Knock, knock, knock…

“Come in?” The door opened and Jeanette Miller’s rosy face broke into a joyful smile. “Sam! What a lovely surprise!”

“Hiya.” I greeted. “I come bearing gifts.”

“Biscuits!” Jean could barely contain her enthusiasm. “White chocolate and macadamia! And they’re homemade! You darling!”

“Don’t be too quick to give me credit.” I hastened to explain. “Mum’s church was doing a bake sale thing and I was helping out and I saw them…”

Jean threw her arms around me as best she could and gave me a hug.

It was hard not to dissolve into a puddle of tears then and there.

“You will stay to share them, won’t you?”

I nodded and found a chair. I made us both a cup of tea, Jean preferring hers in a ‘proper’ cup as she despised the plastic ones the hospital supplied. While I was doing that, she wrestled the wrap off the paper plate which contained a half dozen perfectly cooked biscuits which only proved I hadn’t made them. They’d be burnt to a crisp or melted into one giant, hard on the edges, squishy in the middle cookie.

I looked at Jean sitting up in the hospital bed, her right wrist still in a cast and, beneath the blanket, her ankle still wrapped in bandages. The other wounds, the welts, were healing up nicely.

“Do you know when they’re going to let you go back to Kingsbury?” I asked.

Jean shrugged. “They keep saying things like ‘soon’ and ‘there’s no need to rush.” She rolled her eyes and chuckled softly. “I think they’ll become fed up with me long before I’m healed and send me packing.”

“The only way you’d become irritating is if they ran out of biscuits.” I pointed out.

She laughed and nodded. “Fair.”

There was a TV in the room, the sound muted. It was hard not be distracted by the news reports about the damage the city sustained during the violent, what had been dubbed, Earthquake Eve.

“It doesn’t make sense, really,” Jean said with a huff as the title scrolled past the screen for the umpteenth time, “eve is the day before.”

“You’re worried about the questionable context of inaccurate news reporting and not about the fact that that city was flooded with fictional characters, all of which were released and charged to bring about the end of the world as we know it?”

“I prefer things to be grammatically correct.” She said and I was thankful she never read any of my texts. “I find the explanations of what happened to be more amusing than anything.”

“Earthquakes did the damage and released gas from below ground giving people hallucinations of fantasy creatures which means a whole host of experts are now ranting on about how the fascination with fantasy worlds has become catastrophic.” I shrugged. “And anyone who swears they saw an orc or a centaur or an aqua-blue-moon, or however you say it, has no proof because of the Agency’s little, finders wipers, program…”

“And there isn’t a single body or corpse to prove their claims.” Jean added.

“Yeah, well, that’s not the Agency’s doing.” I retorted, at the news program and not at Jean.

Then we both fell into sad silence.

“How is he?”

I didn’t need to ask who Jean was inquiring about.

“He’s…not good.” I admitted. “I don’t know how to encourage him either. I can’t tell him to buck up and move on…his whole life disintegrated within twenty four hours. How do you recover from something like that?”

“Some people don’t.” Jean said gently. “For E.J., losing Weiss was like losing a spouse.”

“Worse still, he knows where she went.” I rubbed my hands over my face.

“Do you see him much?”

“I visit every couple of days. It’d be easier if he was closer…”

“May I come in?”

We twisted to see a rather beautiful bunch of flowers in a boxed display in one hand of Goliath. The other was grasping a walking cane. He looked over the bouquet, waiting for a response.

We were both too stunned by his presence to even greet him.

“You may.” Jean said at length.

“Thank you.” Goliath entered the room and offered Jean the flowers. “These are for you.”

“They’re lovely,” Jean looked around, trying to find a blank space to put them, “perhaps on that little table there?”

Goliath did so and arranged the ‘get well soon’ cards around the box. Jean shot me a questioning look and I shrugged, as baffled as she was.

Goliath turned back to us and cleared his throat. “I just wanted to come and see how you were. I knew, from what E.J. and Sam had told me, that you had suffered a fall because of certain…fictional factors and were in the hospital.”

“And you have come to…make sure I don’t tell anyone about certain fictional factors?” Jean asked pointedly.

Goliath smiled ruefully. “Elton trusted you. I see no reason why I shouldn’t do the same.”

This time Jean and I shared the look of surprise openly.

“You’ve changed your tune.” Jean remarked.

“Perhaps it was time for a different song.” He stood at the end of the bed, leaning on his cane. “Actually, I was asked to convey a message from the Agency…”

“Here it comes.” I sighed.

“They only asked if I would convey it after I told them I was coming here.” Goliath reassured us. He didn’t seem the type to lie. I hoped he could be trusted. “After the fictional hoards were vanquished,” I noticed he didn’t say by who, “there were quite a number of gaps in books that had to be dealt with. And the power was out in our re-entry lab. Fortunately they’re all back in their place now but…I think what you do is a lost art. The Agency would benefit from your expertise.”

“Mine?” Jean laughed.

Goliath remained deathly serious. “Yes, yours. Would you consider running a special class at the Agency for students to learn how to do the work you do?”

Jean glanced at me. I pulled a face which, I hope, conveyed a ‘I have no idea’, impression.

“Not until you are well, of course.” He cleared his throat and handed her his card. “If you are at all interested, give me a call.”

“I will consider it, thank you.” Jean replied then glanced up. “Now, unless you two are going to offer assistance with my sponge bath…”

We saw the two orderlies hovering at the open doorway. Goliath muttered something about being double parked and I backed away, shaking my head, promising to come back another day. Jean’s laughter followed us down the corridor.

Goliath leaned on his walking cane so I moderated my stride to keep in step with him.

“How are your injuries?” I asked.

“Doctor tells me to keep off the ankle.” He snorted.

“First you’re trusting Jean, then you’re disobeying your doctor…anyone would think you’re turning into me.”

Goliath’s chuckle was soft and deep. We didn’t say anything else until we reached the foyer. “Can I give you a lift home?”

“Are you allowed to drive or is that another rebellious streak?”

“It’s an automatic.”

I conceded to a lift and climbed into the four wheel drive that had probably seen as much off roading as my mum had seen hundred dollar notes.

“How is your mum?”

“She’s okay. The whole earthquake, world ending, hearing that her one and only beloved child was at death’s door on the shore of Southbank kind of shook her up…but she’s tough.” I smiled. “Tougher than most people.”

“Death’s door?”

“Anything above a scraped knee gets a bit of attention.” I returned.

“How did you explain your presence at the bridge and subsequent dunking?” Goliath indicated right and shifted into the fast lane.

“Told her I’d gone there because a friend needed my help and when the earthquake caused a power pole to fall which set off sparks that lit the fireworks, I was thrown into the water.” I frowned. “She ticked me off soundly for being so stupid as to go onto a bridge after an earthquake had probably damaged the support struts…and then remarked that she was a good mum for having insisted I have swimming lessons.”

“Sounds like a very good mum.”

“Yeah she is.”

It was only when we steered off the highway onto the slip road into my suburb that Goliath finally got around to saying what he wanted to.

“Elton told the Oversight about the database you designed. They were deeply impressed with the thoroughness of the endeavour.”

“It was Weiss’ design,” I said, speaking the taboo name, “I just digitised it.”

“I think she would have been happy to know that her work has been preserved.” Goliath nodded. “The Oversight would like to implement it on an Agency wide scale.” I snorted and he looked at me. “You do not approve?”

“Well…it’s not exactly designed for how the Agency operates, is it?” I shook my head. “Agents like Ryder, Taylor and Patch shoot first and fix up any blanks later, probably just by doing an internet search to figure out where they belong. The database I helped create is meant for agents in the field to use to communicate with character incursions, to help get them back to where they belong.”

“Like you did with the invisible man?”

“Exactly.” I nodded. “The information in that database would be able to tell me his name, the uniqueness of his character…I knew that he would be frightened but even more so, that he was hungry, cold and had been on his own for weeks, alienated from everyone and everything, constantly in hiding. All he needed was someone to treat him like a human again and not a freak. That’s what the database is designed for.” I paused, knowing I was working up to a perfectly good rant. “I mean, it’s not like the Agency wouldn’t have their own system to use.”

“Not nearly as thorough.”

“Again, that’s not my work. All the research, the information, the attention to detail. That was Weiss.”

“And if everything you said about her was true, then she would want her work used to help characters get home.”

I looked out the window. I didn’t want to concede to Goliath’s point. I didn’t want to admit that Weiss had said almost exactly the same thing.

I resented the hell out of the Agency, no longer for E.J.’s reasons but for a whole host of my own.

Goliath pulled up outside the housing estate and I unbuckled my seatbelt and paused.

“Even if what you say is true,” I said quietly, “the fact is Weiss kept her system up to date. Without her to maintain it…”

“You know it, though.”

“Yeah but I’m not a reader,” I protested, “and the details need to be exact. You’d have to have someone deeply invested in accuracy and attention to detail…”

“That’s why the Agency wants you to head the project.”

I blinked, staring at him. Goliath waited for me to gain control of my senses.

“Me?” He nodded. “You’re offering me a job?”

“In the Agency’s headquarters no less.” Goliath tilted his head. “That’s your field of interest, isn’t it? IT? Computers and wires and…stuff?”

“It’s what I’m studying…” I said quietly.

“I won’t lie. It would be a big undertaking,” Goliath admitted, “you’d be responsible for training agents how to use the system, implementing it on a much larger scale…”

“Seriously? Me? I’m not even a third of the way through my degree!”

“We’ll make sure you have the time to devote to your studies.” He assured me. “It’s a proper job, solid hours, dependable income…no threats…”

“But I have a job and we have a designated area to patrol…”

“Incursions are down almost a hundred percent since the defeat of Inferus,” Goliath pointed out, “whether that’s because he’s no longer causing them or people haven’t been as keen to deep dive into fantasy books because of the ‘hallucinations’ they suffered during the earthquake…”

“Incursions could still occur…”

“Sam,” Goliath’s tone went from mildly persuasive to deadly serious, “even if you remained out here in this zone…you’d be doing it on your own and that’s not acceptable.”

“You left E.J. out here on his own.”

“And where is he now?”

“Oh, right, because that’s his fault?” I shoved the door open and jumped out. “You know, you haven’t even asked how he is!”

“Just,” Goliath yelled before I could slam the door and I hesitated, “think about it, Sam, okay?” He held out his number on a card. “If you’re interested, give me a call.”

I took it and without saying anything, shut the car door. I stomped upstairs, getting angrier as I went. Inside the flat I found a note from mum that she’d put some pasta and sauce in a container and that there was a fresh batch of washing to deliver.

Seeing as Canterbury didn’t start for another two weeks, I had time on my hands. I picked up the neatly folded washing and went down to the first storey, knocking on a flat door.

“Lucas, it’s me. I’m coming in!”

