Chapter 3: Llynn

Llynn wasted no time moving into her room. She had thought she would be going home tomorrow, but for once Grandpa had been right: this house had her total attention. And that back yard—that back world. What a situation the old folks had found.

At any rate, her folks had delivered her remaining things with alacrity, not inquiring, and she hadn't volunteered. They were afraid she'd change her mind if they said boo, and she was afraid they'd change theirs if they got any whiff of the truth. So it was a conspiracy of silence that suited both parties.

Meanwhile, she was glad that the grandparents had discovered this marvelous house, and the truth was, they weren't bad folks at all. She could get along with them. Snotty little Lloyd would be more of a challenge, yet even he would surely see the special nature of this house. He could be trusted to keep his big mouth shut when it was to his advantage, and this definitely was.

She used the toilet, then prettied up at the sink. As she dried her hands, she saw a button in the wall by the bathroom door. One of the especially nice things about this house was that it had a bathroom for every bedroom; no need to share. That meant in turn that she could lock Lloyd out of her room, and that he couldn't lock her out of the only bathroom. But there were mysteries galore to fathom yet. What did this button do?

One sure way to find out. She pushed it. There was a swish of sound at the sink. She looked, but the sound stopped before she could identify its source. It had been like water running; she must have left the tap untight.

She looked in the sink. It was bone dry. That was weird. But maybe it was one of the newfangled ceramics that shed water like flowing mercury.

She looked at the button again. So what did it do? The sink had distracted her before she found the answer. So she pushed the button again.

She heard the toilet flushing. She whirled around and got there in one leap. And stared, astonished. It was flushing backward.

It really was; the water was swirling around and surging up into its jets. And the—the stuff she had just flushed away—was coming back into the bowl. Was the drainpipe clogged, forcing it to back up? But it had happened only when she pushed the button. Just as the sink had perhaps reversed.

She pushed the button a third time. Nothing happened. But already an answer was coming to her. This button—could it be an Undo feature, like the Oops function on a computer? In which case the reason the third push on it didn't do anything was because there wasn't anything left to undo. She had used the toilet and sink; that was all.

She flushed the toilet again, and there was no problem. Then she washed her hands at the sink again, without trouble. She eyed the button, but decided to leave it alone this time.

She went downstairs. Grandma was in the kitchen; Grandpa was reading a magazine in the living room.

With the TV right there before him, he read a magazine; that was an indication of his generation. But this news might freak the woman out, so she went to the man.

"Grandpa, I discovered something else about this house, I think."

He looked up. "Not dangerous, I trust?"

"It's an undo button. There's one in my bathroom." She looked around. "And there's one here, too." She walked across to indicate the button. "I think it reverses the last thing you did."

"What, make me unread the article I just read?" But he wasn't making fun of it; he looked wary.

"I think it's just what the house does, or what you do with it. Maybe I can test it. I'll turn on the TV; if it turns it off—" She went to the TV set and turned it on.

"But what would be the point?"

"Same as with a computer. Sometimes you make a mistake. This undoes it." She walked to the button.

"Ready, Grandpa?" She wasn't sure whether she wanted it to work or to fail.

"Do it," he said.

She pushed the button. The TV turned off.

There was a pause. "Maybe we need a more rigorous test," he said.

"What would be certain?"

"I don't know. What could not happen by chance?"

She pondered. "The back door setting?"

"We tried many settings yesterday, more or lest randomly. Would it reverse them all in turn? That would be persuasive."

They went to the back door. "This is on six. I tried five through one, so it wasn't really random."

"But perhaps close enough."

There was a button in the wall near the door. She pushed it.

The alien village appeared outside.

They exchanged a glance. Then she pushed the button again. The scene of desolate destruction reappeared. Then, with repeated pushes, the future city, the ugly plain, and the modern city scene showed up.

"That's as far as I went," she said.

"But I experimented before you did," Grandpa said. "I think I remember some of the settings. Here—I'll write them out, and you hold the paper, but don't check until after you push the button."

"Why?"

"So your expectation can't affect the outcome. It's called a single blind experiment." He got paper and pencil and wrote on it, screwing up his forehead to remember. "There; I may not have it all perfect, but it should be close enough to tell." He folded the paper and gave it to her.

Llynn felt a small chill. The real proof was coming. Was that good or bad? She nerved herself and pushed the button.

