Chapter 2

  “What do you mean you have no options other than air? You are a travel agency for Christ’s sake!”

  Despite his best efforts, it seemed like “Finding Utopia” had no other method of transportation than by plane. Which, to Mark, was both astonishing and frustrating. They wouldn’t even try to find trains or buses that were on the freaking continent.

  The woman from the day before continued to speak, having been on the call for half an hour now. “Mr. Solomon, as I said, we are happy to assist you with finding other options once you enter a region we have a branch set up in.”

  Mark threw his free hand up into the air in anger. Taking a deep breath to calm his mind, he spoke into the phone, “How does a company not have any connections in mainland Europe?”

  Seemingly hesitatingly, the lady spoke, “Well, we do have one in Windermere, England. It’s a bit inconvenient to get to, though. It’s possible to get a ferry to the location.” Brightening slightly, her voice picked up a tone of excitement, “We also have an included short excursion to a local attraction that may interest you; it has some interesting myths around it.”

  Hearing that he wouldn’t need to take a step onto a plane, his interest was reinvigorated. Raising a brow, he asked one question he had been thinking about, “Why do I have to go to one of your offices directly? Can’t we just do this all online?”

  “Ah, we like to meet our prospective clients before they embark on their adventure, it helps us create a proper journey that you will never forget. It’s much easier in person, so the owner made it a company policy,” she said. “If you decide that this is something you would like to continue with, just arrive at this address.”

  Mark heard a ding from his email, and as stated, it had the address of an office building in it. It was strange that a travel agency had an office located in such a small town, especially in England, where most money revolved around London.

  Wrapping up the call with the woman on the other end, he looked at the address displayed on the computer screen. Sighing, he was just about to close the tab to think harder about it later when a knock at the door distracted him.

  It was his supervisor, he was a short balding man from Scotland who had been in the business for about two decades longer than Mark, “Hey Mark, sorry to drop in like this, but FIOD is investigating one of your clients for fraud.”

  “What?!” Mark shot out of his chair, his surprise and concern evident. “Who?!”

  His boss just shrugged, “I don’t know, they wouldn’t say, although they assured me that you weren’t under any suspicion, but according to the law, you have to take a few weeks' break.” His boss glanced around, looking for someone watching, and leaned forward with a little grin, “I know you don’t need it, but it’s basically a paid vacation.” Stepping back to the door, the man just waved behind himself before leaving the room, “Go take a break, maybe go travel somewhere.”

  With the door once again closed, Mark was left standing in the middle of the room, his heart still pounding from his panic and its consequentially extinguished just as fast as it came. Sitting back down in his chair, its springs squeaked as he probably sat down a bit too hard.

  Looking back to the address on screen, he quietly spoke aloud, “Well, that makes this easy.”

  First stop, Windermere, England. Destination: Utopia.

  #

  Ferries were better than planes, but not by much.

  Mark had some pretty strong sea sickness, and the salty spray of the ocean was not helping his recent breakfast stay down.

  While this ferry was larger than most that traveled through the English Channel and even some further north in the North Sea, the fall air brought strong waves and currents, pushing and pulling at the boat beneath his feet.

  The trip was a seven-hour boat ride, with it dropping him off in London. Fortunately, the Ferry could carry some cars, and while it was for a steeper price than a normal ticket, he really had no concern on the money side of things.

  By the time they had reached England, he couldn’t help but feel relief. Still wasn’t nearly as bad as a plane. Mark thought.

  Having been to London a few times, Mark was happy when he pulled onto the motorway, and it was mostly empty, with it only being noon, and everyone was still working for the most part.

  With a five-hour drive ahead, Mark just focused on the road and played his music to make the drive go by faster.

  The english country side is a unique one, it's green and lush, but the plants had a more rugged appearance to them. After leaving the vacinities of the larger cities, the road became much smaller. Instead of urban development, the countryside was almost entirely patchwork fields and small villages in the distance. It was a bit of an overcast day, but that mattered little to Mark.

  By the time that he had made it to Windermere, the sun had begun to set, and he assumed the travel agency would be closed for the evening, choosing to stop by a small pub. The little restaurant was run by an old man who had a strong North English accent. “Ello there!” the man called cheerfully, “What’ll you’ll be eat’n t’neet?”

  Setting down the menu, which was covered in the pictures of many meals and snacks, Mark decided to roll with his favorite option, chef’s choice. Mark said, “Whatever is your favorite, please.”

  In return, the host winked, “That’d be the fish’n chips.”

  About thirty minutes later, a steaming plate arrived, some fish that kinda looked like haddock, and a pile of freshly made fries.