“What if I was naked, Sam?”

I laughed at him sitting in his armchair with his computer going. He told it to pause and it did.

“You’re partially blind, Lucas.”

“Yeah but you’d be the one looking at me!”

“You wouldn’t be able to see my expression of horror, would you?”

Lucas laughed, picking up his walking cane. Unlike Goliath, he didn’t need it to walk with. He needed it to see with. The flats in the housing estate were all exactly the same layout so it had been decided that he was better off in familiar surroundings but not in the same flat as family because they tended to change things around. Despite the partial return of his sight, Lucas needed everything to stay exactly where it was so that he didn’t trip over things.

His dark hair was somewhat combed back to the best of his abilities and his appearance was getting better and better each day as he learned what he needed to do to dress himself and get by on his own. He’d even been clean since being admitted to hospital with only one lapse that had scared him witless because, in his addled state, he was sure Inferus had been calling his name. That sobered him up good and proper.

“Mum sends her love, your clean washing and some food.”

“She doesn’t need to do my washing. I’ve got a carer coming by each day for that.”

“Just say thank you. It’s her way of letting you know she cares.”

Lucas sighed. “She’s a really good person, your mum.”

“Yep, she is.”

“Where’s the food?”

“Here.” Lucas took it and made his way across the flat to the kitchen, finding the fridge and putting the container inside. I knew it was important to him to retain some sort of independence. “How are you doing?”

“Oh you know, a new day, another bruised ankle.” He said, making for his chair again, sinking into it with a sigh of safety. “Hey Sam, I had a dream last night…about…him.”

“Yeah?”

Lucas licked his lips. “He’s definitely gone, yeah?”

I knew it was a fear that plagued him in dark moments.

“He’s gone.”

“Oh good.” Lucas shuddered. “I mean, I know you told me so but sometimes…I get scared.”

“I know you do and I know why.”

“I wish I wasn’t on my own all the time.” Lucas admitted. “My family…they don’t understand me anymore. They used to visit but now…”

“I’m sorry about that.” I said sincerely. Lucas shrugged, trying to fob it off but I could see the neglect hurt him. “Why don’t you come up for dinner tonight? Mum’s bound to be cooking something in gravy.”

“You don’t have to ask me out of pity.” Lucas said without spite.

“I’m not. I’m trying to divide the gravy three ways instead of two.” Lucas laughed. “Will you come?”

“As long as you make sure I don’t kill myself on the stairs.”

“Can do. See you at six.”

“Not if I see you first.”

I chuckled and left Lucas in his flat, knowing that, while he was lonely, he was at least safe.

I had another stop to make before dinner and I’d need to leave sooner rather than later if I wanted to be back for dinner. I had a backpack in the flat which mum kept putting things into. One of these days she would break my back from the weight of it.

I set out from the housing estate and along the road towards the derelict train station. My path took me beneath the overpass…right by the line of shops that a chance encounter at had changed my life.

I usually kept my head down and walked as fast as I could, unwilling to view the charred remains.

Today, however, I wanted to drive its corpse into my memory.

That beautiful depository…all that was left of it was in my care.

“Damn Agency and their damn Oversight…” I muttered and kept on walking.

At the train station I banged on the pipe.

Bluey wasn’t long in appearing. I think he’d gotten used to my visits.

“Hey Blue, how’s things?”

“So, so.” He shrugged. “You want to come down?”

“Yeah, I need to talk to him.”

Bluey nodded and led me into the underground tunnels. Though I almost had the route memorised, I was still too scared to attempt the journey by myself. Knowing my luck I’d get lost in the darkness.

Bluey wasn’t much of a talker and I didn’t want to intrude any more than I knew my presence would already be doing so I kept my mouth shut. We reached the tunnel that led to the community. I paused, looking at the artwork on the walls, my heart aching.

“He stays close to her.” Bluey remarked.

He hadn’t looked back at me to know I was studying the murals of Weiss in all her different states.

He knew it’s what I was thinking…because it’s what we were all thinking.

In the community I handed out bars of chocolate. Because I was limited to what I could carry down, they weren’t the generous bars they’d received in the past but they were still grateful. Bluey led me through the old platform, past the ramshackle homes the tunnel dwellers called home and out, around a corner to where there was a ladder.

“Thanks Blue.” I said and climbed up.

At the top, inside the tunnel that ended five meters from the edge, was E.J.

He was unshaven and understandably unkempt from living in underground tunnels. He hadn’t reached the same bedraggled state in his appearance that the other members of the community possessed but he did have the bleakness in his expression. I guess his appearance would simply be a matter of time.

After Weiss’ sacrifice, I thought E.J. would kill himself. I’d never seen anyone so destroyed by grief before. The other agents, Taylor and Patch, had helped us get home, along with wounded Goliath and Ryder who had only just survived Inferus’ possession.

He’d gone to sleep on the lounge and when I’d woken up the next day, he’d vanished and I couldn’t find him. I kept waiting to hear about a suicide on the news, if it would even be noticed amongst the headlines about the earthquake damage. But nothing popped up.

Two days later it finally occurred to me where he might have gone. It was Bluey who confirmed that E.J. had gone down to the community and was holed up in Weiss’ old nest.

Once I knew it, it made perfect sense that’s where he’d be.

“Hey boss,” I said lightly, sitting on the ground, putting the bag between us, “brought you some clean clothes, clean water, batteries and, of course, chocolate.”

A little camping lantern illuminated the culvert, E.J.’s meagre pile of belongings and his bedroll.

“Thanks Sam.” He said, mustering an attempt at a smile.

His bravery almost undid mine.

It was awful to see him so broken.

“How are things?” He asked.

“Pretty good, all things considered.”

“How’s Jean?”

“She’s lost nothing in her zest for homemade biscuits and as for her injuries, they’re just a matter of time.” I reassured him. “Lucas is doing a lot better too, although he’s lonely. But he’s regained a little more sight which makes things easier for him. He still can’t tell if he’s put his shirt on inside out but in decent light, he can see shapes and is learning to identify them.”

“That’s good to hear.” He was softly spoken, lacking any of his old fire and sass. I leaned against the wall opposite him, trying to figure out how to broach the subject of the Agency’s offer. “You don’t have to keep coming down here and checking up on me, Sam.”

“I’m not checking up on you…so much this time.” I admitted, clearing my throat. “I’ve been offered a job at the Agency,” I looked at him openly, gauging his reaction though he gave nothing away, “heading up their new database system based on what I built. I guess I have you to thank for them knowing about it?”

E.J. smiled sadly. “I knew there had to be some with sense still on the Oversight.” He swallowed. “When do you start?”

“I haven’t said yes.” I explained. “I wanted to talk to you about it.”

“Why me?”

“We’re a team. We patrol the warehouse district and the old theatre and Fairview hospital…”

“I’m a deactivated agent with no authority to do anything.” E.J. insisted quietly.

I stared at him. “You’re the reason I got into this line of work.”

“We both know that’s not true.”

I sighed. “I don’t…I don’t want to become one of them. I prefer your way of doing things, I prefer working with you and for you…”

“I’m no one’s boss now, Sam, least of all yours.” He sat up and looked me straight in the eye. “I can’t pay you, I can’t employ you and, quite frankly Sam, I don’t want to try to rebuild what I had. You should take the job.” I mustn’t have looked convinced because he added, “I want you to take the job.”

His affirmation echoed in my mind for the next twenty four hours. I couldn’t shake it.

Finally I decided to at least see what my options were and gave Goliath a call. He met me at the train station and we walked to a large building on the outskirts of the CBD.

“That’s the Agency’s headquarters?” I asked, looking up at the steel, glass and concrete building. “It’s got about as much uniqueness as a movie sequel.”

“What did you expect?”

“You’re a written word, fictional creature/character monitoring organisation…you don’t think that warrants something a bit, I don’t know…bookish?”

We entered the foyer, the automatic sliding doors giving a sigh as we passed by them, closing with sealed finality as they kept the air conditioning inside.

“The Agency can’t afford to draw attention to itself.” He pointed to a plaque with all the business names embossed on it. “We have the first two floors. The rest of the building is rented out to pay for expenses.”

“Just how long has this place been operating for?” I asked as we headed for the elevator.

“Longer than I’ve been alive.”

“So, a hundred years?”

Goliath chuckled and took me on a tour of the Agency. It has to be said, it had professional polish to it. The surfaces were smooth, the walls were decorated with artistic murals and there was even a desk with a polite receptionist who smiled at us both.

It was a far cry from ‘Beyond The Page’ and E.J.’s lost in time detective agency. In fact, there seemed to be nothing in common with the old world bookstore and this rather clinical yet imposing HQ.

I guess that was just another way Weiss and E.J. differed in their approach to the rest of the Agency. It was funny that, after despising it so much in the beginning, I felt a great urge to defend, even extol, its virtues.

The technology department was everything I had ever wanted in a job. Shiny surfaces, a wall of clear drawers filled with well labelled components, an assembly area and modern workstations with silent click keyboards. There was even a rack of tablets, plugged into an industrial strength outlet, charging up.

My pride kept my outside impassive and possibly a little disdainful.

The inner me was drooling.

“These tablets are blank canvases, ready for Agency software and database access,” Goliath explained, “and there’s a stack of cases, army quality, to go on them for protection.”

“That’s…eager.” I said, clutching my phone tightly to myself. Though the database would be able to be accessed from any device, I had the login details and backdoor codes safely stored in my personal email. My phone represented the database in a mildly physical form and I was rather protective of it.

There were a number of people working in the department who glanced up at me with interest. They looked almost awestruck at Goliath and I guessed he had quite the reputation. But there was definite interest and, dare I say, respect in their eyes as they looked at me…which surprised me as most of them were older than I. Surely they’d been around for a while and seen a lot of characters come through. Why was I so interesting?

“They’ve heard a lot about you.” Goliath said softly as we walked through.

“I didn’t think there were so many agents.” I replied equally softly as he showed me around.

“These aren’t agents.” He explained. “Our boffins don’t do field work.”

“Is that what you meant by, a safe job?” I asked, recalling his words.

“No more chasing dangerous interlopers and containing incursions.”

I felt my heart sink a little.

I’d come to enjoy the field work.

I wasn’t sure I was ready to give it up.

“Would you like to see where we return characters to their world?”

“I figured you had a space because E.J. brought Griffin here,” I followed him, “but I was surprised you even bothered.”

Goliath didn’t bite at my bait, leading me back to the elevator and entering a code that took us down to a corridor that ended in a single room. It was unremarkable to say the least, lined with glass panels on either side and a big blank wall in front of me.

“That’s it?” I asked.

“Unless someone needed to be returned to their book, we don’t come down here.”

“We only had a rickety ladder accessed through a trapdoor that led into a sewer intersection…but we helped dozens of characters get home.” I shook my head at the clean, clinical, professional room. “What a wasted space.”