The forest scene returned. Yes, of course; that was where it had been before she changed the settings.

She pushed the button again.

The ugly plain returned. Llynn refrained from looking at the paper, and pushed the button again. The modern city scene showed. She pushed again. Now the scene out back was a new one to her: molten lava.

"I'm going to look now," she said. She opened the paper. He had written PLAIN, CITY, and LAVA.

Which was correct, except for the forest, an understandable omission.

"It does seem to be proving out," he said.

"Next is 'Ugly Mountain,' " she said, and pushed the button. A barren rock appeared, with an ugly mountain in the background. "And 'Giant Ferns,' " she read, and pushed it again. The ferns appeared.

"That's as far as I can remember, in order," Penn said. "But there were other scenes. Of different forests."

She pushed the button. Large pine trees appeared. She pushed it once more, and the oak forest was there. "I think that's enough," she said, relieved to see the familiar scene. "I think we have made the case."

"I agree. We do have an Oops button. It may be handy."

They left the back door. As they passed the stairs, she looked at the plaque there. Its number was three.

"It changed," she exclaimed.

"Why so it has," he agreed. "Right after we discovered something new about the house. I wonder whether—"

"It could be an ongoing count of our discoveries," she finished.

And saw the number change to 4.

They both stared. "Llynn, I think we just saw it in action," Penn said. "That plaque marks our progress in learning about this house—and catching on to that was another notch, or milestone, or whatever."

"Which means this house is watching us," she said, feeling a chill again.

He nodded. "So we had better keep alert."

"But what's the point? I mean, why would a house care what we learned about it?"

"That is the sixty-four-dollar question."

"Grandpa, that saying went out of style decades ago. But do you have an answer?"

"No. But now that I ponder it, I'm not surprised. This house was all set up for us, virtually begging us to rent it. So why shouldn't it keep track of our progress? Maybe it is keeping score."

"And what's the prize when we crack the key number?"

"I wonder. Do you think we're white rats in a maze?"

"Maybe you are. I'm a white mouse."

"Do you think we should get out of this house before we find out?"

She was startled by his directness. "You think it's a honey trap? Get a bunch of us in here, then pickle us as exhibits for posterity?"

"It's a possibility."

Llynn considered. "Why didn't it just do something easy, like having a pile of money on the table? That back door—that's an awful fancy deal just to catch some rodents."

"My thought exactly. This strikes me as more like a training course. Why go to so much trouble, just for a few bodies? So I think we have nothing to lose and perhaps a great deal to gain by pursuing this riddle to its end."

"Right. So what's to pursue next?"

"We have explored the potentials of the back door, but not the front door. It changes too—and maybe it is safe to experiment, considering that we have the Oops button."

"Got it." They headed for the front door.

She peered at the number on its panel. "Seventy-three. What does that mean?"

"It means that's our present setting. Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. When I tried the next number up, it was a different city."

"So it's like the back door, with different times?"

"I wonder. Chandelle made me stop experimenting; it made her nervous."

"Why?"

"Because this is the door we need to use to return to our own world. If we interfere with it—"

"Ooo! That makes me nervous too. But you know, Grandpa, we've got the setting. And the Oops button. So we can return to it, same as we did at the back door."

"Yes. Still, it may not be of the same type."

"But that's the challenge, isn't it, Grandpa? To figure it out? So maybe we'd better do that."

He nodded, but his mouth was tight. She knew he felt no easier about this than she did.

She checked for the Oops button, just in case, then moved the number up one click to 74.

The scene beyond the window panel changed. "That looks like a different city," she said.

"Yes. But which one?"

"I don't know. Did Philly ever look like this?"

"No. The layout is different."

"So if it's not here in some other time—"

"Could be anywhere."

She saw a car drive by on the street. "American, anyway. Shall we try another?"

"If you wish."

She moved it up to 75. The city changed again. "You recognize this?" she asked.

"No. But it's American."

"Let's try something different," she said. She set the number at 100. The scene changed.

They stared. "That's Moscow," Penn exclaimed. "Or some similar Russian city."

She faced him, a revelation growing in her breast. "This isn't time , it's space. Geography. The front door travels across the world."

He turned and walked away.

"Wait, Grandpa! What's the matter?"

"Nothing. I'm just checking the plaque."

She ran after him. "To see if we got it right!"

