Young Writers Society

Bo noticed Meg was waiting outside of the doorway, and he knew what it looked like to be sneaking and trying to keep quiet. It didn't take him more than a second to figure out what was going on.

Sarah must've gone in, and the others were probably in there, but the captain had to be too. Otherwise, Meg wouldn't have hesitated.

He sent Meg a questioning look and mouthed: "Are they in there?" to confirm.

Kirux understood.

At least, he sort of understood. Kirux hadn't really been in a situation where someone's finger against their lips meant anything incredibly important. It just meant someone was sleeping and you didn't want to wake them up. And since they were looking for Winter and Tim, and hadn't seen either one of them since the night before, he guessed that Megara had seen them sleeping in the room before they got there.

So Kirux didn't even see the mouthed conversation - he was already heading into the room, as softly as he possibly could.

He didn't see the cage, either. It just didn't really register. What did register, however, was Not!Sora. He could tell the difference now. He knew it was just the captain of the ship, and he knew that the captain thought he was a bad person. But Winnie said he wasn't one, and Megara had comforted him about that last night, too, so Kirux was just convinced the captain was really mistaken.

Kirux didn't know how to change his mind. He just hoped that he would soon, so Winnie wouldn't get worried. But what he did know was that everyone else had enjoyed his hugs that morning, so the captain would probably like a hug, too!

He went over, signed good morning, and promptly hugged the captain.


Over in the cage, Tim just stared.

The Captain was a bit thrown off guard by Kirux's arrival, and his hug. He sighed, a bit guilty as he led him into the cage. Kirux wasn't like the others. Not really in the same way, but he nonetheless had his own lessons to learn.... like, how to not give away your spying friends, because the next thing the Captain knew, he was staring right at Winter, Andrei, and Alex in the doorway.

"All right," he said. "Your friends are here. Come on in." Andrei looked angry and Alex just seemed tired. Still, he couldn't take any chances. He made handcuffs appear on each of them as he led them each into the cage.

He took a moment and stared at all of them smugly. No one spoke, but maybe they were too afraid. It had barely been a day, and it was already ruined. Well, maybe not. The Captain had gone about this all wrong.

"You're never going to get out of here," the Captain said. "Unless you stop being so selfish."

He realized then that they were likely to go around in circles for eternity. And considering they'd been so quick to uncover his little lair, it was likely he they wouldn't ever trust him again, and that this would all take them twice as long.

Unless he took them back. Back before the world had corrupted each one of them. He'd meet them again in another universe, to back before the universe had corrupted each of them. Not as a Captain, but as a train conductor. Maybe this time it would better.

Jack opened his eyes and found himself staring at unfamiliar ceiling while laying in unfamiliar bed. Which was moving. And wasn't really a bed - it was more like a glorified couch.

...What was going on?

He blinked.

"This is one weird nightmare," he said, rubbing his eyes as he sat up. He started to glance around the room (?) he was in, only to realize that the room was a train car. And then he realized his voice sounded all wrong.

His hands shot down to his throat.

"My-my voice!" he exclaimed. No, no, no. His voice was higher. Why was his voice higher? Was he sick? Drugged? Was this just a really realistic nightmare? He couldn't sing with his voice like this. He knew it was stupid to be focusing on that, but the threat of not being able to easily do duets with Lila was easier to handle than potentially being kidnapped.

He glanced down at himself. Catching a glimpse of unfamiliar yet weirdly familiar clothes - far too formal for him - he decided that getting changed was a good idea. There was a pseudo-closet nearby, so he headed towards that. When he opened the door, he found himself staring at an array of clothes that rang all the wrong bells: pristine pajamas, more versions of what he was wearing now, and a costume?

Jack hesitantly pulled it out and held it in front of the inside of the closet's door - there was a mirror on it. The outfit looked tight, like a gymnast's or some other kind of person who relied on a lot of movement. There was also a mask (?) hanging around the hanger. Jack very, very slowly lifted said mask up to investigate it, but then he saw his face in his reflection.

Or, rather, the face that wasn't his.

The boy looking back at him was only in his early teens - maybe fourteen at most. Jack had his nineteenth birthday last month. And while Jack did have black hair, the boy's hair was much longer. It was shoulder-length, at least.

He held the mask in front of his eyes.

And then promptly flung it away from him.

Because that mask made him look eerily similar to a live-action version of his favorite comic book character.

