Surreal continuing story: walking through doors and passageways

Miscellaneous and Personal Stuff I Must Share
161

spray soap and water on the car with powerful hoses.

“Another carwash has gone homoerotic,” comments Alice. “This is getting so old.”

Alice’s car passes underneath a dark blue octopus shaped towel-like object designed to dry excess water. We’re just about to pass under the dryer when the floor drops from underneath us and we end up driving through a dimly lit tunnel.

“At least the car’s clean,” I say.

We follow the tunnel until it emerges into a large well lit underground cavern. Inside are desks, computers, control panels, and a huge library. Alice stops the car and a male figure approaches us. I look at Alice and she seems to recognize him.

“Do you know who he is?” I ask.

“That’s the man I need to talk to,” she says. "He’s…

162

Jeff Stryker!

“Oh my,” Alice said. “I heard that he has a huge one.”

I licked my lips and walked up next to Jeff. I quivered as I tried to think of anything to say to this sex god.

He slid his hand down into my back pocket, massaged my ass and said:

163

“Intimidated?”

“By you?” I say trying to compose myself. “Why should I be? It’s not like I’m gay or anything–not that there’s anything wrong with that. But you do seem to have large. … ego.”

“Guilty on all counts,” he says smugly. “Now, why are you and Alice really here?”

“‘Faux Coptic Content’ has been stolen,” says Alice. Apparently “Faux Coptic Content” is Alice’s code name for the hidden book of brain-popping secrets.

“Oh my God,” says Jeff. His face turns pale at this news.

“Since you’re part of our secret network, I thought you might know some leads,” continues Alice. “Somebody who knew about this book and where to find it.”

“I wish I could help you,” Jeff says. “But I haven’t heard of anyone who was trying to get that book. All I know is that there are probably only about a dozen people on Earth who could fully understand everything that’s in it. I only understand about one-third of it.”

As he says this, Jeff is ‘skating’ around the room with grease on his feet with a worried look on his face.

“I think my Uncle Phil may have inadvertantly tipped someone off about its existence,” Alice says to Jeff as she tries to follow him around the room.

“Have you asked Phil who he’s talked to?” Jeff asks after doing a double-axle.

“Not yet,” she says. “But I don’t think he’d be much help. He was probably drunk if he did mention it and wouldn’t remember it.”

“Well, since the very existence of reality and the universe is at stake, I think you should,” Jeff says sternly. “By the way, who’s your friend?”

“His name is _____,” Alice responds. “He’s pretty much in the dark about our network and everything. Anyway, is there anything you can do?”

“Beyond naming the usual suspects, nothing,” Jeff says while doing a figure-eight. “You probably know the same names I do. However, before you arrived, I was visiting with another member of our network in my upstairs office. She’s out in the field more than I am. Let me buzz her down so you can tell her about the theft of THE book. I’m sure once she recovers from shock, she’ll have some hot leads.”

Jeff stops slipping around on the floor with grease, presses the intercom button on a phone, and tells his guest to come downstairs.

A few minutes later, I see an elevator door open and a woman step out. The woman is…

164

RuPaul. Not actually a woman, but still 7’6" of fabulousness.