They looked at the plaque together. Now its number was 5. "We got it right," she breathed, exhilarated.

"Time in back, space in front," he agreed. "This is one versatile house."

"That gives me a fantastic idea. Can we tune in Okinawa?"

Penn stared at her. "Are you thinking what I think you're thinking?"

"Yeah. Shortcut to pick up the Brat."

They experimented with numbers. The scenes traveled across Asia to Japan. Then they found it: #153.

The scene was dark, but the street was lighted. "That's Okinawa," Penn said. "I have been there."

Llynn's chill remained, but there was gladness in it. "So can we just go and fetch him in?"

"That would suggest that we have instant travel. Teleportation. That's hard to believe."

"So's this whole house, Grandpa."

"Let me check with Chandelle."

This made Llynn nervous in another way. "What if she vetoes it?"

"Then maybe she's right."

"Yeah, maybe."

But Chandelle didn't object. "Do what you have to do," she said. "But be careful."

"We'll go," Penn decided. "But not right now. Better do it by daylight."

"What time is it over there, now?" Llynn asked, peering out.

"Well, it's about noon here, and they run about ten hours earlier."

"Earlier? But they're west, where they lag behind us."

Penn smiled in the knowledgeable manner of his generation. "Precisely. Then sun rises later there, if we ignore the effect of the International Date Line. So the hour seems earlier. So over there, the time should be about two a.m."

"Oh." Lynn got the logic of it straight in her mind. "I guess they wouldn't like us paying a call right now."

"I guess not," he agreed. "So why don't we wait until six p.m., our time, which will be eight a.m. their time? They should be up and about then."

"And maybe we'd better take a nap, or something, to avoid jet lag, or whatever."

"Or whatever," he agreed equably.

They had lunch, and Llynn went to her room to sleep. She seldom slept during daytime, but could do it when she had to. There was a small TV in her room, with an amazing array of channels; she put it on something dopey, and managed to drift in and out for a couple of hours.

Toward six by her watch she roused herself, put on clean jeans—her size was in the closet, interestingly, so she really hadn't needed her own clothing—and went down to find Penn. It was now light outside the house. She reminded herself that it was morning here in the far Pacific, not late afternoon.

"Do be careful," Grandma Chandelle said, in her grandmotherly way.

The two of them got in the car. The garage door rolled itself up, and they backed out. Penn drove carefully along the unfamiliar streets. "It has been a while since I've been here," he said. "But I know the address." He glanced at her. "There's just one question. Assuming that we find them—"

"How do we explain how we got here so fast?" she finished. "Maybe I better handle that, Grandpa. I'm better at lying."

"This is not a trait we encourage in you."

"This is necessary, isn't it? We need something persuasive, because we can't let the truth out."

He nodded. She knew he didn't like it, but was up against a wall. "You may have a point. Very well, you handle it. I will wait in the car. Assuming—"

"Assuming it's real, and not just another still picture." But they had seen other moving cars. "I've got my weirdness censor turned off right now. But maybe I'll scream in the night, when the rest of it hits me."

"Don't scream. Just come to us. I don't want to think you've been eaten by an alien monster."

"It's a deal." They were halfway bantering, but they were both nervous.

"This seems to be the address," he said, pulling up to a house.

"Oh? I thought they'd be in a barracks or something."

"Not the married ones with families, with time in the service. They live off base."

"Okay." She opened the door and got out. "Here goes—whatever."

"If you have any misapprehension—"

"I'll get back here in a hurry," she agreed.

She was not as easy about this as she pretended. Could they really be in Okinawa, just by the turn of a knob? No feeling of motion, no nothing? Could this be a movie set, and behind that door would be something incredibly weird? She nerved herself and marched down the walk.

She reached the door, nerved herself again, and knocked. She was in luck: the boy answered.

"Cousin Snoot!" he exclaimed, using one of his insulting names for her. "You here already?"

"We caught a fast flight, cousin Brat," she responded. "You ready to go?"

"Why the hoohaw would I want to go anywhere with you, Cousin Bitchy?"

It was certainly him. She controlled her irritation, "Well, we don't need you. Just let us have Obsidian."

"No way, Snootay!"

She didn't have much time to make an impression. In a moment an adult would appear. "Lloyd, I've got a deal for you. Come see our house. If you don't like it, you're free to go home."

