The first thing that Tracey felt was her throbbing head. "Ugh," she groaned as she slowly regained her senses. "What...happened?" she muttered.
Slowly, her eyes fluttered open. The ceiling above was plastered and simple, adorned with a plain crown molding. The surrounding walls were bare and plain, painted a bland shade of cream. She moved her head to the side with great difficulty, each shift causing a jolt of pain in her head and neck. Tracey squinted against the garish lighting of the steam lights, her ears ringing. The flooring was ordinary wood, and a rug appeared to be surrounding herself.
Other than the rug that she was lying on, the room was empty. Tracey blankly stared at the wall beside herself. Her mind confusedly wandered over the past few events. Powder room...funhouse...basement? she groggily thought. Oh, right. Basement. Mittie and I...and...Jon? Jon. Tracey forced her hands up to rub her face. "My head...," she said. "I need to sit up."
She tried, to no avail, to roll over. "Ouch," she muttered. Tracey sighed and closed her eyes again, shutting out the lights. Let's see... she thought. Jon...we were walking in the basement. Mittie and I. And then...a room? We were separated...Jon and I...we...talked... She sighed again. Something with his brooch? The red brooch. "Oh," she said.
Snippets of memories came flooding back. Their conversation, the near-escape, Jon's device. Tracey frowned. There was something else that she remembered. A...staircase? It was dark. "What in the world happened to me?"
Tracey remained on the floor, staring at the walls around herself and waiting to regain a bit of energy. "Where's Mittie...?" she slowly said. "Or Jon, for that matter."
She stared a few seconds at the wall.
"Where's anybody?"
She attempted once more to move, this time—much to her relief—discovering that she could move her limbs with slightly more ease. Tracey pushed herself up with great difficulty. "Ah!" she gasped as she moved into a sitting position. The room around her dizzily swam, causing her to groan. Tracey buried her head into her lap. "I need to find Mittie," she muttered.
After what felt to be a few minutes, Tracey slowly raised her head. The room had stopped swimming and was now at a gentle tilt, moving from side to side like a seesaw. Am I on a boat..? "Let's see if I can stand," she quietly said.
Carefully, Tracey positioned herself into a squat, and then laboriously rose to a stand. The room's tilt intensified, and she stumbled backward, barely catching herself. Something odd suddenly stood out to Tracey. She stared at each wall. "Where are all the windows...?" she said, trudging to a nearby wall and leaning against it. She glanced around once more. "I must be in a cabin under deck...," Tracey said with a frown. "How did we get onto a ship so quickly? Maybe...some fresh air would be good."
Tracey followed the wall, leaning heavily against it to combat the swaying floors. "Wait...," she said, slowing to a stop. "Where's the door?" Scanning the room in front of her, then, rolling around to face behind herself, Tracey could find no door. Only the plain, cream walls. "That can't be right..."
Once more, Tracey circled the room, to no avail. No doors were to be seen, and Tracey was quickly growing tired. "I think I need to...sit here," she said, sliding down the wall into a crouch, taking deep breaths. If I weren't so groggy, I'd be able to figure out what's going on, she thought in frustration. She leaned her head against the wall, staring at the ceiling.
"Say...what if the door were hidden?" Tracey slowly muttered, laughing to herself. "I'm looking for a door that's invisible! Which means...it's impossible!"
She smiled, then lowered her head. "Impossible..."
Tracey fell into silence for a few minutes, listlessly staring at the floor.
"I wonder where Mr. Porter is?" she finally said. "Oh, yes. Charlie. Where are they...?"
She frowned, trying to piece together her jumbled memories. "Maybe I'm...where they are...?" She looked to the walls again. "But I have to...get out...first? Ugh," Tracey vigorously rubbed and patted her face, trying to will the heavy drowsiness away. "Focus, Tracey!"
She took a deep breath, then exhaled.
"This is just another puzzle...clue. It's not like I haven't done any of those before!" Tracey said, carefully examining each wall. "Perhaps if I can find a groove..."
She stumbled to her feet, steadying herself against the sway.
"There's nothing I can use here...," she said as she looked at the bare floors and walls, "but I have this!" Tracey whipped out a hairpin, putting its tip against the wall and continuing her rounds about the room, feeling for any sort of bump in the wall.
Sure enough, the pin's narrow head fell into a groove. "What do we have here?" she said, pausing. Sliding the pin up and down, she found it fit snugly inside, making what seemed to be the side of a door. "Aha!" she yelled with a grin. She winced. I should talk a little quieter, my head still hurts... she thought as she began to dig deeper into the wall. The groove deepened to reveal embedded door hinges.