She strode up to Alice and said…

165

“Don’t you enjoy this?” in a voice I consider derisive. However, he may be sincere.
I twist away and bellow, “Dammit, no, I don’t! I don’t appreciate you or your attitude, Stryker!”
I prepare to swing at him. But I fall off balance as I lunge, and lose my balance and fall against Alice. She falls against the car. Now a huge black rift approaches. Stryker, the underground cavern, and the dragon snot vanish and we’re back on the highway. The only difference is that now Eloise Sharp and her eldest son Andrew–not her youngest son Owen–are in the back seat. Eloise is youthful-looking and wearing an expensive dress and jewelry, as usual. It’s hard to believe she is about 37 and the mother of fifteen kids! (I had found out from her husband Jack that she bore them in close succession–they were each born nine months apart.) Andrew, about 24, is in a well-tailored business suit and has an interest in science and intrigue, same as Alice and her family.
Alice now says, “That big black rift was what I was referring to. Our adventure with the dragon and the car wash and Stryker was an example of the reality change of phase I was describing.”
Meanwhile, Eloise gets a call on her cell phone, which she keeps hidden snugly in her cleavage. It’s her husband Jack.
"Where are you? Oh, I see." She looks out the window at a sign. “Well, we’re about a block or two north of that point…Oh, I see your car now, honey. We’ll be there in a minute. Tell Raul to take Andrew back to his office.”
I sense a subtle horniness in Eloise’s voice. We reach the corner and she asks Alice to pull over. I see a limousine and a small green pickup truck. Jack Sharp and the chauffeur, Raul, approach. Andrew gets out, and gets into the limo and Raul drives him away. Eloise approaches Jack–then they start tossing their clothes off and lie there naked, screwing the daylights out of each other! Alice and I sit behind the car so as not to stare.
“Do they do this all the time?” Alice asks. We ourselves are not in the mood.
“They sure do,” I answer. “Jack didn’t mind telling me he and Eloise go at each other six or seven or eight times a day! How’s that for reality?”
Alice just shakes her head and sighs.
After a short while the canoodling married couple redon their clothes and make themselves presentable. Jack says, “Stan Brown loaned me his truck–he’s on the road again with the big rig. Louise is going to need it until he comes back.” We bid the Sharps goodby, and Alice fills me in still more. We’re likely to have more of these episodes with the likes of Stryker, the dragon, and God knows what.

Back at the Terwilligers’ now. I’ve stayed for lunch, and I even helped prepare it. Eda is a cordial hostess and fine cook.
Then comes a knock on the door. I answer it and a slight fellow with a round face and a missing front tooth, and moronic grin, asks for Alice.
I call her to the door. The goofy fellow says he has a paper for her–a subpoena. She looks it over and says “Well, they’ve started the countdown. I’ve been subpoenaed to testify against Lemoyne.” We step away from the door so the process server won’t hear what we say.
“It’ll be interesting to see how you do that without discussing ‘mystical’ causes which the court wouldn’t consider–”
“That’s enough!” she snaps. “I’m quite able to discuss this with strangers without going into that. In any case, remember, Mr. Fields said there’s any number of counts against Lemoyne that don’t involve mysticism.” By implication Alice also communicates to me that she doesn’t want me to testify about mysticism, either; I expect to get a subpoena at the dorm.
The process server signs his name. Because of a well-known question he has asked over the years, which he happens to say as he leaves, Alice and I aren’t surprised by his signature:

166

Number Six.

Suddenly we are gassed into unconsciouness.

We wake up in a room that looked futuristic for fifteen seconds in the late 1960’s.

Over the intercom we hear that we’re welcomed to the Island and they hope we enjoy our stay. We’re chilled when they close with: “Be seeing you.”

We get up and walk out of the small house and see…

167

“We’re not gonna waste time with you, honey.” Alice is taken aback. “Get into this strait jacket!”
[Note: some posts were added before I got the one at 11:46 p.m. on Dec. 26 entered. So I’m making a connection between the two to save continuity; this post should go just before my earlier one. --dougie_monty]
Stryker starts trying to feel me up some more. It’s clear he and this woman–RuPaul?–have suddenly turned on Alice and me! Alice is shocked; so am I, and I feel as angry as I did when McGowan jeered us in the car! :mad:
Jeff repeats his question to me.