"Calm down, Jack," he reminded himself. "There has to be an explanation for this. Just ignore how you're a kid again, ignore how you look like Tim Drake, and ignore how you have a perfect replica of his Robin suit hanging in the closet of your weird train car."

He took a deep, deep breath.

And then he went back to searching for a better outfit.

A few minutes later, Jack managed to find something that was a little more him: a faded t-shirt, jeans, sneakers, and a hair tie he used to throw his hair into a ponytail.

He could smell food coming from a train car or two away - he hadn't realized how hungry he was until he could smell it. He was pretty sure he had just been hanging out with Lila before all of this, but maybe he had been unconscious for more time than he had thought-

The door opened.

A man entered the car. He looked familiar, but Jack couldn't figure out why. Wouldn't he remember someone with white hair, one gold and one green eye, and an outfit that made him look like he was some kind of mercenary?

Jack gulped.

The man was much taller than him right now. Jack wasn't normally that muscular, but still. He seemed like just the kind of man who would have kidnapped Jack in the first place-

Wait.

The man was around his (normal) age! He wasn't really a man. And now that he had been noticed, he didn't seem that intimidating, either. He was almost friendly. He had a cloth covering the bottom half of his face, but Jack could see how his eyes were turning up at the corners. And he was giving Jack a casual wave.

"...Hi?" Jack hesitantly said.

The boy signed something.

"I don't know sign language," he nervously admitted.

The boy thought for a moment, then pulled down the cloth covering his mouth and mouthed something.

Jack gave a sheepish smile. "I don't know how to read lips, either."

The boy frowned.

Then his face lit up, and he withdrew a notebook and a pencil from his pocket. "I'm Kirux," he wrote, showing Jack the notebook with a grin.

"Kirux?" he asked. Why did the name feel familiar?

Kirux nodded.

"I'm Jack," he offered. "Do you know where we are?"

Kirux shook his head.

...Weird.

Jack gestured at the other door - the one leading to the car in front of them. "I was going to get something to eat in the dining car. Want to come with me? We might be able to find something out there."

Kirux nodded, then hurried on over to Jack's side.

Jack went to open the door.

"Have we met before?" Kirux wrote, tilting his head to the side. "I feel like I know you."

Jack faltered.

"I don't know," he admitted. "I can't remember meeting, but this feels like it isn't the first time I've seen you."

Bo opened his eyes.

Or he would've if he'd had both eyes. But one of them wasn't opening? No. It was more than that. He didn't even feel like there was an eye on his left side to open.

His hand practically slapped his face feeling for an eyeball that wasn't there, and the moment he did, he had several unsettling and disturbing revelations.

1. He was missing an eyeball. There was a scar there. He could feel it. Why didn't he remember the pain?
2. His hands were a little bigger? No, his hands were the same size. But his arms were bigger. Holy canoli, he was ripped beyond belief.
3. He had tattoos of dragons on his arms and they looked sick.
4. He was in a train car. In a bed. He didn't know where he was or how he got here.
5. All of this was very terrifying.

Bo flung himself out of bed far too quickly for being as tall, confused, and one-eyed as he was. He stumbled into the wall, face sliding down to the glass of the window watching the unrecognizable, building-less landscape pass by.

He pulled away from the window, trying to come to terms with the body he was in. He looked frantically around the small room of the train car and found a mirror on top of a desk, which he practically leaped to, grabbing it off the desk and holding it tightly in his hands as he stared at his face.

Oh no.

He was old. But not like, an old man in a wheelchair old. It was as in, he looked like his father, old. And he had a beard? He felt all over his face, feeling the beard hair, the scar, the even darker than dark circles he normally had. Were those little black earrings? What on earth happened?

He held the mirror out at a distance, trying to scan himself. Why he didn't have a full-length mirror as a courtesy in this tiny little train room? He didn't know. But in any event, he found several new scars, and those were just ones he could see on his arms. He was afraid to look under his t-shirt. Frankly, he was afraid to change at all.

That and he was comfortable. Sweatpants and a t-shirt were all he really wanted in life anyway.

His head jerked up when he heard the faint sound of voices outside his door. He threw the mirror on the bed and ran to the door, throwing it open as he looked out and some white-haired, one-eyed dude and a guy around his age.

Wait. No. That wasn't right. Bo blinked slowly. He was nineteen, but he looked like some kind of thirty year old. That was so weird.

