” I muttered, “you don’t know for certain that he wouldn’t remember anything.”

“We’ve had repeat interlopers before. Each time they crossover, they have no idea where they are or what to do. I’m not sure if it is because they come from a different point in the book or if this world becomes a dream to them but of the very few who have crossed over more than once, not one has memories of this place.”

I swallowed. Hard. I didn’t really know what to say to that.

Weiss looked at the book in her hands. “Even though he had a good time here, the White Rabbit belongs in Wonderland, within the pages of the book that he was created from.”

“But he won’t remember me or anything we did.” My jaw trembled. “I’ll probably never see him again and he won’t know me at all even if he did.”

“You can always visit him, you know.” She handed me the book, the complete works of Lewis Carroll’s, ‘Alice in Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass’. “He’s in these pages and you have the privilege of knowing his name.”

I followed her up the stairs, the wonder of the tearing of reality coming in a poor second to the sadness of saying goodbye to a friend. When we walked into the bookstore, we found E.J. waiting for us, arms folded, leaning against the counter. He turned his head towards us.

“Did your little friend return home?” I nodded. “Good work.”

I put the book onto its shelf and pulled the lever to the return position. The book whizzed away, sliding back into place.

“Did you know the whole time?” I asked.

“Didn’t have a clue.” E.J. admitted. “Honestly, when I got the call that you had Griffin in, let’s say, protective custody, I spent the entire drive towards you racking my brain and coming up blank. It was only when Griffin praised you for your efforts and you had a snowy white, long eared bloodhound, that the pieces began to fall into place. I figured I’d just wait and see if my faith in you was justified. You did the right thing.”

“Even though he won’t remember me.” I murmured. “And what about Griffin? He won’t remember anything either.”

“It still happened.” E.J. insisted. “Sam, Griffin had nothing but praise for you. I am deeply impressed and as for the Agency…” He chuckled. “Oversight wanted a full debriefing which I gave, as much as I could without giving away your little white friend.”

“They didn’t scare Griffin, did they?” I asked.

“I didn’t let them. I was with him every step of the way and got him through those final nerves before returning to him to his book.”

“What did Ryder and the other jerks say?”

“You know when a cat walks on a ledge, falls off then tries to pretend that was what it meant to do?” E.J. grinned. “That’s exactly the impression I got as Oversight called them in after me, to grill them for the inability for four trained and well equipped agents to do what a kid, now sanctioned by the Agency, did with a bag of cast off clothes and a decent meal.”

I folded my arms. “I can’t understand why they’re even allowed to do what they do. There was no need for it. And Taylor, I think he would have happily wasted me just to get to Whitby.”

“Whitby?”

“The White Rabbit.”

“Taylor has an itchy trigger finger. Patch is not a bad sort and knows how to mine a perimeter. Ryder…he follows the rules because then he knows exactly who he is, what authority he has and what he’s doing. He likes clearly defined boundaries.”

“And those boundaries include incinerating frightened creatures?”

“The rules say, any interlopers need to be contained but violent ones need to be dealt with. And the invisible man, Griffin, was identified and known to be violent, even homicidal. They couldn’t trust in kindness. They went with methods they knew would work.”

“What about that other guy? The one that you went off with?”

“That’s Goliath.”

“Like, David and Goliath?”

“That’s the one.” E.J. nodded. “You do realise you’re not getting any of their real names, right?”

“That’s starting to become clear.” I eyed him and Weiss. “Do I even know your real names?”

“Does anything we do remind you of the way the rest of the Agency works?” E.J. asked. “No pretences here, Sam. I think that’s why you fit in and what Griffin sensed about you.”

I stuck my hands in my pockets. “At least Griffin got home.” I looked at Weiss. “I wanted to ask you something. Griffin, as the invisible man…was there anything in the book about his eyesight?”

“No.” She shook her head.

“When he was in our world, he had terrible vision. He bumped into people and he couldn’t tell that Whitby was a rabbit and not a dog.”

Weiss thought about it. “I remember reading an article that speculated, if all the components of a person’s eye were made clear, or in this case, invisible, they would be virtually blind so they concluded that the invisible man’s theory of becoming unseeable, was impossible. Of course, in Jules Verne book, where he wrote the rules of reality, this did not occur. But upon coming here…”

“It’s one of those ‘lost in translation’ glitches you were talking about.” I finished.

“Exactly. The fantasy character brings their powers and abilities across with them but sometimes, especially if the power is very out of sync with the real world, something may go astray in how it is translated. Dracula could not create perfect vampire brides. They became vampire zombies. Griffin’s eyes, that were perfectly unaffected by the process of invisibility, became damaged when he entered this world.”

“It’s a bit of a pot luck nightmare.” I muttered. “Gosh, I hope he finds the cure he was searching for.” I caught E.J. and Weiss’ exchanged look. “What? What now?”

“Sam,” E.J. said softly, “in the book, The Invisible Man, Griffin is killed,” my mouth fell open as he continued, “after he becomes mentally unstable and dangerously violent.”

I looked at Weiss then to E.J. and back again.

“And you let him return to that?!”

“It’s where he came from.” E.J. said sadly but I was too angry to really notice.

“I don’t care! He didn’t deserve that! He should have been allowed to stay!”

“Where, Sam?” E.J. asked. “Here? In your flat? Along with Whitby, Moriarty and all the other fictional characters you want to give sanctuary to?”

“Moriarty knew he was going to die but he was ready to face that.” I retorted angrily. “And Whitby? He has a good story. It’s crazy but at least it’s good. Griffin…I told him he’d have a better chance of figuring out the cure to his condition in the world he came from but I just sent him to his death!”

“And if we’d kept him here, he would have had to have been imprisoned for life.” E.J. stood up straight, his tone getting hard. “He was mentally unstable, Sam. He turned on people he knew, broke into places to steal money to fund his research and eventually killed people after deciding to enact a reign of terror, an invisible assassin killing at will and terrorising his world.”

“That wasn’t the man I met!” I roared back at him, angry as anything. “He knew he had a temper but he wasn’t a killer!”