168

We get up and walk out of the small house and see…
…yet another black rift approaching. Alice says, “See? This is the second. Near as I can figure, they happen in twos. We shouldn’t have any more of these surprises for a while.”
Now Professor Fields calls us. We go to his office and he prepares us–I have also been served with a subpoena–for our testimony in the criminal trial against Lemoyne.
Alice brings up another suggestion. When we leave Fields’ law offfice she drives me to a large Catholic church in the area, where she wants to work on her project. “Father Abromowitz has known our family since before we left England. We should be able to work in the vestry 'til I get my papers completed and we can proceed–it’ll be another two or three hours.”
“I didn’t know you were Catholic,” I say.
“I’m not. But part of my research has shown that the rifts, or alternate realities, won’t go into or even near a church. And once I have the project completed and I send the papers to Arthur, on my laptop, it won’t matter–we’ve completed the documentation on Lemoyne, the inspector, the gnomes, and the alternate realities.”
We get to the church and a midday Mass is over. We go inside and tell Father Abromowitz we want to use the vestry; he asks us to wait briefly and then he gives us the key. “Be sure you leave before 4:30,” he adds. Then he returns to the rectory.
Alice finishes her work and sends a long file to her brother. When the Send icon appears on the screen we finish, lock up the vestry and leave the church.
Halfway back to the dorms, we see 14-year-old April Blonda, a Dolly Parton clone like her mother, and her brothers, Bobby (12) and George (9) waiting for a bus. Alice is magnanimous now, and…

169

suddenly Alice clutches her chest and falls to the ground.

She’s having a massive heart attack!

People crowd around her when…

170

she suddenly jumps back up on her feet apparently alright.

“Sorry everybody,” Alice says. “Just some bad split pea soup.”

The crowd disperses.

We approach April, Bobby, and George because Alice wants to offer them a ride. However, before we can ask, a black car pulls out and two men jump out and grabs. Handkerchiefs are put in front of our mouths, I smell gas again, and I pass out.

When Alice and I awake, we’re back in that same small house on the Island. A voice on the intercom announces: “Welcome back. Nice to see you. We thought we lost you.”

Not again.

We walk out of the small house and head down the street. A man with sandy hair who’s wearing a blue Nehru jacket approaches us. He looks at Alice and gets an expression on his face indicating he might know who she is.

“Helena?” he asks.

“No,” Alice responds. “My name is Alice.”

“Oh, sorry,” the man says and walks away somewhat embarrassed.

“That’s happened to me so many times,” Alice says with an irritated tone. “And now even in strange places like this.”

“By the way, where are we?” I ask as we walk down the street in what appears to be the Island’s business district. “This place looks like the 1962 Seattle World’s Fair.”

“I don’t think we’re in Seattle,” says Alice. “There’s no Space Needle here. Although there is a Starbuck’s across the street.”

Suddenly, a blue car pulls up and the driver orders us inside at gunpoint.

“Number 2 wants to see you,” he says with a creepy smile.

Not having much choice, Alice and I get the car and it speeds off. Despite the fact that I clearly in a strange place, I’m having a sense of deja vu again. Like, I’ve seen all this before.

The car pulls in front of a large building and the driver, still holding the gun, hustles out of the car and into the building. We walk into some weird pseudo-futuristic style courtroom with a judge’s bench that seems to be especially higher up than usual. The man on the bench turns around on his swivel chair to face us. Apparently that’s Number Two. However, for some reason I suddenly blurt out to Alice: “Hey, it’s that guy!”

“What guy?” says Alice.

“That guy that was in all those movies,” I say seemingly clueless about where I was. “He was in that Beatles movie. I think it was Help. I think he was also Sarah Miles’ father in Ryan’s Daughter. He was also on PBS playing that lawyer named Rumpole. His name escapes me right now.”

“What the FUCK are you talking about.” Alice says angrily while trying to stop herself from yelling at me. “We’re on some strange island brought at gunpoint into some kind of courtroom all the while the future of the universe is at stake and ALL YOU CAN THINK ABOUT IS SOME OLD BRITISH CHARACTER ACTOR?” Alice is looking at me with eyes that could burn through lead.

“Leo McKern,” I say obliviously. “That’s the guys name. I think he died a little while ago.”

“Ahem,” comes the voice from the bench trying to get our attention.

“Hello…Number Two?” says Alice.

“That’s right,” Number Two answers.

“You’re Number Two?” I say to him. “Wow, I thought you were dead.”

“No, I am NOT dead,” he says.

