2003
“Isaac, please put your book away so you know what’s going on,” Mrs. Gerry disrupted her lecture about the surrounding glass displays protecting ancient artwork, clothing, and tools that belonged to the indigenous tribes of Alaska. For a moment, sound seemed to drain from the place as every student and chaperone, along with the headache-inducing blurry grey mimics Isaac saw beside them all, turned to look at the boy the teacher had addressed.
At the rear of the group, Isaac was utterly failing to conceal the fact that he was ignoring her and giving the bulk of his attention to the latest Harry Potter novel. When he heard his name, his eyes widened, and his face turned bright red. The fluorescent lights in the Anchorage Museum of art, history, and science rebounded off of the tile floor, adding to the pain in his skull and seeming to intensify the group’s stares.
I just want to go home, Isaac thought.
Melisa Falcone, a bespectacled woman in a black and blue denim outfit, gave the others a tense smile as she gently took the book from her son’s hand and placed it in her over-sized purse. He couldn’t hold back a small sneeze when her brown-blonde ponytail fell over her shoulder while she leaned over and inadvertently brushed across his face.
It was the second time on this pre-holiday field trip that Isaac had been spoken to by the teacher—though, she couldn’t deny the first time hadn’t really been his fault. Another boy named Donny Grigoryan, who had joined the class a few months previously when his family relocated to the area, had an odd fascination with the often silent Isaac; as soon as they boarded the bus from school to the museum, Donny set about making silly faces and sounds in an attempt to get him to laugh, or really make any sort of noise in response. Melisa, who had joined as a chaperone for both boys as Mr. and Mrs. Grigoryan were unavailable, had warned them repeatedly ahead of time to behave themselves.
Finally, Donny got Isaac to break and tell him to shut up through a barely stifled giggle. The result had been Mrs. Gerry ordering Donny to the front of the group where she could monitor him. Barely thirty minutes had passed before she then caught Isaac reading his book instead of learning about the state he lived in.
As the teacher continued her lecture, the area around them started to warp and dissolve, the walls and floors melting into nothingness, though no one seemed to notice.
[This isn’t right… What’s happening? Whatever’s causing it smells awful, what is that…?]
The still-unaware group rematerialised over an hour later in a café built into a corner of the museum’s central atrium, with several round tables arranged nearby. Plastic carts loaded with identical brown paper bags containing bologna and cheese sandwiches, red apples, and small cartons of milk that had been provided by their school. A three-tiered marble fountain full of clear water that glittered from the wishful coins tossed to the bottom over the years.
“Time for lunch everyone!” Ms. Gerry said cheerfully. Children and chaperones alike gave a small sigh of relief.
Isaac grabbed one of the paper bags and found a seat as far away from his classmates as possible. Melisa joined shortly after and placed the boy’s book next to his sandwich.
“Thanks, Mom,” Isaac said quietly as he opened the book with one hand, using the other to eat his food. From the corner of his eye, he could see Donny heading his way from the lunch cart. Halfway to his destination, a pair of larger boys stepped in his path on the way to their seats.
“Move, stupid,” one of them grunted as they shoved Donny’s shoulder.
“Watch where I’m walking, jerk!” Donny growled as he pushed back. The antagonist’s accomplice grabbed both of Donny’s arms while the first prepared to throw several punches his way.
“Let him go!” Ms. Gerry half-shouted as she moved between the crowded tables to stop the fight.
Without much thought, Isaac jumped from his seat with his book still in hand and made it to the scene first, as he was closer to begin with. Once he was within a comfortable range for his weak arms, he launched the novel at the first boy’s head, preventing him from pulverising Donny. As thanks, their newly freed initial target ducked down to grab Isaac’s book and move away from the bullies to join him.
The pair were just beginning to shift their attention to Isaac when Melisa and Ms. Gerry arrived to separate them. The former guided Isaac and Donny to their table.
In what seemed to Isaac like the blink of an eye, the group had returned to order. An unfamiliar pale, dark-haired woman approached from a nearby exhibit.
“Is everyone okay?” she asked. Melisa and the boys all looked up.
“Oh hello, Mrs. Darcey, what are you doing here?” Melisa greeted.
“I found a substitute for the day and felt an urge to learn more about this place, as I only recently arrived, and it appears I shall be here for quite a while,” Mrs. Darcey said pointedly, as if something was keeping her somewhere she’d rather not be. Though she was facing Melisa, her dark eyes hardly seemed to move away from Isaac.
“And who is this?” Mrs. Darcey questioned. Isaac looked up, uncertain if she was addressing the question to him or his mother. To spare him some anxiety, Melisa spoke up.
“This is my little boy Isaac, and next to him is his friend Donny,” she said as she put a hand on her son’s shoulder. “Boys, this is Mrs. Darcey, the new science teacher at the high school where I work.”
Isaac gave a wordless nod and a weak wave. Uncharacteristically, Donny did the same without comment.
“Mrs. Falcone, I recently acquired a document in my travels that a student of history such as yourself may find interesting,” Mrs. Darcey commented. “I would be most grateful for your invitation to discuss it during school tomorrow.”
Once more the room began to swirl and fade into nothingness, with nothing but a foul stench that almost no one present could detect; neither the children, their parents, nor Mrs. Gerry seemed to notice the shifting scene. Mrs. Darcey glanced around the room momentarily as if aware of the anomaly, then shifted her gaze back to the boys. As the museum atrium became a dark void once more, she took a few slow steps away until she vanished.
[This must be the sour odour L’æon mentioned. Whoever is puncturing the Walls must be nearby.]
The room reassembled itself with a few minutes left before the class was scheduled to resume their guided tour of the museum. Isaac stood alone over the edge of the atrium’s fountain, admiring the glittering coins in the water through squinting eyes.
As Isaac dug one of two allegedly lucky half-dollar coins from his pocket, he looked down at the fantasy novel in his other hand.
I wish I could do magic, Isaac thought as he tossed the coin into the water, sending shock waves through its clear depths.