“You might survive without food but not without water, Remo.” There was no mirror in the bathroom, not that I truly wanted a glimpse of my face.
When I tucked the towel on the side of the sink, Remo pushed off the doorframe and walked to the still gushing water. I half expected him to turn off the tap and stride right back out, but he leaned over and placed his lips directly underneath it. I searched the bathroom for a container in case the pipes ran dry but abandoned my search because we’d undoubtedly be forced out of this world and into a new one by the time that happened.
I went back toward the window and surveyed the land carpeted with mist. “You think the snakes were the torment part of this world, and now we’re safe?” I asked Remo as he came to stand beside me.
“No. In every cell, there’s been two disruptive factors. In the first one, there was no food and everything was fake except the wolves.”
“And my apple.”
He slanted me a look. “And your apple. In the skyscraper city, there were deceptions and then the earthquake. In the inn, there was the peach pie and then the tornado.”
“Do you think it’s a way to chase us to the next world and keep up the torture?”
He bobbed his head noncommittally.
What would happen if we stayed on the train without hopping out? Would it take us to the next world without inflicting any horror and pain? And then I wondered about something else . . . “What do you think happens if we stay after the second event? Do you think the cell quiets and rebuilds?”
“I don’t know.”
“And what about the apple? You saw the red one downstairs? It’s in every world.”
“Yeah, I noticed it, but I have no clue what it does.”
“Maybe we should try eating it.”
“Maybe we shouldn’t.”
“What if it’s our ticket out of here?”
“What if it’s a trigger?”
“For what?”
“Who knows? A third form of torture.” He returned his gaze to the wisps of mist glittering like stardust under the white sky. “My gut says to steer clear of it. Think you can do that?”
Even though I wasn’t a fan of his cynicism, I nodded.
“Good. Now, what would you like to do?”
“Crawl into that bed over there and hide until someone breaks us out of here.”
“By someone, you meanme?”
“No. I mean someone back home.”
Remo’s gaze flicked to the sky as though on the lookout for a flitting liberator, then to the tree across from us. “There are no spirals around thecalimborshere.”
He was right. In Neverra, stairs wrapped around the trunks like lianas. “Maybe all the stairs are indoors.”
“Maybe.” He backed up toward the front door. “I’ll go see what I can find.”
“Alone?”
“You wanted to rest.”
I eyed the bed. Even though it called to me, it wouldn’t be fair to let him venture off on his own. “What song doesn’t make your ears bleed?”
His eyes flashed. I’d have said with relief but doubted Remo feared traipsing around alone. “How’s your oldies repertoire?”