“Ignore him for the moment,” Alice says. “I think he’s still suffering from side effects from the gas. Just let me ask exactly who are you and why are we here?”

“As for your first question, I am Number Two.”

“Yes,” says Alice. “But obviously you have some sort of name. You’re not just a title. And, if you don’t mind my bringing this up, who and where is Number One? We’d really like to speak to him or her if we can.”

“You cannot see nor speak to Number One,” says Number Two. "As to why you are both here, I can just tell you that…

171

…a 14-year old girl approaches and says she knows CPR. It’s April Blonda, Mary’s daughter, and like her mother a Dolly Parton clone. She resuscitates Alice; and paramedics–apparently little George called them–arrive and continue in April’s place. To do this they had to remove Alice’s sweater and tube top, but when they give her a quick jolt with the defibrillator she regains consciousness. She puts the garments back on. When I am able to approach her I embrace her; we both cry.
Mary Blonda–who gets out of her car to whistles from men watching–approaches. April fills her in; she and the three kids return to the car.

At the hospital Alice rests comfortably; the doctor allows me to stay as long as I want; but Alice will be out in about two hours.
We just babble on to each other; I know Alice isn’t up to discussing her trauma. I just want to get her into good spirtits and keep her that way, so when the doctor says she is up to it she can leave. We do so and Alice is escorted out to the car in a wheelchair by an intern. I get her into the car and return to her home.
I now see she is asleep. She snores, as I have found out. :o Good, I think. She’s been exhausted in more ways than one, the dear woman. She appears really relaxed and, as the doctor told me, all she needs now is to be off her feet for about 48 hours. Fine. I’ll wait on her hand and foot if that’s what it takes; she has earned a rest. :slight_smile:
I get her home and, when Eda opens the front door for me, I have Alice in my arms–she’s still sleeping soundly. Eda makes up a bed for her in the den. She removes Alice’s sweater, shoes, socks, and jeans, and puts an old woollen nightgown and nightcap on her and we lay her on the bed. I fill Eda and Paul in.
They’re a little taken aback. I have wisely avoided our encounter with alternate reality, and I don’t know how much they already know of Alice’s research and dedication to her projects. Eda goes into the ktichen. “Alice will want some Earl Grey tea when she wakes up,” she says. “She’ll doze off and make tea for herself when she finally wakes up. You may wait in the den with her–just don’t wake her yourself.”
“Thanks, Mrs. Terwilliger.”
I return to the den and sit in a large armchair facing Alice’s bed. I mull deeply over this matter. I say a silent prayer in thanks for her recovery and that she won’t have any more of this to endure–although I still remember what Lorna originally told me about how tough Alice is. I know it. But sometimes the Fates pack a mighty wallop. Alice sleeps soundly for a few more hours…

172

TO NDP: I thingk your last post and mine overlapped. I’ll try to link them together. --dougie_monty.
…oh…ohh…Alice clutches her chest and heels over, near the bus stop.
Now read my posting of 12-27, 1:07 a.m.

173

"As to why you are both here, I can just tell you that…

“…THERE IS NO SLEEPING ALLOWED IN MY COURTROOM MISS!”

Alice wakes up with a start, and looks around in a daze until she sees that we are back in the strange courtroom. These sudden reality shifts were starting to get very annoying.

Then Alice notices that she’s still dressed in the nightgown. In court. Worse, the nightgown is more like a negligee: it’s barely long enough to cover her crotch.

Alice blushes and futily tries to pull the gown down farther. I try to direct attention away from her by talking to the judge.

“So, your honor, is ‘Number Two’ your real name?”

“Actually, ‘Number’ is my middle name. my first name is Jason, but that was my father’s name as well, so I use my middle name. Anyway, what’s your name, son?”

“_____” I reply.

“That’s an odd name,” Two says.

“You’re one to talk.”

