The structures ran in a straight line for about a mile. So far he had only seen the long side of them. As he circled, the view foreshortened and then he surprised himself when he recognised the layout as a road. He reached one end and looked down the length of what he could now clearly identify were buildings with people entering and leaving. There was a smooth black surface, with a slight sheen to it, that ran between two rows of buildings. This surface also presented the source of the various sounds of humming. There were carts and trolleys running up and down it. None of them had humans near or on them and they were much larger, all to varying degrees, than the ones people moved themselves. They were moving up and down the middle surface at great speed with rapid acceleration and deceleration. The people who were either side of the road paid no heed to the frightening speeds, though no one went into the road itself. To cross over, there were foot bridges over the road at intervals down its length. Some were small and went straight over the road. Others were larger and interconnected at different points; they led into higher entrances on the buildings.
Char vaguely knew the unmanned trolleys and carts as vehicles and that they were travelling on a road, but that was as far as his recognition went; something did not match up. He felt he was remembering correctly and it was the scene in front of him that was wrong. But without further information he had no detail as to why it was wrong. It felt like he was watching an imitation, a parody of something that used to be far larger, massively extensive and more impressive. The road ended abruptly at both ends, it had no ramp, just a hard edge then grass. Some vehicles stopped right at the edge but showed no sign of having any intention to leave the surface of the road. As they stopped they were either unloaded or loaded, with different types of crates, by artificial arms coming out of the buildings and sometimes the arms were aided by humans. The crates that were unloaded from the vehicles were either taken into the building that had unloaded them or placed onto trolleys that were waiting on the pavement; expectant people stood next to them. These people then left with fully laden trolleys on whatever task they had.
Gazing at this process Char was amused how the buildings looked like they were eating the crates and how very hungry they must be.
He carried on his tour of the place. As he walked around the side of the second row, he was greeted with a very different layout to the previous, first seen, side of the clearing. The buildings this time sprawled out from the main Street and out towards the forest until it was not clear where forest began or buildings ended. As the buildings neared the forest they dissipated into a type of framework, containing many different compartments. All these components were made of the same brown and green materials, adding to the blending of the man made and the natural.
People were mingling around in the frames. This caused him to double back on himself because he had no idea how to navigate through without drawing unwanted attention. He walked back onto the meadow, back up to the tree line and then decided to make his way down to one of the buildings. He started the approach slowly, picking out an indirect route and then realised he was inadvertently ignoring someone.
Out of the corner of his eye he picked up someone waving at him, yes definitely at him and they were calling out too, 'Hey! Slow down, you with the back pack. Hold on!'
He carried on for a couple more awkward steps, then stopped and turned to face his pursuer. He breathed a slight sigh of relief upon getting a better look at the person calling after him. They were waving enthusiastically, smiling every few steps then looking back down to check their footing; they were managing to do something between a brisk walk and a jog. The person was a man, older than Char but not by much, he was not fat but neither in the athletic shape Char had found his own body when he woke up. There was no threat here.
Char let the man reach him and they stood face to face, both as ill at ease as the other.
The man finally spoke, 'Hi, yes, I've definitely got the right man. Okay, do you know the Ashted family at all?'
'No, I'm sorry, never heard of it,' Char truthfully replied. He hoped his genuine honesty would be heard in his voice by the man, who would then leave him alone.
'Ah come on, you must know the name,' said the man; there was a slight desperation in his voice now.
'No, I really don't, not at all,' again with the same earnest honesty.
'Frank, bring him over here,' it was a woman's voice, coming from the same place Char had originally seen the man. She was sitting alone on a bench with her elbows leaning on a table in front of her. Her hands were placed palm to palm, index fingers resting on her lips. She stared at Char while one of her legs nervously bounced up and down.
'Please, humour us, just sit with us for a while,' Frank asked gently, he took a step back and lifted an arm inviting Char to the grass circle that the bench, table and woman were in.
Char looked towards the tree line, he knew he could make it if he ran, Frank did not seem to have it in him to give chase, but then he looked back towards the woman. She was still staring at him. Something about the way she looked at him made him feel he could not let her down. He went to her.
He sat down on a bench the other side of the table across from her.
'Hi,' and a smile seemed the appropriate way to introduce himself. She did not respond or move. Instead a tear rolled down her right cheek, down along her jaw line and disappeared under her chin. Oh dear he thought to himself, this trip is turning into a disaster. He was about to turn to Frank, looking for anything, but then she reached out a hand and cupped his left cheek.
She did not grip and her touch was soft, as if she was afraid she could break his face.
'It's you, it's really you,' she whispered. Char stared back, he did not move or say anything. He felt like his mind had shut down and he was at a complete loss as to what to do next. She looked at him, waiting for some sort of reply, more tears rolled down her face. As no response came from Char she retracted her hand and placed it over her mouth. She looked down and started sobbing harder. Frank sat down next to her and put an arm around her.