But... he did look bigger. Stronger. Maybe a little cooler. More like his dad, anyway. Maybe that was how people would see him! Like how people saw his dad.

He wasn't sure what to say or where to start.

"Uhhhhhhhhhh-" was his great introduction, followed by: "Hey, so, I just woke up here in this train, and I don't know how I got here, or why I look like this, or why - ooooooh my gosh, my voice sounds kind of different too?" He paused for just a second, staring down at himself in shock. "Right? Wait. No. Don't answer that, you wouldn't know. But anyways - I'm Bo, and I'm really, really confused and I want to go home. Who are you guys?"

He caught the smell of eggs and bacon. "And is there a free complimentary breakfast? 'Cause I'm hungry."

There was an enormous, one-eyed man standing in the next train car.

Jack, who was nowhere near the man's height normally and was now stuck in the body of a far-too-small thirteen (?) year old boy, felt absolutely terrified when he noticed how easily the man towered over him.

Jack was trying his best to act like he wasn't scared. He really was. But he was pretty sure he just turned a few shades later, and definitely gave a noticeable gulp.

Kirux looked equally disturbed, even if they were closer in height and intimidation.

But then the words registered.

Jack took a hesitant step out from behind Kirux.

"Hi," Jack said, trying to ignore how hard it was to keep his too-high voice from shaking. "I'm also really confused about how I got here or why I look this - I know this sounds impossible, but I'm not whoever I look like I am right now. I'm Jack, I'm nineteen, and why can't I make my voice any deeper?"

Behind him, Kirux sent him a quick, questioning glance. Then his gaze returned to Bo - never looking away from the scar over his eye as he pulled out the notebook again. He flipped the page where he had written his name and slowly held it up.

Then he paused, thought for a moment and wrote something else down.

He held up the revised note.

"I'm 17 18 19 old."

Bo looked between the two of them with ever growing confusion and concern.

“I’m supposed to be eighteen,” Bo said quietly, looking at Kirux’s confusing note. “Key word being ‘supposed’ to be. I don’t know what kind of crackhead drug dream or vivid nightmare this is that aged me up and made me look like I beat people up for a-“ his voice faltered, as he realized mid-sentence the cruel irony of his statement. His dad pretty much did that, didn’t he?

“... living.”

Alex woke with sunlight on her face and the Monkees theme song stuck in her head. She hadn't watched the show in forever, but she had played one of her old records last night, for old times sake. She'd loved them just two years earlier, and even if they weren't the Doors, they were good.

She sat up, realizing she was on a train. She opened the curtain on her window and saw the most brilliant autumn scene she'd ever seen. She wasn't sure how she'd gotten here but she'd figure that out as soon as she figured out the source of the smell wafting from down the hall. First, she saw herself in the mirror.

Alex realized she looked different, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it. Paler. Her hair was longer. It's not like she wore much makeup anyway, but she seemed tired and old. Her cheeks were gaunt, her skin pale. She sighed, noticing the wardrobe. There was her favorite black and blue striped turtleneck and a matching blue headband. She was unused to the ultra-long hair and wished she had a hair tie to put it back, but this would have to work for now. There was a pair of denim capris, and black shoes. She put it everything on, humming to herself as she did.

"Here we come, walking down the street..."

She sighed. She loved everything about the outfit, but still something about this wasn't quite right. Leslie Caron could wear this and look pretty. Carolyn could wear this and look pretty. Whatever, at least there wouldn't be a mirror in the hall.

She heard voices in the hall. There was a normal looking thirteen year old boy, an older man with one eye, and another who seemed around her age but had a cloth covering the bottom half of his face. They all seemed familiar, but Alex couldn't put her finger on where she could have possibly met them.

Before Alex could say anything, the group was met with an older brunette woman who was wearing clothes that seemed about twenty years out of fashion. She had a wedding ring on her finger, and of course she was gorgeous. She was humming an obscure Frank Sinatra song. Like Someone In Love of all things, and she had a glow on her face.

"Excuse me?" said the brunette woman. "I'm Sarah. Do you know... why we're here?"

Something's wrong. Megara shot up in bed, reaching for the dagger she kept tucked out of sight beside her bedframe only to find it wasn't there. Her pulse quickened as she quickly got up and looked around. Out the window, she discovered herself to be somewhere she'd never been before. Never a good sign. And the room was moving.