“Watch it buster, or I’ll find you in contempt of court. Anyways, you’re probably wondering why you’re here…”

174

…and the rift fades. Alice is asleep in her parents’ den again and I am sipping Earl Grey Tea myself. The clock strikes eleven and she wakes up.
“Mmmm…where am I?” she mutters, half-awake.
“You had some kind of heart problem out on the street. April and George Blonda–two kids–did CPR and got the paramedics for you. They treated you at the hospital and I brought you home.” I show Alice the hospital report. “You went to sleep in the car…”
Eda comes in holding Alice’s tube top.
She notices Alice has awakened. “I was going to wash your clothes and I found this device in the tube top,” she says. “and there’s something like choloroform…”
Alice and I turn to face each other. “The gassing!” She examines the device, which looks like bra underwiring and has electrical fittings and such. “This is some kind of hallucinogenic receiver! Some bastard put this in my tube top while we were unconscious!”
“They probably couldn’t find one to fit me–but maybe one was enough for both of us.”
She doesn’t destroy it, but goes to a cabinet near the bed and puts the receiver into a lead box on the bottom of the cabinet. “When we see Professor Fields next week we’ll want to have this with us. I think I’m also going to call a parapsychologist I know.”
I sidle up to her. “You’re feeling better now?”
“Much better.” She smiles and embraces me, not noticing one breast has popped out of the nightgown. I start to lift it back in, but she stops me.
“That’s all right,” she says. “It isn’t going anywhere.” I see her pupils enlarging again; she also starts undressing me.

We finish our lovemaking session around four a.m. We put on regular clothes and she leads me back out to her catacombs, handing me a separate set of keys and a huge lantern. She also picks up the lead box–locked shut–and has me trundle it out on a dolly. “Now that we have the bulk of the data transferred to Arthur–who will fax a summary to the prosecutor’s office and Professor Fields–lowering the boom on Lemoyne and anyone else involved should be easy.”
In her underground computer room she spends an hour or more at her computer and has me take pictures. The device that was in her tube top can be removed from the box and photographed; apparently it is inactive unless stimulated by body heat, and the chamber is quite cool, around 50 degrees.
“Well, that’s it,” she says. “As you might say, the whole enchilada.” She puts all her data in a large manila folder and locks it along with the device in the lead box.
“Won’t those rifts affect us here?” I ask.
“No. This chamber was built around 1957 as part of a fallout shelter. the roof and walls have an inch-thick layer of lead, and the floor is solid bedrock.”
In the morning I plan to call the prosecutor’s office, and Professor Fields. Alice has errands too; she will contact the parapsychologist, as well as James Randi, just to be fair about it.
We lie on the bed in her secret bedroom, fully clothed, and sleep until about 8:30 the next morning. About two hours of sleep. Rested and fortified, we set out in other directions. In fact we have agreed to split up–because she has her endeavors and I have mine and also because this thread needs another subject. But as with Samantha–of whom I did not have carnal knowledge–I shall keep contact open with Alice, who is certainly etched in my mind permanently. :slight_smile:
After a long goodbye scene, we exchange cell-phone numbers. I go back to the dorm, with exams coming up.
As I step inside my dorm building…

175

I see Lorna waiting inside. She’s wearing a white short-sleeved pullover and a short green plaid skirt that shows off her legs to good effect.

“How’s Alice?” she anxiously says. “Is she here?”

“She’s alright and she’s back at her parent’s house.”

“That’s good to know,” Lorna says with relief. “I’m going to head over there right after I talk to you. There’s something important I need to discuss with you.”

Just as Lorna says this, a man with sandy hair (who looks like the one Alice and I saw on the Island), a blue sweatshirt, and black chinos comes up to us.

“Shirley?” he says with a slight smile.

“Surely what?” says Lorna to the man.

“You’re Shirley…right?” the man asks.

“Uh, no,” Lorna peevishly says. “My name is Lorna.”

“Oh, sorry,” says the man who then skulks away in embarrassment.

“So many strange people come up to me and call me ‘Shirley’,” Lorna explains.

“You know similar stuff like that happens to Alice too,” I mention. “Except they keep calling her ‘Helena’. You don’t suppose there’s some sort of connection?”