Goliath then told me the Oversight wanted to speak to me.

We went up in the elevator to where the receptionist was and Goliath led me to the left and around to the very centre of the building. It was as though the structure had a solid circular core. I had thought it was an artistically curved wall but it turned out to be where the Oversight presided over the Agency. He opened the door that looked like just another panel in the wall and we stepped in, the door shutting softly behind us.

It was as round on the inside as it was on the outside but it was smaller because, around the wall, was a raised platform. On the platform, I could only surmise, were chairs where the Oversight sat in seven decent sized cubicles. There was opaque panelling around the base and up to about shoulder height. Above that were glass panels that were not opaque but had enough of a blue frosted tint that all I could see was the silhouette of the person beyond.

Goliath tapped me on the shoulder and nodded before heading right and climbing into the cubicle closest to me. I saw that the glass was clear until he tapped it and then, he was just a silhouette too.

I realised I was on my own.

“Sam Baker,” their voices came through clearly enough and the glass glowed a little more brightly of the person speaking so I knew in which direction to look, “thank you for coming to the Agency today.”

“You’re welcome.” I said, not really sure what else to say.

“We understand you have inspected the IT department?”

“It’s…pretty impressive.” I admitted.

“Has it helped you in your decision to head the database project?”

I shrugged. “I just want to make sure that you know that I don’t have a degree or any kind of ‘official’ training. It’s why I was working parttime, so I could study.”

“We understand that and have made inquiries with Canterbury University as to the integration of your studies with the Agency.” I raised my eyebrows at whoever it was speaking beyond the glass. “You will gain certain credits for modules while working here and you will be allocated time to complete the rest of the degree.”

“Oh…well…that’s great.” I nodded.

“When can we expect you to start work?”

“Hold on,” I held up my hands, “I haven’t actually accepted this position.”

There was a pause. I think the Oversight was astonished that someone wouldn’t leap at the opportunity to work there. If it had been a year ago, I would have been astonished also.

“Is there something lacking from the IT department? You only need to submit a purchase inquiry…”

“No, it’s not the tech, it’s a condition.” I took a deep breath, glancing at my phone to make sure I got it right. “E.J., Elton John, is to be reinstated, in full employ with all rights, privileges and pay associated with being an agent.”

There was a long pause.

They weren’t expecting that!

I could see the silhouettes turning to talk to each other but unless their microphone was active, I couldn’t hear anything. I just had to wait…which I was not good at.

“And I don’t want to hear any bull about how he broke the cardinal rule about letting an interloper out of his zone,” I added, unable to take the silence any longer, “cause if he’s on the hook for that, you all are after what happened New Year’s Eve.”

I had to rein in the sass a bit. I knew it wouldn’t be appreciated.

“If you are implying that our stipulation of Elton’s zone requirements was unreasonable,” another voice spoke up and I turned towards them, “then you have unfortunately adopted his philosophy of allowing interlopers to stay. This, more than anything else, is a foundational rule of this Agency. Fictional characters are to be returned where they belong.”

“Even if it means sending them back to be killed or to suffer endlessly?” I demanded.

“It was Elton’s direct rebellion in allowing and harbouring the character known as Adeleweiss that allowed Inferus to hurt so many in this world.”

“That’s a load of crap.”

“Sam.” I knew Goliath was warning me but I was angry.

“Inferus came out first,” I retorted, “him being in this world had nothing to do with Weiss being here. He came first.”

“How do you know this?”

“He told me.”

“He could have lied.”

I swallowed. “He knew details about the death of his book’s author…and of the circumstances of Weiss’ entry into this world…he was here first.”

There was a pause. Maybe they were starting to see reason?

“Nevertheless,” I groaned as they continued to be stubborn, “Elton disobeyed a direct order to return the character known as Adeleweiss to her world and the Oversight cannot be seen as condoning rebellious behaviour.”

“If it wasn’t for E.J.’s, you say rebellious but I say compassionate, behaviour, Inferus would be ‘cleansing’ this world with the might of all the evil, dangerous and violent creatures that have ever been written.” I argued. “It was Weiss who saved all of us by sacrificing her life. She went into her Phoenix state which she knew would kill her…but the flare from the phoenix was so big, so hot and so compassing that Inferus couldn’t have escaped it…and it ignited all the fireworks which hailed millions of tiny sparks onto the city, taking out thousands upon thousands of fictional creatures. She did all of that and do you know why? She didn’t give a damn about you in your pristine office with your opaque glass and your fancy technology. She sacrificed herself because of E.J. Because she loved him and he loved her. She knew, by sacrificing herself, he’d be safe.” I was getting emotional and I had to pause to regain some measure of control. The Oversight was not going to have the pleasure of seeing me fall to pieces. “If not for E.J., Weiss wouldn’t have been here and if not for Weiss, we’d all be dead. You owe him more than a job and a reason to go on living. You owe him an apology in front of all your agents that you were wrong!”

There was a long pause and this time, I didn’t get impatient. I was shaking and my hands were fists.

“Sam,” one of the Oversight appeared to lean forward, “your emotional appeal for Elton is not falling upon deaf ears…but this Agency does not have the authority to turn this world into a refugee safe haven from dangerous books. We cannot condone or apologise for the decisions made to curb an individual’s opinion which is contrary to the mandates that we operate by.”

I shook my head. “Then I won’t be working here.”

I turned to leave.

“The database stays.”

I paused. “Ah, no it doesn’t.”

“Yes, it does.”

“What, you’re thieves now?”

“There is no theft involved. The database was created with Agency funds and information. It is legally ours.”

“No it isn’t.” I turned to them and folded my arms. “You didn’t hire me. Weiss did. You didn’t create the physical database, organise its retrieval system and pay analytical attention to detail. Weiss did. You didn’t commission to me convert it from its physical state into a digital one, able to be accessed anywhere. Weiss did. There isn’t one drop of Agency money, information or hard work in the database. You won’t acknowledge her existence here so why should you reap the reward of her life?”

“Sam,” Goliath appeared from behind his glass panel and approached me, “you’ve got to ask yourself, is this what E.J. would want?”

I felt my shoulders sag. “You’ve got a nerve talking about what E.J. wants when none of you have even asked how he is. Now let me out of here.”

He opened the panel for me and I stormed out.

My anger lasted all the way home until I slumped in my chair and buried my face in my hands.

“I take it the interview didn’t go well?” Mum asked that evening as we ate. Well, she was eating. I was pushing peas around my plate. Well…I think they were peas. They were covered in gravy so they could have been anything really.

“Not really.”

“So…no job with them, then?”

“I wouldn’t hold my breath.” I sighed. “Sorry mum. It’s just…I didn’t like what they stood for.”

“It’s important that you can respect the workplace that you are in.” Mum insisted kindly. “It’s even more important that you can look yourself in the eye and know that each day doesn’t grind down a little more of your conscience and convictions.”

“Conscience and convictions don’t pay the rent.” I muttered a little bitterly.

“Better to be financially bankrupt than morally so.”

I smiled. “I should have said that to them.” I took my plate into the kitchen and scraped my dinner into a container. “I’ll heat it up later. I need to go out for a bit. I won’t be long.”

I had taken walking slowly for granted. My life over the past year had been about running like a lunatic and living life on the edge. This evening, however, I strolled slowly along, enjoying the moderate pace.

I didn’t go anywhere in particular.

I just walked.

I didn’t even think about much either.

I just kept my eyes down on the next step in front of me.

At this point, that’s all I could do.

One foot in front of the next.

I mean, it’s not like I didn’t have anything to do. I still had my studies at Canterbury which would be starting up soon. I wouldn’t have a job but I could pick something part-time up.

I gave a little huff.

Like what?

Pouring coffees at a café?

Stacking shelves at a supermarket in the wee small hours of the morning?

Walking about suburbia dropping junk mail into letter boxes and avoiding yappy little dogs?

It all seemed so mundane after working with Weiss and E.J. It was so…what do you do after something like that? How do you adjust to a normal life? It’s not like I would find a secret society protecting the world from a villain hell bent on eradicating life as we know it beyond the façade of every ho hum business I came across.

Working at ‘Beyond The Page’ had been a once in a thousand lifetimes opportunity.

It would never come again.

I kicked a stone.

Life sucked sometimes.

The sun was casting long shadows by the time I made it back to the housing estate. The bins were due to be picked up so everything stank badly and one had been tipped over, scattering disposable nappies all over the ground. A few of the random stray cats dashed from sight as I held my nose and hurried past them, relieved to be inside where it didn’t smell so bad. I climbed the stairs, trailing my fingers along the wall and the graffitied words across it, keeping my other hand from the banister as the underside was littered with used gum wads.

When did my life depress me so?

It was all here before…why was it bugging me now?

Because I had purpose before, I guess.

Now, I couldn’t see past the housing estate that I had longed to escape from.

I opened the door of the flat, calling out to mum.

This novel's true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

“Sam, you’ve got company.”

I stood at the door to the lounge room and raised my eyebrows.

“I didn’t exactly expect to see you here,” I folded my arms, “or ever again.”

Goliath nodded. “That’s fair.”

“What do you want?”

“Sam!” Mum was horrified.

“It’s alright Mrs Baker. Sam has a right to be a bit put out by the interview today.”

“Oh…well…I’ll leave you two to talk.” Mum smiled. “Would you like a cup of coffee Mr…is your name really Goliath?”

Goliath shook his head. “David Summers and I’d love a cup of coffee Mrs Baker.”

“Oh, it’s not Mrs. It’s Miss…or Ms…or you can call me Michelle.”

Goliath chuckled and mum went a surprising shade of pink before dashing to the kitchen. I kept my arms folded and glowered at him.

“Are you hitting on my mum?” I demanded in a hiss.

“She’s a nice lady who is worried about you.” Goliath insisted.

“Yeah, right.” I sank onto the lounge. “You know E.J. visited this flat and met mum. He even sat where you’re sitting now.”

“And were you ever as angry with him as you are with me?”

I had to laugh. “Sometimes.”

Goliath leaned forward. “You certainly know how to throw a big stone into a tranquil pond. After you left the Oversight meeting…there were…words spoken…and some suggestions made.”

“I’m not changing my mind about my condition.” I insisted. “So if you’ve with the ‘suggestion’ that I relent and give up on E.J….”

“That’s not why I’m here at all.” Goliath clasped his big, dark skinned hands together. “You win, Sam. Oversight agreed to reinstate him.”

“And…?”

“They’re not going to apologise,” before I could get my dander up, Goliath held up his hand, “but I think you’ll like the compromise.”

“I doubt it.”

“With E.J.’s return to the Agency, he will be expected to train new apprentice agents…in, what is being dubbed, catching incursions with kindness.”

I stared at Goliath. He leaned back into the chair and appreciated my gobsmacked silence.