  Digging in, he enjoyed the meal before paying and leaving. It had been a long, long day, and after he checked in at a small hotel, Jack took only the briefest amount of time to get ready for bed and drifted off moments after hitting the sack.

  #

  The office in which Finding Utopia operated was quaint, unlike what he expected; it had an old tutor-style feel to it. It probably had only a few rooms for the employees to work from and a well-maintained garden out front.

  Entering the building, Mark looked around the lobby area, or what he assumed it was used for. In reality, it was similar to a living room, just with taller ceilings and stone tile flooring. This isn’t what I was expecting. He thought to himself.

  Walking up to the blonde woman behind the counter, he addressed her, “Hi, I am here to meet in person for a possible trip.”

  For a moment, the woman looked at him with an evaluating stare; apparently, she saw something she liked as her face lit up with a brightness few people had. “Ah, lovely to meet you, Mr. Solomon, we have been waiting for you!”

  Recognizing her voice as the one over the phone, he questioned her, “Are you who I have been calling with.” It would only make sense.

  With a laugh, she shook her head, “Nope! You probably were talking with one of my sisters, my name is Shelvanna.” She shrugged, “Most of my family tends to work in this business, family trade, I guess.” She leaned forward conspiratorially and, with a wink, stage-whispered. “Some might even call it our speciality.” Backing up, she continued at a normal volume, “Anyways, I will go let the travel agent know you are here. I hope you find your Utopia.”

  For whatever reason, her words felt tinged with a bit of ominousness, but he quickly dismissed it as nerves. Afterall, he had come quite a long way; hopefully, this lived up to everything they said it would be. Otherwise, this would have been a waste, and he would be returning to a quiet house with nothing to show for it.

  Mark sat down in a nearby chair. Don’t worry, Lisa, I am not giving up just yet—still plenty of places to visit here afterall.

  Coming back into the room several minutes later, Shelvanna came out of a hallway with a tall, willowy man. Most predominantly, a large pair of glasses sat perched upon his nose, making his eyes look a bit larger than they actually were. Wearing a longcoat that stretched to his shins, his lower body was obscured from sight. From what Mark could tell, his ‘agent’ was barely older than himself.

  Speaking in a surprisingly smooth voice, his new travel agent addressed Mark, “Well, hello there, friend! It’s absolutely wonderful to see another face; this branch rarely gets customers or people for me to help. You may call me Nobetu.”

  Shaking hands with Nobetu, he noticed the man winced slightly, looking down at his own hand. Mark saw the engagement ring that he had bought for Lisa a few days before the crash; it was a simple iron band. Lisa didn’t want anything more fancy for a temporary ring.

  Hm, the ring must have nicked him. “Ah, sorry about that. Sometimes the iron gets chipped and cuts people. I will get that fixed next time.”

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  With a bright face, Nobetu opened the door to the outside, and the gangly man beckoned for Mark to follow while talking over his shoulder, “No worries, friend! Merely an accident. Anyways, we are headed to the first step of your journey. There is a nearby monument that I just have to show our clients.”

  Curious to see what kind of transportation the company would be providing, as that would be a good hint of what he should expect, he was surprised by a limo. Seeing his look of surprise, Nobetu merely chuckled, “Just because the business looks old-fashioned doesn’t mean we take our customers’ time lightly.”

  Watching the odd man manage to somehow fold his long legs into one of the back seats of the limousine. Mark soon followed inside. Curiously, he was unable to see into the driver’s cabin, as the glass window was tinted a dark black.

  Making sure that his client was settled across from him, Nobetu knocked twice on the partitioner, and moments later, the car began to roll forward and exited the small parking lot. Looking at Mark, the man adopted an intense stare, not unlike that of the receptionist.

  While he was uncomfortable, Mark was used to some of his more unruly clients and could push back the nerves.

  Finally, after Nobetu had apparently seen all he had wanted, he leaned back in the vehicle and spoke, “While we head to our destination, let us get to know one another better. It’s been quite some time since this branch has had a visitor, and I would love to know more about you.”

  Before beginning, Mark questioned what the travel agent said, “You rarely get visitors?”

  Nobetu nodded his head fervently, “Oh yes, Windermere is a rather small town, as I am sure you noticed. The only reason the owner keeps this one open is because of the memories it holds for him. Having owned it for centuries does that to people.”

  “Oh, that’s interesting, so it’s been in the family for generations?”