She didn't know how she got here or where 'here' was....Briar. This was Briar's fault, through and through. Memory loss, combined with-

She stumbled, cursing internally as the jolt of pain in her leg subsided slightly now that the weight was off. She lifted the edge of the nightgown - which wasn't hers - and stared at the ugly, jagged scar running over her right thigh. The leg itself was misshapen, like a chunk of the muscle had been torn out. It very much did look like that was exactly what happened.

She was going to dismember Briar.

There was a cane, a very ornate thing, leaning against the wall next to the bed. She didn't consider it for more than a second. That would be beyond degrading.

Taking a breath, she stood on the leg again. The pain wasn't so bad, she lied to herself, she could just walk normally. So she did. Good gods it was painful.

She made her way one agonizing step at a time to the closet and threw open the doors. Her brat of a sister could have at least left her something decent to wear.

There was only one rack of clothing, containing a few peculiar items. What caught her eye first was the armor. It was a set like none Megara had worn before. Simple, in that way that complicated things looked simple. She examined it closer to find that there were a number of places to keep knives, mostly throwing knives, and a brace built into the right leg. That part wasn't so subtle.

Real funny Briar.

She ignored that. There were other things there. Simple tunics, pants, even simpler dresses with extra pleats or gathers to make the skirts wide enough not to restrict movement. Practical. If she was Briar.

Megara's part of the job required something more...flashy.

Shoving the rest of the clothes out of the way, she stopped. Stared. Well, she had wished for flashy.

Ornate, elaborate beading done in metallic silver and gold thread covered the entirety of the dress from the hem of the skirt to the top of the bodice, where diamonds and jewels were arranged along the neckline. The dress was beautifully constructed, but maybe a little too flashy.

As she stared at it, she felt like she should know what it was. Where it was from. What it was for.

She shook her head and begrudgingly picked out one of the simple outfits.

Once she got changed, she headed into the hall toward the scent of food. Where there was food, there were people. People were exactly what she needed with now.

Thankfully, she didn't have to go far to find them.

Just as she left her room, another girl was leaving a room just across the hall. The other girl was several inches taller than Megara, with white hair done in some of the most elaborate braids Megara had ever seen. Without them, it looked like the girl's hair would reach past her hips. Her skin was pale, her stare vacant, unnerving.

The girl was dressed in furs and thick gloves, despite the fact that it wasn't particularly chilly on the...whatetever this place was. If anything, it was a little too warm.

"Hello," the girl greeted, looking and sounding like she was talking to someone behind Megara. A glance back proved that there was no such person.

Working through her confusion, Megara put on her signature smirk, "Good morning," she said, looking the other girl up and down, "I'm going to get something to eat, care to join me?" The girl struck her as someone who would be easy to manipulate, so Megara went for a friendly approach.

The girl smiled, still looking like she was looking right through Megara, "I am Winter," she said with a slight dip of her head, the turned to walk down the hall.

Megara rolled her eyes at Winter's retreating back and turned her attention to the gathered group a little further down the hall. She approached them with an easy smile and an energetic step that was increasingly difficult to make look natural when every step hurt more than the last.

"Good morning," she said to them, hoping they would reveal what was going on without too much prompting.

Kirux wasn't sure what was going on.

The last thing he remembered was spending time with Winnie. They had been heading out to the pretty flower field on the very edge of the city - they were going to have a picnic.

But then he woke up in a strange little room, wearing something totally different. Everything else was strange, too - he couldn't see as clearly as he normally did, and he kept running into people he thought he knew but couldn't remember the names of.

When four more people joined the group, he held up the same paper in his notebook: a sheet with his name and his age. He didn't know his age. Seventeen, eighteen, and nineteen all felt wrong. But everyone else seemed so sure of how old they were, and Kirux didn't want to stand out.

If he suddenly got his memories, he didn't want to disappoint the person he was before.

But now that he was met with the feeling that he had forgot something important again, Kirux was starting to get worried. He ran over everything he had to remember in his head. Even if he forgot everything else, he couldn't forget that Winnie was his sister, that she had given him his name, and that he loved her very, very much.

"Hi," Jack said to the girl who looked like she was from one of the books Winnie had given him: she had long blond hair and blue eyes, just like a princess. He sounded nervous. Kirux wondered how someone could look like someone else or look the wrong age, but Kirux also didn't remember a lot about the world. He'd have to ask Winnie, once he remembered where she was.

