Labyrinth, part 7

It took four days. She heard the crunch of car wheels on the loose stones out at the front of the lake-house. She jumped up from her book, checked herself in the mirror, the sat again in her chair.

He knocked on the wooden door; it rapped through the house – a strong, purposeful knock. “Hello?” he said, calling out to the house. She thought she detected a hint of pleading in his voice – certainly uncertainty. She went to the door and stood there.

“Ariadne? Are you there? I know you are, your car’s here.”

Still she didn’t answer, but turned and rested her back against the wood. The floor created as she turned. “Open the door.” The handle jumped as he tried it. “What is all this? What’s going on?”

She spoke to him through the door, “I am here. You know that, you’ve followed my clues, made it through.”

“Made it through what?”

She laughed, “my note, the maze I laid for you.”

“What maze. I thought you’d be here, you weren’t at home, car gone, case gone. Open the door.”

She turned the key with a clunk and stepped away from the door. She heard it open behind her, followed by his steps inside.

Labyrinth, part 6

She held the ball point pen in her hand, ready to sign the booking slip for the night. The light, beaded chain kept the pen secured to the desk. It amused her to think of the irony, as she penned her made up name – Penelope Weaver.

She felt it was suitably weighty, not ignoring her real name’s weightiness, but rather a different focus. She’d woven a trail for her husband to find, and she was going to wait, as her namesake did, on his arrival.

She slept well in the cheap room, furnished minimally, and rose early to get back on the road. Today was a bit cloudier, and she kept the roof shut right against the blackening cloud as she drove on through the day, weaving her way through towns and villages, leading up to the old lake house that she’d visited often as a child. It was close to a little huddle of houses, one of which doubled as a shop, right on the edge of the mountains. It was here that she waited.

The clues had been subtle, but she knew, if Andrew thought about it properly, he’d know where to find her. She was prepared to wait.

Labyrinth, part 5

“Everything alright, ma’am?’ The attendant at the petrol station snapped her back from the memory of the viewpoint.

“Yes,” she smiled at him. Handsome boy, she thought. “Of course. I’m fine.”

She watched him finish up, locking up the fuel cap. “That’ll be forty and eighty, ma’am.”

“Not a problem,” she said, handing over the crisp twenty notes.

“I’ll be a moment with your change, ma’am.”

As he walked to the kiosk, she thought back to the note she’d left behind. It wasn’t long. It wasn’t detailed. But it told Andrew everything he needed to know.

The boy returned with the money, and she took it, before kissing him once on each cheek and once on his lips. Then she turned, got into her car and started the engine. Her laughter trickled out of her mouth as she watched his stunned face as she drove off.

That image stayed with her as she drove on into the late afternoon, the heat of the sun never abating, even as it lazily arched overhead and started to make its final descent towards night.

She saw a sign for a town ahead, Millertown – 17 miles, and decided to stop there for the night.

Labyrinth, part 4

She stopped for fuel about a hundred miles away from the city. The road had taken her up the mountain path, obscured from the world as it wound its way higher and higher, crisscrossing backwards and forwards. Up and up she went, with the sun hidden for a while, before emerging triumphant over the tree line as the mountain forest trailed behind her.

The road levelled out and came back on itself, bringing her to the viewpoint. In her youth, she remembered hearing about how boys used to race their cars up here, on the long straight roads on either side of the viewpoint, like the points of a baseball diamond. She laughed as she thought about the last time she’d got to ‘second base’ with someone who wasn’t Andrew, and felt the years fall away.

She stopped at the viewpoint, and got out of her car. The edge was almost a sheer drop, at least 300 feet to the hillside below. Before her, the ocean was perfect, clear, calm, blue, neverending. She must’ve stopped for an hour, just watching. No cars came past, just the silent presence of the past that lingered behind, and the future the waited ahead.

Labyrinth, part 3

The wardrobe in the bedroom was filled with a huge array of outfits that had been worn for all manner of occasions.  She delicately brushed her fingers across the mix of silks, the velvets, the rich fur coats, remembering when each had been worn, usually only once. In the other side of the cabinet she kept her daily wear dresses.  She chose a light, flowery cotton dress. As she put it on, she watched her own transformation in the mirror.

She took the step that lived beside the wardrobe and reached up to the hat shelf, high above.  She chose the cute little black-and-white hat that she had always wanted to find an excuse to wear.  She remember the way that Andrew had looked at her in it. That was why it had stayed out of sight. Well, not anymore.

The huge sunglasses completed the look.  She was ready.

The purr of the engine of her Porsche convertible made her smile. She eased it out of the garage, and into the sunlight, where it gleamed as it stood in the sun. With a simple push of a button, the top neatly folded out of sight, bathing her in the sun’s glorious heat.