  The tall man grinned, “Yes, for quite some time, it’s a rather special building.” Seemingly lost in thought, he took a few moments before exclaiming, “Oh, pardon me! I meant to talk more about you. Let's get to that, shall we?” Clearing his throat loudly, Nobetu read from a small slip of paper he pulled from a pocket on his long coat, “So, Mr. Solomon, how did you hear about us? Our patrons tend to send out many adverts, so it can be hard to know exactly what grabbed your attention.”

  “Patrons?” Mark asked before realizing what he meant, “Ah, well, I received two, really, one for Bermuda Island, and another for the Great Barrier Reef.” Hesitating for a brief moment, Mark continued, “Also, may I ask about the rather targeted branding?”

  The other man’s brow furrowed slightly, and he pushed up his glasses, “Targeted, you say?” Drifting off, he repeated “targeted?” a few times before going silent for several seconds before remembering the other passenger, “Ah, sorry about that, I will make sure to let the owner know, none of them should be using loved ones as a way to draw people in.”

  Mark nodded, relieved to hear that it wasn’t normal. “That’s good to hear. I was a bit concerned...” Mark trailed off as he saw that Nobetu wasn’t listening to what he was saying. Clearly, he was still stuck on the targeted ads. While it was a little rude to ignore a possible client, he could understand. Mark himself tended to hyperfixate on his own clients' issues.

  Lisa used to say he was a people pleaser, but Mark didn’t really believe so; he just wanted to help those he could.

  Realizing something, Mark’s own brow furrowed. Wait, I never said anything about the ad’s text. How did he know about the-?

  Jolting both of the passengers from their thoughts, the limousine slowed to a stop, having apparently reached its destination. Noticing this, Nobetu quickly opened his door before going around to the other side to get Mark’s.

  Making sure the door was completely open, the travel agent’s face had once again regained the bright and excited energy Mark had begun to associate with the man. “Welcome, Mr. Solomon, to the best two-mile forest walk of your life.” Nobetu’s eyes squinted a little at that as he scratched his head, “I think that’s what you Americans use?” Chuckling to himself, he continued in a mirth-filled voice, “Honestly, it’s been so long since I visited the Americas that I’m pretty sure Columbus came later.”

  Laughing a bit himself, Mark questioned the forest surroundings. “So where are we? Not too far from society, I hope?” He had seen other cars parked here and wasn’t too concerned. Some may call him crazy, but he also brought along a small tracker at the bottom of his travel bag; one can never be too careful.

  His guide tapped his finger to his chin before responding, “It’s a small village named Beetham. There is a nearby national park that we actually left on our way here, Windermere is actually right in the middle of it. However, this little area is a little tourist destination that I have always loved. I don’t know the English translation, but it’s german name is Feentreppe. Anyways, let's get going, try not to talk too much, some of the locals get a little upset when people disturb the peace. They know me, but newcomers are not always welcomed.”

  Mark nodded in understanding. Many of the Dutch were like that, too; the tourists weren’t always welcomed warmly, and while the ex-patriots who moved to the Netherlands were treated a bit better, the Dutch tended to stick with the other locals a bit more. They were a tight bunch.

  Mark tried to figure out what Feentreppe meant. While Dutch was similar to German, Mark didn’t know enough to properly translate between the two. Shrugging to himself, apparently, it would be a surprise.

  Mark had to admit that it was absolutely beautiful. They had long since left behind the cars and had begun to walk upon a well-worn path through a lightly forested area, which quickly transitioned into what he could only describe as a fairytale setting. If he listened carefully, he could hear the faint gurgling of a stream passing through the brush. He couldn’t help but think to himself, Lisa would have loved this, even if it wasn’t on her bucket list. She always loved to listen to nature and the wildlife.

  They continued in this manner for several more minutes, only pausing when Mark wanted to take a quick break, wanting to enjoy the surroundings a bit more. During which the two made some quiet small talk, which Nobetu said would be fine. “So, where are you from, Nobetu?”

  The man in question seemed surprised by the question, but happily answered quietly, “Well, I am from Scotland by all technicality, but honestly? I moved around so much, I barely qualify.” There was a brief pause before Nobetu saw that Mark was ready to keep walking.

  He continued to talk over his shoulder as they walked; somehow, he never tripped over one of the rocks in the way. “My favorite part is just up around the bend, it’s a stairway naturally formed out of limestone rock, wedged right between two sheer rock faces.” With a hint of mischief entering his voice, Nobetu spoke in an even quieter tone, requiring Mark to get closer to hear, “It is said that if you can climb up the steps without touching the sides, a single wish will be granted. At the same time, they are too thin for anyone other than a impossibly small person to climb without touching the walls.” The man was so close now that he was practically whispering in Mark’s ear, “Just don’t let your skin touch.”