"Good, good," she muttered, moving further down the wall. The tip snagged into another groove, and she repeated the steps, this time revealing the door's striking plate. Maybe if I wedge this pin in... There was a small, audible click. It's not locked! "Jon must've thought I wouldn't be able to find the door," she chuckled to herself. "Now, let's lever this open..."
The door slowly creaked inward, before fully swinging open. The force of its swing threw Tracey off balance, causing her to take a stumbling seat onto the ground. Dazedly, she looked into the hall.
It was a dark, short hall, and it appeared that the room in which she had woken in was at the end of it. On the other end was an adjacent hallway, modestly wallpapered, but otherwise understated. "That wasn't too impossible...," she said, slowly scrambling back to her feet. The floor's swaying intensified, and Tracey stumbled forward into the doorway. "Right. The deck," she grimly said, beginning her shaky steps into the hallway.
After she took a quick listen to the area, Tracey was able to determine that there was no one in the immediate vicinity. Leaning on the walls, Tracey slowly walked through the hall and rounded a corner. "Oh...," she groaned, squinting her eyes against the brighter lighting. Something's wrong, she thought as she held one hand to her throbbing head.
Around the corner, she heard a muffled shuffling noise. Tracey froze. "Oh no," she whispered.
Much to her confusion, however, there was the absence of footsteps. Only shuffling? Slowly, Tracey peeked. It was a dark hall, similar to the one she had just come from, with a solitary door at the end of the hall. Nobody was in the hallway. She continued her path to the door, her fingers brushing against the soft wallpaper and her eyes adjusting to the darker lighting. "Good...," she muttered as she felt the headache subside.
Tracey reached the door. Cautiously, she leaned her ear against it. "Singing...?" she quietly said, listening closer.
Inside, she could hear a voice singing:
Get a gear for me lady
And a gear for me baby
And a gear for me...no, wait that's not the right words.
"Charlie?" Tracey quietly said, her eyes widening. She stopped herself from wildly swinging the door open. "Wait," she said to herself. "Let's be careful, Tracey."
Slowly, Tracey turned the knob and creaked it open.
There in the middle of an equally empty room was a small figure, their back to the door as they were lounging on the floor, singing along to their song. It was unmistakably Charlie. "Charlie!" Tracey said, beginning to rush into the room, but shortly stopping herself to steady from the tilting floors.
"Tracey?" Charlie replied, scrambling to his feet and spinning around to face her. "Gears! Am I glad to see you! I knew you'd find me!" He stared agape at the open door. "Ya mean t' say there was a door here all along? I thought I'd have to climb the ceiling or somethin'!"
"I was in a room like this myself just now. I've just gotten myself out," she shakily replied, leaning against the doorknob. "I'm sorry, Charlie— this should have never happened to you in the first place,"
"No need to apologi..." Charlie paused, peering closer at Tracey. "Are you alright, Trace? You don't look too good."
"No, no, I'm fine," Tracey said with a small wave. "Just a little seasick, I think."
Charlie stared. "Seasick?" he slowly repeated.
"Yes, you haven't noticed how much these floors are tilting?"
He looked to the ground. "Gears, Trace...uh, maybe I haven't noticed anything yet?"
"You must have your sea legs, then," Tracey said with an airy laugh.
"Right...," Charlie replied.
"So," Tracey said, turning back to the hallway's walls. "What's happened to you since last night?"
"They just blindfolded me and took me to this room," Charlie said with a shrug, following Tracey's slow walk. "Wasn't too bad. I mean, they gave me food an' all, so I can't complain. I didn't think you all would find me so quickly!" Charlie laughed. He paused, noticing a lack of reaction from Tracey. "Really, Trace, are you sure you're oka—?"
"We opened the book earlier today," Tracey said, interrupting Charlie's protest.
"Really?" he said, his eyes brightening. "Gears, I wish I saw that!"
"You will once we make it out of here," she replied, briefly pausing to accommodate for another sway in the floor.
"Uh...," Charlie paused with Tracey, staring hard at her. " Uh, what'd ya find out in the book?" he finally said.
"Oh, that Mrs. Pinot was the reason for Mr. Porter's kidnapping."
"Really?"
"Except, that it wasn't Mrs. Pinot," she continued. "It was Jon." Tracey stopped to rest her forehead against the cool cloth of the wallpaper.
"Tracey—," Charlie began to protest.
"I'm fine!" she snapped, straightening herself.
"Okay...," he quickly said, raising his hands in surrender. "Erhm," he started again, looking away. "Do you mean Jon was the one who did all those fake performances?"
Tracey nodded, swallowing back a wave of nausea. "We must be sailing through a storm...," she muttered, watching as the room tilted more drastically. She glanced ahead, seeing the short hall from where she had originally exited from. "We need to continue past there. Do you mind if I lean on you since you have such good balance in here?"