"From the Yoo Ess Ay? Fatty chance."

"Our house here. You can be there and back here within an hour. Deal?"

"I don't have to do that much, Cous. I like it right here."

"Lloyd, take my word for it for once: there is something you will want to see. In the back yard. I'll show you. Then—"

"If you're going to show me your titties, forget it. I'm your cousin ."

He was trying to get her goat, and succeeding. But she refused to give him the satisfaction. "Not that, you little peeper. Something you never dreamed of. But I'll make you this deal: if you aren't satisfied with what you see there, I'll pay a penalty: I will show you my breasts."

That scored. Lloyd, like all thirteen-year-old brats, had a deep fascination with the forbidden; that was why he derided it. "Really? And you won't tell?"

She nodded, and extended her hand. "Deal?"

He touched her finger through the screen. "Deal."

"Then check with your folks. Grandpa Penn is out front in the car."

"No need. I'm home alone for the day." He turned. "Obsidian!"

The huge dog bounded up behind him, tail wagging. Lloyd put the leash on her, and stepped out the door. Obsidian sniffed Llynn eagerly, remembering her.

"She looks even bigger than before," Llynn said.

"Ninety-six-and-a-half pounds," Lloyd said proudly. "And no fat. Come on." He and the dog forged down the walk.

Soon they were in the car. "Lloyd's folks are already off at the post," Llynn said. "I made him a deal: he can go right back home if he doesn't like our back yard."

"Yeah," the boy agreed, sending her a sharp glance. Of course they would not tell the old folks of the other part of their deal.

Penn drove carefully back the way they had come. Obsidian sniffed every smell that wafted in the cracked-open window. She loved any ride in any car, anywhere, except maybe to the vet.

They arrived, and parked in the garage. "This way," Llynn said, leading boy and dog to the back door.

Penn stayed clear, knowing what was coming.

"Here, maybe I'd better take the dog," Llynn said as they came to the door.

Lloyd looked at her suspiciously, but handed over the leash. With her free hand, Llynn opened the door and let him out.

Then she had to hang on for dear life, as the huge dog charged out after him, tail wagging. Obsidian weighed almost as much as she did, and was not properly leash-trained; Llynn was hauled along toward the nearest tree.

"So it's a forest," Lloyd said derisively. "So what?"

"Turn around," she told him on the way by.

He turned. "Say! Where's the house?"

"Who knows?" she called mischievously.

"What's it, a mirror or something?"

"Must be," she agreed as the dog came to the tree.

Lloyd walked back to the boulder, trying to figure it out. She let him stew. She wanted to make him come to her for the answer. So she watched as he touched the boulder, verifying its reality. As he climbed on it. As he looked beyond it. As he shook his head.

"Okay, I give up," he called. "What gives?"

"It's an endless forest," she said. "Grandpa and I explored it, but never found the end. It's frozen, too; nothing moves. And this is only the beginning."

"Show me."

She tugged at the leash. "Come on, Obsidian; we've got business." The dog, eager to get to new things, came readily along.

She went to where she knew the door was, and knocked on the boulder. It opened immediately, and Penn showed in the opening. He had of course been waiting for this.

"Wow!" Lloyd exclaimed. "I gotta check this out." He dashed in, and disappeared in the house.

Llynn and Obsidian followed. The boy ran through the house and out the front door. She knew what he would find: a house surrounded by city.

In a moment Lloyd came back. He went out the back door. Then back inside. "Only the beginning?"

Llynn smiled. "Watch this." She punched #1 on the back door panel. The alien village appeared. "But I wouldn't go out there just yet. We don't know whether they eat people."

He stared. "How'd you find this place? There's nothing like this in Okinawa."

"We brought it with us from America."

"Oh, yeah?" He was still looking for the catch.

"I'll show you." She led the way to the front door, and put #73 on the panel. Philadelphia appeared.

"That's America!" Lloyd said. "And it's evening!"

"It's halfway around the world," Llynn agreed. "The sun's on the other side."

Lloyd went out the front door again. He sniffed the air and scuffed his sole on the pavement. Then he returned to the house. "Okay, you got me. I'll stay. But you gotta show me how you do it."

"To the extent we are able," Penn said. "We have learned a little about this house, and know that the back door opens on time, and the front on space. But how it is accomplished, and why it is offered here for us, we have no inkling. We are hoping that you will help us solve the riddle of it all."