“He would have reverted to his natural inclinations,” Weiss said gently, inserting herself into the conversation, “as per the way he was written by Jules Verne. If it had been in his favour, he would have attacked the agents, Ryder, Taylor and the others.”

I was still reeling from the loss of Whitby and now the fury I felt yet I recalled Griffin talking about how he’d been tempted to steal a weapon and shoot the agents. It took a little of the wind out of my red hot sails but I was still adamant that I was right.

“He wasn’t like that with me. He was…lost and frightened.”

“But after he met you, for a few hours he was at peace.” Weiss insisted. “Sam, he never had that in the book. Not for a moment.”

I blinked away the angry tears. “But he won’t remember it. I caught him with kindness and sent him to his death.”

“Kindness is never wasted,” E.J. assured me, “and Griffin was already dead, according to his book. At least here, he was able to share his life with someone and not be afraid.”

“Why would someone write a book like that?” I whispered, my throat tight and scratchy.

“It’s a cautionary tale about the inclination of human nature to mess around with who we fundamentally are.”

“It’s fiction.”

“Sometimes fiction has more truth in it than textbooks and fact-tion.” Weiss said calmly.

I swallowed again. I felt like there was gravel in my throat. “I just…I didn’t think he had to die to make a point. I don’t think I could have sent him back if I knew.”

“And if you did know, you’d be more inclined to light them up than develop a respect and friendship, making it so much harder to send them home.” E.J. explained. “Which is why most agents tend to treat interlopers the same way as Ryder, Taylor and Patch.”

“I guess it would be easier.” I admitted.

“The easy way is not always the right way or even the best way.” Weiss said, walking away.

“You’re telling me.” I muttered and looked at E.J. “You know what? Some days this job really…”

“Sucks…I know.”

There wasn’t much more to say or do. When I said I needed to go home, no one questioned it. At home I threw the empty bag that I’d carried Whitby around in on the floor and fell face first onto my bed. I was torn between crying or punching a pillow…so I just lay on the bed, feeling more tired than I had been the day before, even after all the running around.

Eventually I had to breathe so I rolled over. My hand brushed something flat on the bed. I turned my head and saw a large envelope on the rumbled bedspread. I sat up, immediately recognising Canterbury University’s emblem on the front. It was the head of a lion in a geometric shape and its mouth was open, roaring the university’s motto. It was in Latin and I couldn’t read it but I already knew what it said.

“Power. Love. Sound Mind.” I sat up and ripped open the large envelope. It was my enrolment welcome package to the university. I stared at it, shocked that the course I’d deferred for a job that fell through, and I ended up working at ‘Beyond The Page’ just to fill time and my pocket, was no longer on the distant horizon. It was very, very near.

I put the paperwork on the bed and just looked at it.

If I did the course, I would have to quit from the bookstore and, well, whatever I did with E.J. in apprehending fictional characters.

You might be thinking, don’t be crazy! Stay with the once in a lifetime, clandestine group and chase down fictional interlopers and clean up incursions! It’s more exciting than computers and programming.

But the truth was, I wasn’t sure my heart could take it.

I felt wrung out and unable to face reality…or fantasy.

Mum picked up on my mood.

Mind you, she was probably expecting me to be over the moon that I was a few weeks away from starting the degree I wanted to six months ago.

“So…good news from Canterbury?” She asked.

“Oh yeah,” I said, unable to brighten my tone, “it’s my ‘welcome to Canterbury University’ package.”

“You’re doing a computer course. I’m surprised they didn’t email it.” She said and I knew she was trying to poke a little fun. I just pushed the peas around my plate. “Sam…what is it honey?”

Oh gosh…what wasn’t it?

“You were so excited about the course and so disappointed when you had to defer it for six months,” (that was a very tactful way of saying I’d not taken her advice but she was too gracious to crow over me), “and I know how much you hate working in the bookstore.” She put her elbow on the table and rested her chin on her interlocking fingers. “Well, you did hate it…but now I’m not so sure…”

“It’s not the hole I thought it was.” I felt like that was the understatement of the year. “Weiss, my boss, got computers in and I was able to put a program in place that takes what she’s been doing manually and turns it into an online accessible system.”

“Just the one system?” I nodded. “Sam, I’ve seen you build computers. You could have had that done in a week. What else do you have to do there?”

“Data entry, filing, deliveries…” Avoiding agents, catching creatures, visiting Jean, checking on cameras…

“It doesn’t sound very thrilling.”

“You’re the one who told me to stick it out there.” I said with a little heat, not that I was angry with her but just wanting to grind my teeth, unsure about what I’d never questioned before.

“And I’m so glad you did. I think it’s taught you a lot about needing to the do the hard stuff, the boring grind and the messy bits, sticking it out when it gets tough.” Mum insisted. “Life isn’t always going to be easy. Even in your dream job, there will be some days that you might wish you’d stayed in a bookstore. But it’s not what you wanted to do and, if I’m honest, there isn’t much of a future in it. Who knows how long it will stay open and if it closes and Canterbury don’t pick up your deferred year option again…”

“You’re saying I should quit?” I asked.

Mum put her hand over mine. “I’m saying you need to look at the big picture. You don’t need to know all the details all at once but, if you know what it is you want to do, start taking steps towards it.”

“And if I don’t know what it is I want to do?”

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“Sam, you’ve always known.”

That’s the thing.

I’d always known I wanted to work with computers. I wanted to set up servers and computer systems, write programs and basically have a better friendship with my computer screen than anyone else.

The next day was Friday and at the end of the day, Weiss sent me to be paid by E.J. We’d come to an arrangement on the wage. I got to leave early on Fridays and E.J. made the cheque out to cash. He warned me that if I lost it, that was on me so I always went straight to the bank before it closed.

“Come in Sam.” He said, balancing a bracket on his knees. “I’m just trying to get a better angle in the old cinema. If I can just get this bracket to bend the laws of physics…cheque’s on the desk.”

