A backpack flap is open, a windy day, blistering. A page slips out of the pack and flies away. A silver-haired girl looks behind her, startled. She stops to set her bag down, inside are many more papers folded up, rolled up, crumpled up, writings, maps, drawings. She clips the bag shut again and looks over to her right. The sky is burdened with low and grey clouds, picking up speed, making a lot of noise. Ahead of her, a gravel path that runs along the edge of a quarry.
The girl continues to follow the path, eventually reaching the entrance to the quarry. She holds her arms up, twisting and stretching, limbering up as she walks. The wind continues to pick up.
// Journal entry
1274 Meters - The sky wasn’t very friendly looking. Somehow it didn’t rain. I lost something but I won’t figure out what it was until I need it.
// End journal entry
She tries to write the next word, but the pen is out of ink. Disappointed, she folds the journal back up and puts it back into her bag. Behind her are a pile of tools. A shovel, pickaxe, sledgehammer, measuring wheel. Her clothes are stained with dirt and dust. A wheelbarrow filled with rocks and dirt. She gets up and dusts herself off and holds back a sneeze. A single lantern illuminates the area around her. She lifts her head up to look at the tunnel’s opening.
// Earlier journal entry
12 Meters - Information is valuable. Information is provided to keep others from harm. Information is the beginning and the end.
The information here pertains to the tunnel at the northern end of Foamfield quarry.
My name is Mint S. Decot, I'm 23 years old, and as far as I know, the only inhabitant of Foamfield. I don't know how long it'll be before I also fade into the fabric.
// End journal entry
Mint, at the end of the tunnel, sits down with a pained face. Tears shakily make their way down her face. Teardrops onto the stone tunnel floor. The only sound you can hear. She wipes her nose on her sleeve. She closes her eyes and looks up, takes a deep breath in, and a very long exhale. A memory, like a smell, like a smokescreen, overwhelming her.
// Flashback
“I’ll find yooouuu!!” a child with silver hair and a devious smile playfully skips between two shipping containers. The sounds of waves and seagulls take the air. She spots an open container and looks inside: A tarp, wooden pallets, some garbage. She looks around behind the container, nothing. She turns her head to another cargo container, she swears she saw the door just barely moving. She tiptoes over to the door, careful not to make a noise. She’ll really scare her this time!
The air is suddenly silent. The seagulls and waves, the slight breeze, the highway behind her, all quiet. Fuchsia light and goosebumps, teeth clenching and-- ow.
Mint rips a piece of gauze with her teeth and wraps it around her blistered and bruised hands. Her hands are shaking, fatigued from the motions. The tunnel was extended about thirty feet.