Labyrinth, part 2

The idea came to her as she awoke to him drying after his shower. He hadn’t come to her, so she lay, watching and waiting. He must’ve known she was awake. He wasn’t exactly being quiet as he picked out underwear from the drawer, chose a suit to travel in, experimented with different ties until he was happy.

It was only at this point that he made his way back to the bed, sat on the edge and kissed her gently on the forehead.

“Will you be alright when I’m gone?” he asked.

“Of course,” she stretched out flat on the bed, taking up his side as well, her light, silk, summer nightdress twisting around her, “I’ll wait right here.”

“I’ll call when I land.”

She looked sidelong at him, “Travel safe.”

And then he was gone.

I could go, she thought. Be someone else. I could just go. She lay there a while, thinking of what she could do differently this time.

These thoughts had been forming through the morning ritual of breakfast on the patio, followed by a long shower, then dressing, before washing the dishes. Now, watching the bird skipping, she knew what she wanted to do.

Labyrinth

Ariadne had always had a love-hate relationship with her first name. She loved the weight of Greek mythology baggage that came with it. She had hated trying to say it as a little girl. She loved the way it sounded as her husband whispered it in bed. She hated the random spelling attempts made by bearded, specky baristas in the coffee shop. ‘Harry-aknee’ had been to worst – mortifying.

The water in the sink was roasting hot as she worked her way through the dishes. She had a dishwasher that worked perfectly, but there was something soothing she found in the process of removing, physically, the remain of the previous day with her own hands.

The sink was positioned directly in front of the window that pointed out over the immaculate suburban garden. The sun was blazing down already, that perfect, crisp light of early morning – a quick glance at the clock on the cooker, 8:46. Andrew, her husband, had left early, and wouldn’t be back for a couple of days. She watched a tiny bird skip across the rich lawn.

This morning, she was contemplating a new name, a phonetic disguise to wear. Not just for the coffee-shop either.

The City, VII

After collecting his guitar and bag from the scanner, Jack made his way to the automatic doors that led to the city outside. It’s gentle hush as it opened as he stepped towards it brought a strip of blazing sunlight on the marble floor, making it sparkle as he took his first steps back into the city. Immediately, a wave of heat washed over him as the air-conditioned train station whispered back behind the closing doors.

Central Tower was built with the same grandeur as the cathedrals of historic Europe. A vast concourse stretched out to the main travelway in the distance. It was stepped, so that those standing at the entrance to the station were high over those around them. The train lines flanked either side of the concourse, so that around Central Tower there were four huge triangular plateaus, facing in the four main compass points. Each was designed to signify a distinctive characteristic from each direction of the continent of Europe.

Standing facing north, the ground was emblazoned with whites and blues to evoke the snow capped Nordic mountains that towered beyond the horizon, chosen to remind future generations that the power of nature will always endure.

The City, VI

A gentle ping from the speaker above each Welcome Gate used the queue forward. There was still a handful of folk ahead of Jack as he started scanning the crowd for Ally and her Rocket, but there was too many people, too many lines.

Ping, three more people to go, Jack shuffled forward a pace or two each time, until he was finally at the front. Ping. He stepped to the counter.

“Welcome back to Sun Trap City, Jack Delaney.” The first time the attendant had known Jack’s name he panicked, but he knew better now. The attendant’s eyepiece contained incredibly sensitive facial recognition technology, meaning that the official paperwork of the past was redundant. This vastly superior system made arrivals at the cities a much smoother process, allowing access to the four corners of the world to all, regardless of background and financial clout.

“This is your second stay in Sun Trap City. You have been allocated accommodation in the plains, sector 12, due north Central tower. You are 22 years of age, and have arrived alone. Are there any concerns you wish to identify at this stage?”

“No sir, everything checks out.”

“Alright, then, Mr Jack Delaney. Welcome.”

The City, V

“He is a Rocket,” Jack said, watching the boy leaping off the benches that were dotted along the platform.

“Yeah, he really is,” she said. “I’m Ally, by the way…if you wanted to know.”

“Yeah, Jack,” he said, reaching out a hand. She shook it. “First time?”

“His, not mine. I’ve been here a couple times.” She tucked her hair behind her ear, scanning down the platform, watching her son get smaller. “Shit,” she said, “sorry, gotta catch him.” And she leapt off the pod onto the platform and chased after her boy.

Central station was exactly as Jack remembered it: four platforms that were connected to different Domes across Europe. The London Line was just one. The platform itself was as long as the Hyper, and Jack began the trek towards the Welcome Gate. Guitar over one shoulder, backpack over the other, Jack didn’t have much.

The attendants on the Welcome Gate were immaculate. Their uniforms were sky blue, each with a small eye-piece for the purpose of processing each arrival. Jack joined the shortest queue, although he knew it didn’t really matter. There would have to be some hold up ahead that made this the slowest one.