Chương 198: Act 3, Chapter 50: No exit

Day in the story: 15th January (Thursday) Gertrude Monkey We both stood frozen, despite the overwhelming urge to get the hell out of this place. The situation didn't improve at all. On the contrary, it only kept sliding further downhill into something more and more fucked. No one from our group showed up. Not at the agreed time, and not even within the ten minutes we gave ourselves to process what was happening.

We went around, checking every room we knew Penrose's people had taken, but all of them were occupied by strangers. We even tested my theory—knocked twice on the same door to see if it would connect to different places each time. It didn't. Both times, the same grumpy old man in a Hawaiian shirt answered.

"This is some kind of nightmare," Thomas muttered, dragging his hands down his face before looking back at me.

"Is this how Yamashiro and his group disappeared?"

"Could be," I said, already thinking ahead—whether we should tear down the banknote or not.

"I think the best move is to stick to the plan. Scout and map the whole place." He looked at me, uncertainty flickering in his eyes, but it didn't last long. Resolve settled in quickly, and he nodded.

"Let's fucking go. I'll tear through this place if I have to." He jabbed a finger into my shoulder, knocking me slightly off balance. He was stronger than he realized—running on power borrowed from us.

"We don't split, though." He kept the pressure on me.

"No splitting," I agreed, catching his hand and gently pushing it away.

"That's a recipe for disaster, and I'm not in the mood to avert another one right now. Also, you're freakishly strong. You're going to bruise me."

"My bad." We turned and headed for the stairs, moving as fast as we could, weaving through the occasional people climbing up—pushing against the current as we descended. I thought that with each step we took, we were getting closer to the lobby. But that turned out to be wishful thinking. The moment we reached the ground floor, instead of emerging where we had entered, we stepped into some kind of lounge area, filled with indoor trees, benches, and walls covered in vegetation.

"Well, shit," Torque muttered, spitting on the ground and drawing a few curious glances.

"Seems like mapping is out of the question," I said, moving between the trees and observing the people who seemed largely unbothered by our presence. I stopped near an older woman sitting alone under the shade of an apple tree. It shielded her from the harsh artificial lights mounted on the ceiling above. I glanced up—my vision didn't cover what was directly overhead, a flaw I'd need to fix—just in time to catch a flicker of movement in my peripheral vision.

When I tried to focus on it, though, there was nothing there. I turned to the woman.

"Excuse me, my name is Gert. May I sit with you?"

"Well, hello there," she replied cheerfully, looking up from her book. She placed it on her lap and patted the spot beside her.

"What are you doing?" Thomas asked, but I ignored him. He shifted impatiently from foot to foot, though he knew better than to interrupt further.

"Take a seat, child," the woman said.

"But I won't be staying long. I only sat down to read a passage—I intend to continue my walk."

"Fine with me. I'd rather be moving too," I replied, sitting anyway. Thomas began circling us at a distance.

"I must confess, I got here by accident. Must've gotten lost somewhere."

"Where were you trying to go?" she asked.

"The lobby. Do you know the way?" Good idea, knocking on the doors twice. Alexa's thoughts reached me at that exact moment. Strange timing, considering how long ago that happened.

"It should be at the end of one of the hallways," the woman said." Should be? You're not sure?"

"No. One can never be too sure of such things." She stood up.

"How did you get into the Mirrored City? Into this place?"

"I don't follow, child." I rose and walked beside her as she moved through the greenery. Thomas followed a few steps behind, clearly listening.

"Are you part of this place," I asked carefully, "or were you somewhere else before?" I didn't know how to make it sound less intrusive. I wanted to know whether she was shadowspawn of the building, the idea or something else that governed this hotel, or if she was a shadow of some real person, or someone from Earth who wound up here. Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

"I don't remember," she replied, unbothered by how strange that sounded.

"Thank you," I said, then left her and joined Thomas at the back.

"I'm pretty sure she—and all the people around us—are just memories this place conjures. So-called shadowspawn. They're representations of what the place dreams, not the actual place or real humans from Earth."

"I think I get what you mean, but does that change anything for us?"

"I don't know yet. I'm not even sure I'm right. She could just as well be someone who wandered in here and got stuck, forgetting who she was before. I just don't think Penrose's plan of taking this place over will be as easy as he thought with so many people in here."

"Removing all of them would be bothersome, but doable," Thomas replied, scanning the area. He was making mental notes of potential threats—though it wasn't easy to tell what was dangerous and what wasn't with just eyes.

"You'd ask them to leave while pointing guns at them?"

"Yes. Seems like the easiest way. We would set guards, cover the… cover the…" He stuttered, then stopped. His body convulsed briefly, a shiver running through him.

"How do you call that thing that… leads…" He froze, trying to grasp the word. He even smacked himself on the head with an open palm, like he could jump-start the thought.

