This is the continuation of my freewritemadness/NaNoWriMo story.
Catch up with the previous chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23part1, 23Part2, 23Part3, 23Part4, 24, 25Part1, 25Part2, 26Part1, 26Part2, 27Part1, 27Part2, 28Part1, 28Part2 , 29Part1, 29Part2
…
I am using 
Today’s prompts are: temples made with hands and a Photo by Andre Benz on Unsplash
As usual I started with the freewrite prompt and used themostdangerouswritingapp.com to write the first five minutes:
The many torments of Tiny Earl - Chapter 30 (part 1)
Eleanor sat back in the chair and watched Clare struggle with all the things she had just told her. She was sitting up in the hospital bed, and looked well - if not pale - despite nearly drowning, only a few days ago. She was going to need her to be as fit as possible. They had work to do if they were to prevent the multiverse from falling apart. Eleanor formed a temple with her hands, just as she had as a child. Her mother had played chanted a little rhyme as she had moved her hands around revealing tiny wiggling fingers at the end, representing the people praying in the temple. Prayers wouldn't be much use now. They needed action. She needed to stop the Tinys (as she had taken to call them) from escaping in the machine. It was that event - she had deduced - where the unravelling of the threads had begun.
“So,” Clare said. “What is it that we need to do?”
Eleanor smiled, stood up and opened the bag she’d brought in with her.
“First things first,” she said. “We need to get you out of here. And then, I think, we’ll go and have a little chat with Janet.”
At the mention of Janet’s name, Clare smiled. “I never thought I would have the chance to meet her. She is almost legendary in the shop.”
Eleanor laughed.
“She is pretty much legendary in every reality. In many ways she is far more important the Augustine, or Tiny, or whatever you want to call him.”
“She didn’t exist in my reality,” Clare said, pulling back the sheets on the bed and shuffling herself around. Eleanor helped untangle a foot from the bedsheets and handed Clare a pair of jeans.
“Well, she did. But she died early on, too young to have met Augustine. She died in a car accident.”
Clare looked up, her eyes meeting Eleanor’s.
“Like my brother. Like my father.”
“Yes.”
“A coincidence.”
It was voiced as a statement, but Eleanor knew it wasn’t.
“No,” she said. “Janet was in the other car. The car that pulled out and hit the car your father was driving. She was killed instantaneously,” Eleanor reached out and touched Clare on the arm. “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry? Why?” Eleanor watched as the realisation dawned. “Oh,” she said. “I’ve been played, haven’t I? Right from that moment, the shop were watching me… manipulating me. Do you think…” she blinked, and Eleanor saw the tear welling in her eye, begin to roll down her cheek. “Do you think, they orgainised the accident? Did Jode die, just so the shop could kill Janet, could set me up?”
Eleanor shook her head.
“No,” she said, her hand squeezing Clare’s. “In other realities - ones where the shop are not involved, the accident happens. Not always with quite the same outcome, of course… but, I think we can safely assume the shop didn’t set it up.”
Clare sniffed, pulled her hand from underneath Eleanor’s and wiped her face. Eleanor passed her a tissue.
“Thanks,” Clare said. “I’d always suspected they’d manipulated me to get me to the place they wanted. But, I didn’t realise why,” she blew her nose. “I guess, I still don’t. I am still not sure why my involvement in an accident with Tiny’s - or whatever his name is - never-to-be-significant-other would mean they wanted me.”
“Everything is connected,” Eleanor said. “The different universes are separate, but the threads make connections, crossovers, with each other. That is why when one of the unravels it effects the stability of them all.”
“Come on then, let’s get going,” Clare said, holding out her hand gesturing at the bag. Eleanor passed her a t-shirt, and pulled out a pair of trainers.
The nurse - Brett? - was not at the door, when Eleanor opened it and poked her head out into the corridor. She looked left, up towards the nurses station. There he was, talking with another nurse and a police officer. She wanted to avoid Brett seeing Clare leave, if at all possible. It would be best to avoid difficult conversations about discharge against medical advice. And that police officer… well, she was fairly sure the police would want to talk to Clare, too. And Eleanor really didn’t have time for that.
Clare was obviously still a little weak, and shook a little as she stood up, but refused Eleanor’s offer of a wheelchair. Eleanor checked that Brett was still occupied, his was back turned towards them, the police officer was looking at him, nodding.
“Just walk with me, as normally as you can. If anyone says anything, ignore them and keep on walking.”
Clare nodded and Eleanor opened the door, linking arms with Clare and walking out, turning right towards the fire escape.
They were in the stairwell, and the door began to close when Eleanor heard someone shout, “Hey!”
“Let’s go!” she said, taking hold of Clare’s hand, and pulling her gently, firstly downwards, then changing her mind she led her up the staircase. She heard the door swing open as they reached the next level.
“Excuse me! Clare?” it was Brett, Eleanor could see the top of his head, looking down the stairwell. “I think it was her, She” they his voice echoing down the stairwell. Clearly he was talking to someone - the police officer appeared next to him.
Eleanor put her hand to her mouth, gesturing for Clare to crouch down, next to her close to the wall. With any luck they would assume they were heading down, towards the exit rather than up.
She heard the police officer tell Brett to call security to get them to stop people leaving, and then the sound of footsteps going down the stairwell, and the door closing with a squeak of the hinges.
“Are you okay?” Eleanor whispered.
Clare nodded.
“Good. Let’s go upstairs and see if we can find another way out, shall we?”
They climbed up the stairs until they came to a heavy door, marked “Roof”. The wind whipped their hair as Eleanor pushed the door open, and they stepped onto the roof. Beneath them the city looked small, toylike, unreal.
...
....
