Passion

She didn’t know where she was going or what she would find once she arrived, only that this Announcer seemed narrower and less pliable than the last one, and was filled by a wet, whipping wind that drove her ever deeper into the dark tunnel.

Her throat was dry and her body was weary from not having slept in the hospital. With every turn, she felt more lost and unsure.

What was she doing in this Announcer?

She closed her eyes and tried to fill her mind with thoughts of Daniel: the strong grasp of his hands, the burning intensity of his eyes, the way his whole face changed when she entered a room. The soft comfort of being wrapped in his wings, soaring high, the world and its worries far away.

How foolish she had been to run! That night in her backyard, stepping through the Announcer had seemed like the right thing to do—the only thing to do. But why? Why had she done it? What stupid idea had made that seem like a smart move? And now she was far away from Daniel, from everyone she cared about, from anyone at all. And it was all her fault.

“You’re an idiot!” she cried into the dark.

“Hey, now,” a voice called out. It was raspy and blunt and seemed to come from right beside her. “No need to be insulting!”

Luce went rigid. There couldn’t be anyone inside the utter darkness of her Announcer. Right? She must be hearing things. She pushed forward, faster.

“Slow down, will ya?”

She caught her breath. Whoever it was didn’t sound garbled or distant, like someone was speaking through the shadow. No, someone was in here. With her.

“Hello?” she called, swallowing hard.

No answer.

The whipping wind in the Announcer grew louder, howling in her ears. She stumbled forward in the dark, more and more afraid, until at last the noise of the air blowing past died out and was replaced by another sound—a staticky roar. Something like waves crashing in the distance.

No, the sound was too steady to be waves, Luce thought. A waterfall.

“I said slow down.”

Luce flinched. The voice was back. Inches from her ear—and keeping pace with her as she ran. This time, it sounded annoyed.

“You’re not going to learn anything if you keep zipping around like that.”

“Who are you? What do you want?” she shouted. “Oof!”

Her cheek collided with something cold and hard. The rush of a waterfall filled her ears, close enough that she could feel cool drops of spray on her skin. “Where am I?”

“You’re here. You’re … on Pause. Ever heard of stopping to smell the peonies?”

“You mean roses.” Luce felt around in the darkness, taking in a pungent mineral smell that wasn’t unpleasant or unfamiliar, just confusing. She realized then that she hadn’t yet stepped out of the Announcer and back into the middle of a life, which could only mean—

She was still inside.

It was very dark, but her eyes began to adjust. The Announcer had taken on the form of some sort of small cave. There was a wall behind her made of the same cool stone as the floor, with a depression cut into it where a stream of water trickled down. The waterfall she heard was somewhere above.

And below her? Ten feet or so of stone ledge—and then nothing. Beyond that was blackness.

“I had no idea you could do this,” Luce whispered to herself.

“What?” the hoarse voice said.

“Stop inside an Announcer,” she said. She hadn’t been talking to him and she still couldn’t see him, and the fact that she’d ended up stalled wherever she was with whoever he was—well, it was definitely cause for alarm. But still she couldn’t help marveling at her surroundings. “I didn’t know a place like this existed. An in-between place.”

A phlegmy snort. “You could fill a book with all the things you don’t know, girl. In fact—I think someone may have already written it. But that’s neither here nor there.” A rattling cough. “And I did mean peonies, by the way.”

“Who are you?” Luce sat up and leaned back against the wall. She hoped whoever the voice belonged to couldn’t see her legs trembling.

“Who? Me?” he asked. “I’m just … me. I’m here a lot.”

“Okay.… Doing what?”

“Oh, you know, hanging out.” He cleared his throat, and it sounded like someone gargling with rocks. “I like it here. Nice and calm. Some of these Announcers can be such zoos. But not yours, Luce. Not yet, anyway.”

“I’m confused.” More than confused, Luce was afraid. Should she even be talking to this stranger? How did he know her name?

“For the most part, I’m just your average casual observer, but sometimes I keep an ear out for travelers.” His voice came closer, causing Luce to shiver. “Like yourself. See, I’ve been around awhile, and sometimes travelers, they need a smidge of advice. You been up by the waterfall yet? Very scenic. A-plus, as far as waterfalls go.”

Luce shook her head. “But you said—this is my Announcer? A message of my past. So why would you be—”

“Well! Sor-reee!” The voice grew louder, indignant. “But may I just raise a question: If the channels to your past are so precious, why’d you leave your Announcers wide open for all the world to jump inside? Hmm? Why didn’t you just lock them?”

“I didn’t, um …” Luce had no idea she’d left anything wide open. And no idea Announcers could even be locked.

She heard a small whoomp, like clothes or shoes being thrown into a suitcase, but she still couldn’t see a thing. “I see I’ve overstayed my welcome. I won’t waste your time.” The voice sounded suddenly choked up. And then more softly, from a distance: “Goodbye.”

The voice vanished into the darkness. It was nearly silent inside the Announcer again. Just the soft cascade of the waterfall above. Just the desperate beat of Luce’s heart.

For just a moment, she hadn’t been alone. With that voice there, she’d been nervous, alarmed, on edge … but she hadn’t been alone.

“Wait!” she called, pushing herself to her feet.

“Yes?” The voice was right back at her side.

“I didn’t mean to kick you out,” she said. For some reason, she wasn’t ready for the voice to just disappear. There was something about him. He knew her. He had called her by name. “I just wanted to know who you were.”

“Oh, hell,” he said, a little giddy. “You can call me … Bill.”

“Bill,” she repeated, squinting to see more than the dim cave walls around her. “Are you invisible?”

“Sometimes. Not always. Certainly don’t have to be. Why? You’d prefer to see me?”

“It might make things a little bit less weird.”

“Doesn’t that depend on what I look like?”

“Well—” Luce started to say.

“So”—his voice sounded as if he were smiling—“what do you want me to look like?”

“I don’t know.” Luce shifted her weight. Her left side was damp from the spray of the waterfall. “Is it really up to me? What do you look like when you’re just being yourself?”

“I have a range. You’d probably want me to start with something cute. Am I right?”

“I guess.…”

“Okay,” the voice muttered. “Huminah huminah huminah hummm.”

“What are you doing?” Luce asked.

“Putting on my face.”

There was a flash of light. A blast that would have sent Luce tumbling backward if the wall hadn’t been right behind her. The flash died down into a tiny ball of cool white light. By its illumination she could see the rough