Drannnng... Drannnnng... Drannng...
For what seemed like the hundredth time today, Rosemary tried to call the bureau. This time, however, she took a big inspiration, and didn't hang up. A voice started to talk from the phone speaker, a faint and ghostly voice.
| "Hello. This is the Bureau of Lost and Found. How can we help you ?" | |
| "Uhm.. Hello. I'm Rosemary." | |
| "Hello, Rosemary. Have you lost something dear to you ?" | |
| "Yes, I think. It's... it's a cat." | |
| "Please tell me more." | |
| "Right. Her name is... well, it doesn't really matter. She's a stray cat, about... one, one and a half years old." | |
| "Mhm." | |
| "She's a stray, yeah. So, she isn't really my cat. She came to see me often, but I haven't seen her in a week. I'm somewhat worried." | |
| "It's normal to be worried about this. We will do what we can to help you. Your case number is 17-846. Write it down, and don't forget it." | |
| "Okay. Seventeen... Eight... Four Six." | |
| "Next time you call, Simply say you want to consult case 17-846." | |
| "Okay." | |
| "Note that we will not call you if we find something. Please call regularly to inquire about this case." | |
| "Right. Thank you." | |
| "Thank you for calling us. Goodbye, Ms Rosemary." | |
| "Goodbye." |
She hung up. She sat down on the couch, and made a big sigh. She wasn't used to calls like that. She wasn't used to much, really.
Scarlatine was the name she had given to the cat. She knew it was an illness. She found the word beautiful, full of rhythm and belligerence, yet still somewhat delicate. She found it fit the cat itself.
Scarlatine had come near, but never close by. The only time she would let Rosemary approach was when eating. Rosemary didn't mind. Her being able to approach at all was a sign that the cat trusted her. That was all she needed. She couldn't pet her yet, though, as Scarlatine would catch her hand and nibble it.
She didn't mind either.
Thyme hung up. The activity at the bureau had been slow these last few days. This was welcome. A lost cat... Sadly, Rosemary had voluntarily ommited to tell a name. It was a stray, after all.
Cats weren't too hard. Thyme stood up and starting to move towards the great shelf. She dragged the step-ladder, and opened a new case file, which she labelled 17-846. She got to work.
She moved to the towering pile of news papers, and started rummaging, cutting up a sentence or a few words here and there, and putting them in the folder. Every paper in the pile was greatly cut up, none of them having more than two lines of legible text.
This wasn't going to be too difficult, but it would still take some time.
| "Hello ?" | |
| "Hello. This is Bureau of Lost and Found. How can we help you ?" | |
| "Ah, uh, I called for my cat- Right yeah. Case 17-" | |
| "-17-846; yes. Hello again, Rosemary." | |
| "... Uhm, yes. I was calling to know if you advanced on the case." | |
| "I have some leads. Could you tell me the name you gave her ? This would help a lot." | |
| "Ah ! Right, I didn't think it would matter. I call her Scarlatine." | |
| "Scarlatine... Like the disease ?" | |
| "Yes." | |
| "This does help tighten the scope. Hmm..." | |
| "Yes ?" | |
| "I think I've done all I could from the office. Next thing to do will be to search outside." | |
| "Ah, uhm..." | |
| "Yes ?" | |
| "Nevermind. Good luck, and thank you for the report." | |
| "Of course. Good day." |
Rosemary hung up again. She sighed again. Making calls like that was easier when she knew the other person. At least somewhat. Thyme stood up, and put on her coat. She went to the door, and stepped out into the sunlight.
Rosemary stood in front of the door leading out, debating whether or not she wanted to go out and help with the search. Probably not. But... it also felt wrong to stay here. She stopped herself from walking in circles, and she sat down on the couch and grabbed a nearby book. She tried to read.
The book was about a princess who was in love with a man she couldn't love, and so resigned to go live in a covent and leave behind all earthy pleasures. It was a classical of XVIIth century literature, but it was also a dense and tough book to read. She barely read a page before putting it back down.
She stood up and... sat back down. She held her head in her hands, and, quietly, whispered. "Please, give me strength."
Finally, she grabbed her coat, and prepared to go outside.
There was one problem. She didn't know what her interlocuter looked like. Hell, she didn't even know her name ! And she didn't know when she would go and search, nor where. Fleetingly, the idea of calling again to learn all of that entered her head, but she shut it down. It had been... not even ten minutes since she last called. She didn't want to be seen as pushy.
