That same sniff also detected a foul odor. It smelled similarly to what he’d caught traces of in the atrium, but was much stronger. King rounded the corner in the next chamber slowly. The room was circular, surrounded by columns and tall statues similar to those in the atrium.

Detecting no movement or sound within the room, King moved inside. At the center of the room were several wooden tables. They looked old, but far from ancient. The dirty floor was covered in scuff marks. A glint of something shiny caught his attention. He squatted down and picked the object up.

Broken glass.

Modern glass.

Then he saw more. Food wrappers. Discarded water bottles. A pile of discarded tea. Definitely Ridley. The man loved fresh tea. King knelt by the tea. It looked wet, but a quick touch revealed it was a dry and flaky mass. King kicked the tea, breaking it open and felt the core. Bone dry. Ridley had been gone for some time.

“Damnit,” King whispered.

A larger piece of paper caught his attention. It looked like it had fallen out of a notebook and slid beneath one of the tables, perhaps forgotten in a rush to leave. He picked it up and turned it over. The page had handwritten notes. King recognized Ridley’s handwriting. At the top of the page was written, WHO IS HE???

Below that was a series of quick chicken scratch notes. He was able to pick out a word here and there: ancient, god, historical figures, human (?), lost, the bell, dimension, Hercules(?).

King paused. Ridley was trying to identify Alexander. With the name Hercules on this page, he seemed to be doing a fairly good job. Part of King wished more was revealed on the page, and another part didn’t want the answers. King folded the piece of paper and placed it in his pocket. After someone deciphered Ridley’s handwriting he might glean more from the page.

He stood and looked down at the tabletop. What he saw twisted his stomach and locked his feet to the ground. Part of him was thrilled because it meant he was on the right track. But the shattered remains of Fiona’s insulin pump also filled him with dread. When did it break? If it happened days ago she could already be close to death. How did it break? The thing looked smashed. If she had been wearing it when this happened, she could be seriously injured and hyperglycemic. King picked up the fractured device and squeezed it, turning his knuckles white. He was so close.

An echoed sound rolled into the chamber. Distant and organic. A high-pitched whine. Had something heard him? And if so, what was it? The sound came again. King strained to hear it clearly.

It sounded like a girl.