E.J. often had bits of junk lying around and his fingers and nails usually had grease underneath them. Because of the Agency’s reluctance to properly fund his territory, E.J. just made do with what he had. Weiss offered to pay for new equipment but he was reluctant to sponge too much from her.

And to be honest, I think he liked it. Goodness knows why.

I just figured he’d watched too much MacGyver growing up.

I picked up the cheque and looked at it.

If I was going to quit, I’d have to do it soon to give them two weeks notice.

“Weiss was right, you do have a mournful face on today.” E.J. gave some random junk a push off the chair next to him and swiped at it with a cloth that could have deposited more grease than cleaned it for all the good it did. “Sit and spit.”

“I’m guessing you don’t mean literally.” I muttered, slumping into the chair.

“Spit it out, I mean. What’s on your mind? What’s rattling round in your brain?” He growled at the bracket then look at me. “Is it because of Griffin and Whitby?”

“No. I mean, yes. At least, it is a little.”

“Sam…bank closes in twenty five minutes.”

I took a deep breath. “When Weiss first hired me, I was just looking at a way to get the government off my back so they’d keep paying me until a slot at Canterbury University opened up. Then I couldn’t say no to my mum so I kept working there…and then I nearly got eaten and I found out what you really do and then I built a computer and a program and…” I flung up my hands. “It all got so complicated.”

“Sounds pretty straight forward to me.”

“Midyear enrolment.” E.J. lifted his head and met my gaze. “It starts in two weeks.”

“I see.” He put the bracket down. “And now you’re having second thoughts?”

“Second, third, fourth…it’s not that I don’t find what you guys do fascinating…and terrifying, dangerous and downright illegal I think. But this course, it’s the start of a degree that leads into a future in IT and I’ve always wanted to work with computers.”

“Given what you’ve managed to accomplish next door,” he jerked his head in the direction of ‘Beyond The Page’, “I think you’ve got a definite natural knack.”

“Yeah…but then I couldn’t work here. It’s this or that.”

We were both quiet for a moment.

“Canterbury University…that’s not your run of the mill uni, is it?”

“No, it’s not.”

“I’m guessing you worked really hard to get a spot there.”

“Yeah, I did.”

E.J. leaned back, wiping his hands on the cloth. “Look, Sam…I don’t think I can be trusted to be impartial. You need someone who isn’t going to want to try to convince you to stay.”

“No, no, you have to help me choose.” I demanded. “E.J., you and Weiss are the only ones who know how important the work is that we do around here. Everyone else just sees a dusty only bookstore and a dead end job. Hell, that’s what I saw when I first arrived. But it’s all different now. And not just good different but bad, sucky, miserable different. Sometimes I’m thrilled to be here and other times it’s like…Argh!” E.J. laughed softly. “It’s not funny.”

“No, it’s not…but it is familiar.” He cleared his throat and sat up. “Being brutally honest here…I’d hate to lose you. Weiss and I have been doing this on our own for ten years. Jeanette was great but after her fall we wanted to make sure she wouldn’t be put in harm’s way and if we lost her…I don’t know what we’ll do to be honest and that’s a worry I can’t even begin to face.” He sucked through his teeth and looked at me firmly. “But I can’t ask you to give up something that you’ve wanted and worked towards for so long. So I’m not even going to try. You should take that slot at Canterbury.”

My heart sank. I kind of wished he’d insisted I’d stay so I wouldn’t feel so bad about leaving.

“What will Weiss say?”

“She’ll be hurt and offended…but that will pass. For her, this is her life. For you, not so much.”

“I just feel so bad, after all you’ve shown me and how you told Bluey that if anything happened to you, I’d be there instead.”

“Hey, that was to reassure him. It was never meant to lock you into this job.” E.J. insisted. “Sam…you don’t owe us anything. If anything, we’re grateful to have had you working here. We’ll get by without you. We did before and we’ll do so again.”

“I dunno…you’re getting on…”

E.J. laughed and threw the cloth at me. “I won’t miss the smartarse remarks, I can tell you that.”

Somehow I knew that wasn’t true.

Damn it. When did these guys stop being irritating and distant to being irritating and family?

“Want me to drive you to the bank? I know you want to bank that cheque.”

“Thanks but I’ll walk…well…run. To be honest, your car doesn’t go that much faster than an old person’s gopher.”

“Get out of here.” E.J. chuckled. “See you Monday.”

“Yeah…see you then.”

It had to be the longest weekend imaginable. I dreaded Monday and the expression on Weiss’ face. Maybe E.J. had prewarned her or maybe she’d toss me out the door.

My money was on her tossing me out of the door.

Sunday crawled by. I could almost hear the clock ticking.

Sighing I picked up the welcome package and sat at my computer. It had a code inside that allowed me to access my student ID and all the course information I would need.

“You left your clothes in the dryer. They’re all wrinkly now.” Mum said as she deposited the clothes on my bed. She didn’t believe in ironing boards. “Is that the Canterbury website?”

“Yep.”

“I’m glad.”

I frowned. “Mum,” I said, twisting on my chair and seeing her stand in the doorway, “if you had the choice of following your dream or doing something important but that no one would ever really know about…which would you choose?”

“I don’t need to choose. I’ve already chosen.”

“You have?”

She nodded. “Studying at uni. I had a dream that I could be a defence lawyer so that I could do charity work for employees whose bosses are ripping off their benefits or single parents who needed support.”

“That sounds like doing something important and anonymous. What was the other option?”

“The other option was important and anonymous.”

“What as it?”

“Being a mum and looking after you.” I blinked in surprise. Mum leaned on the doorway. “While your father was still around in the early years, he came and went as often as the wind blew. To be honest, when he left just after your eighth birthday and never came back, I was a little relieved. I mean, I was terrified but at least I knew where I stood and that it all fell on me. I’d never really been on my own. I went from home straight to being with your father and even though he wasn’t around much in the later years, he was when you were a baby. When he left for good I had to get my head into gear, pick up more shifts, be firm about being at home some nights to help you with your homework…it was hard just the two of us and while I think it would have been nice to have a title or an office and business cards, I am happy.” She smiled. “No one gives prizes for being a mum, Sam and even though the world has changed its opinion, it’s a hard life for a single parent. There’s no part-time options or correspondence courses. However, even though I won’t have an impressive title or business cards, I will have you and I can see that you’re going to make better choices than I did and have a brighter future. That’s enough of a reward for me.” She leaned her head to one side. “Does that help at all, sweetheart?”

