Furthermore(61)

“Oh, this is splendid,” said Oliver, awed as he looked around. “And much more interesting. I thought for sure that we were in another village.”

“And we’re not?”

Oliver nodded at the lake. “Your emergency door dropped us inside of an intersection.” He looked at Alice. “This is a Traveler’s Turning Point.”

“So we have to choose which way to go?”

“Yes.”

“And . . . I’m guessing it won’t be easy,” said Alice.

Oliver laughed.

They didn’t speak as they climbed the gentle hills, but Alice was studying the idyllic scene like it was something to be feared. Birds were pirouetting through the air and lambs were bleating their woes and flowers dipped and swayed in the wind like this was just another perfect day. But Alice wouldn’t believe it.

And when they finally, reluctantly, stood at the end of the pier in the very middle of the lake, she and Oliver didn’t know which way to turn.

“So,” said Alice. “Left or right?”

“Wrong,” said Oliver.

Alice raised an eyebrow.

“We have four choices, not two,” he said. “Up, down, left, or right.”

“Down?” said Alice, taken aback. “You mean—down into the lake?”

“And up into the sky. Yes.”

“Oh, for Feren’s sake,” Alice said, and sat down.

Alice hadn’t the faintest idea which way to go, but she didn’t say as much because her vanity wouldn’t allow it. Oliver was now relying on them to use their brains to navigate Furthermore, and as she was currently the smartest person she knew (outside of Father, of course), Alice didn’t want to lose that title to Oliver. She wanted to prove herself. She wanted to be useful.

(She wanted to be smarter than Oliver.)

And then she had a sudden stroke of inspiration.

“Perhaps the answer is in the pamphlets!” Alice cried, and not a moment later she was digging papers out of her pocket and soon she was unfolding “What to Know Before You Go,” all ten feet of it rattling and unfurling across the pier.

Oliver flit about anxiously as Alice perused the papers, shooting her skeptical looks and claiming he’d never had to rely on pamphlets to get him through Furthermore and “it’s all nonsense anyway, not meant for anything but confusing” but Alice paid him no mind. She carried on perusing, and soon his anxiety gave way to acquiescence, and moments later he was sitting by her side. The two of them pored over the pages in hopes of finding a single useful word, and though it took them nearly ten minutes to come upon it, they eventually found their answer in large, shouting capital letters: CONSTRUCTION NOTICES: ALL INTERSECTIONS


UP AND DOWN EXITS PERMANENTLY CLOSED FOR REPAIR!!! DO NOT ATTEMPT DOWN-EXIT WITHOUT PERMIT. DO NOT ATTEMPT UP-EXIT ON MONDAY THROUGH FRIDAY OR SATURDAY AND DEFINITELY NOT SUNDAY!!!! IF EXIT IS NECESSARY, RIGHT AND LEFT ARE UNDER CONSTRUCTION BUT CURRENTLY OPERATIONAL. PROCEED WITH CAUTION!!!! NOTE: DOWN-EXIT DISALLOWED ON MONDAYS FROM 2:00 to 6:00 p.m.

“Well, that wasn’t helpful at all, was it?” Alice said with a sigh.

“What do you mean?” Oliver was beaming. “It says here that up-and down-exits are closed! Narrows things down, doesn’t it? Now we only have to choose between left and right.”

“Well, yes,” Alice said, “but do we go left or do we go right?”

“Oh,” Oliver said, the smile gone from his face. “I don’t know.”

“Let’s go left,” Alice said, deciding. She got to her feet. “Everyone is always going right, and if so many people are going right, it’s bound to be wrong, I think.”

“Okay then,” Oliver said, looking at her like he was proud. And surprised. But mostly proud. “Left it is. Left we go.”

“Left we go!” Alice cheered.

So that was that. They took the Left footbridge and ran as left as it would go—





until they ran into a wall.

They were knocked backward with two short screams, one after another, and landed painfully on their backsides. Oliver moaned. Alice groaned.

“My head,” he said.

“My eyes,” she cried. “I can’t see a thing.”

“Alice?”

“Oliver?”

“Yes?”

“Are you alright?”

“Just fine,” said Oliver.

“Oh, good. Me too.”

They were both silent a moment.

“Well,” Oliver finally said. “I can’t see a stitch.”

“No,” said Alice. “Neither can I. And it smells like dirt.”

“And wood,” Oliver said. “It smells like dirt and wood.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” A pause. “Where are you?”

Alice hadn’t any idea where they’d landed. She stumbled to her feet and tread carefully, single arm out, feeling for familiarity. Alice and Oliver both breathed sighs of relief when they collided, and he quickly took hold of her only hand, holding tight as they forged forward, sniffing and sensing and listening for a hint of what would come next.

They hit wall after wall of old, musty wood—strange, the wood felt damp—until they finally stumbled upon a door. Alice’s heart did a happy flip in relief, and Oliver laughed a nervous sort of laugh, and then . . . they hesitated.