"Gert. I can't—" A tear ran down his cheek. I grabbed his arm and squeezed it reassuringly. I was pretty sure he meant an entrance or exit, but the concept itself had been stripped from his mind. I knew then that reminding him could spell trouble for me, so I stayed silent.

"It does seem like the easiest option. I wonder why Rei didn't think of it."

"He's probably wandering these fucking halls just like we are."

"Maybe he is," I said as we moved into another hallway, with windows showing both a paradise beach and the Mirrored City's zombie horde moving through the streets.

"Let me check something quickly." He nodded. I reached into my bag, shook a black spray can, and started painting a simple black hole. It felt strange. Like I was doing it for the first time in my life. The shape itself was easy enough, but I knew that if I tried anything more complex, I'd struggle. Our artistic skills were no longer shared with me. Not at all. Alexa, you there? I called out in my mind as I finished the outline and began filling it in. Anansi? I added, reaching for the spider. No answer.

I hid the can back in my bag, thinking maybe the response would come delayed, like before. For some reason, I felt compelled to press my hand against the glass when infusing it with Authority. It flowed in without resistance, but I knew—deep down—that nothing had happened. The hole remained nothing more than black paint, and my will was being suppressed by something far stronger, something that wouldn't let me escape.

"You okay?" Thomas asked.

"No. Not really. I feel sluggish, and I can't change this into what I want it to be. And at the same time, there's something at the back of my mind sending cold shivers through me." I was almost certain that none of the Connection-based powers would work here. I wouldn't be able to teleport out. I started fearing too, that the clarity of the situation provided by an outsourced brain might evaporate too, sooner or later. And that in turn it would leave me too without a concept of an exit.

"Same. Better keep moving before this place eats us alive," he said just as I noticed someone running toward us down the hallway.

"Trouble," I told Thomas, pointing at the movement.

"Do we run or stay?"

"I don't know." It looked like a single person, wearing some kind of greyish uniform, approaching us while waving his arms. He was careful not to bump into anyone and didn't seem overtly threatening, so I made a call.

"Let's see what it's about." Thomas nodded and waited, pacing a few steps back and forth. I did the same, shifting impatiently from one leg to the other until the man reached us. It was a guard—no doubt about it. He had a baton at his belt and wore proper clothing with too many pockets. His face, though… it sat deep in the uncanny valley. At first glance everything was where it should be—eyes, ears, mouth, nose—but something about him felt wrong. Alien.

"Please do not paint on the windows. This is strictly forbidden," he said. Only then did I notice complete lack of eyebrows. No hair at all, in fact. Just a cap covering a bald head.

"What do you care?" Thomas snapped.

"Where did you even come from?" He glanced around, looking for any kind of surveillance, but found none. Neither did I.

"There is no need for hostility, honored guest. I am merely issuing a warning."

"Warning received," I said.

"I won't be painting anywhere. I forgot myself, and I apologize. Could you be so kind as to answer my friend's question?"

"Thank you for your compliance," he replied, looking directly at me, then turning to Thomas.

"I came from the main lobby. There is a guard station there. If you wish to speak to any of us, I advise you to go there."

"How do we get there?" Thomas asked.

"You can follow this hallway, and you will arrive in no time. Just keep walking." His tone remained perfectly polite.

We kept walking for a while. The walls, the windows, even the rooms where people spent time on their hobbies—they all started to blur together.

"Where is the guard?" Thomas asked, and only then did I actually focus on my surroundings. I couldn't see through any eyes that weren't mine or on me. Anything Alexa or Elle saw or heard was gone to me. I was down to my two biological—at least as biological as something printed and painted could be—and six sp-eye-ders. Even those extra perspectives were getting blurry. And somehow, I hadn't just missed the fact that I was cut off from the rest of us but I'd also missed the moment the guard disappeared.

"No idea, Thomas," I answered, dread creeping under my skin.

"Did we make any turns on the way here?"

"I don't think so?" His answer was as uncertain as mine. I couldn't tell him I'd lost contact with the original Alexa. That would raise questions I didn't need. Questions about whether I was even real in the way he understood it. But it was alarming. We both turned around, trying to place ourselves in this shifting reality, where both time and space felt like they were slipping. Time. The thought hit me, and I looked outside first.

Both the obvious lie of the tropical beach and the truth beneath it—the city street—were bathed in early morning light. Thomas must have noticed too, because he checked his watch.

"It's seven in the morning, Alexa," he said, voice trembling. He was so shaken he used the wrong name.

"I can't remember the last few hours at all." He looked at me, then back at his watch, as if confirming it again. I let myself fall back against the wall, resting there for a moment, trying to push through the fog clouding my mind.

"Me too, Thomas. Me too." He dropped to the floor with a heavy thump, barely catching himself with his hands. Then he looked up at me and I had never seen him that pale. That scared. Not even when Shiroi was unraveling matter itself.

"It's not a few hours," he said.

"It's Saturday now, Lex. We lost two days."