“Yeah, I think it does. Thanks mum.”

I turned back to my screen and logged in. I began scrolling through all the information.

“Studying to do what I want or working to help those in need.” I mused, flicking through the courses. “I wonder…”

Monday morning rolled around and I headed to ‘Beyond The Page’ as I usually did. Weiss and E.J. were both inside. Weiss looked apprehensive, as if she knew E.J. was there because a disaster was about to implode her perfect and serene world.

“Hi,” I greeted them, “so…I went onto the Canterbury University’s website and accepted a position in their IT degree course.” I figured there was no kind way of doing this except coming straight out with it.

Weiss’ jaw was tight. E.J. was nodding, encouraging me.

“Congratulations Sam. It’s what you wanted.” He could see Weiss was unwilling or unable to speak. “So…two weeks notice then?”

“Actually, not so much.” I smiled. “You see, the degree was going to be a year intensive fulltime study and after that, you branch off into different specialty areas. But as it turns out, they have a parttime option for the course and what with all the online and from home requirements that covid forced the entire world into having…it was simply a matter of putting in my preferences and it spat out a reduced weekly workload.”

E.J. frowned. Weiss still looked uncertain.

“So…you’re not going to miss out on your degree?”

“Nope. The degree will still take me three years instead of one and my friends will probably forget what I look like…but it means I get to work here, finish the system I started, help you guys, keep doing this which I’ve kind of come to love and I’ll get the degree that I was planning on earning anyway.”

E.J. chuckled and shook his head. “You little ripper.”

“As long as you don’t mind me hanging around, that is?” I said, more to Weiss than to E.J. I knew she needed convincing more than anyone. Even just the thought of my considering leaving might have hurt her enough to want to banish me.

“I have come to tolerate your presence more than I thought I would.” She said brusquely. “You may stay. After all…I need the help.”

Before I could thank her, she turned on her heel and went to her office. E.J. looked at me and winked.

“You know she’s really very pleased.”

“Yeah, I know. I must be getting used to her too.”

It was no picnic, let me tell you. Online courses might seem like the piker’s way out, but Canterbury took their correspondence students very seriously, especially one who had already done the unthinkable and deferred them for six months. Who does that when they got into their first choice uni?

But I figured, if I’d been travelling to and from Canterbury, which was an hour on different trains and buses each way, I’d lose valuable time. And if I’d opted to live nearer, I would have needed to get a job and then attempted to feed myself and actually live away from home.

I had run the idea past mum and while she still didn’t understand why I was so invested in the bookstore, she admitted it was a good plan.

“It’s quite the mature decision to make. You’ve looked at the options, weighed them up and found a balance that works.”

“Yeah…but do you mind me being here?”

“Of course not.” I knew she wouldn’t but we did talk about how I would struggle to really keep on top of things. We came to an arrangement. My rent would go up to help her out and she would help me out with little things like my washing and meals. This, of course, was already happening but given that I would have even less time now than I did before, she would do so without grumbling. Not that she really did except to point out that if I left my clothes in the dryer, they were unavoidably wrinkly.

I also knew she was already working her butt off to pay for the rent, food and the other essentials. A lot of the rest of the residents in the housing estate lived off the government’s money, some with good reason and others, because they refused to do anything…like I used to be I guess. But mum was a hard worker and, if she had of pursued her dream of becoming a lawyer, I think she would have worked just as hard to defend those who couldn’t stand up for themselves or who were bullied by people with more money than sense.

There was also the expense of going to university but because I’d come from a lower socioeconomic background yet still made the grades to get in, there had been an incentive included that took some of the naughts off the price tag. It still wasn’t cheap but, with mum sitting down and helping me with the budget, the future looked bright…if a little thin in places.

“Welcome to the reality of pursuing your dream without letting go of what’s important.” Mum said. “You’re officially an adult.”

It was kind of a toss up, then, when E.J. asked for cash in hand help after hours. I ought to have been studying but when unexpected expenses came up, I needed the funds. I began to suspect E.J. knew as much because sometimes the after hours work was really low key or chasing up dead ends. I’d go home afterwards and no matter how tired I was, give some attention to my studies before going to bed.

Weekends were a small breather unless I’d fallen behind but the work was not half bad.

It was a rhythm, a kind of constant motion, that I found myself falling into. There wasn’t a great deal of variation except, of course, when E.J. needed my help.

Actually, it was Weiss who first alerted us to the problem. She had gone to the train station with a clothing, food and water run for the underground dwellers. I didn’t know anything was amiss until E.J. came into the bookstore, looking round.

“Weiss not back yet?”

“Nope.”

“She just rang. Said to gear up for a creature incursion.”

“Ooh! Any idea what?” I’d gotten used to their lingo. Character or interloper was usually a humanoid or at least a character that could communicate and be reasoned with, like Whitby. Creature or incursion usually meant a fantasy animal had busted through and needed to be dealt with.

“She said she’d fill me in.”

A taxi pulled up out the front and Weiss’ angular form unfolded out of it. She came inside, blinking from the change from sunshine to the dimness of the bookstore.

“What are we up against?” E.J. asked.

“Bluey said something big is rampaging in the tunnels near where they live and even deeper.”

“Anything more specific?”

“Big freaking snake is how Killarney described it.”

“Yeah but we know Killarney has quite the imagination.”

“So are we going?” I asked.

E.J. and Weiss looked at each other. “Sam…this would involve going into the depths of the city. You get scared halfway down, I can’t bring you back.” E.J. warned.

“When have I ever been scared?” I demanded. “No, wait, scratch that…fair call…but I’m going with you two.”

