Part 2 Chapter 20 Gone Fishing

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Part Two  

Chapter Twenty

Gone Fishing

"Well?" yelled Chase as he stood in their Shellac staring hard at the curved wall that encased the stairs to their bedroom. "Damit! None of this makes sense," he muttered. Then, looking up he called, "How long does it take a girl to change?" He stroked the wall in front of him with the tips of his fingers. It looked and felt different. "And it's no good lookin' for my neckerchief either, it's not up there."

"I wouldn't touch that with a barge-pole, not after last time," said Amy bouncing halfway down the stairs and peering over the curved walled banister. She was wearing Chase's jeans and the shirt he'd worn earlier. All clean and fresh. No longer ripped or covered in blood.

"Where is it anyway? I haven't seen that in... ages.... not... since..?"

"Doesn't matter," cut in Chase, "it's somewhere else. Well?"

"Well what? Oh, no– no, nothing's been written in the diary. You haven't been up here so how could you have written in it?"

"That was the idea. If I haven't been up there and there was somethin' written in it, it has to be someone else doin' it, not me. Right?"

Amy shrugged not convinced. "No one else can write your unreadable scribble... And who would do that? Who would the Shellac allow in? And who would write what you were thinking of writing? Or would even know what you were thinking of writing, even though you'd forgotten you had written it or that you were thinking about writing it in the first place!? That definitely doesn't make sense."

"Yep, yer right, that doesn't make sense... Yer sure you've checked both the back of the diary and  the front. Nothin's been added."

"Yes! I've checked, and no, nothing's been added! It's the same as it was before we left. What are you doing?

"Lookin' at the wall." 

When they first arrived in Ishmirban, which seemed such a long time ago now, Amy had remarked that the curved staircase looked like the inside of a shell so maybe that was why their home was called a Shellac. Here it was smooth, shiny and creamy pink rather than amber-orange and pitted like orange peel everywhere else.

The narrow alcove that the curved stairs formed had long held the things that had fallen through the portal with them. Jonathan's camp bed, flask and torch, the sleeping bags, a stub of candle,  Chase's school bag, the bag with his extra clothing and the cookie jar... Also added since were the things that fell through with Chase's parents. Odd memories of home.

"We have to go," said Amy joining him, "they've already started to move your boat."

"What?! Why the Hell would they do that? Why not just shove it into the sea and watch it sink?"

"I'm sure it won't do that. They're moving it to the Quinnines, where the white sand turns red and where all those tall red spiky holey rocks are. You know all this... I haven't been down that far, I'm rather looking forward to it...  Chase? Chase! Come on!"

Chase shook his head. "None of this makes sense. Why try an' kill us now, so publicly and when I'd just save someone's life; when there's been so many other better chances to do it, secretly. What was the point to what just happened? It doesn't make sense."

"Well, The Mapmaker said–"

"Oh forget him, he's a mental case. And anyway, no one but us saw him... And why in Hell do I need this stupid stick!?" he gritted, waving The Martese. The blue light from his finger tips suddenly glittered and sparkled its way up and down the staff changing its appearance once again.

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