Claire slammed the gate shut.
The deep blue/gray tip of a tentacle poked through the grill-work in the small window.
Wrapping sweaty hands around the lever, Dean yanked it right.
The floor joists nipped off an inch of rubbery flesh. When it dropped to the floor, Claire kicked it into the back corner and turned on Dean. “Why up?” she demanded, loudly enough to make herself heard over the pounding of her heart. “We came into this through the basement and that’s very likely the only way we’ll get out The basement is down!”
The floor of the elevator level with the second floor of the guest house, Dean locked the lever into its upright position. “I guess up just seemed more natural,” he said. Grinning broadly, he sank down and reached for his shoes and socks. “Besides, we haven’t seen what’s on two or three.”
Claire stared down at him in silence.
After a moment, one sock on, the other in his hand, he lifted his head. “What?”
“We haven’t seen what’s on two or three?”
The grin slipped. “Well, yeah.”
She could see her reflection in his glasses. “Are you out of your mind?”
His brow furrowed. “We have to see what’s on two and three. We can’t quit now.”
“Oh, yes, we can. We just got chased by a giant tentacled thing; that’s quite enough excitement for one day.”
After a moment, he shrugged. “You’re the boss.” Sighing, he pulled on his other sock.
“Do you believe him?” Claire asked Jacques, dusting the sand off her own feet. “He thought that was fun.”
“Not fun,” Dean protested. “Exciting.”
“Dangerous,” Claire corrected.
“But we all got away. We’re all safe.”
“We could have been eaten by something out of a bad Lovecraft pastiche!”
“But we weren’t.”
“Jacques.” She turned to the ghost. “Help me out.”
“He has a point, cherie. No one was hurt. And we are at the second floor. It would be a shame not to look.”
Arms folded, she sagged back against the elevator wall. “There’s just way too much testosterone in here.”
“My watch seems to be working again, Boss.”
“I’m thrilled.”
Standing, Dean shot Jacques a “now what” glance, and received a “how the hell should I know” shrug in return.
“All right.” Claire straightened. “A compromise. We’ll look through the grille, but we won’t actually open the door and we certainly won’t join in the fun.”
“Fun?”
“It’s a figure of speech, Dean. Together on three so that we all see the same thing…one, two, three.”
A familiar hallway stretched off in both directions, the doors to rooms one and two clearly visible.
“This is the second floor.” Shoving up the gate, Claire pushed the door open and barely managed to stop herself from stepping out onto a familiar starship bridge.
“Make it so, Number One.”
Slowly and quietly, she closed the door again. “And that wasn’t.”
“But what was it?” Jacques asked, peering out in some confusion at the second floor hall. “It was a military vessel?”
“It was an imaginary vessel, Jacques.”
“What is an imaginary vessel? It is not real?” He shook his head. “But it was as real as the beach. And the not-a-squid.”
“It was real here. And now. With the door open.” The scene through the door remained the second floor. “But everywhere else, except on those occasions when it’s a way of life, it’s a television show.”
Dean shook his head, as though trying to settle himself back into reality. “I could’ve walked out onto the real bridge of the starship….”
“No.” Claire reached out, intending to lock up, and found herself, instead, opening the door a crack. For one last look at the real bridge of the starship…
It looked like a balmy evening on top of Citadel Hill in downtown Halifax. Except for the two moons riding low in the sky and the woman in the distance with an agitated shrub on a leash.
Behind and above her right shoulder, Claire heard Dean murmur, “It changes every time you reopen the door.”
“So the not-squid, it is gone? We could return to the beach?”
“Sure. Except the beach is gone.”
Claire quietly eased the door shut, so as not to further agitate the shrub, and latched the gate. “All right,” she sighed, her head falling forward until it rested against the fifty-year-old paint. “We’re in this so far now we might as well see what’s on the third floor. But…” Straightening, she folded her arms, turned, and fixed each of her companions with her best I’m a Keeper and you’re not stare. “…no one gets out. Understand?”
“But what if…”
“I don’t care. No one leaves the elevator.”
Through the grille, it was the third floor. It even smelled like the third floor.
“Do you think that she might have an effect?” Jacques asked nervously as Claire locked back the gate.
“Do I think that proximity to her could affect the elevator’s destination? I don’t know, but I don’t think so. Those are strong shields.” A puff of noxious air wafted in as she opened the door and stared out at the piles of blasted rock and steaming lava pools. “And then again, I suppose it’s possible that…”
A terrified shriek cut her off.
Dean pushed forward, allowing himself to be stopped by the flimsy barricade of Claire’s arm only because he wasn’t certain of where the sound had originated.
A second scream helped.
Off to the right, close to one of the steaming red pools, two large lizardlike creatures held a struggling shape between them, snapping and snarling at each other over their captive’s head. While accumulated filth and long dreadlocks made guessing age difficult, they did nothing at all to hide the gender of what seemed to be a completely naked twelve- or thirteen-year-old boy.
Captured. About to be devoured. Pushing Claire aside, Dean leaped forward, the porous surface of the rock crunching under his work