“Actually just me.” E.J. corrected. “Weiss, you stay up top and keep an eye on things.” She nodded. E.J. jerked his head towards me. “Come on, we’ve got to be prepared for this one.”

Being prepared meant changing into the spare clothes I wouldn’t mind getting filthy. E.J. grabbed a bag of gear I think he kept aside for moments like these and we got in his car and headed for the station. After a few seconds of fumbling I found the latch, pushed in the blockade and locked it behind us. We went straight past the pipe E.J. had used as a kind of doorbell to get Bluey’s attention, heading deeper into the darkness that seemed to swallow us up.

Out came the torches.

“No Bluey to meet us?”

“No. We know where we’re going.”

I didn’t point out that I hadn’t a clue and walked with him, our torches shinning brightly. E.J. never skimped on batteries.

“Shouldn’t we have flaming torches by now?”

“Nah. If Killarney has seen it, it’s deep. He’s one of the deepest tunnel dwellers. The community rarely sees him.”

The concept was a little alarming. We kept walking on and on, the tunnel going steadily deeper. E.J. pointed to a shaft that headed straight down with a ladder. He went first and I did the same. At the bottom it felt less like the darkness was swallowing us up and more like the earth was doing so. I began to understand what E.J. meant when I might be scared. I couldn’t tell how much weight was above my head right now but somehow my body could sense it and became very uncomfortable.

“Hey,” I said, needing to speak as we kept going, “did you see that they’re remaking Jurassic Park?”

“Oh great…” E.J. muttered.

“Well, the first one is over twenty years old and they’re claiming they’re going to have heaps more dinosaurs in it than the first one. There was only fifteen minutes of dinosaurs in a two hour movie. And they’re promising to be way more faithful to the book.”

“That’s just perfect.”

“Wow, you really don’t like remakes.”

“It’s not that.” E.J. pointed to an intersection. A piece of graffiti, that looked like a Valkyrie warrior, painted in blue with lightning streaking out of it, had been painted on the wall and we turned down the tunnel she was against. “Every time a movie comes out based on a book, what happens?”

“Production companies make a fortune?”

“No.” E.J. chuckled. “What happens with the books?”

“I don’t know.”

“They flood the market. When ‘Lord of the Rings’ came out, you could get a copy of any of the trilogy in almost every shop and even petrol stations. And not just the trilogy. Before ‘The Hobbit’ came out, the ‘Lord of the Rings’ sparked such violent interest that the entire collection of Tolkein was released with covers based on the movies or limited edition covers or the complete collected works, limited illustrated edition…”

“Okay, I get it. Lots of books.”

“And lots of people reading them for the first time and many rereading them. A sudden push against the fabric of reality in a very specific fictional location.”

I looked at him, complete distracted from the continuous descent into the unknown.

“You mean…we could have a cave troll or orcs or the riders of Rohan…or Gandalf appear?”

“Or worse.”

“Not Sauron?!”

“Actually, Sauron isn’t so bad.”

“How so?”

“How is he described?”

I tried to picture him in my mind. “He was just a great big eyeball at the top of a mountain or tower…wreathed in flames…”

“Exactly.”

“You mean, because he’s on fire, if he appeared into our world, he would eliminate himself?”

“Yep.” E.J. turned down another tunnel, the Valkyrie warrior guiding us.

“So the Balrog isn’t something we need to worry about either?”

“Or a phoenix and dragons more often than not breathe fire. One spark and…” He made a little explosion gesture.

“That’s kind of convenient.”

“However,” E.J. sighed, “dinosaurs do not breathe fire and the last thing we need is a tyrannosaurus rex stomping around the streets, killing dozens before finally being contained.”

I thought about this for a while. “Do you think it’s because there are so many books…or that so many people are reading them?”

“Due to the nature of most incursions, I would say that the movie generates new interest and awakens past interest,” E.J. surmised, “and as a great many people would prefer fantasy over reality and those with deep obsessions are often tilting towards darkness, we typically get some big nasties turning up.”

“So you do or you don’t like movies from books?”

“It’s a toss up. Knowing movies are coming out helps us prepare but the expected ones are not always the ones that show up.”

“Such as?”

E.J. paused. “A few years ago, I caught this kindly old, white haired man who seemed a bit sickly and smelt of roses. At that stage, I had not yet read the books or watched the movies but I wager you know who I’m talking about?”

“No…not President Snow from ‘The Hunger Games’?” I gasped.

“The very one.”

“Kindly? The guy was a despot and sent children to their deaths!”

“Like I said, I didn’t know. I think he was trying to kindly weasel out of my grasp by acting all innocent and helpless. But I still sent him back and, at the stage he came out of the book, he still truly believed he could win the war.”

“Strange that he came out and not Katniss or Peta…or someone more popular.”

“Exactly.” E.J. nodded. “I don’t know whether its random or a sign of an unhealthy obsession. Watch your footing here. There’s a drain that leaks and it gets slippery.”

He wasn’t wrong. It was like we were trying to walk on ice.

“Are we near the community?”

“We won’t need to intrude upon them. It unsettles them and I know of a great place where we can get an idea of where we need to go without encroaching on their territory.”

We continued our trek, E.J. becoming more and more cautious as deadly drops and blind corners started to appear. Every now and then he’d pause and listen. I couldn’t tell the difference between the rumble of a train or something deeper and darker hiding down below. I knew only to speak when we were moving.

“Hey, E.J.” He was concentrating so he only grunted in reply. “I only ever watched ‘The Hunger Games’. I never read the book. Were they…accurate?”

“I think the movies did a far more accurate job of representing the intent of the author than a lot of other movies have done for their books. Why?”

“It was pretty horrible. All those children…”

E.J. sighed. “Yes, yes it was. Suzanne Collins painted a vivid picture of a dystopian empire. The violence and the crimes against children, let alone everyone else, worked towards illustrating an ultimate evil that had to be destroyed.”

I thought about this for a little longer. “E.J.,” I asked softly, “if one of those children that was doomed to die, like little Rue that Katniss befriended, fell through into our world…would you send them back?”

