Page 5 of Taurus's Quest
No one stood behind the counter cluttered with bins and a cash register, but she could hear a male talking to someone out of sight in the back. To bide time while the rain fell heavily, she began to browse the aisles of the eclectic shop that appeared to only carry Zodiac-themed items. Shelves held various figurines meant to represent each sigil. Aries, with his curled horns. Pisces, the fish. Taurus, the bull. Plaques placed in front of different sets indicated the artists who’d created the models. Beyond those displays, a row full of placards and windchimes, again inscribed either with a specific symbol or all of them in a wheel.
What an interesting store, and how surprising she’d never visited. The stars that comprised the Zodiac had been one of her first obsessions as a young girl. Her parents had gifted her a telescope at Christmas, and she spent many a night out on their balcony aiming it at the sky, locating each and every constellation. It turned out to be an obsession she never grew out of, hence why she ended up getting her degree in astronomy, which led to her job at the observatory.
As she browsed books in the rearmost section, the lights suddenly went out. Bells tinkled, indicating someone opened the door, and the distinct thump indicated it had been shut, but more ominous? The click of someone engaging a lock.
“Hello?” Her voice quavered.
No one replied.
“Is anybody there?”
The pressing darkness made it impossible to see, and she bumped into a bookcase before thinking to pull out her phone and turn on its flashlight. With it shining ahead of her, she made her way quickly to the front of the store, but whoever had shut down the shop had disappeared. Worse, the door wouldn’t budge when yanked.
Because it was locked.
Duh.
No need to panic. She’d just turn the knob for the deadbolt and?—
The metal latch snapped, leaving her blinking in disbelief. Now how was she supposed to get out?
A brief glance at the large window showed the quickest escape. An idea quickly vetoed. Bad enough if she’d exited and left the shop’s door unlocked; she wasn’t about to vandalize. Although the owner, or whoever worked, really should have called out or done a sweep before running off.
There had to be another exit. Didn’t deliveries usually happen at the back of businesses? Her question was answered when she located the thick door on the rear wall promising escape but for the padlock holding the clasp shut.
Now what? She still held her phone and sighed as she began to dial one one two for emergency services. Before she could finish tapping, the screen on her phone suddenly glitched, displaying colorful lines before going dark. No amount of pressing the power button would turn it back on. Of all the ill luck.
Maybe the store had a landline. A search of the front counter and the storage room didn’t turn one up. Guess she wouldn’t be calling for help, meaning she was stuck overnight. Embarrassing and uncomfortable.
In search of a place to sleep, she circled the shop a few times as if the second and third lap would produce a bed or a couch. A snack would have been nice, as well. Opening a narrow door in the rear storage area revealed stairs going down that were so rickety she chose to not even try. She doubted she’d find anything of use in the basement. Not to mention, subterranean levels creeped her out.
She tried standing in the window, hoping to catch a pedestrian’s attention, someone who could call for help, but the heavy downpour kept the sidewalks empty. According to the sign in the door, the hours of operation for Zodiac Emporium were nine to six Monday to Friday. It was just after seven now. Fourteen hours to wait, maybe less if employees or the owner tended to arrive before opening.
Fourteen hours. Once more, she considered smashing the window to escape. Doing so would lead to the pounding deluge ruining the shop. Paying to fix the window? Doable. The cost to repair damage from the rain and replace any product damaged? Definitely not possible, given her meager savings.
Stupid phone chose a fine time to stop working.
Sigh.
Circe tried to sleep, the warped wooden floor not comfortable, her cloak a meager blanket and her satchel a terrible pillow. It didn’t help her stomach growled with hunger. To add to her irritation, a clock ticked loudly as if mocking how much time she had left to wait. After what seemed like an eternity, she rose to check how long until the shop opened. The annoying timepiece indicated two a.m. Seven more hours. She might go mad before then.
She found herself returning to the rear entrance with its padlock. A crowbar, or any kind of metal rod for that matter, might pry it open. She returned to the front of the shop, but nothing appeared sturdy enough to break it, nor did she find any tools of note in the storage area. Could be the basement had something if she dared to venture below.
A light switch by the narrow door illuminated the steep stairs, but it took her a moment before she dared creep down them, their ominous creaking making her worry they’d collapse. She made it without mishap and looked around the space crowded with shelving units and boxes. No crowbar or hammer in sight. She strayed deeper into the basement, despite the fact that no light shone in the farther corners. Squinting her gritty eyes to penetrate the gloom, she discovered abandoned signs indicating sales, shelves full of broken goods, and finally, a door.
She gaped at the sight of the old wooden barrier. Where did it lead? No way of knowing since it was locked with an electronic keypad. Fancy compared to the main door of the business. The room beyond most likely held expensive items, or… could it be an entrance to some of Athens’ hidden tunnels? Very possible, given the ancient catacombs extended a fair distance under the city. If only it didn’t require a code to unlock.
A code that might be written down somewhere.
Back up the sketchy stairs she went, this time looking for anything written down that held a set of numbers. Nothing beside the register or in any of the drawers. As she slammed them shut in frustration, a pen holder fell over, spilling its contents.
Despite her annoyance, she crouched to pick up the many pens, which was when she saw the digits etched in the underside of the counter.
One eight two three.
She repeated those numbers as she raced back down the steps. Please let them be the code.
Please.