'What's your name then?' he asked. It was a quick, loud delivery; he was obviously very uncomfortable with how things were unfolding.
'Char, my name's Char.'
'That one of your individual names or a family name?' Frank asked, calmer than his last question. He sounded more curious now.
'It's my only name.'
Frank leaned back with a frown on his face and looked across to his female companion. She looked back at him. Frank shrugged.
'Glen? You know that name? Please?' she spoke so softly, and had her head tilted to one side, trying to smile through the tears.
Char could not break away from her gaze. He wanted to say yes, he did not want to let this woman, this stranger, down. He wanted to protect her and stop her crying. No answer was coming to him, he knew the answer was not yes but could not bring himself to say no.
'Will this help?' she asked, and then started humming.
Char fell backwards off his bench, crouched and attempted to shuffle away from her. It was the same tune Eliza had hummed.
'What are you doing?' he cried out, the tune invaded his mind, bringing with it that unknown presence.
She stopped immediately, a sudden look of concern spread across her face and for a few seconds Char recognised that concern and the face, and thought it was older than it should be. A moment of silence and she was a stranger again. The tune was still in his head, manifesting itself far stronger than it had before. He was feeling delirious.
'I want to go home,' he managed to mumble out and then all sense and reason left him.
Char half woke lying down on a bed, it was warm and comfortable. I'll just go back to sleep for a few more minutes he thought and then the bolt of realisation hit him as he started to drift away. He opened his eyes instantly, as wide as possible and then looked around and saw his backpack propped up against a wall. The room was not large, containing only the bed and a small side table wit
h a ceramic globe lamp set on top. It emitted a soft orange glow. He could make out patterns on the walls but these did not interest him; they were irrelevant. The door and the window took his attention. The window was above the side of the bed, it had frosted glass and no obvious way of opening it. There was no way of telling what was on the outside, it was too dark. The door was next to the bag and was slightly ajar; this was his way out. He decided to launch himself for the bag, find the gun and make his escape, using the weapon if he must.
He kicked off the bed, aiming for the far wall, and in the second it took him to cross the room he changed his mind. However his body could not quite keep up with this dramatic change of heart and the momentum of his movement took him slamming into the wall.
Well, now I've knocked some sense into myself, what on earth was I thinking? He could not believe he had seriously considered barging out of the door and indiscriminately killing anyone that got in the way of his escape, and on such impulse too. He had not let his body run away from him since the time he first met Eliza. This time he was able to control himself and was glad of it.
The sound of his intimate meeting with the wall had not gone unnoticed; the woman from earlier came into the room. A bemused expression quickly formed on her face as she took in the sight of Char staring at the wall.
'You don't like the décor?' she asked, smiling now.
'I, I don't know, maybe I was trying to get a closer look,' he noticed that he'd knocked a painting off the wall that was in front of him, 'Sorry.'
'That's okay. How are you feeling?'
'Much better actually. How long was I lying down? Has the sun set? Are we safe here?'
'You've been out a few hours. Yes, the sun has gone down, it's night and of course we are safe. You have been looked after well,' she replied matter of fact with no hint of patronisation in her voice.
'Thank you. Where are we?'
'We are in Peter's apartment, he is Frank's brother, Frank is my husband. You were quite a state back where we met you, but you were able to stumble along with us back here. A first aid kit scan showed no obvious signs of trauma, there was no obvious reason to call a medical unit,' she replied in the same manner again. Char found this reassuring. It calmed him.
'Are we still at the Street?' he asked.
'The Street where we met you? Yes, you're still at Mill Street.'
Finally, he came to the question he had wanted to ask since the beginning of the conversation but had been avoiding.
He had to force the question out, 'Why did you call me Glen?'
'Because you are Glen. It's been a long time, but I still recognise you,' she was smiling again, back to talking softly, treating the conversation like she was walking on eggshells.
'Why are you so sure?'
'Because a sister would never forget her twin brother.'
Char was dumbfounded, and again found himself stuck in the all too familiar feeling of not knowing what to say or do. Part of him wanted to run away, the other to stay and find out more, but here he was anchored in the middle, not running and not talking.
She continued, 'It's me, Gwen. Remember? You know, Gwendoline.' She closed the door to the room, took his hands and held them in her own and then walked the two of them to the bed where they both sat down on its edge.
'It's just you and me, no one else is listening, please tell me, you must remember something. Do you remember us, our times together, Glen and Gwen the twins? How I was so glad Mom hadn't called me Glenda?' she smiled for a second, 'Come on, you were almost an adult the last time I saw you, I would never forget what you looked like; it's not like we were separated at birth!' the last phrase was uttered with a comic inflection.
He had been looking at his hands in hers, they felt so safe.
Char looked up and met her gaze, 'I'm not Glen, but I think you're right, I think a terrible thing happened to him. I'm sorry, I'm not sure he can come back, but I also think he is not entirely gone. I think he saved your lives just now.' It felt like things were starting to make sense, pieces of the puzzle of his short life were starting to slot together. The more they slotted in place the more he felt an anger building inside him.
