In Springdale Town by Robert Freeman Wexler Page B

Either I moved half an inch at a time or she was way farther down than I had thought.
    She must have sensed my movement, because as I neared her, she looked up. She smiled, turned her body toward me, and extended a hand. I took it and we hovered there, holding hands. She spoke, but the jelly absorbed the sound. I mouthed back. She pointed down. Below lay the town, like a view from an airplane. Everything was there, church, town hall, houses, stores. Paperclip-sized cars moved along Main Street.
    We kicked to propel ourselves lower. A man exited the hardware store and stepped into the street without waiting for a car to pass. The car jerked to a stop, and the man kept going. Farther up the street, several teenagers blocked the sidewalk in front of the record store. When I saw the café where Sammy and I had eaten breakfast, my stomach rumbled. Had that been this morning? It seemed so long ago.
    What a god-like sensation, floating over the town like this, so real I thought I could sweep a hand down and pluck a tree from its bed. Probably a video of the town projected onto the floor, with the jelly giving it a three-dimensional appearance. Releasing Sammy’s hand, I stroked downward, then I reached to touch the floor. My fingers punched in the roof of a pickup truck. I jerked my hand back and looked at Sammy, who had followed me down. Her expression reflected my surprise.
    We stayed at this lower level but kept our hands well away from the street and buildings. Someone emerged from the alley by the rug shop and looked up. It was that fat cop, the one I called Scooter because I couldn’t picture him chasing anyone. He was looking in our direction, or at least at the area where we would be if we were really there instead of floating in a vat of pink jelly.
    Then he raised his right arm and pointed his index finger straight at us. Sammy grabbed my hand and squeezed. My heart started thumping. “There’s no way he can see us,” I said. The jelly swallowed my words, but Sammy knew what I meant.
    Scooter, as though aware he held our attention, slowly rotated his hand toward the alley behind him, and held it taut, like a weathervane in a strong wind. After a minute or so, he turned around, into the mouth of the alley, and disappeared in the direction he had pointed.
    Sammy pulled my arm, then dropped it and stroked toward the alley. I followed. The buildings grew larger as we neared them, rising sides of a brick canyon. We swam through the canyon till we reached a wall that blocked the alley. Sammy touched my hand and pointed up with her other, then kicked her way skyward. We found an open slit of a window. Sammy went straight for it. She tilted her head to the side to make herself flatter and pulled herself in.
    I waited until her feet were all the way through, then tried to copy her, but when I put my head into the window, I couldn’t breathe. Worse than on the ladder, this crack, the world above, its magnitude sagging. I tried to pull out of the crack, but my head was caught. Sammy would have to come back to help push me free. I stopped moving, trying to think. What had she said earlier?
    Closing my eyes, I concentrated on slow, even breath, and pushed myself in. My shoulders somehow flattened enough for me to squeeze through, and I tumbled onto a carpeted floor about two feet below the window. Sammy lay beside me. We had escaped the jelly. Right away the stuff started to dry out, congealing in my hair and face like gelatinous latex. I pulled it from my mouth. Bits of the stuff clung to the back of my throat, but they slowly dissolved. Exhaustion and exhilaration surged through me simultaneously.
    “The town,” I said. “Like we were there. That breathable jelly.” When I got the stuff out of my eyes I turned back to the window, which looked larger from in here. Outside, the sky was a pinkish haze. I grabbed Sammy’s hand. “What about that truck? I couldn’t have–”
    “I don’t know. The whole thing was new for me