The cool tingle of the strange substance danced across his chin, cheeks, forehead, until Cinn’s hair was lightly tugged upwards by the rising liquid. He knew when the chamber had reached capacity—his feet were lifted off the ground.
He was floating.
And then, he wasflying,engulfed in a shimmering dance of bright colours that penetrated his closed eyelids. Weightless, untethered to time and space, the fabric of reality folding and wrapping around his form.
For a fleeting moment, he questioned whether he even existed at all, fearing he may have even shadowslipped, as the familiar sensation of disassociation washed over him.
Then, he wasn’t floating, or flying, but falling,dropping, although not necessarilydownwards, hurtling towardssomething.
The multicoloured lights converged, collapsing into a brilliant point of focus, and Cinn hurtled through a tunnel of sorts, until the lights faded and he was left with the black of his closed eyes.
The Aerofluid relinquished its firm hold on him, gently releasing Cinn into the new space. Once his body felt the chill of air rather than liquid, he tentatively peeled his eyes open.
Cinn inhaled the biggest breath of air he’d ever taken.
Then, an awful sense of vertigo consumed him when he realised he wasn’t actually standing anymore, rather, lying down horizontally.
Slightly rusty corrugated metal was the first thing Cinn saw, then, as his vision cleared, a series of overhead shelves, each holding boxes and containers, came into focus. The scent of industrial materials and a hint of engine oil permeated the air.
He sat up soquickly, his head swam.
He was in a van. An enormous van.
Secured crates were dotted in between what could only be described as bathtubs, each connected to the van by thick metal tubing. Uniformed people ran up and down the centre aisle, barking orders. What did he do now?
A towel hit his face.
“Get dressed,” Darcy’s voice instructed him.
Using the towel to hide as much of himself as possible, he asked, “Into what?”
She dumped a pile of navy fabric on the crate next to him. “Congratulations. You’ve been promoted into the gendarmerie for the day. I hope you’re shoe size nine.”
“How did you beat me here?” Cinn said to her fully clothed self, frowning. Even her hair, although damp, looked immaculate, tied back in a neat ponytail. “And why am I now in an actual bathtub?”
“The journey timings are very unpredictable. And the portable displacement systems have to be flat for space-saving purposes.”
“And where’s Julien?” Cinn would rather he didn’t end up stark naked in front of him, all things considered. However, Darcy had seen someone more important than him, and left to chase them down the van’s interior.
After drying and changing—facing the van’s wall—Cinn pushed past the throngs of people to access the van’s rear door, open to the world, with a ramp allowing access to a paved surface.
The van’s interior sprawled out into a small, circular, makeshift base: more supply crates, workbenches, chunky medical kits, a massive radio antenna. A couple of grainy screens connected to humming power generators displaying wavy lines of data. A collection of metal caches, some of them propped open to reveal strange looking devices that could only be weapons.
Nobody glanced at Cinn, standing in the middle of the organised chaos, not even once. He was a ghost, floating over the whole scene, watching down from above.
What on earth did he do now?
“Hey,” said a voice, and a hand pressed into the small of his back.
Cinn couldn’t deny the cascade of relief that coursed through him when he turned to find Julien’s face filling his vision, offering him a tight, dimpled smile.
“Hey.” His breathy reply probably gave his elation away. If it didn’t, the way Cinn grabbed the sleeve of Julien’s navy blue shirt definitely did.
“Enjoy the journey?” Julien said, then smirked. “Or was it as traumatic as Auri’s elevators?”
“Better than the elevators. Aside from the whole having-to-be-naked bit.”
“Oui, I’m sad I missed that,” Julien said, eyes twinkling. “If only I was a few minutes faster, eh?”