“For real?”

He nodded. “For real.”

“Why would they agree to that? They were so full of themselves this morning.”

“You have to understand that the Oversight are all my age, Sam.” Goliath explained. “And we’ve done things the same way for many years. To have a former rebel and a rookie come in and overturn everything that we knew and had down to a fine art…that’s a big kick in the pride department.”

“Ouch.” I winced.

“It takes time for people to come around to new ideas, especially when you’re an old of a dog as I am. Thank you Michelle.”

“You’re welcome…and you’re not old.” She insisted, having him his cup of coffee. “I’ll let you two talk.”

“I doubt there’s much more to say.” I shrugged. “I really can’t see the Agency sticking to this compromise. I think they just want their hands on the database. If I work for them, I’m not dancing around whose it was. I’ll be naming it after Weiss and I’m gonna maintain it like she would have.”

“And I will be supporting you the whole way.” Goliath nodded and saw my surprised expression. “I told you, it’s time for a new song. I don’t want to lose valuable people like yourself, Jeanette Miller and E.J. from the team. I made the case that if we were cutting people like that out, we’re no better than Inferus and his…hostile takeover.”

I appreciated the way he tactfully danced around the true topic with my mum in the room.

“Then…I’ll consider it.” I nodded after a pointed look from mum. Mind you, the way she was smiling at Goliath made me wonder if she was just hoping to be invited to the work Christmas party.

“There is a condition.”

“Oh what…”

“You have to tell E.J.”

I pulled a face. “That’s a condition?”

“It’s been insinuated that we of the Oversight don’t care about E.J. and haven’t been to see him,” Goliath winced, “in truth…we don’t know how to get down there and we’re worried about being lynched by the community even if we found our way.”

I laughed. It felt good.

“That’s a fair point.” I stood up and walked him to the door. “I’ll let E.J. know.”

“I hope it’s enough.”

“Enough what?”

“Enough to get him to come topside again.”

Busting with the news I was at the train tunnel entrance a bit earlier than usual the next day, with two bags worth of gear to carry down. Bluey and I lugged it through the tunnels and managed to get it onto the platform where the community lived. I was really surprised to see E.J. up and about, helping to hand out water bottles, socks and soap. There was no formality, no sense of occasion as I told him what the Agency offered. I just blurted it out in my excitement.

To my astonishment, E.J. kept working as if he hadn’t heard me.

“Antiseptic cream for you Mia,” he handed it to her, “apply liberally on that cut of yours. And Jones, dry socks for you.”

“E.J…aren’t you going to say something?”

“Blue, have you got a bottle of water for Seb? Thanks.”

I stared at him. “E.J.!”

“What, Sam?” He caught my glare and sighed. “What do you want me to say?”

“Uh, I don’t know…how about, ‘will you help me carry my stuff up to the surface?’.” I watched him looking after the community, the unshaven look starting to coalesce into a beard. “They want you back!”

“I don’t want to go back.”

I gaped at him. “But…didn’t you hear what they want to do? They want to train agents to look after characters who have become lost in our world like you did. Like you both did.” I guess it wasn’t just the Agency who danced about her name. I was scared if I said it, E.J. would disintegrate like a wet paper bag. “They want to do things differently…the way you taught me!”

“Then you can teach them.”

E.J. handed out bars of chocolate, smiling kindly at the community he had become a part of.

Maybe too much a part of to ever leave.

“I don’t have the experience and the knowledge to have any kind of authority with that lot. You do. You’re legendary!”

“I’m sorry, Sam,” he shook out the empty bag and folded it up, “I just don’t have the heart for it anymore.” He turned and started walking out of the dimly illuminated platform to his dark nest, as if just being where she had been would soothe his soul.

“If I could bring her back I would!” I shouted at him, my voice echoing across the platform, the community members looking up nervously. E.J. stopped walking, his back facing me. “I…I even thought about trying to make it happen.”

E.J.’s shoulders sagged. “So have I, Sam.” His tone was weary and so full of sorrow that I wished I’d never said anything. “But she wouldn’t be the Weiss we knew. She wouldn’t know us. She wouldn’t know me.” He turned slightly towards me. “Besides, not even in my deepest grief, as I stood at the edge of a precipice, did she come through. If that wasn’t enough…”

“You know her biggest regret living in this world?” I cut him off. “It was ruining your life because you protected her.”

E.J. shook his head. “She didn’t ruin me. I was a far better man because of her.”

“Then be that better man…in a job where characters like her can be protected and escorted home with dignity and respect.” I begged, edging towards him. “She gave her life for you. Not for me, not for this world…for you.” Tears streamed down his face as he refused to look at me. “Please, E.J., don’t let her sacrifice be in vain.”

He shuddered and swallowed, wiping the tears that had collected along his chin.

“I’ll think about it. Will that do?”

I nodded, backing off. “Yeah. Yeah that will do.”

He nodded and walked away.

To be honest, I thought that ‘thinking about it’ meant, I’ll refuse you at a later date when you’ve lost some of your resolve.

I couldn’t make him take the job.

I could only do what I could do.

At least, that’s what I told myself.

And I wasn’t even that convinced.

Still, working at the Agency had its perks.

One, of which, was a pretty decent wage. I mean, sure I was heading up an IT project…but I wasn’t long out of school either.

The other was that a large portion of it did count against Canterbury’s modules.

The department was also very shiny with a million high quality bits and pieces and access to funding as I turned a small bookstore’s online app into a multi-use program spread across the entire city.

It wasn’t without its stressful days and I did have to report in weekly as to my progress as well as organise a team of, what the Oversight referred to as ‘boffins’, and teach them how to use the system, how to build extra categories, how to check the cross referencing in case ‘blank’ or ‘broken link’ messages came up.

It’s not like they wouldn’t be able to work it out on their own. It wasn’t blindingly intelligent stuff but it was the system I designed so they paid attention and asked questions.

I was concerned that, despite having access to the database, agents would simply do as they had always done. There was no re-training as far as I could see.

One day, maybe two, two and a half weeks after I started, my monitor gave a little ping.

“Hello?” I said, not looking up from the tablet full of coding, trying to work out where something was going wrong.

“He’s back.”

“Huh?” I looked at the screen and saw Goliath’s face.

“E.J. He’s back.”

I dropped my tablet and bolted to the elevator, rising to the main floor. The receptionist looked up in alarm.

“Where is he?”

“He?”

“E.J.?”

“He…uh…” She pointed towards the Oversight room. I ran to it, finding it closed and sealed.

Turns out I didn’t need to run at all. The door remained locked for fifteen minutes. I wore a bare spot on the carpet pacing as I waited.

The panel shifted aside with smooth precision and E.J. looked at me from within.

He still wore his comfortable jeans, plain t-shirt and unbuttoned overshirt with sensible, scuffed shoes. But he’d shaven and he’d even gotten a haircut.

“Hey Sam.” He said, coming towards me. I opened my mouth but he shook his head. “Thanks for not giving up on me.”

“Well…this stubborn old bloke with a vintage vibe wouldn’t give up on me…so I figured I owed him the same.” I shrugged.

E.J. nodded and smiled. I noticed it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Want to see my new office?”

“You get an office?”

“Apparently I always had one but I never knew.”

I walked with him towards his allocated space. “Why do you get an office and I don’t?”

“You’ve got an entire department and you’re complaining about a pokey little office?”

“You know my generation does nothing but complain, right?”

E.J. and I ended up carpooling to the Agency every day. E.J.’s car had been salvaged from the hundred car pile up on the highway and after it spent nearly two weeks in the Agency workshop, it had been deemed fit and safe to drive. It had a few dints here and there but it still ran as well as it ever did.

E.J. decided to live in the same housing estate as me and mum. I asked him why he would do that when he could probably get a nice house somewhere.

“I gotta start small…or I’ll fall apart.” Was his reply.

His flat was filled with random pieces of furniture so that nothing matched.

It was a painful stab in my heart when I realised that he wasn’t just starting small. He wasn’t laying deep foundations.

Despite his outward appearance of calm, E.J. was still a very broken man.

There was no doubt he became a bit of a legend at the Agency and his policies and tactics for retrieving fictional characters went against the grain of the older agents. They didn’t like changing what they had done after so long. Some agents disagreed so strongly that they declined to keep working there. Ryder was one of them. He’d had a bad run with Inferus, that’s for sure and while the physical effects weren’t as extreme as Lucas’, they had done more than enough damage. He didn’t want to work in an office and he certainly didn’t want to train new agents on E.J.’s curriculum. Taylor and Patch, well they were part of Ryder’s team and were a bit displaced. Taylor decided to switch to the workshop, building devices for large scale deployment and incursions of the numerous variety. Patch actually picked up E.J.’s tactics and was asked to head up a team. She was pretty chuffed about that.

Things seemed to be going along pretty well until I got the call to bring the books ‘Birth’ and ‘Death’ in. They’d been left in my care but I hadn’t opened them. I just kept them in a box with Shiloh’s letter.

At the request of the Oversight, I brought them in to work one day.

To my astonishment, Jean was there.

“I’ve come to see how this place works,” she winked, “and I was promised decent biscuits.”

“Are they going to get you to demonstrate your penmanship?” I asked, looking at her hand.

“It’s still healing unfortunately but there’s a lot I can teach without using it.” Jean smiled at me. “Want to sit in on Goliath’s class and my little lecture?”

“I’d love to.”

Jean was a fantastic speaker, funny and bright with a rapier wit and a cuddly exterior.

“You can’t always rely on power…or anything.” She told the new recruits. “Sometimes…you can only rely on the next step and then the next and the next…and if the power fails, you need to be able to take the next step in the dark.”

She got them to do some handwriting samples and then had them attempt to imitate different fonts and sizes. The fact that she could replicate almost any style of writing was astounding to me. She tutted over my attempt to do a perfectly basic font.

“It’s a relief you’re good with computers.” She winked at me. I rolled my eyes and caught sight of E.J.’s expression. Even he had managed a smile and it was touching his eyes.

Perhaps he was healing after all.

“While Jeanette Miller is a brilliant manual character re-entry writer, the Agency has its own printing device.” Goliath explained, gesturing to a table in front of him. We were in a part of the Agency I hadn’t anything to do with yet and looked around with interest. The table was covered with a light gauze which Goliath lifted, showing an indent in the tabletop and an arm over the top of it, fixed to the side of the table. There was a touch screen control panel. Goliath picked up a large book and a small novel. He rested the large book into the indent and tapped the touch screen. The arm scanned the book and the indent changed size, doubling its width and deepening the indent. The book was then able to be opened and laid flat.

