Plagium (Keepers Book 1)

Chapter 24 - In Which Tracey Higgenbottom Hits Rock Bottom

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.