He stopped and turned to face me. There was a fire in his eyes and a grimness about his jaw that was a little scary. “I’d defy the entire might of the Agency, all the law-abiding agents and the wrath of the Oversight to keep them in this world.”

He might have looked a little scruffy, unbuttoned short sleeved shirt over a t-shirt, worn jeans and boots and his curly hair, laced with premature silver…but in that moment I reckon he looked about as scary and determined as Gandalf as he stood before the Balrog and defied it.

There didn’t seem to be much else to say as we went deeper and deeper into the bowels of the city.

We reached a sort of landing and E.J. pointed to me and then back against the wall.

“This is a main junction where many tunnels interlock.”

“I can only see four, those three and the one we came from.”

E.J. pulled a grenade looking device from his bag, pulled the pin and dropped it over the edge. I peered over, waiting for an explosion but seeing a spiral of sparks dropping further and further down until it finally disappeared.

“That’s…deep.” I said, feeling my spine tremble. “Uh…E.J.?”

“Yeah?”

“I may or may not have been paying attention in school at the time…but isn’t this city built on a fault line?”

“Nothing I’m going to do is going to trigger a chain reaction that’ll set of a seismic catastrophe. Now hold still and let me listen.”

I did, watching E.J. nervously. It suddenly occurred to me that there was no occupational health and safety procedures at work here. There was no railing, no safety bar or harness that would keep me from falling. There were the remains of a ladder bolted to the wall but if I had to risk my life on something, a rusted out ladder wouldn’t be it.

“Can you hear that?” E.J. asked.

What? Over the pounding of blood between my ears or the thunder of my heart?

“It’s down there. Let’s see if we can’t entice it up.” He dropped the bag at my feet and pulled another grenade out.

“The last one didn’t explode. Does this?”

“Percussion grenade, modified. Will reverberate off the walls and send tremors out. The other one was a spark grenade.” He handed me a spark grenade. “A single spark is enough to ignite a fictional creature. These things emit heaps of them but if it hits a human, it won’t set them on fire. Safer than Taylor’s flame thrower. Keep that one on you.”

He held the percussion grenade out and dropped it down the shaft. I listened, hearing the explosions reverberate off the walls and a split second after the last one, the walls seemed to vibrate.

“Wow,” I exclaimed, “that was a big finish.”

“That wasn’t the grenade…” E.J. said quietly. “Oh sh…”

Suddenly a giant body flew out of one of the tunnels in the giant chamber, about fifty feet below us. And when I say giant, I mean massive. A large, long mass in a tawny, sandy colour. It crossed the chamber with a single burst, its body easily stretching across, streaking through the tunnel, its end whipping out quickly then disappearing.

“Damn sandworm.” E.J. ripped open the bag and grabbed more spark grenades.

“A what?”

“Giant sand creature, like a worm only massive.” He saw my look. “Haven’t you seen the movie, Dune?”

“Oh one of those!” I felt like such an idiot. “Hang on…they live on a desert planet. How is it functioning here?”

“Manmade tunnels it fits inside? It’s searching for earth to burrow into and when it does, it’ll be gone.”

“Then we can add another dangerous creature to the list of reasons not to visit our country.”

The worm, having doubled back through a different tunnel, appeared below us, a little further down. E.J. flung spark grenades at it but it moved so fast the grenade hadn’t reached the level before it disappeared down another tunnel.

“Damn, damn, damn.” E.J. swore. “Sam, stay back against the wall.” He pulled out another percussion grenade, removed the pin, counted and flung it at the last second. It echoed loudly just below us. “Hopefully that will get its…”

I could not understand how something created without legs could move so fast. The sandworm virtually exploded from the tunnel directly to our right, its corpulent body filling the space I once thought so vast. I didn’t get a good look at its head, a long stretch of body dragging out, sand and fine dust scattering from beneath its scales. E.J. flung himself against me, pinning me to the wall as it streaked past our location into the tunnel opposite from where it came from.

“Grenade!” He yelled.

I pulled the pin out and, because the worm was so close I could feel its movement trying to drag E.J. with it, I just held it out as far as I could. E.J. cried out, ripped from my body by the force of the worm, just as the spark finally caught the creature. Because it was so big, the flash of it going up was enormous and blinding. I flinched away from it and when I opened my eyes, E.J. was gone.

“E.J.!” I yelled and my voice echoed in the emptiness.

“Sam!” I could see fingers grasping the edge. E.J. was clinging on for dear life. “Stay back! I don’t want to pull you in!”

But I could hear his feet scraping wildly, unable to get any kind of traction. Suddenly the rusted ladder I couldn’t trust became my best friend. I ran back to it, dumping the contents of E.J.’s bag out. Thankfully it was one of those long, canvas duffle bags. I pushed the bag’s body through its own handle, around the side pole of the ladder. I grabbed the other handle and, stretching it out to its maximum and then myself, offered a hand to E.J.

He tried to put an elbow up to brace himself but cried out in pain. I hadn’t realised that he was bleeding. “Did you tie it off securely?” He managed to ask.

“Yeah, totally secure.”

E.J. gave me a suspicious look but couldn’t exactly inquisition me so lunged out desperately and grabbed my hand. I pulled, trying to brace on the concrete landing with my feet. There was no traction at all. Fortunately, E.J. let go the moment he could, heaving himself up onto the landing, the back of his clothes somewhat shredded and smelling a little of smoke.

We lay on the landing, breathing heavily.

“You be crazy.” I gasped.

“I’m crazy?” E.J. said, dragging himself upright. “You staked your life on that old thing?”

I looked at the ladder then turned back to him. “I guess they don’t make them like they used to?”

He laughed then groaned, clutching his elbow.

“That’s the second time you’ve been physically hurt in six months.”

“Why do you think I look so old for a twenty year old?”

I paused, saw the look in his eye then laughed.

“Moron.”

“Child.”

“Old man.”

“Rookie!”

“Ahhhhhhh!”

The head of a Sandworm erupted into the space we were in. It had come up straight from below, shot upwards like one of those snake in a can practical jokes. It’s beak opened, splitting into three portions, opening wide with rows and rows of countless teeth in the void.