The phone rang. With a trembling hand, she unhooked it, and with an even shakier voice she answered.
| "H- Hello ?" | |
| "Ms Rosemary ? This is the Bureau of Lost and Found." | |
| "Ah, yes, uhm..." | |
| "Yes, I was about to exit and was wondering if you wanted to join me on the search." | |
| "!!" | |
| "Ms Rosemary ?" |
Oh. Oh wow, uh...
| "Yes, I think that would uhm, help our chances." | |
| "Very well. My name is Thyme. I will be dressed in a blue coat. Let's meet in half an hour at ▓▓▓▓▓ plaza." | |
| "Yes. yes, of course. I'll be in a uh, a white coat." | |
| "I'm sure. See you soon." | |
| "See you soon." |
Thyme hung the phone up. Well, now there's only one thing left to do. She put on her coat, blue with the color of the bureau, and exited.
The sky was clear, but a light fog enshrouded the sun in a veil of white light. It was also quite cold. A winter morning, like any other. She had been looking for this cat for only 3 days and already had a perimeter to search in. Two actually, but the other one was... She didn't want to think about the other one.
As she walked along the street, she picked up clues. Clues about various things. The moss on the sidewalk was a clue to the frequent humidity. The wrapping paper was a clue of someone littering. Her job at the bureau was full of clues. That was basically all it was : finding the right clues for the right things.
If you put the clues together in a network, you could get a good idea of common things that had happened. The wrapping paper was connected with the numerous bird shits because the birds would wait for crumbs and food to fall down. It was also connected with the nearby sewer mouth, because rats would come out and eat whatever junk they could find, which would make this place very cat friendly, though the smell of cat piss on some bins indicated it was already the territory of a cat. Maybe it was the one she was searching for. She doubted it, though. She was quite sure about her perimeter. Perimeters.
Rosemary was sitting on a flight of stairs when she saw a woman with short white hair in a long deep blue coat. She stood up and went to her.
"Are you Thyme ?
-Yes. You're Rosemary, then.
-Right. Uhm...
-Let's start looking."
Thyme starting walking at a brisk pace, with Rosemary following behind. She was looking around, searching for Scarlatine. "We're not here yet," cut Thyme. "We still have some distance to go on.
-Where is she anyway ?
-I believe she found shelter in a house. An abandoned house.
-Huh ?
-Or rather, she would've entered that house and not managed to exit."
They walked a bit in silence. They were in a residential neighbourhood, similar brick houses stretching on both sides. The houses were old, their windows grimy. The road was paved with old wore down stones. A light snow was falling, barely a a flake or two. It didn't hold. It never could, and so it slipped down the pavement and flowed along the street in an invisible stream.
Rosemary tried to look ahead, but the snow was just enough to reduce visibility to a thin veil that colored the world in grey and white. "We'll be arriving soon." To be honest with herself, Thyme doubted more and more that the cat was nearby. There was no clue here. None at all. She wondered if this was due to her companion. Either way, she would quickly search the house, then, with a shard of remorse, go to the other location.
The remorse wasn't because of the cat, it was because she would bring Rosemary there.
The house stood in front of them, windows shattered, howling with a cold breath. Around was an empty lot. Most of the houses here hadn't yet been built, or most had already fallen to ruin. A white blanket covered the black ruins of previous houses. The snow did hold.
Thyme advanced to the house, the cover crackling under her steps. She touched the door, and it fell in. The muted screams of the weather echoed in the withered halls. "Is... is she really in here ?
-I believe so." A twinge of guilt.
The two entered the house. The ashen floorboards, all separated from each other, creaked and lamented under their steps. They began to search. Thyme did not spend much time in each room, simply entering them, looking for a clue, then immediately exiting. Rosemary, unaware of clues, would enter and look under every furniture, in every nook and cranny, in every single place a cat could be, which was many, all the while calling for Scarlatine.
"I should have brought some food for her. She's probably hurt somewhere and weakened," said Rosemary as they were searching the upper floor bedroom. "No. She's not here." Rosemary looked at her silently. "She's not in this area, at least. Not in this house."
A silence, as the wind cried out in a stretched vowel.
"My other lead is on the other side of town. I didn't want to go there.
-Distance isn't a problem."
Thyme looked at Rosemary with a pained expression.
"I didn't want to have to go there."
This was the first thing Thyme said after a while. They were in the aerial subway, crossing the snowy city at full speed. The train was empty, and they were seating in front of one another. Rosemary tore her gaze away from the grey rooftops and looked at Thyme. "Hm ?"
"I didn't want to have to go there."
Thyme was looking at the floor. In her eyes, Rosemary could read guilt. "Why ?" "You'll see." She lifted her face and locked her eyes with Rosemary's. In them, she could read a kindness and the worry that came with it. It always happened like that. It was always the kind ones that fell the most.