"The TV's something special too," Llynn said. "All channels, and the Internet."

Lloyd eyed the TV. " All channels?"

Penn caught her eye. She got the hint. "Well, we're not sure," she said diplomatically. "We figured you'd be better at figuring it out. Especially the alien stations."

The boy paused. "Like the front door, back door?"

"We think so," she agreed.

"Okay, like I said, I'm in. I'll get my things. But what do I tell my folks?"

Penn exited the room, tacitly giving Llynn leave to handle it her way. She did. "You know we can't tell them the truth. We can't tell anyone, outside of us. It's not just because they wouldn't believe it."

"They'd freak out," he said seriously. "They'd never let me go. So what's the cover story?"

"We took a fast flight to Okinawa, and have a fast flight back. You're with us for a month, and we'll return you then. We've got a real nice place, and plenty of ice cream, and Obsidian loves it."

He shook his head. "Girls and old folks are no good at lying. My folks'll check the flight schedules, and want to know why I'm suddenly getting along with you."

He had a point. He was better at lying. "You have a way to handle it?"

"First, I'll go online and fake up a flight schedule and bookings that'll fool them."

"You can do that?" she asked, letting her awe show.

"Sure. Provided Grandpa lets me fool with his bank account, so the tickets are paid for. Later I'll cancel, so he's not out the money, but for now it's better to keep that straight. My folks won't check again later; why should they? And if they did, they'd figure the cancellation is a misprint, since obviously I did take the flight with you guys."

She nodded. "I'll talk to Grandpa. He'll do it. What about the other?"

"I'm not sure. We're going to be fighting. I know it, you know it, the world knows it. I could visit with the old folks, sure, but it'd take a miracle to make me do it the same time as you."

"And we don't want them to catch on to the nature of that miracle."

Lloyd paced the floor. "You know, you won, so you don't have to show me your—you know. But you know—"

"If your folks thought I'd show you anything, they'd ground you before you could blink."

"Yeah. And I'm not trying to renege on that, though if I ever get the chance to peek, you know I will. But what I'm thinking is, well, I'm thirteen, and kids my age are starting to date, and—"

"And for all your cleverness on the Net, you don't know beans about girls," she finished.

"Yeah. And it's rough. So if—"

"Are you asking for a course in dating?"

Lloyd fidgeted. "I guess I am."

"You got it. You'll be a perfect gentleman when you return."

"Yeah." He tried to look glum, but it was evident his heart wasn't in it. It was a perfect excuse, and he probably really did want to learn the social ropes, so as not to be clumsy when the time came.

"Good enough," she said. "Let's do it."

Then Lloyd paused. "Oops. I just thought of something."

She had a notion what. "That again? Okay, just this once, and don't tell." She hooked her fingers into her shirt and drew it up, flashing him with her bra. Then, quickly, she tucked her shirt back into her waistband.

He looked as if he had just been given a view of heaven and hell. "Uh, thanks. But you didn't have to do that. What I meant was Obsidian. She can't ride with us on a commercial flight."

Oops. Well, it had been fun flashing him, regardless. "But she won't have to. She—" Then Llynn caught his point. "Special arrangements for a dog. Animals can't travel the way people do. There are quarantines, delays—that's tough." Then it came to her. "Since this isn't really happening, we don't care how awkward it is. All we need is a manifest or something accounting for the dog. You can do that online. Ship her by herself, and we'll take her to the right office. On our own. We say."

He brightened. "Got it. I can do it now. Where's the terminal?"

"This way." She led him to the den with the computer.

He turned it on. The screen lighted, PLEASE SELECT DESIRED OPTION. There was a list of programs. "Wow! You weren't just kidding about what this has. Windows, DOS, CP/M, UNIX, OS/2, and stuff I haven't even heard of." He typed choices and codes, and the screen changed. "And look at the system specs! I didn't know they made power or speed like this."

"They don't, I think," Llynn said. "It's this house."

"I like this house. And look at the online services—it's got them all, first class and paid for. I don't even have to hack in. And browsers galore, versions from the future, maybe. I feel like I just stepped from a propeller plane to an interplanetary rocket." He was already online, moving with a sureness she could only envy.

"Probably you did, in terms of computing."