“This scans the size of the book, the type of font, the size of the text and recognises where the names need to be reinserted. Of course no system is infallible so each entry needs to be approved by a trained operator such as myself.” Goliath took the large book out and laid the small one in. “See how the cradle changes size to accommodate the different books? It also has ‘fingers’ to hold the pages down flat for precise re-entry.” He looked at me and I stared back, confused as to why he thought I’d know anything about what he was doing. “We have a name to be re-entered and you’ll be able to see the device in action.”

My heart turned to ice.

I couldn’t offer them.

“Sam, if you please…”

I had to force myself to draw the books out of the satchel I carried them in. I kept my head down and held them out to Goliath.

“Thank you.”

I stepped back, shaking.

Goliath put the first one into the indent and it altered size and depth. He opened it and then tapped on the control panel.

“For today’s example we’re entering the name ‘Adeleweiss’ with variations such as ‘Adele’ and ‘Weiss’.”

The new recruits crowded around the machine, eager to see it work. I was frozen my spot. I felt a touch on my arm and looked at Jean.

“Do we have to?” I asked weakly.

“She’s in there regardless.” Jean said gently. “This is just a technicality.”

“But…if the books don’t exist anywhere else…why do it at all?”

Jean squeezed my hand, keeping me from trembling. I heard a soft step at the back of the room. I looked up and saw E.J. leaving, his face contorted with grief.

In a moment, all the ground he’d gained over the past two months vanished.

I glanced at Jean and she nodded and gave me a little shove towards the door. I hurried after E.J., seeing him go down to the parking garage. I followed and saw him opening the door of his car.

“I’m sorry!” I cried. “I didn’t know that’s what they were planning to do today! I swear!”

E.J. paused and looked at me. “It’s okay, Sam.”

I shivered. “Promise me you’re not going to do something stupid. Promise!”

“I promise.” He said quietly and got in the car and drove away.

When Goliath came by the IT department later in the day, I gave him my dirtiest look.

“You could have warned him, you know! All that did was remind him of what he’s lost!”

“She’s never coming back, Sam.” Goliath replied without remorse. “Weiss…is dead. Elton knows that. It’s the hard truth of what we do. No matter how long they exist here, the moment they go back, nothing of this world remains in them. Hell, she wouldn’t even remember him. Elton lives in this world and Weiss exists in hers. They can’t be together and the sooner he comes to terms with this, the faster his healing will begin.”

“I guess you and I differ on how our definitions on ‘healing’…cause all I saw was a guy standing back on the precipice he was tempted to fling himself off of months ago.”

“I can’t fix it for him,” Goliath set the books down on my desk, “I wish I could. If it had an ending…at least he would be at peace knowing that she was too.” He glanced at the clock. “Why don’t you take off early today? Avoid rush hour.”

I held the books on my lap as I rocked gently to the train’s rhythm. My fingers stroked the embossed covers.

Almost without thinking about it, I opened the cover of the first book, eased past the first couple of pages to the start of chapter one.

I have heard that people will devour a good book.

That’s not what it was like with this one.

It devoured me.

I was consumed by it, my mind able to see exactly what the character of Adeleweiss looked like and my heart imagining what she was going through. Each page was not enough. I needed the next one and the next one, invested in the story like none other I’d ever read.

Hell, I don’t think I’d even read a book that wasn’t a school requirement.

Yet within three pages, I was fully committed to reading both of them.

The only break in my concentration came when I heard my stop chime from the train’s speakers.

When I got to the housing estate, I knocked on E.J.’s door but he didn’t answer.

It was possible he’d gone back to the community.

It was also possible he was still driving in his car, trying to escape the memory of her.

I curled up on the lounge and continued to read.

And read.

And read.

And my mind whirled, my heart broke, my blood pulsed, my anger raged, my spirit soared and my soul was crushed. I read them in the flat, on the lounge or on my bed. I read them on the train or during my lunch break at work. And over the weekend, I ploughed through them without thought to what I ‘ought’ to be doing.

And when I got to the end, I understood why E.J. never sent Weiss back.

It was inhuman to make someone return to that existence.

It wasn’t a life.

It was an emotional, abusive prison with no explanation, no understanding at all.

No wonder no one saw it coming.

If I hadn’t, I’d have been betrayed by Weiss as well.

I might have even resented her in this world had I known.

The end of the second book was damning and I set it down, wishing I’d never read it.

“Oh Shiloh,” I whispered, “I’m so sorry you couldn’t finish it. I’m sorry you couldn’t escape it. I’m sorry you couldn’t resolve or vanquish your demons, seeing the evil power of this world trump every ounce of good, leaving you hopeless and broken.”

I looked at her letter and recalled what was written in her manuscript.

She had been right. It wasn’t enough to go on. It was a single scene amongst hundreds.

A single piece of the puzzle with no idea what the end picture was supposed to look like.

I lay back on my bed and stared up at the ceiling.

The phoenix, meant to represent immortality, resurrection and new life had killed everyone.

Inferus had twisted it to his own ends.

His kingdom had lasted for centuries and now it would rule once more.

For while Weiss had been returned to her book, so, too, had Inferus.

I rolled onto my side, pulling something flat out from beneath me. It was the bookmark I’d been using. Mum had found it for me. It had probably come in one of her books she’d bought with the voucher I’d given her. I studied the words on it.

“In the beginning was the Word and the Word was with God and the Word was God.” I quoted. “The world was eternal but the Word preceded the world. Eternal…Aeternus…but it wasn’t at the beginning…word was at the beginning…what word? What preceded Inferus’ eternal world?” I couldn’t think of an answer and so put the bookmark down. “If Inferus was at the height of his kingdom when he made the decision to turn himself immortal…what came before him?” I frowned. “He wasn’t there at the beginning. Something or someone was…and what if they wrote something down?” I sat up, my mind racing. “Wait, what if it was engraved in stone…like a prophesy…that Inferus ended up fulfilling to his own doom!”

I grabbed my phone and began to scribble down ideas as fast as I could. They were surging into my mind that had only ever been creative when it came to circuitry.

But this time it was different.

This wasn’t just creativity.

I wasn’t writing something new.

I was writing something real.

After all, I knew how it was going to end!

Two weeks later I approached ‘Second Chance’ and greeted the receptionist.

“I’d like to speak to Walter Preston if I may? I’m Sam Baker.”

She nodded and picked up the phone, talking briefly before gesturing towards his door.

I knocked then opened it, seeing an understandably nervous older man rising from behind his desk.

“Sam,” he opened his mouth, “I…I heard about…”

I held up my hand and flipped over the sign on his door to read ‘Peace Talks’.

“I think we need to have a coffee.” I said.

When we entered the café I was thrilled to see Bailey working behind the counter. I wasn’t sure she’d recognise me after her traumatic experience atop the Fairview Hospital but she paused, blinked and then beamed.

“I know you!” She exclaimed. “You were there that night!”

“I am, I mean I was.” I laughed. “How are you?”

“Doing a lot better.” She said and I could see the hope in her eyes. She didn’t look much different to when I had last seen her and yet, she was transformed. “Thank you for being there that night.”

“It wasn’t just me.” I said then froze, wondering if she was going to ask about the angel.

Bailey winked at me and clutched a pendant around her neck with an angel hanging from it made out of clockwork gears and cogs.

“I know.” She nodded.

“What do you think of Bailey’s clockwork creations?” Walter asked, pointing to a little display where jewellery was laid out. “She’s quite the artisan.”

“Seriously, you made these?” She nodded and I marvelled over them. “That’s extraordinary.” It then occurred to me that I had something of hers. “Your book, the one you had that night…I still have it. Did you want it back? I’m sorry I didn’t think of it.”

“It’s okay. I bought the trilogy again.” Trilogy. There was that fateful word.

I paused. “Are you sure that’s wise?” I asked hesitantly. “I thought there might be too many bad memories attached.”

“It wasn’t the book that was the problem,” she admitted, “it was my sanctuary. I always wanted to be like the lead character, protected by an angel,” she smiled, “and now, thanks to Mr Preston’s encouragement, I was apprenticed to a jeweller who is showing me how to make beautiful creations…and I can make angels for everyone who needs to be reminded that they’re not the sum total of the unkind things people say and do. So I work a little there, a little here and I’m finding my way.”

“That’s really great to hear, Bailey. Truly it is.” I beamed. “It’s great to see you.”

Walter and I sat in the back booth and he clasped his hands in front of me.

“I feel wretched about leaving you in the depository,” he blurted, “running like a coward from it all…and then I read about that beautiful, unique bookstore burning to the ground…”

“It’s been a difficult few months,” I admitted, “and I’m sorry I didn’t think to come round here sooner. I could have emailed but I wanted you to read Shiloh’s letter in her handwriting.”

“So there was a letter?”

“Yeah…and you need to read it.”

I slid it over to Walter Preston who read it with no little trepidation. When the tears started to fall, I just pushed napkins across the table to him and drank my lemonade. At the end of the letter he sank back against the curved of the seat, closed his eyes and let out twenty years of guilt in a deep, lung emptying, sigh.

“Shiloh…I’m so sorry.”

“She didn’t blame you. In fact she thanked you for your faith in her. She was sorry she couldn’t fulfill that which she promised.” I insisted.

“What she suffered…things that the world, at the time, couldn’t properly counsel her through. So much stigma and shame.” He sniffed and shook his head. “Perhaps if I hadn’t been so preoccupied with my life, I could have helped walk her through her problems and come out the other side with an ending that might have resolved her hurt.”

“I don’t know what could have been. I only know what is.” I tapped the first of two parcels I’d bought. “These are the notes she made on the third book which she talks about in her letter. She didn’t down play how much she’d managed to write. It’s pretty thin.”

Walter gazed at the thin pouch and rested his hand on it protectively. His eyes caught sight of the other, more sizeable pouch, still in my grasp. “What’s that?”

I took a deep breath. Moment of truth and sheer vulnerability.

“This is,” I put it on the table, “what I think the third book should be.”

I slid it across to him and took my trembling hands off of it. I didn’t realise how frightened I would be in this moment.

“You…you wrote the final book?” Walter breathed.

“It’s more of a synopsis…with rather large chunks of certain moments that are pivotal and I think it resolves the Inferus lordship and takes away his authority by replacing it with a greater authority…” I was stammering in my nervousness now. “I’ve never written anything before and I’m not sure it could even be considered to be a worthy end to her epic story…but it means so much to me to give this saga an end.”

Unable to stay there any longer I stood up. “Read it and if it’s rubbish, just say so.” It was kind of my adolescent disclaimer that ended my visit in the coffee shop. I almost fled, feeling pretentious, frightened and unworthy.

It was really hard to concentrate at work but it did at least distract me a little.

“You okay, Sam?” E.J. asked as we drove home. After the reinsertion of Weiss and Inferus into the book, I thought we’d lose him back to the underground but he’d been waiting for me at his car the next morning. Maybe Goliath was right after all. He did seem more…settled.

And because of that, I couldn’t tell him what I was doing.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired.”

