Sensed

Part 1

The door to our compartment slid open. Millard quickly flipped up the hood of his jacket to hide his face --- or rather, his apparent lack of one.

A young woman stood in the door. She wore a uniform and held a box of goods for sale. "Cigarettes?" she asked. "Chocolates?"

"No, thanks," I said.

She looked at me. "You're an American."

"Afraid so."

She gave me a pitying smile. "Hope you're having a nice trip. You picked an awkward time to visit Britain."

I laughed. "So I've been told."

She went out. Millard shifted his body to watch her go. "Pretty." he said distantly.

It occured to me that it had probably been a lot of years since he'd seen a girl outside of those few who lived in Cairnholm. But what chance would someone like him have with a normal girl, anyway?

"Don't look at me like that," he said.

It hadn't occured to me that I'd been looking at him any particular way. "Like what?"

"Like you feel bad for me."

"I don't," I said.

But I did.

Then Millard stood up from his seat, took off his coat, and disappeared. I didn't see him again for a while.

*   *   *

As soon as we set foot on the train station's platform, Emma turned to us and snapped her fingers for attention. "Let's head for that phone box," she said pointing to a tall, red phone booth across the platform, just visible to the surging crowd.

"Who are we calling?" Hugh asked.

"The peculiar dog said that all of London's loops had been raided and their ymbrynes kidnapped," Emma said, "but we can't simply take his word for it, can we?"

"You can call a time loop?" I said, flabbergasted. "On the phone?"

Millard explained that the Council of Ymbrynes maintained a phone exchange, though it could only be used within the boundaries of the city. "Quite ingenious how it works, given all the time differences," he said. "Just because we live in time loops doesn't mean we're stuck in the Stone Age!"

Emma took my hand and told the others to join hands, too. "It's crucial we stay together, " she said. "London is vast, and there's no lost and found here for peculiar children."

We waded into the crowd, hands linked, our snaking line slightly parabolic in the middle where Olive buoyed up like an astronaut walking on the moon.

*   *   *

Inside the phone box, Emma scowled at the reciever. "No one's answering," she said. "All the numbers just ring and ring."

"Last one," said Millard, handing her another ripped-out page. "Cross your fingers."

I was focused on Emma as she dialed, when a voice spoke beside me; soft and frail.