I froze.

Thank goodness E.J. didn’t.

He grabbed a spark grenade and flung it into that massive mouth. It disappeared amongst the vibrating teeth. One second I was sure we were dead. The next, the air was filled with sparkles and light, the sandworm disappearing into a light smell of smoke and a dusting of ash.

We looked at each other, holding still for the longest time. I think we were both waiting for another one to ambush us. Simultaneously we let out the breaths we were holding. Without a word E.J. knelt and put all stuff back into the bag that I’d dumped out. I watched him do it, seeing similarities between his posture and my mum’s, head down, doing what needed to be done regardless what was going on, on the inside.

We made the long journey to the surface in silence, each internalising what had happened and what easily could have happened. Weiss heard E.J.’s car pull into the garage and came over immediately. She paled at the sight of his shredded clothing and his bloodied elbow.

“Just a scrape,” he insisted, “and I needed new rags.” Weiss did not look convinced. E.J. put his hand on her shoulder. “Really, Adele, I’m fine.”

She gave a small nod. “You should change. I will find the first aid kit.” E.J. disappeared into his room. Weiss looked at me. “How did you fare?”

“I’m okay.” I assured her. “E.J. took a beating in saving me from it.”

“What was it?”

“Two sandworms…from Dune?”

“Frank Herbert.” She sighed. “I suppose big snake does describe it…however poorly.”

“I went in expecting anacondas.”

“You must never assume.” She warned me. “When you think you know something, it changes in the blink of an eye and you either live or you die.”

Not for the first time did I wonder about Weiss’ life prior to the bookstore. She seemed so uneasy in the above world that it amazed me that E.J. was able to convince her to leave the community and the below world. And what had driven her down there? What kind of heartache or devastation had she experienced?

Weiss saw my look and pushed up her thick glasses as if putting up her guard.

E.J. emerged, tattered clothes discarded for, yet another pair of jeans and t-shirt. He left off the over shirt so that Weiss could apply disinfectant to the scrape. Fortunately it wasn’t hospital worthy so, after putting a protective gauze over it and wrapping his elbow in a bandage to keep it on, E.J. declared he was good as new.

There wasn’t much time left in my working day so Weiss said I could leave early. I was relieved. I had plenty of work I needed to do.

As I approached the housing estate, from the back where there was a collection of skip bins that were always overflowing and smelling of something rotten, I saw a black van parked that screamed, I don’t belong here. Adding to the slightly creepy factor, the windows were darkly tinted and someone, dressed in black, was leaning against the side of the van with their head down, arms folded.

The rear entrance of the estate was closer to where I lived but because I didn’t fancy being kidnapped, I began to back away, already getting my phone out to call the cops.

“Sam, wait up.” I paused in my emergency call and saw Agent Ryder looking up from his ‘repose’ and striding towards me. I was already tense but now my hackles went up. I think he could sense it. He stopped before he got too close and held up his hands as if that would make me trust him more. “Come on kid, I just want to talk to you. I’m not here to hurt you.”

“Then why did I get the, two for the price of one, glare from your flame throwing meat head?”

Ryder sighed and folded his arms. “He was just messing with you.”

“It wasn’t funny.”

“I know which is why he isn’t here.”

“Why are you here?”

“I think you’ve been given a bad impression of us and what we do from a biased source.”

“And you’re here to un-bias me?” I demanded smartly.

“Don’t you think you ought to hear all the facts?”

“I thought you were into fiction.”

Ryder growled. “Come on, kid.”

“My name is Sam. Call me kid one more time…”

“Fine. Sam. Just…hear me out.”

“Fine…but I’m not going anywhere near that kidnapping van of yours.”

“Location of your choice.”

When the housing estate was first built, there had been an attempt to make it more appealing to families with day care facilities in the estate itself and a playground. The day care shut down after six months, citing a lack of funding and was bordered up. The playground was still there but without any funding maintaining the equipment, it had become a death trap. So half of it had been removed. The other half had been made from that candy coloured bright recyclable plastic that would supposedly last until the second coming. Despite all claims of longevity, the plastic was faded and cracked. The playground was now the realm of graffiti artists, each one attempting to out do the artwork beneath it. And of course there were all the usual swear words and death threats.

I pointed Ryder to a bench and sat on the swing nearby. The seat of the swing might have been plastic and threatened to bite the legs of anyone wearing shorts but the chains were thick metal. So thick, in fact, that so far, no one had bothered to even try to remove them. I think they were rusted into place as the shade sails meant to protect the playground from downpours and sunshine disappeared years ago.

Ryder sat down and looked at me. He had one of those angular faces which I think he tried to soften with rustic stubble on his chin, which probably took hours of careful clipping and beard oil to maintain. His shirt was buttoned up and the guy was lean and wiry. Had he been in charge of chasing down Whitby, I might have put money on him. I reckon he was fast.

“Straight up, well done for apprehending both the rabbit and the invisible man.” He said. It was hard not to correct him with their names but I knew, if I alluded to having kept Whitby in the real world for longer than I should have, Ryder would have no qualms about telling the hierarchy and dobbing me in. “I judged you as being a character catching wannabe in that intersection, covered in dirty water with an even dirtier interloper in your hand. When E.J. came in with the invisible man, I realised I’d misjudged you. There’s no way E.J. could have assisted you in the invisible man’s capture. He was with Oversight from the time he left you until he got your call. One day, I hope you’ll trust me enough to tell me how you did that.”

Not ruddy likely.

“I hope you realise that it’s not easy for someone like me, who has been doing this for nearly twenty years, to come to terms with a rookie outclassing me and my team.”

“I can see that.” I allowed, very tightly.

“So, I had a word with Oversight and they want to bring you in, debrief you on all your activities with E.J. since you started working for him and get an idea of where your training is at.”

“Yeah…see I can’t tell if you’re interested in me…or if I’ve got any dirt on E.J. that you could use to throw the book, quite literally, at him.”