“You used to be able to work a full day and run after interlopers at night. You must be getting old.”

“Time to book me a room next to Jean’s at Kingsbury.” I laughed.

“There goes the neighbourhood.”

“Hey!”

It was impossible to completely forget about the scrappy manuscript I’d left with Walter Preston but there were times, over the next week, that it did slip my mind. And they were wonderfully peaceful moments.

Then I got a call from an unknown number while I was at work. I looked at my phone and was going to ignore it, sure it was just another scam, then decided, what the heck and answered it.

“Hello?”

“Sam? It’s Walter Preston.”

I sat bolt upright at my desk. “Mr Preston?!”

“Yes…Sam, I just finished reading your manuscript, actually I finished last night.”

“Okay…” I was too scared to ask him what he thought of it.

“It’s…it lacks Shiloh’s natural flow, any background as you’re mostly taken up with dialogue with just a few specific physical details, your grammar is terrible and your spelling is even worse,” I was sinking into a puddle of shame and misery, “and yet it is utterly brilliant.”

“Huh?” I blinked, not sure I’d heard him correctly.

“Utterly brilliant. My word, Sam, how you managed to capture the anguish and the torment yet formed a deeper and richer history, a prophesy that Inferus didn’t realise he was fulfilling to his own detriment, a way to save all those soul by the same power that turned them to ash, a love story that leads to redemption and rebirth…it’s staggering!”

“You really liked it then?”

“So much so.”

“Even with all its faults?”

“Those are entirely fixable. If you would allow me, I’d like to help build it into the third story that would echo Shiloh’s style.”

“You’re the one who knows her style the best.”

“And then, when it’s finished and we’re happy it honours the first two books and Shiloh’s memory…I’d like to take it to an old publisher contact.”

I felt the most fantastic thrill run through me. “That would be brilliant!”

“Don’t get your hopes up. It’s an old book series that everyone has forgotten about and I’m not entirely sure it would be welcomed when it caused so much strife…”

“Lots of old series are being rediscovered these days. Some books transcend time, their words meant to last forever.”

“Well said Sam. I’ll email you my notes and we’ll talk over the phone as we put it together. I’m very excited about this.”

So was I.

So much so I could hardly sleep that night and I was busting to tell E.J.

But not yet.

No, not until I knew it had worked.

The idea of collaborating on a writing project sounds good in theory but it was a real slog to put it together.

Walter Preston had some ideas and was able to replicate Shiloh’s writing style, referring to her original work which I had given back to him. We were also almost neurotic about continuity, making sure the spelling was correct, the characters had the same motivation and didn’t just randomly change things to make it easier for us. Everything needed to flow as Shiloh had written.

After four months, we had a finished manuscript.

I came down with the flu the day Walter had organised to meet with his publisher contact so I couldn’t be there. But Walter seemed very positive about it.

Their office was across the CBD and so, one day just before we hit August, I caught the tram not far from the Agency and met up with Walter in the publishing office foyer.

I was so nervous I felt sick.

“Regardless of what they think,” Walter reassured me, “I believe we have helped to bring peace to Shiloh’s torment.”

I nodded and followed his lead as we went into the office.

Mr Angus Wildman sat us down and had us explain the origins of the books and the motivation behind the manuscript (leaving aside several key factors like the Agency, the fictional incursions and the fact that I’d been possessed by Inferus).

He listened intently, fascinated as much by the tale of how the third book came about as he was about the manuscript itself.

“I believe this is, quite frankly, a gem of a book which polishes off a failed trilogy in a way that really does capture the essence of its author’s intent.” He said at last. “To be able to republish these works and bring out the final book…”

“Media wise, this has unlimited potential.” Walter nodded.

“And if we work like crazy, we could have it released for Christmas present buying…” He leaned back. “So…there is the matter of royalties which is for legal to work out…”

“All my royalties are to go towards ‘Second Chance’.” Walter Preston stated firmly. “I started it in honour of Shiloh’s memory and I want the media release of the books to not bury what happened to her, but to shed light on what happened and on the help and hope that people who are suicidal have access to.”

Mr Wildman nodded. “A failed trilogy reignited with a powerful resolution and a mental health message that would tug anyone’s heart strings…are you giving me my Christmas present early, Preston?”

He smiled and nodded to me. “You will want to hear Sam’s condition before you agree because it is non negotiable.”

Mr Wildman turned to me. “I’m listening, Sam.”

I took a deep breath.

This was it.

“I want the first copy of the book.”

“Done.”

“No, no,” I shook my head, “I mean I want the very first copy of the embossed edition of the book that is put together…the only copy.”

Mr Wildman hesitated and looked at Walter. “What is this?”

“Keep going, Sam.” Walter encouraged me.

“I get that book for forty eight hours…and then I’ll bring it back to you and the media circus and printing can begin properly.”

Mr Wildman made a small coughing noise. “You…printing just one book…that’s really…”

“Given how much this is going to rake in,” Walter tapped the manuscript on the desk, “you can afford to print one book…to Sam’s specifications.”

“What specifications?”

“I need something taken out.” After I explained it to him, his eyes nearly fell out of his head.

“That doesn’t make sense!”

“Look at it this way,” Walter shrugged, “Sam will have the first and only copy…but it’ll be pretty useless, won’t it?”

Mr Wildman shook his head. “This is all rather unorthodox.” I said nothing but just stared at him. Finally he relented. “One copy altered the way you want it to be…and your royalties?”

“The same as Mr Preston’s. I’m not looking to make money from this. I just want to make the world right.”

With Walter handling the publishing side of things, I didn’t really know what was going on except by updates he would text to me. The company wanted to make some changes. We allowed some and we sat firm in our refusal of others. Despite the back and forwards of it all, the publishing company, smelling an almighty pre-Christmas book buying storm, raced to get it done before the end of November.

On the twenty seventh of November, I got a call from Walter.

“Your copy is ready for collection.”

“I’ll be in first thing tomorrow.”

Angus Wildman was there with a rep from legal to witness me signing a statement that I wouldn’t share the book anywhere online or announce it on social media. I grinned, shaking my head. They didn’t realise it but the book was safe with me. There was only one other person who would get to read it to give their approval.

When I’d signed the document, Wildman slid the box across the coffee table and I opened it gingerly, Walter Preston sitting next to me, leaning over in his eagerness to get a glimpse of it.

A soft cover version of the trilogy was being released at the same time as the limited edition ones. What I had in my hand, was the limited edition copy. Pains had been taken to replicate the style of the first two books so that it even looked like it belonged with the original copies. Walter Preston had brought them with him to compare the volumes. Apart from normal wear and tear, they looked like they belonged together.

I lifted it out of its tissue paper and ran my fingers over the cover, my spine tingling.

“‘Rebirth’,” I read, “by Shiloh Apfelbaum.” All the new books would have her real name on them too. I opened the cover and saw Walter Preston’s name inside along with my own as ‘co-authors’. I flicked across the pages and saw gaps in the wording. I hoped it would be enough. “Thank you.” I said, taking the book in its box into my arms, the originals tucked into my satchel. Walter was lending them to me for a few days.

“Forty eight hours, Sam.” Wildman warned. “The campaign begins on December first.”

“Got it.” I nodded and stood up. “See you in two days.”

It was tempting to flick open the pages and browse the book some more but I didn’t want anyone capturing any footage of it accidentally or becoming interested just because I couldn’t rein in my curiosity. The fact was I already knew the story, cover to cover.

But there was one who didn’t who had to know before everyone else, what I was attempting to do.

And before I even let him read it, I had to go to an abandoned intersection set almost directly beneath an overpass to find out whether or not I had succeeded.

I spent an hour making sure…and then walked to the housing estate, my body trembling with hope.

“Come in!” E.J. called out from inside his flat at the housing estate. I let myself in to find E.J. frying up something nondescript in a pan for his dinner. He looked up from his charred creation and raised his eyebrows. “Sam, where did you take off to this morning? Goliath said he went to ask about the logistics of the ‘reading team’ proposal you made to the Oversight and you weren’t at your station. I knew I’d driven you into work and you hadn’t needed a ride home with me so…”

“I had somewhere to be.” I explained, sitting down at his little dining table. “Actually, it’s pretty huge, E.J. And I’m not sure if you’re going to be happy or angry about it…”

E.J. turned off the stove, wiped his hands, had a swig of his beer and sat down opposite me. “Blurt it out and we’ll find out together.” He smiled, no idea as to the bombshell I was about to drop on him.

I looked at the box. “This is for you.” I said when all my fine practiced speeches seemed like self-promoting blabber. “It’s…well…”

E.J. was understandably confused by my hesitation so he opened the box.

“A book?” He said before his eyes widened and his jaw fell open. “No…but…this is…”

“The third book in the trilogy.” I nodded. “It’s called ‘Rebirth’, a collaboration between Shiloh Apfelbaum, Walter Preston and myself.”

E.J.’s face was stricken. I began to wonder if the shock of it would trigger a stroke.

“Sam…”

“It’s going to be announced in two days,” I licked my lips, “but I wanted you to read it first.”

Tears were forming in his eyes which he didn’t bother to wipe away. “All I need to know is…does it end in peace?”

I nodded and stood up. “Yes.” He let out a shuddering breath. “I’ve got to get it back to them in two days. Do you think you can read it by then?”

E.J. held it like it was a Ming vase. “I will…I will.”

The fear of Walter Preston not liking my ideas and poorly scribed manuscript was nothing compared to the terror of E.J.’s response to the book.

Many times I had contemplated telling him about it.

But it never felt right to do so.

I wouldn’t have him worry about the journey to the end, removing things because he couldn’t bear them wounding the woman he loved any more than she had already been.

I hoped the ending would be enough for him.

It took ages for me to fall asleep and I woke up in the hour before dawn, my phone buzzing softly.

I picked it up.

“Yeah?” I managed to grunt out.

“I’m outside your door, if you have a minute?”

I hastily dressed, scribbled mum a note, grabbed my satchel and eased the door open and closed it behind me. I caught sight of E.J. and went to speak…but he dragged me into his arms and gave me a spine crushing, holding himself together, hug.

I let him. It was less for me as it was for him.

“You approve?” I asked quietly and he drew back, his face a mess of weeping.

“It’s perfect.” He nearly crumpled into grief again. “It’s really brilliant, Sam…but I don’t think it’ll work.” His jaw trembled. “Fan fiction isn’t impacted the same way as original works. Unless Shiloh wrote it…I think it’ll be a single novel unto itself and not connected with the other two books, at least in the way the tears in reality work.”

“That’s why I tested it yesterday.” I said gently. “Maybe it’s because Walter Preston and I dropped our egos from the equation…maybe because we followed Shiloh’s voice and remained faithful to her style…whatever the reason…it works.”

“It works?” His voice was hollow.

