Charlie said, "But I can't help her, Sam. I can't help any of them. I-I can't write. I've forgotten how. Or it's left me. Or something's wrong with me. I don't know what to do to help her. Please, Sam. You have to help me. Please." He sank into his couch, covered his own face.
"Maybe we can help her," I said.
"What do you mean?" asked Charlie, peeking through his fingers.
Allison shot me a look, no doubt picking up my thoughts. "You can't be serious, Sam."
"Oh, but I am," I said to her, and to Charlie, I said, "Write us into the story."
***
"Okay, now that's just crazy talk," said Charlie.
"No crazier than any of it," I said.
"And what's with this 'writing us into the story' business?" asked Allison.
"You know you would give your left pinkie to visit the World of Dur, for real."
Allison thought about, while Charlie looked from one to the other of us, the expression on his face suggesting that we had all gone mad.
"Okay, maybe just the tip," said Allison.
"You two are serious," he said.
"She needs help, Charlie," I said, looking again at the queen, who was still weeping in her hands. Not too long ago, my own son had been kidnapped. Not fun at all. "And she needs help now," I added.
"But I haven't written a stitch in months. And also, this is complete lunacy."
I ignored him. "We know where her baby is being held. We followed the kidnapper closely in Chapter Thirteen, your last chapter."
"Hold on," said Charlie.
"For what?" I asked.
Charlie fished out his cell phone. "I'm calling the local funny farm. Tell them they have three new patients."
I said, "Instead of cracking jokes, I need you to find it within yourself to write a couple of sentences in the next chapter-"
"Sam, you don't know what you are asking. I can't-"
"I need you to buckle down and do this one thing."
"Sam..." and he looked from me to his desk, and I saw the sweat on his brow. "That story has caused a lot of upheaval in my life."
"And you've caused a lot of upheaval in her life," I said, jabbing a thumb in the general vicinity of the glowing hallway behind me.
"Sam, I don't know what you want from me..."
"I want you to write two or three sentences, tops."
"And what will these sentences say?"
I thought about that. I wasn't a writer. I was barely a texter. Hell, most of my texts were riddled with misspellings. Once, not long ago, I tried posting something on Facebook, and edited what had been once been a page down to just a few sentences. Then deleted it altogether. No, I wasn't a writer, but Charlie was, and he needed to wake up.
Allison jumped in. "Then just make a few notes. You said it yourself, the wardrobe isn't even in the book yet."
I looked at him. "We need just a few lines of notes. Can you do it?"
"I... I don't know. What is it you are asking?"
"Write us into your book. At least, into your notes."
"Wait," said Allie. "What's to stop him from making us a recurring character or something? What if we can never leave?"
I said, "Charlie can't control when we come and go. He can only open a doorway. It's our decision whether or not we accept the invitation. And our decision when we return."
"You seem to know a lot about something that we all have just barely been introduced to..." Charlie began, but trailed off when I gave him a small suggestion that I knew what I was talking about and that he should let it go. He nodded.
"Sam, can I talk to you?" said Allison, and we ducked out of the office, leaving Charlie to stand before the glowing archway, scratching his head.
Once in another of many hallways, Allison spun me around. "But do you, Sam? Do you really know what you are talking about?"
"Kinda sorta," I said.
"Kinda sorta doesn't keep me from being trapped in the World of Dur for the rest of my life, as appealing as that might sound, or even get us there in the first place."
"The world is real, Allie. You can see that. It's just a matter of getting us there."
"Well, can't you do your flame thingy?"
"I could, but it won't work."
"How do you know it won't work?"
"His world is exclusive," I said.
"Exclusive?"
"Invite only."
"So he really does have to write us in?"
"He does."
"And you know this how? Never mind. Talos," she said, reading my mind.