Jack turned to Sarah.

"I'm not sure," he admitted. "We all just woke up here, too."

There was a pause.

Then he gave a nervous little laugh that Kirux felt like he should remember but didn't. "I know this sounds crazy, but I'm...I'm not whoever I look like I am. My name's Jack. I'm nineteen, not..."

He glanced down.

"Thirteen?" he hesitantly said. He shook his head. "Whatever age I am, it doesn't matter. Does anyone else look like they're not supposed to?"

Kirux scribbled out another note.

"My eye is gold," he wrote, resisting the urge to add an exclamation point. He really wanted to, but Winnie said that might make him seem childish. "And I'm wearing weird clothes."

He held up his note.

Everyone else seemed confused about their ages. That made sense, because Sarah, for whatever reason, thought that she looked at least ten years older. She felt like herself and looked like herself, just older. But there wasn't a way that was possible, even if it was strange that wasn't sure exactly how she'd gotten here. She attributed to a bad lighting, and even if she dressed in her usual outfit of saddle shoes, a mid-length gray woolen skirt, red sweater, and curled hair, she couldn't escape the feeling that these clothes were unbecoming. They didn't fit.

Her ring looked different too, much more expensive than she knew Jay could afford. She wasn't sure, but it seemed like a real silver band. When Jay had proposed, he'd been upfront about the fact that it was only a fake diamond and he'd bought the ring cheaply. One day, when he had enough money, he'd buy her a real one. Sarah briefly considered the idea that he'd surprised her, but she'd remember if he had.

And it's not like they had that kind of money. Even if Jay was working steadily, Adam had still only just turned one and needed a lot care. Even then Sarah wanted another. One they'd be prepared for this time.

She was struck by the others, but by the blonde girl in particular. She seemed sweet, but something seemed off. Sarah had no idea what it was about her.

"I'm twenty-one," Sarah said. "I know I look I'm at least thirty-five. But I swear, I'm twenty-one." She laughed nervously. "Should we eat?"

"I'm seventeen," the blonde added. "I look older than too, don't I?"

"I was with my husband and our son," Sarah said. "I don't know I ended up here."

Just then, the smell of breakfast -- eggs, pancakes and bacon? -- got stronger. "I'm going to eat," Sarah said. She was hungry, and in spite of the circumstances, thrilled that food would be ready without her having to cook it.

The dining car was busy. There were tall windows that showed the beautiful autumn scene outside. She saw a table set for seven. There were nametags, like at a wedding. She found hers.

"Sarah Whitman." She sat. Beside her to her right was "Alexandra Altman". Why did that name make the hairs on the back of her neck stand up? As she waited for the others to arrive, her eyes drifted to a single passenger sitting in one of the booths. He was older, around thirty. He wasn't handsome perse, but he looked good in a suit and there was something about his eyes that

She was sure she'd never seen this man before, but something about him was familiar. Like the others in the hallway. He was a reading a newspaper. "NIXON WINS REPUBLICAN NOMINATION" said the headline. But it was only 1959, were they getting ready for the election that far in advance? She wasn't even aware Nixon was for sure running, even though she'd heard rumors.

The man closed the paper and smiled at her. Then, the waitress came, poured more coffee, and he now his focus was elsewhere. Why did he seem so familiar? She shrugged it off and waited for her table guests to arrive.

Jack followed Sarah to the dining car. He felt uneasy, but he couldn't put his finger on why - this entire situation was strange, but this felt different. Like the body of the boy he was supposed to be was picking up on something Jack couldn't.

As he sat down at a seat with a nametag that said "Jackson Greene" on it, Jack's gaze wandered over to a booth a short distance away.

There were two people sitting there. One of them was just a little boy - he couldn't have been older than ten. The other was a boy in his late teens, with a strange white streak in his hair. The younger was wearing a uniform that Jack thought he should recognize, but just couldn't no matter how hard he tried to think about it.

Why did they both feel so familiar?

Kirux sat down behind him. His nametag just said a simple "Kirux" without any last name. Jack didn't question it. He was too busy watching how Kirux was staring a group crowded into a booth: there was a man with long, scarlet hair, a man with strange blue hair, a boy with blond hair, and a girl with black hair.

The four were louder than the two boys - boys that had to be brothers from how close they were - were, but it wasn't in an obnoxious way. It made Jack long for something he shouldn't have been longing for. His family might not have always had been there for him, but Lila was.

