The Old City

0.18: The Treehouse Part 2

"It sounds like a dream, but I met someone that day who seemed to know all this city's secrets."

Anya puffed on the long cigarette she'd drawn then exhaled a thin white line. "Stranger things have happened, child. A man I respect more than just about anyone swears to me that dragons are real even though I've never seen one in my sixty seven years. Why can't there be a perfect safe home in this shithole cesspool of a city? If you'd said someone told you about this place I would doubt you, but if you have seen it...then good luck."

Angelica put her drink down and looked this old woman in the eyes. Time and indifference had worn down her face but there were still marks of the sharp, beautiful face she'd once worn. Her lips were always pointed up in a smile, ready to welcome guests into her home, even those she fought with sometimes. As she sat at the bar, Angelica appreciated her patience for the first time.

There were things these two women would never agree upon, but in this twilight moment there was understanding.

"I'll be goin' then. Thanks for the drink."

She rose and pushed her stool in, then left. Just before the door closed behind her, she thought she heard Anya say once more: "Good luck."

A still haze hung over the night, blanketing the city in tantalizing mysteries. A woman in the distance yelled profanities and somewhere else cats were fighting over scraps of trash. The mist made Angelica's clothes cling to her stickily as she walked from the inn.

Unfriendly eyes preyed upon Angelica. Though she had never personally been assaulted, this was not a safe time to be about. While the gang lords slept, a less sane contingent laid claim to the city, crawling out of their Underground holes to find whatever they might eat or take back down with them. Even the Enforcers did not stay out this late. It had been years since a curfew had been in place and if the crazies killed each other while everyone else slept, was that such a bad thing?

Where can I even start?

For the thousandth time, Angelica searched for the hidden house. She'd spent her teens jumping from one roof to the next in search of the place, but no matter her vantage, it never revealed itself. As soon as she had left the Treehouse, it simple ceased to exist.

Dawn was now minutes away. Her feet were sore and her eyes heavy, for she hadn't slept since the previous night. Just as she was about to retreat to the comfort of her apartment, she saw something glitter in the street in front of her. It was a specter, the size of a boy, entirely made of silver light that hummed with a light blue outline.

"What are you?" Angelica asked.

The ghost gave no response. It looked at her with warm, glowing eyes then turned, walking slowly away. Angelica felt that call of adventure once more, the one she'd thought had died when the war began. The pain in her feet gave way to strength and her sight focused.

There was but one choice: follow.

The apparition danced around the street as though following the beat of some unheard song.

Surely I am dreamin'.

Rather than try to wake herself, Angelica followed the boy down cobblestone streets and tightly curved alleyways, through drapes that hung from wires above and piles trash so large she had to climb over them. He led her down paths familiar and unknown.

And as she continued upon this path, she began to remember it: she knew where the specter would turn next and what lay beyond the corner. The memories returned slowly and then as a flood, etching itself into her brain.

Then as suddenly as it had appeared, the apparition vanished into whispers. Six buildings surrounded her, three on either side and each having a decrepit, rickety fire escape. This part of her memory had not returned. Each building seemed as likely as the next, but also seemed...wrong.

That one is too low, and that one is too blue. The one over here isn't wide enough to hold two people at once...which do I choose?

Angelica wanted to move forward to see if there were a building nearby that felt right but the logic of this path was clear. A single wrong step through those many twists and turns would keep the hideout hidden. She did not have time to retrace her path.

In the corner of her eye, Angelica realized one detail out of place. Behind her, the street seemed different than it had before, warped so slightly from its original position. Buildings a few feet too long, doors and windows bent at obtuse angles, the very road itself curving up when she'd have sworn she had just trudged an incline on her way to this spot.

Intrigued, Angelica took a few steps back down the path she'd come, and then a few more steps. When she approached the previous corner, it transformed into a building with a fire escape just as black and tall and wide as in her memories.

How could I have forgotten this?

She reached up to pull down the ladder then climbed as fast as she could. It felt right, like returning home after many years away. The roof was as she remembered, relatively barren with one outstanding feature: a home that sat calmly, frozen in time, impervious to the chaos below.

"I made it," Angelica whispered aloud. She opened the house's door and found the inside exactly as she had left it. The rooms and decorations were identical and though there was no sign anyone had been there, no dust had accumulated. It was pristine.

She paced every corner of the house with wide smile and came across a blue recording crystal in kitchen. The message played as soon as she touched it: This place requires a good heart. I believe you have one. Keep it safe.

Angelica's smile turned into a grin. It was the same voice she'd heard all those years ago, back now in her life. There was peace knowing he looked out for her still.

The postponed weariness caught up with her and she drifted to the bedroom, more spacious than what she was used to. She collapsed onto the bed and fell into slumber within moments, her last thought another memory of that man.

Before they'd left all those years ago, he had shared its name:

"This is the Treehouse," he'd said. "It was here long before I was born and if the universe is just, it shall remain long after my death. It was built to protect but has gone unused for many years. I think the world is worse off for that. Great souls should have used this Treehouse to grow safely and then make their mark, but it has not been the case. I hope you use it fully."

***

A quarter mile away, an elderly man with long white hair peeking out from his hood smiled, as the white apparition arrived on the roof and melted back into him.

"Do not lose it this time. They will need it one day..."