the blueshifters, parts 1 + 2 (Complete!)

Little Old Shop (episode 9)

Little Old Shop

Jack looked over the card she'd given him once more. The directions were scrawled haphazardly on the back. On the front was simply a phone number and the letters S. C. T. He'd called the number several times and got no answer. How Mary ever managed to find the place was beyond him. She'd said that the directions were those she'd written herself after finding it by accident. Or it seemed like an accident, anyway. How she managed to get anyone else on the other line seemed an impossibility. But at least he had

an address.

Today he decided to ride his motorbike. Over the past weeks he'd found that his sixth sense, his ability to detect those who were different was changing, becoming stronger. His body developed an odd sensation of fire sparks exploding. At first it seemed simply like stress but he was learning to understand when it came and went - when he saw one of The Others -  and he was learning how to keep his responses under control from Trillion. He breathed deeply, calmly. As he passed by streams of traffic he did not find or encounter any of them on the ride there and for that he was thankful. He was still trying to get a handle on his own responses to things.

Turning up S.W. Ankeny street, he slowed to a leisurely pace, looking for the address. He found it sandwiched between two business houses. It was a tiny, rather old, shabby Victorian-style house. Very shabby in fact. He rode his bike up the side walk and parked it at a smart park meter, paid the meter and stood in front of the house. It was early afternoon and the business crowd was out to lunch. It was quite busy and noisy on the other blocks. This one was strangely quiet. He felt outward with his sense to see if he could detect anything odd or unusual. He could detect nothing out of the ordinary. He walked up the small high steps and peeked in. It looked dark inside. Turning the door knob slowly he opened the door and

stepped inside.

Inside the shop burnished scents of incense greeted him. And something else that he couldn't place. An essence of some sort. He slipped through the tiny foyer and onto a dingy looking shag carpet that announced the main room of the shop. It looked dim and Jack gazed at the containers, terrariums, gilded boxes and old cast iron cages. He saw the oddest things in these containers. Plants of colors he could not describe, old dolls that moved and danced to music after being wound up and other, more mundane antiques. Jack, normally would never have any interest in such things but found himself so caught up he didn't hear the figure at the counter around the corner. Gazing at a silver cube balanced on a point he watched in interest as it shifted and rotated its links like a Rubik's Cube. So much so, that when he slowly turned the corner the clearing of a throat made him jump. And he wasn't used to people making him jump and he didn't like it. There was a man standing at the front desk and counter. He was average height and build, on the thin side with brown hair and brown eyes. He smiled cheerily.

"Hello!" He said with a slight accent Jack couldn't place. "What can I help you with today? Are you looking for something special?"

"Actually, yeah." He was feeling a little nervous now that it came to it. "I have a friend who had a box. A, uh, red box. Says it can help you if you run into a lot of. . .problems in your life?" He asked expectantly. The man gazed at him with a question mark on his face. "You know, sort of like a magic box?" he said quietly, feeling stupid.

"Problems? Red box? magic?" The man laughed. "Sounds like a very special fabled object to me. One not normally given out."

"Yeah well, I was just following up on some info she gave me. That's all."

"Nope, sorry. I have a lot of cool things in here but magic boxes ain't one of them."

"So," Jack said, trying to sound casual and knowing he was failing. He didn't care. He was here wasn't he? That was enough. "How long have you been here?" At that the man smiled broadly, seemingly glad to talk about his business and his proud, dusty little establishment.