"Sure," Charlie said, surprised. He took her arm. "I'm so small, though, I'm not sure how much help I'll be to you," he added, looking up to Tracey.
"It's fine," she distractedly replied as she looked down the hallway. "That's where I was," she said, pointing to the open doorway.
"How did you end up in a room? Did Rollo get you, too?"
Tracey shook her head. "It was Jon...," she said. "Thank you, Charlie," she said as they reached another patch of wall. Tracey leaned against the wall, closing her eyes.
"Gears, Tracey, I'm no doctor, but I think you should at least sit—."
"We can sit," Tracey retorted, "When we find Mr. Porter and the deck!"
Tracey made as if to take another step but instead stumbled as the floors tilted once more. "Come on, Tracey!" Charlie said as he grabbed her arm, exasperated. "You might be too...uh...seasick or whatever, so can ya just take a moment to catch your breath at least!"
"Charlie, if you were taken here and I was taken here, I'm certain Mr. Porter is here too! I've got to find him—!"
"What good is findin' Mr. Porter if you're half-alive by the time you reach him?" Charlie exclaimed. "I dunno, Trace, but I doubt that you'd be good enough to rescue anyone like this! Look, you're sweating!"
"...it's the seasickness, Charlie," Tracey evenly replied, gritting her teeth. The floor swayed once more.
"Well if it is, then sit down 'til you're used to the ocean!" Charlie replied. "Gears, I wish Harrie were here....she'd be able to convince ya easier." Charlie frowned. "Is she alright, by the way?"
"...yes," Tracey slowly said, struggling to focus her eyes. "She's with Bentam at Jon's home."
"Oh, good," he sighed in relief. "I'm glad t' hear that." Charlie guided Tracey to sit on the floor. "C'mon, Trace. Let's just chat a bit, ya?"
"Okay...okay fine. You're right," Tracey responded, sitting next to Charlie. She leaned her head on the wall and closed her eyes against the pounding in her head. "Let's chat."
The two caught each other up to speed with what happened in the past hours they've been separated — Tracey with all their traveling and meetings, and Charlie with how he spent his time in general dullness, filling his time with singing and superficial games. After a while, the two fell silent. "Are ya feelin' any better, Trace?" Charlie asked, carefully watching Tracey's reaction.
Tracey looked to the ground. "No," she admitted. She glanced over to Charlie, a determined glint hardening her gaze. "But I am ready to keep going now."
"You're certain...?" Charlie started to say. Upon seeing Tracey's determined stare, however, he sighed in defeat and stood. "Alright, alright." He offered a hand to Tracey, who in turn accepted it and rose.
"Thank you," Tracey sighed, leaning on Charlie's arm. How much time has passed? she thought as they continued down the hall. I hope everyone is doing alright.
They reached another hall, similar to the other two that Charlie and Tracey were in.
"Let's check here," she said.
They turned down the hallway, this time finding an assortment of doors. "Should we check them all...?" Charlie nervously said. "I dunno if any of 'em will pop up, ya know."
Tracey nodded. "I'm surprised we haven't heard anyone come in here yet..."
"Maybe they're busy?" he suggested.
"Or..."
Further down the main hall, a door could be heard opening.
"Or," Tracey started again, dropping her voice to a whisper, "maybe we spoke too soon. Let's try one of these doors."
Charlie quickly walked over to a door—or, rather walked as quickly as Tracey's sluggish pace allowed—and tried a handle. "Locked!" he hissed.
Footsteps sounded, and an unseen person cleared their throat. "They're getting closer, Charlie!" Tracey urgently whispered. "Don't worry about me, just hurry!"
"But—"
"Go on!"
Obediently, Charlie pulled Tracey along, pulling at each knob. Tracey stumbled. "Trace?" he said in alarm.
"Don't worry about it!" She hissed.
The footsteps grew louder, slowing down as they approached their hall. "I can't believe him," a voice muttered. "Why would Jon put her here, out of all places? It's as if he wants us to get caught."
The two exchanged terrified glances. "The butler!" Tracey whispered.
Charlie pulled Tracey along and made one last attempt at opening a door. To both of their relief, the door opened. They rushed in, and Charlie quietly closed the door. They listened as the footsteps passed their hall and go on to where they were they had just been imprisoned.
There was a brief moment of silence, then a loud groan. "Of course they'd escape!" Hassan yelled. The footsteps turned into stomps as they grew louder, then past them. It briefly paused once more. They heard muffled talking, then silence. Finally, the door that they had earlier heard shut with a loud thud.
The two let out a breath of relief. "They're probably going to be searching down this boat for us now," Tracey sighed, settling into a sitting position against the wall.