"Yeah. This is like changing numbers on the doors: there's a fantastic universe here. I think some of it really is alien, but set up to be simple to use." He glanced up at her. "You know, you—I mean, thanks for what you showed me. The flash. But this is more interesting, no insult. I could get lost in this."

"The time will come when you'll react to a woman the same way. When she's not your cousin."

"Maybe. Okay, stop bugging me and let me at this. I got miles to go before I sleep."

"Robert Frost," she said, naming the poet he had inadvertently quoted. But he was already lost in the wonders of the system. She repressed her irritation and departed.

Penn was waiting. "He's online, setting it up," she said. "Phantom tickets on flights for us, and shipping for Obsidian, to America. I told him you'd let him tap into your bank account to pay for the tickets; he'll cancel the charges after his folks verify them."

"Virtual paper trail," Penn agreed. "I won't inquire about the details."

"Right. Let us juvenile delinquents do the talking." She looked around. "Where is Obsidian?"

"Chandelle's taking her for a walk out back. I wish I knew exactly what she's sniffing."

"You know, Grandpa, I do feel better for having the dog along. And Lloyd—our cover story is that I'll teach him social etiquette, for when he starts dating. But I guess I'm glad to have him along too, bratty as he is. He really does know the Internet."

"I'm glad to hear it. I'll reset the house for Okinawa."

"Okay, but we're not ready to go out yet. Lloyd's still handling things online."

"And Chandelle's still out exploring." He paused contemplatively. "This is the first time she has been out back on her own. Obsidian really gives her confidence."

"Gives us all confidence," she agreed. "Say—if you changed the front door setting while someone was out back, would it mess them up? I mean, like lost in time?"

Penn actually sat down in a chair, looking quite sober. "I hadn't thought of that. The settings seem to have been constant, one not affecting the other, but I think I would not care to risk having any of us outside when we made a change of any kind. Perhaps we should establish a policy to that effect. Just in case."

"Just in case," she echoed, feeling a chill.

"So I will not reset the front door yet. And we perhaps should have all of us assembled before we make any future changes. Otherwise someone might change the back setting while another was out there."

"And I've got a feeling that there's nothing so lost, as lost in time," Llynn said, her chill much worse. "All five of us in sight before anyone touches a panel. In fact—" She paused, working it out. "In fact, maybe you should be the only one to touch those panels, Grandpa. So there's never any question."

"Perhaps so. I can ask the others. Perhaps each member of the group should have a particular responsibility, upon which the others will not infringe without specific permission. An area of expertise, so to speak."

"Yes. Because we don't know what we're into, really. We need to cover our bases, just in case."

Lloyd entered the living room. "Okay, it's done. Let's go get my stuff." He headed for the front door.

"No!" Penn and Llynn said together.

Lloyd stopped moving. "Something I should know?"

Llynn explained about their policy, and that Chandelle was out back with the dog. Lloyd nodded. "Okay by me. Can I have the computer?"

Llynn exchanged a glance with Penn. "Very well," Penn said. "The computer is yours. Just don't run my account broke. What about you, Llynn?"

"I'll take the TV. That's got some weird stuff."

"Very well," Penn repeated. "I suspect Chandelle will want the kitchen and household appliances."

"Isn't she about due back?" Llynn inquired, suppressing another attack of nervousness.

"Yes." Penn got up and walked to the back. Llynn and Lloyd followed.

The woman and dog were just coming into sight from the forest. Relieved, they opened the door for her.

"It's marvelous, but so eerie," Chandelle said, out of breath. "Nothing moves. But Obsidian loves it."

"It surely is best that she be acquainted with the surrounding region," Penn said. "So she will know immediately if there is any intrusion."

"Yes, she's so alert," Chandelle agreed. It was clear that the presence of the dog was transforming her concern about the premises.

They caught Chandelle up on their idea of responsibilities, and on Lloyd's online arrangements. She agreed. "Now let's get Lloyd settled, and Obsidian, of course." She glanced at Lloyd. "Will she mind remaining with me when you go out?"

"Not if I tell her it's okay," the boy said. "She knows you, Grandma. But anybody new, we'll have to be careful."

"That suits me exactly," Chandelle said.

Penn, in the presence of the others, reset the front door. It had been darkening into dusk out front; suddenly it was bright daylight. Then Penn and Llynn went with Lloyd in the car, while Obsidian remained in the house with Chandelle. They were, as it were, on their way.