They bothed turned back to the windows. The grey city was blending in with the white sky. "Rosemary, I..."
A mechanical voice stopped her. "Now arriving at ▓▓▓▓▓."
"I..."
"Tell me later. We have a cat to find !"
They exited the station. They were on a small terrace, on the top of a hill. Beneath them, an assemblage of dark pipes and black frames, in stark contrast with the sky. This was the industrial area of town. Immediately, without doing any searching, Thyme picked up on some clues. Clues about the cat, and no other.
"So she's around here ?
-Yes.
-What is she doing here ? There's nothing here. Nothing of interest for a cat.
-..."
They went down the slope, careful not to slip. Rosemary was going on ahead, with Thyme trailing behind a few steps. Though the rest of town had been very silent, here some industrial sounds rang out and filled the air with a rhythmic clang. They entered the forest of metal and started searching.
The frames stretched hight above, cutting a white shape with their black fangs. Smoke would come out from some pipes, a formless shadow in the sky. There was nobody around.
"I've never been around here
-This is a... a special area.
-How come ?
-I come here often. Somehow.
-...
-This place is...
-...
-This place is !"
❉
Thyme ran away, back toward the subway station. "Wait ! Thyme !" Rosemary followed, her steps clanging on the metallic floor. She was chasing the blue spot of Thyme's coat, surrounded by the vertical, tall, black trees of this industrial forest.
Thyme was running, ahead of her the white stain of Rosemary's coat, a sweet and tender blessing amidst this dark and cruel world, rushing past streaks of black. A soft stain that was fleeting away.
Loud, ominous clangs rang out from the back of the forest, getting louder. Thyme and Rosemary were running neck to neck. "It's all collapshing." "I'm not ready for the end..." "No one is. But..." "Our tears will melt the snow." "Our bodies will freeze at their own touch."
They were in front of the station. The clouds had parted, and the pale blue of the sky attempted to turn into a soft pink near the sun. "This place... is where she died.
-Scarlatine... died ?
-Yes. She came here to die alone.
-She died...
-This place is a place of death. She was ill, and she knew it."
Rosemary overlooked the valley. The dense mesh of black pipes had collapsed, now a cold and still array of metallic chaos. Snow was starting to pile up on it. She inhaled sharply, then stopped. The sting of winter was flaring up in her nose, and her throat was starting to tense up. Then, slowly, she exaled, watching the pale cloud of her breath in the cold rise up, lit up from behind with a golden glow.
"She... knew it.
-This place is a place of death, repeated Rosemary.
-Where things come to loose themselves.
-What... illness did she have ?
-Feline infectious peritonitis."
Rosemary felt the heat draw from her body. She felt empty inside, the life drained out of her. "She suffered a lot, hasn't she ?
-Sadly.
-This is... This isn't fair..."
But, the tears refused to flow. She could feel a headless anger well up within her. "This isn't fair ! She just... she just wanted to live. But she couldn't. She was not allowed to, and was only able to play too few rounds of a game rigged against her..." She gripped the handrail, her hands shaking. In her chest, she felt a large pit, one that swallowed her whole. "It's not fair ! Why couldn't she live ! Why !"
She collapsed on the guardrail. She realized she had been screaming, but felt no remorse for it. Then, a warm hand on her own. "It's not fair, but no one could have done anything of it. She died. You did all you could." Now, the tears were starting to flow. "If it makes you feel better, she was thinking of you before she died. She came here so you didn't have to see her suffer."
This was a measly comfort. Thyme knelt down besides Rosemary and enveloped her in an embrace. "You're not to blame here. No one is."
Rosemary held her tighter, letting the tears flow silently, her throat hurting. "And... and me."
Rosemary let go of Thyme, and stood back up. She looked back at the sun, now nearly hidden by the shadow of the earth. "I... I know. I know about me." Thyme couldn't look at Rosemary. She couldn't turn her face towards hers, she could only stand and look at the ground, the melted snow giving way to hard ice.
"This is a place of death. You said so yourself.
-So it is.
-You don't have to pretend. Nor to look away.
-But I can't look at you either.
-Then close your eyes, and take my hands."
In the darkness, Rosemary's hands were cold. Yet, their warmth was enough to thaw Thyme's tears and make them flow.
"I... Listen. I'm glad I did this with you. Even if you knew, even if you tried to make this swift and painless... I'm glad it was you. Even from behind the veil, I will never forget you."
"But behind the veil, you won't be able to remember anything !" Thyme cried out and suddenly opened her eyes. Her hands were empty. Some factory workers were going back home, up the snowy slope and into the station. Below, neatly organized factories were steaming white clouds.
Thyme grabbed the handrail and knelt down again, then she