Ryder didn’t take offence. He actually laughed. “That’s your generation at work, right there. Don’t trust authority. Makes me wonder how E.J. ingratiated himself on you that would cause you to protect him.”

“Saved my backside more than once.” I retorted before I could stop myself.

“So he’s put you in dangerous situations?” I clamped my teeth and lips together and vowed that if one failed, the other would not open. Ryder shook his head. “Sam, I don’t want dirt on E.J. Hell, up until he got on the outs with the Agency, we were friends and runners together.”

“Runners?” I asked and cursed my teenage lack of conviction and resolve.

Ryder didn’t laud it over me, thank goodness. “The forerunners who chased interlopers. We were the fastest and the best of all the agents although if I’m brutally honest, E.J. was leagues ahead of me. The man was quick and ruthless, someone to be admired, an agent efficiently effective at exacting Agency protocol.”

“You mean, incinerating frightened characters that accidentally fell through into our world?”

Ryder sighed. “See, that’s the problem, Sam. E.J.’s twisted philosophy has gotten into your head that these characters and creatures are real, that they have a soul worth saving. You can’t view them like that or else they take advantage and disappear.”

“Griffin didn’t.” I retorted. Thankfully Griffin’s name was the one from the book. If I’d said, Whitby, I’d be in a whole world of inquisition right about now.

“He was an unusual case and to honest, I never would have sent a rookie anywhere near him. The man was homicidal and dangerous.”

“He was frightened and being chased.” I countered. “He needed to be treated with respect and kindness.”

“Sam, you had no idea if that was ever going to work. And what if it hadn’t? What if he’d escaped and started killing people?” Ryder’s tone was getting angry. He paused and calmed himself. I’d seen mum do the same thing, recognising that yelling at me was only going to get my back up. “The reason we do the job the way we do is because you can’t risk losing an interloper. If they escape the zones that they appeared in, they vanish. It’s almost impossible to find them again.”

“E.J. hasn’t lost a single one and he’s been doing it on his own for years.”

“That’s on his own head. He broke the rules and if it hadn’t been because he had favours owed by members of the Oversight…”

“What? You’d throw him into a book? Some friend you are.”

“For the record, no one has ever been thrown into a book.” Ryder snapped. “It’s one of those sayings that’s gone from something said in passing into lore without it ever having happened.”

“What about the experiments to see if you could send someone into a book then get them out again?” I demanded.

“They were volunteers, they knew the risks and that was shut down when it became abundantly clear it couldn’t be done.” Ryder argued. “For what its worth, Oversight picked books that anyone would have been happy to live their life out in.”

“Big consolation.”

“Are you going to have something smart to say to everything that comes out of my mouth?”

“Probably.” I was being the worst version of myself. I reverted to insolent, angry teenager attitudes and dialogue. It was far too easy to do which meant, perhaps, I was not as grownup as I thought I was.

“How does E.J. put up with it?”

“He treated me like someone who could handle the truth.”

“The truth?” Ryder huffed. “Sam, that man hasn’t told you the truth at all. He threw away a career of doing something meaningful and worthwhile, protecting real people from creatures that looked like they came out of their worst nightmares. He was ostracized from the Agency because of his claims that fictional characters deserved to be heard and respected.”

“All I hear in that statement is that the Agency is made up of a bunch of morons. E.J. still protects people, even putting himself at risk for their lives and mine. But rather than treat characters like they’re terrorists, he recognises that they’re frightened and lost and just want to get back home.”

Ryder stood up and I got the feeling he wanted to stamp his foot. He turned away, put his hands on his hips and shook his head.

“Sam, you need to ask yourself if someone, who gives preference to fantasy over real life, can be trusted? Do you really think, if push came to shove, would E.J. protect a real person…or would he put the life of a fictional character above the life of a human?” I paused. I hadn’t thought of it like that. Ryder continued, not realising there was a gap showing in my adolescent armour. “This world is for real people. Fictional characters do not belong here and if they are shown any quarter, then we start to become a refugee world, the pressure increasing on the fabric of reality until we see an exponential increase in incursions. There would be no containing them. Just one invisible man would have killed dozens, perhaps hundreds of people, if you hadn’t been able to contain him. And because you knew where he was and you didn’t call it in, if that had happened, then you have to ask yourself, would you be willing to risk it when the deaths that followed would ultimately be your fault.”

I had to admit, it was a chilling thought.

Ryder cleared his throat. “Look, it’s clear you can think for yourself and you’ve got your wits about you. You’ll make a hell of an agent one day…but not if you’re dead. Use those wits of yours to know when not to blindly follow E.J. into something that’s way over your head. And, if you ever need backup,” he handed me a slip of paper with his number on it, “give me a call.” I pocketed the paper slip somewhat resentfully. Ryder seemed okay with that. “I guess I’ll see you round.”

I watched him walk back to where he’d parked the van. The visit had left me a little unsettled.

“Hey,” I called and he turned back to me, “was it just his philosophy that broke your friendship with him? The fact that he didn’t agree with you and you with him?”

“No Sam, it wasn’t.”

“And you’re not going to tell me.” I folded my arms and eyed him scathingly. I’d been practicing Weiss’ glare.

Ryder shook his head. “No I’m not. But if you want to see E.J. dodge around the truth, just ask him why the number of incursions have been increasing and not just in number but in size. The fabric is becoming weaker and the tears are getting bigger. One of these days, something is going to break through that we won’t be able to contain and everything E.J. believes to be true will come crashing down around him.”

Ryder left me with my thoughts and his number on the slip of paper. I wanted to throw it out but reasoned that, though I would never willingly call him, it would be handy to have access to Agency backup as E.J. had yet to share any way of contacting me with them.

Damn it.

Ten minutes with Ryder and I was already starting to poke holes in my trust.

I refused to do so.

I refused to listen to the doubts and I definitely didn’t ask E.J. about the fabric of reality becoming thinner.

Maybe if I had, I might have had an inkling of what was coming.

But then, even if I had known, would I have been able to do anything to stop it?

I very much doubt it.