"I'm just glad we got into this room!" Charlie said, looking around at the room. "I didn't think we'd be able to hide in time."
The room was cluttered with furniture and boxes, all covered in various-sized sheets. Charlie sneezed. "It's dusty in here!" he sniffed.
"Mhm," Tracey agreed, closing her eyes against another room tilt. "This is quite a storm, don't you think...?"
Charlie stared at Tracey. "You're really not joking, are ya?"
"What do you mean?" Tracey asked, opening her eyes to look at him. She was surprised by the scrutinizing stare that Charlie returned to her.
"We're not on a boat," he said.
"Don't be silly," Tracey said, waving a hand.
"Trace, don't you think that something might be wrong? I'm kinda worried..."
"Well don't be," she said, mustering a small smile. "We're going to get out of here, Charlie. We just need to find Mr. Porter, get off of this boat, then rejoin everyone else."
"We're not on a boat," he repeated.
"And what makes you think that?"
"Well, for starters, the ground's not even moving! You've just been stumblin' around this whole time." Charlie said.
"Really...?"
"And second," Charlie continued, "Rollo made me walk the whole way to my room. We didn't go anywhere near the ocean or any water for that matter!"
"I...," Tracey paused. "I need a moment," she finally sighed.
"You need a doctor, that's what you need," he grumbled in return, stalking to a covered chair in the corner of the room.
Tracey stared at the swaying floor in front of her. "That can't be right...," she muttered aloud.
"Huh?" Charlie said.
"Nothing." Tracey struggled to her feet. "Let's go. We still have a few doors to check in this hall—."
"Wait!" Charlie said, his voice lowering to a hiss.
"What is it?"
Charlie jumped from his seat and dashed to the opposite wall, putting his ear on the wall. "I hear something," he whispered. He listened for a few moments. "It sounds like someone calling for...help?"
"Let me hear," Tracey said, making her way to the wall. She leaned against the wall.
"Hello?" a man's voice could be faintly heard. The wall lightly thumped with what Tracey could only assume could be someone hitting it. "Hello, can anybody hear me? I'm trapped in here! Hello?"
"Ah...hello?" Tracey responded, her heart pounding.
"...hello? Can you help me?"
"Y-yes, just a moment!" Tracey turned to Charlie. "Charlie, it sounds like they're next door!"
"But there's no door there," Charlie said with a shrug. "This is the last door on this side of the hallway."
"Then there must be another hall," Tracey said. "Come on." She turned back to the wall. "We're coming!"
"Oh, thank goodness. I hope the constables are with you!"
"About that...," she muttered, turning away.
The two ventured out into the hall and back into the main hallway, following the walls (and occasionally halting for Tracey's pauses) before reaching the next small hall. "This is the last one," Charlie said, looking ahead at a door at the end of the main hallway.
"And there's only one door here!" Tracey triumphantly said, scrambling to the door and turning the knob. It didn't move. "Of course it's locked," she muttered, loudly sighing. "Let me check something," she said, leaning closer to the door. "Mr. Porter?" Tracey quietly called.
"...Tracey? Is that you?"
"It is!" she said. Tracey grinned, turning to Charlie.
"Is it Mr. Porter?" he said, an edge of excitement in his voice.
"I can't say for certain...but yes, it does sounds like him."
"Gears!" Charlie ran up to the door. "I can't wait to meet him!"
"After we unlock this door."
With trembling hands, Tracey pulled her hair pin out once more, attempting to place the tip into the keyhole. Unfortunately, her eyes still struggled to focus, and she wound up missing the door several times, instead jabbing at the surrounding wood. Charlie watched for a few attempts before politely taking the hair pin from Tracey's hand. "I can pick it, Trace," he said with a sympathetic smile.
Tracey hesitated for a moment, before sighing and stepping to the side, resigned. She leaned against the wall and watched as Charlie made quick work of the lock. "There we go!" he happily said, pulling the pin out, and handing it back to Tracey.
"I see your picking skills are still sharp," Tracey said with amusement as she placed the pin back into her hair.
"It's only been a few days since I needed it last," he replied with a shrug. "I'll leave ya to open the door," he added. "Since you've been searching for 'im all this time," Charlie said bashfully, with flushing cheeks, "I thought it'd be fitting that you're the first one he sees."
"We've all been searching for him, Charlie. I wouldn't have gotten this far without your help. You can open the door."
"It doesn't matter who opens the door, really!" Mr. Porter called from inside.
"Alright, I'll do it," Charlie said, swinging the door open.
Charlie and Tracey stepped inside, looking around the brightly lit room. There were modest arrangements inside: a bed, a small steam lamp, and a few books. And there, sitting on a chair by a wall was Mr. Porter.