'What do you mean? You're not making sense. I don't want to lose you again. It was hard enough to grieve when there was no body, we thought you were dead... and now this?' She retracted her hands, looking on with dismay in her face.
'I'm sorry. But I think that maybe I know now. I need to go somewhere, and... and, confirm it. Then I promise to bring Glen back as much as I can, when I can, when the time is right, and we will have to see where that takes us.'
Char had a purpose now, a clear objective and this felt good.
He asked her, 'Will you wait? I wont be long, a day at most.' She nodded.
He just needed some more information, 'How long has it been since you last saw Glen?'
'Twenty five years.' There was no emotion in the reply.
Char stood and looked down at Gwen. He pitied her, thinking how it must be for her to look at her brother only for someone else to be looking back from behind familiar eyes.
'I'm going to go now, but I will be back, and I will come back to you. How do I find you? Wait, how did you find me?' After twenty-five years it had to be more than just a coincidence.
'Eliza is a friend of a friend of Frank. You were acting so odd and though she didn't really know you, I mean Glen, she gave us a call after meeting you.
'She'd met him a few times before he disappeared, I mean you. Well,' a pause, 'No one disappears like that without it going down in Shire lore, and certainly no one turns up acting odd and bearing an uncanny resemblance without raising people's inquisitiveness. So she called us.
'So Frank and I came down to Mill Street and waited. Hope returned from the dark, you just don't disappear with no trace like that, no one does. Then there you were on our second day of waiting. I couldn't believe it,' she was back to the matter of fact tone used earlier, but with more hesitancy. Char was impressed with Gwen's composure, all things considering.
She then asked, 'What's your problem with "The Road to Cim"? The tune that is, the one that sends you mad.'
'Ha, no problem any more, that tune is the key. I don't exactly know how, but it's the key to saving what we can of Glen.' Char walked to the door and opened it, 'Come, show me where we are so I can find my way back to you.'
They walked out into a hallway that had several rooms off it. Then round a corner to a lounge area where Frank and Pete had both obviously just rapidly sat down.
The apartment had wooden floors, walls and ceilings, though with no particular coherence to their orientation or layout. Gentle lighting was provided by various wall lights and lamps made from combinations of white ceramic and fabric in natural shell like forms. The lounge had low slung chairs and sofas, all made of fabric and all the same creamy white. There were pieces of art everywhere, from wall hangings to sculptures in every corner. Char did not recognise any of them but he could appreciate how they all fitted in with the décor of the place.
'Can I get you a drink?' Pete offered nervously. By looking at him he was obviously Frank's brother, the fact he was slightly older seemed to be the only difference.
'No thank you. Gwen is going to show me where we are, then I'm going to go for a while and then I'll be back.' He found himself in a state of two opposed but perfectly balanced feelings, a joy at seeing these people again and an anger at what had been done to the person that used to be him.
Char popped back into the bedroom he had just woken up in to gather his belongings and then followed Gwen out of the apartment. Frank had not been happy about this arrangement, insisting he should go with Char, that Char could not simply drop into their lives like this and just as quickly disappear. Gwen had taken Frank to a side room to calm him down, explaining how she felt the bond of trust with Char that she had felt with Glen when they were younger, and reminding Frank with a smile that it was a funny old world where stranger things h
appened. Pete just seemed happy to be relieved of his temporary guest.
Outside the apartment they were on a wooden balcony, Char looked out from it, a sense of wonder entered him the same way as when he had first ventured outside. They were in the far side of the Street that blended into the forest, high up in the framework. There were various other dwellings set at various heights, nested up into the frames. Much like Pete's décor there appeared to be no plan to it, but somehow it worked. Interspersed throughout the structure were globes giving off a soft warm light. They lit the dwellings, framework, balconies, walkways and all the people on them. There was chatter, music, song, occasional laughing and even the odd sound of an argument or two; the road was quiet.
Some of the globes appeared to be floating and bobbing along on air currents that Char could not perceive. Smells of cooking and fires arrived at Char's nostrils. He had not been hungry before but the smell of fresh food being cooked set off a pang in his stomach he thought could have never existed.
Looking up through the framework and the foliage of the plants that had taken root along the top of most frames, he saw stars in the great black sky above. The globes somehow did not allow their light to pollute the night sky. He looked back down and around, amazed that he could have ever found night time and the dark something to fear and hide away from. He had asked Charlotte to white out her windows at night so he did not have to face the dark.
Gwen led him to the ground and to a box in a wall; she opened it. The box contained several buttons with symbols on each one. She instructed Char which ones to press to call them when he returned. The call would go through to them even if they were not in, so he should wait next to the box for them to arrive. She showed him where the best place was to enter the Street's framework on his return. It was a small side walkway with arches covered in leaves running above it.