“I checked with Goliath. Tears have to reseal and open again between books of different series. But books of the same series shift across the same tear because they’re the same reality. I tried it out for an hour yesterday, looking for issues. It works.”

E.J. staggered backwards. “It works…” He breathed.

I looked at it in his hands. “Do you want to see her?”

His eyes lit up. Without a word spoken, we left the housing estate and crossed our meagre little suburb in the cold, blue light of dawn to where ‘Beyond The Page’ had stood. We couldn’t access the drains from where the store had been so we went to the manhole I’d climbed out of and backtracked to the intersection.

“Shall I?” I asked as E.J. held his phone up in the darkness.

“Please.” I opened the third book near the start.

“I meant to ask about that,” E.J. said, pointing at a strange gap in the text, “it looks like a printing error. I’m assuming it’s a name?”

“Oh, you know these prototype copies…they’re full of issues.” I lied and cleared my throat. “Possessed though I was by Inferus, as he saw, I saw. And not just the present but also the past, overlayed in a bizarre fashion, two realities fighting to exist in the same place. However, I could not interact with either world. I was a puppet, a vessel for an evil so old and so vile I could feel it poisoning my soul. And yet, even though I knew he would eventually kill me, at least I was able to see her…”

The sound of tearing caused us both to look up. A rip of light broke through in mid air, gently moving up and down, growing larger with every word I spoke.

“She was older than when I had beheld her last but no less beautiful though I could see the brittleness of her mask, the way the capitulation to Inferus’ demands to save my life was eating into her soul. Just as she was willing to suffer her soul to be tarnished in order to save me, I was willing to suffer his possession, just to be near her.”

I heard E.J. gasp and looked up.

Weiss stood upon the balcony’s edge, looking at the sky she had turned the colour of ash with her Phoenix state. She was in no state now, simply dressed without adornments, the breeze shifting her hair across her shoulders.

“My body approached her, but I would have gone anyway. My hand reached out to her and I didn’t resist. When my voice out her name, though it was Inferus’ control that made it happen, I willed her to hear me speak and to know, that I was still there…and that I loved her.

As my voice reached her ears, she turned and for a moment, a glorious and unguarded moment, she turned and saw me and her countenance was just as I imagined it would be when reunited with her. She brightened with hope and joy and my heart surged inside of my body. No, Inferus, though you may have control over my body, you would never control my heart. My heart beats for Adeleweiss.”

“Sam,” E.J. whimpered, “she’s…looking right at me.” He trembled mightily, reaching for the tear as Weiss looked beyond us yet at us in the same impossible way.

“And as I willed her to hear my soul that yearned for nothing more than to be with her, I swear her soul leapt in recognition as she said my name…”

“E’jay?”

As she spoke, the letters that formed the name appeared on the page. I froze, my eyes peeking up at Weiss on the other side of the tear. She was standing there, her eyes locked onto E.J. And not just where Inferus was standing in the book…but actually at E.J…into his eyes.

E.J. shuddered. “Sam…” He whispered.

“She’s waiting for you.” I said softly. “Not Inferus, not a fantasy character…she’s waiting for you.”

“But…” He gulped.

“You’re who I wrote in this part,” I explained, “you’re the one who loves her and after she saves you…you’re going to save her.”

“E’jay?” Her hand moved towards the tear.

“She can’t come here…not in this way.”

“But I can…” E.J. took a step towards the tear then paused. “Can I?”

“I don’t have the answers.” I admitted. “I don’t know for certain…but it’s your name she’s calling. She named you. She recognised you and look,” I held out the book, his name appearing across the pages, “that’s her doing. Her soul recognises yours…” E.J. wept, wiping the tears frantically away. “I won’t lie, you know there’s no coming back and you know how bad it gets…but you also know how it ends.” I looked at Weiss whose eyes never left E.J.’s face. It was uncanny the way she was looking at him. She really did recognise him in some way. “Is it worth the journey? Is she worth the risk?”

“She’s worth everything.” E.J. whispered, stepping towards the tear. Even as he did so, her face brightened into hope, light surrounding her and outlining him as he paused at the edge of the tear and then, slowly and deliberately, he put one foot over the threshold, his hand reaching through to grasp hers. His sleeve began to change, his pants too. I could see the reality of the world transforming his clothing but nothing could stop the recognition in Weiss’ eyes.

E.J. suddenly stopped and turned back to me. “Sam…”

“It’s okay,” I said, not realising I was crying, “I thought this would happen. I’ll explain it to everyone.”

E.J. nodded. “There’s a leather wallet in the top drawer of my desk with a letter inside it. It’s for you.” He grasped my hand and I felt a gulp of sorrow overwhelm me. “Thanks, kid.” He said. “Thank you for everything.”

His fingers slid out of mine and without hesitation he stepped fully into the world, his clothes transforming completely, his hand grasping Weiss’ fingers.

For a moment there was light and peace and love…and then I had to close the book.

I walked back to the housing estate, unable to restrain my sorrow. I was a sobbing, blubbering mess, eyes red rimmed and my heart, bleeding tears.

Mum poked her head out of her room dishevelled and confused as I came through the front door.

“Sam, you’re up early…what’s wrong?”

“E.J…he’s gone away.”

“Gone?”

“He got given the chance of a lifetime, to rebuild what he’s lost and he’s left…and he just said goodbye…and I’m hurting so much…”

She held onto me until I stopped shaking and wiped away my tears. I felt like I was five years old again with a scraped knee but I didn’t care.

It took a while before I was able to brave going into the city. I dropped off the copy of my book so that Wildman and his legal team wouldn’t worry anymore. They were rather surprised that the copy I had included the name of the man Inferus possessed. Wildman apologised, saying he was sure that he’d given strict orders for the name to be removed. I told him it didn’t matter and thanked him for indulging me. Then I went to the Agency and told the Oversight what happened.

Needless to say they were not exactly happy.

But what could they do?

They couldn’t get him out.

And they weren’t too impressed with the publication of the third book either, however, Goliath pointed out that, should Inferus re-enter our world, at least we knew how to deal with him.

Feeling like one of mum’s old sheets that had been turned into a rag that was falling to pieces, I braved E.J.’s office. If I hadn’t known it was his space, I would have assumed it was unoccupied. He hadn’t ever adhered to this new position or life. He’d done the work but, as he’d said, his heart simply hadn’t been in it.

I found the leather wallet in his top drawer and unfolded the letter inside.

Dear Sam, not to sound like a tacky, overused line from many a novel and movie, but if you’re reading this, then I’m gone. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I couldn’t stay and live this life. I tried, really I did…however, my heart has been removed like an amputated limb…and like a limb, I know it’ll never grow back. It can’t. It went up in flames when Weiss died for me.

You’ve been such a comfort and a friend, even when you’ve been full of sass, arrogance, assumption and ignorance. Weiss really knew what she was doing when she hired you. I’m so grateful you’ve been a part of our lives.

It’s with great sadness that I leave the details of my existence to you to clean up. It isn’t much, just a few odds and ends, some furniture and the legal documents in the wallet. You see, we had our shops insured and as some of the books Weiss owned were first editions, the insurance is considerable. In my will you’re the sole recipient so the insurance money will go to you. I hope it helps you build a life that you love.

The only other thing left to do is apologise. I have lied to you, Sam and it grieved me to do so but I didn’t want you to suffer the same alienation as I did. Ask Bluey to take you to Killarney’s spot.

Give my love to Jean and tell your mum, her meals were delicious and thank you for ironing my shirts.

Keep being you, Sam…the world needs people like you.

E.J.

“Hey Blue, you’re looking rather snazzy in that knitted vest.”

Blue positively preened in his vest. It was not a seconds item. It was probably third or even fourth but to him, it was new and wonderful and quite festive with its reindeer pattern across his chest.

“I got new socks on too.” He showed me.

“Love them.” I nodded.

“Good people those religious ones…” He nodded as we climbed down towards the community.

I’d let mum know about the tunnel dwellers and their community. She had spoken with her pastor and between them they’d begun a project that was able to do what Weiss and E.J. had done for years, getting the most basic supplies together and dropped at the train tunnel entrance. Tinned food, clothing, toothpaste and toothbrushes and blankets as well as connections should any of them want to return to the surface and needed help to get back on their feet.

We dropped down into the tunnel filled with the artwork dedicated to Weiss’ states. I gazed at them fondly, never tiring of the artistic skill on the walls. We walked into the community and crossed the platform.

“You sure you want to see Killarney’s spot?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s what E.J. said?”

“Yep.” Bluey nodded and continued to amble on. “Someone’s in his spot, aren’t they?”

“Yeah,” Bluey shrugged, “not much of a talker.”

I stifled a giggle. Bluey wasn’t exactly Mr Chatty himself.

“He’s down there.” Bluey pointed along a tunnel. “There’s no turns. It goes straight to it.”

“Thanks Blue.” I took a breath and walked on, not sure what I would see. There was no indication in E.J.’s letter what he was apologising for. I couldn’t think of anyway he might have lied to me. I braced myself for betrayal that I was sure I could forgive. I wasn’t about to hold something against him.

Killarney’s spot was a circular space with a little culvert lined with a thin mattress. I was surprised at how homey the space was. There was a chair, a table, a pile of books, a lantern glowing and even a battered rug on the floor. When I thought of Killarney, home comforts weren’t the first thing that sprung to mind.

“Hello?” I called out tentatively. “Is anyone there?”

It looked deserted. There were some clothes scattered on the ground and a can of tinned food opened with a fork sticking out of it. I frowned and glanced around, thinking I shouldn’t be there when the squatter wasn’t. I went to leave when I saw one wall was covered in equations and notations. There were places where parts of the writing had been rubbed out and others that had questions marks dotted all around it. It was gibberish to me but I couldn’t help but marvel at the scientific mind behind it.

In a corner I saw some words I could read. I peered at it.

“Equations for invisibility are beyond this reality’s capacity to replicate.” I stepped back, my mind whirling. “Invisibility? No…Griffin?”

“Sam?”

I spun on my heel and looked around but the room was devoid of anyone I could see.

“Griffin?”

“That is you, Sam, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it is…” I looked in the general direction of the voice. “You’re…here?!”

A coat lifted itself up off the floor and wrapped itself around an invisible body, followed by trousers, socks and a beanie. Anything that wasn’t covered in clothes was still invisible.

“Sorry…I didn’t know it was you so I stripped off…” He cleared his throat. “So…how are you?”

“How am I?” I exploded. “How are you! I can’t believe you’re here!”

“Oh, well…that was E.J.’s idea.” Griffin sighed. “He’s dead, isn’t he? He didn’t want to tell you about me in case you got in trouble…but he did say you’d find out if anything happened to him.”

“He’s not dead…but it’s a long story, one I think I’m allowed to tell you.”