“No,” says Lorna. “We probably look like somebody those people knew who had those names. But anyway, when I heard about what happened to Alice, I had to talk to both of you about the strangest thing that happened to me. Don’t ask me why, but I think there’s a link.”

“Well, tell me,” I said with growing curiosity. This might be the lead Alice and I were looking for.

“It was a few days ago,” begins Lorna. "I was…

176

…visiting Jock–he’s recovered now–at the police academy where he’s training for a job on the force. He did some snooping of his own around the Terwilligers’ utility shed and found a large portfolio. I’ve seen Alice’s handwriting and that of her kin, and they don’t match it."
Lorna then gives me a detailed explanation of the contents of the mysterious portfolio; no connection with Lemoyne or his operatives, or anyone else I know about. But it may explain those extra gnomes inside. The name embroidered on the inside of the front cover is “James Erdmann,” and I think I remember the name from the inspector’s office when Alice and I were there.
I open the door to the halloway and a skeleton is standing there! But it’s not a fright-object; in fact it is articulate, civil, and quite informative…

177

“Go back to the start and see the answer you missed.”

Then mists swallow all and…

178

I find myself in the foyer of a mansion.

“This looks familiar,” I think to myself.

Again, I saw a shabby door, with leather hinges and a cheap knob. I opened it and was out on the street. However, this time I stopped and pulled out my cell phone to call Alice. I think “James Erdmann” might be the lead we’re both looking for.

Before I call, I check my messages. I have one. I press a button to hear it and am immediately greeted by the familiar voice of a British woman. It’s Alice.

“Hello, _____,” the message starts. “Sorry I couldn’t tell you this live but since we’re both looking for my stolen book, you should know what it looks like. It’s a fat book about 9” by 7" with a dark blue leather cover and on its front, in bright red Gothic text, is the title: “23 Herring Recipes”. As you know, the importance of recovering that book cannot be underestimated. I have to get off the phone now. Call me if anything important comes up."

There’s a short pause. I hear a sigh.

“Love you. Bye.”

I dial Alice’s number. After five rings, I’m forwarded to her message box. I leave the following message: “Lorna might’ve come by and mentioned this to you already but I think we should look into a guy named James Erdmann. I don’t know him but you might. He may have something do with your stolen book of secrets. Oh, and thank you for telling me what that book looks like. Call me if there’s any news…Love you too.”

I click off my phone. For a moment, I have a sad and gnawing sensation in my solor plexus. Then, I head down the street trying to figure out exactly where I am.

I come to a bar called “The Blue Light” and feel the need to go in. This might lead to something. I step through the door and…