  Pulling back just as quickly as he approached, Nobetu pulled a pair of gloves from his coat and handed them to his client, “As you are already fully clothed other than your hands, here’s a pair. Make sure to wear them.”

  Mark just looked at Nobetu with a bemused expression, “Why? So I can get a wish granted?” Mark himself was never a superstitious man, despite his and Lisa’s love for mythology and fairytales.

  “Any that you so wish for,” his agent said with a serious expression on his face. At least that was before he broke out into a great grin and patted Mark on the back. “I am just having fun! I find the best way to experience these types of things is to follow the superstitions, which puts you in the shoes of the ones who had their own journey.”

  Mark cocked his head, “You know what? I never thought about it like that. That’s an interesting way to explain it.” Pausing to think about it for another moment, Mark slipped on the gloves, covering everything other than his face in cloth. Looking toward his walking companion, Mark noticed that Nobetu had not taken his own advice, and when he brought it up, the man just nodded, “I only have one set of gloves; I already made my wish long ago and do not need to cover my skin.”

  While he found it a bit silly, Mark had already come all this way, so he might as well complete the rest of the little hike.

  As the duo came around the corner, Mark was greeted by a stone wall, and nestled between two stone faces was indeed a starwell made of natural limestone.

  Curiously, he walked up to it and peered up the stairway. The first few steps were quite wide, but the tunnel narrowed into a small point, in which it would be tricky to even fit a leg between the crevices.

  Turning back to Nobetu, he said, “I’m not sure how you want me to take every step. No one can get up those last few ‘steps,’”

  The tall man just stood where he was. “You don’t need to take all the steps, just go halfway up and down if you really are concerned. Make sure to make a wish, you never know if it will work out.”

  Mark couldn’t help but scoff a tiny bit at that. Up to this point, it had been rather amusing and a unique experience, yet the continued insistence of the other man was wearing on his nerves. Despite what he wanted, there was no way to get Lisa back; he was forced to accept this when her mangled and burnt body had been retrieved from the crash site.

  As he began to walk up the stairs, he had to admit that there was a strange feeling that came over him. Once he had placed his foot on the first step, a silence swept over the area, the once plentiful bird chirps and the distant sounds of the creek faded from existence, as if it had been quieted by an unknown presence.

  Growing concerned that there was something there he hadn’t noticed, whether that was a predator or someone else, he turned back once the stone walls had grown too close together to walk any further. “Now what?”

  With a solemnness that surprised Mark, his guide up to this point quietly spoke, “Just make a wish, make it count though, you only get one adventure.”

  Okay, that was it, Mark snorted, still standing on the stone steps, “Really? You actually expect me to make a wish? I came to England to plan out a vacation and escape from life for a week or two, not to make silly wishes.”

  Raising an eye, Nobetu peered over his glasses with a baleful eye, “Lisa wouldn't have wanted that, you and I both know that.”

  “How do you know her name?” Mark asked, his anger temporarily doused by his shock and confusion.

  “You can know after you make a wish.”

  Returning just as quick as it vanished, Mark’s anger flared. First, it was the adverts that used her to tempt him into traveling hundreds of miles away from home, and now a man he didn’t know until today was using it to get him to say a wish? Seriously?

  “You know what? Fine, I wish I were on an actual adventure. Somewhere far from here. What does your company say? ‘I want to find utopia’”

  Instantly, the eerie feeling multiplied, and now with an oppressive aura pressing on his shoulders, Mark noticed the expression painted across Nobetu’s face.

  His grin had been replaced by a smile so inhumane that it made Mark’s skin crawl. The large glasses vanished into thin air, revealing that Nobetu’s eyes were much larger than they should have been, and he must have grown at least a foot in height. Looming at the edge of the stairs.

  In horror, Mark noticed a thin burn on Nobetu’s hand, it was in the shape of a ring, his ring. Despite his growing panic, his mind continued to run at an accelerated pace. Why would he have a burn from the ring? Wait, my ring, it's iron! Understanding what Nobetu was, Mark whispered, “You're a fae.”

  The grin stretched even further at Mark’s words. “That matters not; all that matters is what comes next.” Nobetu paused before speaking with great finality that seemed to resonate with the world around them both. Causing the cold autumn wind to coalesce into a light fog and the canopy to darken.

  “Your wish has been granted by the Feentreppe. Welcome to Fairyland. I hope you enjoy your stay.” And just like that, Mark Solomon was gone. His presence was replaced by the distant sounds of chirping birds, a trickling creek, and the fading merry whistling of a tall man wearing glasses far too large for his face.