A few minutes later I was sitting on a makeshift chair with a cup of hot tea in my hand that Griffin boiled up on his little camper stove.

“Sorry I don’t have proper seats…I don’t get much company.” He cleared his throat. “E.J. told the community I was as anti-social as the previous occupant. He knew I had a temper and didn’t like uninvited guests.”

“I’m sorry I dropped in so unexpectedly then.” I shook my head, amazed that I was directing my conversation to the place beneath a beanie that hovered in mid air. “I can’t fathom how you’re here! I thought E.J. sent you back!”

“It is what he intended but as we drove to the Agency, we talked about my life and what, in my foolishness, I’d reduced it to.” Griffin held his cup. “When we pulled into the garage, he asked me if I wanted to stay. He told me that only death waited for me on the other side of the tear…”

“I swear I didn’t know.” I blurted. “I had no idea you died.”

“He said that too. When I asked to stay, under the condition that I abide by E.J.’s rules, we went through the façade of my returning to my reality. I stripped out of my clothes as I couldn’t return with them on and when I could no longer be seen, I put my hand on E.J.’s shoulder. The tear closed and he led me out of the Agency, carefully so as not to attract attention.” Griffin gave a low chuckle. “I must say I enjoyed the moment when the Oversight dressed down the other three agents for their inability to capture me when a rookie, I believe is the term they used, had. It was hard not to give myself away. I knew then I’d had a fortunate escape, not just from them…but from the mess that was my life. So I vowed I would not lose my temper and I would live well, even if secretly.”

“Then you know…” I paused, not sure if Griffin had mentioned the book.

“I know?”

“About…your story?” I asked as tactfully as I could.

Griffin picked a book off the top of the pile and held it up. It was ‘The Invisible Man’.

“Yes, I know.”

“Ah.” I paused. “How do you feel about that?”

“It was a difficult few days for me,” Griffin admitted, “but in the end, I found I was more at peace than I had ever been.”

“How so?”

The ‘empty sleeve’ pointed to the wall of equations. “None of my work made sense in this world. I was going mad trying to solve equations when the numbers just wouldn’t add up. Knowing that my transformation was based upon fiction and not fact let me know that I’m not insane…just different.”

“Different gets a bad rap in this world.” I insisted. “Different is perfectly normal.” I wasn’t sure but I think Griffin was smiling. “I should probably get going.”

“Must you?” The loneliness in his voice was very familiar somehow.

“It’ll take me nearly an hour to get home from here and I have work to do.” I said as apologetically as I could.

“Of course, forgive me.” Griffin’s coat, which meant Griffin also, stood up. “It must be nice to have a life in the sunshine. If you’ll give me just a minute or two, I can walk you beyond the community.”

“You don’t mind being around them now?”

“They’re very accepting and none of them ever examine me too closely.” He chuckled. “We all have our secrets down here.”

With his body effectively covered in clothing, Griffin and I headed across the community platform.

“I hope you’ve been receiving some of the supplies coming down from up top.” I pointed upwards.

“Oh yes, I am never left out. I must say my teeth do feel exceptionally cleaner with the use of the toothbrush and its counterpart, the paste.”

I chuckled. “I suppose being here has been a bit of a learning curve.”

“It is a different world to my own…but I was different in it so…”

We walked past the murals and I made a note to make sure the artist received a copy of the third book. I was keen to see the final scene depicted upon the wall.

“Thanks for walking me out.” I said, holding out my hand.

Griffin grasped it. “You will…visit sometimes, won’t you?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“I mean…you won’t forget about us, without E.J. and Weiss to direct you down here?”

“I don’t know how frequently I’ll be able to come but I will make the effort.” I promised.

“Thank you.” Griffin’s covered face looked downcast. “I do not want to sound ungrateful…but it is quite lonely down here sometimes.”

“People get lonely up top too.” I offered as if unhappiness in common was any kind of consolation. Then I paused, my mind going into overdrive. “Griffin…how would you feel about being a roommate?”

“A roommate?”

“Staying in the same living space as another person but with separate bedrooms. You’ll have access to running water, hot water as well, a kitchen, tv and living room. If we worked on some prosthetics for your face, you might be able to go for walks in the sunshine…”

“But wouldn’t the person who I shared the space with be terrified at the sight of me? Of the lack of the sight of me?”

I grinned. “I don’t think it’s going to bother him, actually.”

“Your partially blind friend Lucas and your unseeable friend, Griffin, sharing a flat in the housing estate?” Jean shook her head, jiggling with laughter. “Oh Sam…”

“What?”

“E.J. taught you a little too well.”

I laughed. “Maybe. But they get on quite well. Griffin has a scientific mind and Lucas knows about computers. They’re already talking about building their own system, maybe something that has ramifications for the blind community, giving them better access to technology. Griffin is thoroughly enjoying living like a human being in the sunshine and Lucas can’t see him properly to know he’s not really there. Although, after being possessed by Inferus, I feel like Lucas deserves to know the truth.”

“One broken rule at a time, Sam.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll slow it down.” I nodded.

We were sitting at the window, looking out at the garden that was in full bloom. All too soon the summer heat would scorch it and a great many plants would shrivel up and look like they were dying. But they’d spring back. They always did.

“The third book is excellent, by the way.” I glanced up at Jean who jerked her head towards one of the plain cover copies I’d been given by the publishing company now that the full trilogy had been announced. “One of the hardest things I’ve ever had to read because I knew the characters in them are really going through terrible times…but brilliantly written.”

“It’s mostly Walter Preston’s work.” I shrugged. “I had the idea and some of the scenes but he really captured Shiloh’s voice. I think it was healing for him…a sort of balm to the torture of Shiloh’s death. It doesn’t remove it but it softens it a little.”

“The tribute to her life, the acknowledgement of the Holocaust Project and the suicide mental health and well being dedication gives it meaning far beyond a mere marketing ploy.” Jean agreed.

“I hope it means something.” I murmured, staring at the garden.

“Sam, what is it?”

“I just wish I knew, for certain, that they were okay.”

“From what you told me, they’re more than okay.” Jean squeezed my hand. I nodded. “That’s not it, is it?”

I shrugged away her concern but she didn’t let up. “I guess…I miss them. It was a crazy year and there were times I wished I’d never set foot in that place. Now…”

“I know Sam.” Jean sighed. “You’ve still got me.”

“Until you perish from biscuit overdose.”

“You know I’m not so old that I can’t clip you over the back of your head.”

“I probably need it now and then.”

The republished books ‘Birth’ and ‘Death’ and the newly published, ‘Rebirth’, were a major hit. I read somewhere that bookshops were selling out and that backorders were being purchased in order to secure a copy. The limited edition volumes proved extremely popular despite their much higher price point. I had my limited edition copies sitting on a shelf in my room.

Little news stories about the re-released two books and the new and final volume of the trilogy popped up all the time on my computer. I caught glimpses of them from my desk as I perfected the database app, tweaking some small glitches that had been nagging the system.

At one point I heard a familiar voice and looked up to see Walter Preston standing in front of ‘Second Chance’ and then walking the reporter across the road and showing them the café.

“We hear that the Shiloh chronicles are set to top the best selling list for Christmas this year. To what do you attribute the success of these stories?”

Walter paused and considered his answer. I gazed at him, curious what he would say.

“There are many things you could say will produce a ‘best seller’ but even if you cram them all into a book, it might still end up being a flop because something like the Shiloh chronicles or any other long lasting, brilliant novel or series, has to be real. And not real like on earth or based on day to day life. Fantasy worlds are just as real as ours in the lives of those who live in them. If a writer is able to be real in their work and the reader is able to put his or her shoes into the roles of the characters, then the world is real.” I put down the tablet and stared at the monitor. “And before you rush off to report on the congestion of the freeways or on the weather, I’d like to say thank you to a chance encounter with a young person who was able to capture the uniqueness of Shiloh’s world, Sam Baker. You really did heal their world, Sam.”

It was a good day and the year ended well enough. Incursions were beginning to occur, not nearly with the consistency of before but there was a rise in interlopers. And the zone E.J. had patrolled was sorely lacking any agents. I spoke with Goliath about an idea I had for the insurance money E.J. had left me and we talked about what we could do in conjunction with the Agency. An architect was consulted, plans were drawn up and a construction company was consulted. It looked like things were starting to settle in.

There was even talk of turning the Shiloh chronicles into a movie series although I had grave doubts they could ever match Weiss’ beauty and grace and E.J.’s relaxed manner.

One day I came home and put my satchel down and lay on my bed, inexplicably sad.

There was no reason for it.

I was just suddenly incredibly and desperately sad.

No…it wasn’t sudden.

It had been building for a while.

I lay on my back, trying to work out when I’d started to sink into this unusual spiral of despair. Mum had a shift so I had the flat all to myself.

Then I heard a weird pounding, not music but something almost as rhythmical was thumping along the corridor outside out flat. Then there was a rattle as the cat flap, which had been cut into the door by the previous owners, rattled open. I sat up, more than a little puzzled. The pounding continued down the corridor and then, suddenly, a white furball launched itself into my room and onto my bed, landing full square on my stomach.

I gasped for air as well as in shock.

“I do beg your pardon for my rude entrance without first knocking…”

I threw my arms around him and hugged him.

“Whitby!”

The White Rabbit disentangled himself from my arms and removed himself from my mid section. He sat back on his haunches and looked at me with a curious expression in his pink eyes.

“I do believe you have me confused with someone else.”

I stared at him, stunned. “Oh…you really don’t remember…do you?”

“Remember what, pray tell?” His nose twitched and he looked thoughtful. “Yourself?”

“It’s a funny story.” I shook my head. “One that beggars belief…hang on. If you don’t remember me, what are you doing here?”

“Perhaps after my funny story, you will share yours and we will compare the madness of our lives that has brought us together.” The White Rabbit put his paws together. “I was escaping from the wrath of the Queen of Hearts for she has a terrible temper and is liable to shout, ‘off with his fluffy white head’, at me when I suddenly found myself in a dark tunnel filled with foul smelling liquid. I did my best to escape it without soiling my nice waistcoat and when I was out in the fresh, clean air, I smelled something…familiar.”

“Familiar?”

He nodded. “To a rabbit, especially in an unfamiliar place, the scent of something familiar is compelling. I followed my nose through several enclosures, one with a pair of despicable dogs that yapped at me without sense or politeness, across the hard ground and into this building.”

“Your nose smelled…me?”

He tilted his head. “Though I do not know you at all…I knew I would be safe here. Can you explain why that is?”

I beamed and nodded. “Yes…yes I can. My name’s Sam Baker.”

“The White Rabbit.” He said, putting his paw into my hand and we shook.

“Now, White Rabbit…this is going to be a bit of a long story.”

“I do enjoy a good story.”

“Well, this one’s the best you’ve ever heard.”