179

…I meet Phoebe Atwood, Brenda Sharp, and Cornelis Oranjeboom, seated at a table sipping beer or cappuccino. It’s sort of a yuppie bar. All of them are in their early 20s; Brenda is Jack and Eloise’s eldest daughter; Cornelis is Loora and Pete’s married son, and the youngest of the group. And I happen to know that they all are librarians; Phoebe, of course, I recognize from the college library. Cornelis and Brenda work in the reference section of the local public library.
This should be helpful, I think. Without giving Alice’s situation away I may get a lead on her missing book.
I greet the trio and they all answer cordially. Phoebe has long since forgiven me for the gun incident; she did not suffer serious injury, nor did she have to seek medical treatment.
I ask her, “Phoebe…are there cookbooks and such in the school library?”
Cornelis, something of a wiseguy, says, “Are you going to don an apron amd make like Martha Stewart?” :smiley:
“No, Corny; I wouldn’t crowd your act!” He smirks.
Phoebe says, “Well, now that you mention it, there are–including seafood recipes.” A bell goes off in my head.
Brenda, like Phoebe, is something of a flirt; Brenda more so than Phoebe because of her mother, who, as Brenda observed, seemed to be continuously randy; her Mom and Dad were always sneaking off somewhere.
“The library will be open until Tuesday evening, because of a schedule change to school is instituting.” Phoebe adds. “And we finally got that online card catalog operative.” Cornelis and Brenda have reached the limit of their interest in the matter; I steer the conversation elsewhere. And the skeleton walks by at just that point, and waves at me and makes a gesture of approval.
We talk about usual matters: news, books, Mensa, the Teeming Millions, each other’s families, sexuality. I keep mum about myself and Alice; I don’t even mention her to the others. Brenda keeps trying to flirt with me; I’m willing to meet her for dinner in her parents’ mansion, where the whole family and the household staff know me. Alice knows I keep company with other women but I have a gnawing conscience where it comes to intimate relations with them–almost as if Alice and I were married.
The four of us leave the Blue Light; after some soul-searching and another call to the Terwilliger’s–Alice has some fish to fry herself–I go over to the library. I don’t expect to see Phoebe there, let alone the others, but I go to the applied-science stacks and look for a book about herring recipes. I find three, and check all of them out on my college library card, along with a few books on other studies.
I listen once again to Alice’s message about her book. One book–with a card pocket which looks hastily fastened to the inside front cover–matches the descriptiuon Alice gave me, to a T. She did not say whether the critical matter was in the text or in papers inserted into the book, so I take a chance. I read all the books, and when I visit Alice the next time I bring all of them with me. She is delighted to see me, and, as she has usually done, embraces me closely. I show her the books and she picks one out, and thumbs through it carefully.
“This is it!” she exclaims. “You may have thought I was worried about papers left in the book. I wasn’t. The content I was concerned about is right in the text of recpies and author’s comments. I’ll explain this later.” Then she asks: “How did this book get into the college library?”
“I admit–I really don’t know. It may be that Owen Sharp picked it up by mistake when he left–but he wouldn’t be in the catacombs, and the library wouldn’t keep a book it didn’t own.”
“Or maybe a library worker decided to appropriate it.” She notices the sloppily fastened card pocket. “Let’s go back there tomorrow and I’ll do some snooping of my own. I know some of the people who work there; I’ll see what’s in the grapevine about what the people who handle the books off the stacks are doing with them.” Alice handles some matters in the den, her regular bedroom, and the entrance to the utility shed and–oddly enough–takes some readings on the weather. She writes all this down in a small notebook she keeps in a tote bag.
And when we go to the library the next day…

180

it’s gone. Not like it’s been destroyed by fire or some overzealous demolition men mistakenly tore it down but it’s simply not there. Disappeared. Without a trace. Like it never existed.

“Are you sure we’re at the right address?” I ask.

“I’ve been going to the library for years and this is the spot where it should be,” a confused Alice says. “I recognize the all streets, landmarks, and buildings that are supposed to be around it. But it’s not here. Instead, there’s just three big maple trees, a bench, and some grass.”

We see a student nearby. Believing he might know something about what happened, Alice and I go up to him.

“Excuse me,” I say pointing to where the library SHOULD be. “But do you know what happened to the library? It was there yesterday.”

“What library?” the student says while looking at me as I was brain damaged. “There’s never been a library there. Look, I’m late for class. I can’t talk to you any more.”

The student hurries off.

“He certainly didn’t want to be bothered about it,” Alice comments.

“There’s a campus guide across the street, maybe it’ll help clarify the situation,” I suggest.

We cross the street to look at the large campus map on the information board. Upon close review by both of us, there’s no indication of the library ever being at the location where it was yesterday.

“I don’t know where to begin now,” I say to Alice who’s still looking at the map.

“According to this, the library is located in the middle of a lake on the south end of the campus,” Alice says. “I don’t think we have any choice but to go look there.”

“Sure, why not,” I say with bemusement. “Let’s get walking.”

“This map says we can take the subway,” Alice mentions.

“What subway? There’s no subway on this campus.”

“Well, how do you explain that sign right next to the information booth with an arrow pointing down saying ‘Subway’?”

Never saw that before.

Alice and I go down the stairs leading to the subway. Surprisingly, there’s no toll for it. The train pulls in just as step onto the platform. The doors open and we get on board. However, when we walk onto the train…