So why was his heart aching now?

Bo was trying to keep up with everything. Jack. Kirux. Sarah. Two - no, three more girls. Everyone seemed to be older or younger than they were supposed to be, and in the wrong clothes, wrong everything. No one seemed to know what was going on.

But going to breakfast. That was something he could focus on.

He was starving. His stomach felt hollow and it wheezed and whined as they walked over into the dining car.

He found his nametag. "Andrei Petrov," like how his nametags always looked in school, except fancier. It looked like he was seated next to Alexandra. He didn't know why there were assigned seats, but he guessed it made sense? It was a dream, after all, right?

It was just that something felt off about everything. Like he'd had this dream before, and maybe it had a different ending. It was like deja vu, except it felt icky, foreboding, and like there was some kind of secret he didn't know about.

"So how's this work? Are there like, menus? Do we just wait? Is it buffet style?"

He swore he wasn't trying to be impatient. He just was really hungry. He felt like he hadn't eaten in days.

He sat down in his seat and looked around the dining car. Everyone else seemed to be doing the same. There were a few interesting looking folks who almost looked like they were snatched out of movies or something, but he couldn't really put his finger on anything. That was until he spotted a kid sitting in the far back in a booth by himself, in a suit far too big for himself.

There was a feeling he couldn't identify that sprung up when he saw him. He tried to find a word for it. Was it nerves? Fear? Concern? Sadness? Excitement? None of those words felt right, but the kid looked really familiar for some reason.

He shook his head. Oh, whatever. He'd just focus on food instead.

Something about Andrei made Alex nervous though she wasn't quite sure why. But before she had time to ponder it, his question about food was met with a waitress. She was beautiful, and had long strawberry-blonde hair, blue eyes and a wide smile. She seemed familiar too. Really familiar. She'd met this woman before. She was sure of it. No, she couldn't have. Her makeup and hair was perfect, and smelled like lavender. Was it her perfume?

"I'm Margaret, and I'll be your server today," she said. "Order exactly what your heart desires." Margaret. The name wasn't ringing any bells.

She turned to Alex first.

"Do you have-" Alex began.

"I said order whatever your heart desires. There's nothing we can't make."

Alex took a deep breath and smiled as she began to imagine it. "Oatmeal. With strawberries. Sliced. And candied pecans! Hot buttered toast. White, not wheat. Two sausage patties. And a big hot mug of English Breakfast tea."

"You've got it," Margaret said, before turning to Sarah. She ordered waffles with maple syrup, well done bacon, orange juice, and coffee. Alex found herself slightly envious, because that sounded really good too. But she was looking forward to her oatmeal. Her mother had used to make it for her like that, a lifetime ago.

As everyone else ordered, Alex suddenly found her eyes drifting to a passenger sitting at the bar. He was wearing blue shirt, a beige suit jacket, and black pants. It was outfit the Professor would have worn on Gilligan's Island, if he'd ever had a chance to change his clothes on the show. Except this man was much more handsome, and Russell Johnson was a handsome man.

No, this man was something different. Dark hair, blue eyes, and a perfect face. He drank a cup of coffee, and seemed lost in thought. Just then, he stood up, and she got a good glimpse of him before he disappeared from the dining car.

Wow.

She knew she probably wouldn't see him again, but she really hoped she did. Even if he was probably here with his wife. There was no way someone as handsome as him wasn't married.

She tried to compose herself and hide the redness in her cheeks as she turned back to the table. She looked out of the corner of her eye to make sure. The man was gone. Was he even real?

Jack knew he should have been taking advantage of the free food, but he couldn't shake his unease. He just ordered the first thing that came to mind: a chocolate chip pancake. It wasn't anything special. In fact, it was what he had for breakfast the day before.

Beside him, Kirux ordered a vast array of food. It wasn't meant to be buffet style, but it seemed like Kirux wanted to make it that way - Jack lost track of everything he ordered.

"Something feels wrong," Jack muttered. It was like the Lotus Hotel. It was perfect to the point of being too perfect - save for their bodies being different. He didn't think time was moving slower here compared to the rest of the world. It wasn't like what he had just read in the book Lila lent him.

But still.

His body was telling him he needed to be careful, and something told him this strange unfamiliar-yet-familiar body was meant to be trusted.