Simone was almost at the entrance to the backstage area when she heard the American calling her name.
“Simone!”
She almost shouted back to him but stopped herself.
None of this strangeness had happened before he and the imposter had arrived.
They had to be responsible. She was certain of it.
She stopped abruptly to avoid walking straight into Étienne.
The young stagehand stood directly in front of her, motionless.
“Étienne, peux-tu te pousser ? J'ai besoin de passer, s'il te plaît.” (Étienne, can you move? I need to get through, please.) There was no reply. She reached out and gently prodded him.
He did not move. Just like Yvette.
Without being able to move him, she could not get backstage and speak to Madeleine.
Then again...
Madeleine seemed determined to help the Americans do whatever it was they wanted to do.
Perhaps she was part of whatever this was.
“Simone!” The American called again.
Why was he looking for her? Perhaps he wanted to do to her whatever he had done to everyone else.
Yes. That had to be it. He wanted to catch her. For what purpose she did not know.
It hardly mattered. Whatever he intended, it could not be good. Anyone capable of stopping the entire backstage of the theatre in its tracks was capable of almost anything.
Was it only the backstage area he had stopped? Or the whole theatre?
She could hear nothing from the front of house.
No applause.
No laughter.
Not even a cough.
He had done this to the entire theatre.
What kind of power did he possess?
Earlier he had seemed so quiet.
So shy.
So kind.
Had all of that been an act?
Had he merely been waiting for the right moment?
She remembered her mother warning her about the demons that lurked in the great wide world before she had left Lyon. At the time, Simone had assumed her mother meant the Germans. After all, she had never truly recovered from losing Simone's father during the war. It had been one of the reasons Simone had left home.
Now she found herself wondering whether her mother had meant something else entirely.
Perhaps not the Germans...
Perhaps demons such as these Americans.
“Simone!”
With Étienne blocking her path backstage, she knew she had to find somewhere to hide.
Quickly.
"I take it you did not find 'er." Madeleine stepped out of her office, the journal still resting in one hand.
“No, I haven't.” Jon answered honestly.
"She will be paused like everyone else. She will not answer to 'er name."
“I know... but I don't know what else to do. We need to find her if we're going to help Karyn. That's what you said.” Jon's voice betrayed his growing concern.
Just around the corner, Simone stood perfectly still, listening.
Paused.
What was paused?
Was that what he had done to everyone?
Madeleine answered. "I know what I said. Come. Perhaps she is in ze chorus dressing room."
Jon and Madeleine headed towards Simone's hiding place.
Simone knew she had to move.
Now.
She turned and ran towards the costume storeroom a few doors farther down the corridor.
Jon rounded the corner first and caught sight of her disappearing towards a familiar door.
He recognised it immediately.
It was the same room he and Karyn had entered when they had first arrived at the theatre.
“There she is! She's running for that room!”
Madeleine, only a step behind him, frowned.
“Running? She cannot be running...” Jon was already sprinting after Simone.
Simone burst into the storeroom.
“Reste loin de moi, démon !” (Stay away from me, Demon!) Jon followed only moments behind.
“Simone... how are you able to—” He stopped.
Standing before Simone was a bright red door surrounded by flashing light bulbs.
The very same bright red door through which he and Karyn had stepped at the shopping centre before arriving here.
“Simone, please... step away from the door. It's dangerous.” He had no idea how to explain what was happening.
Nor how ironic it was that she now stood beside one of the very Doors she had mocked earlier that evening.
Madeleine entered the room only moments later. “What?”
“Ce démon a peur de cette porte... Je veux que tu remettes tout comme avant votre arrivée. Je veux retrouver ma vie.” (This demon is afraid of this door... I want you to put everything back the way it was before you and your imposter arrived. I want my life back.)
“I want to help you, Simone. I really do. But I cannot understand you unless you speak English.”
Madeleine looked towards Jon. “She is afraid of you. She thinks you are some kind of monster.”
“Afraid of me? Why?” Jon asked, completely bewildered.
“N'approche pas, démon !” (Do not come any closer, Demon!) Simone edged backwards until she was standing directly in front of the Door.
“Simone... non.” (Simone... no.) Madeleine deliberately spoke to her in French, hoping the familiar sound of her own language would calm the frightened young woman.
Instead Simone's fear only deepened. “Traîtresse ! Quel marché as-tu conclu avec ce démon ?” (Traitor! What bargain did you make with this demon?)
“Simone...” Jon instinctively took a single step towards her.
“Non!” Simone's eyes darted around the room.
There was nowhere left to hide. Only one escape remained. The very Door that seemed to frighten the demon so much. She seized the handle and slowly turned it.
Jon lunged forward.
Too late.
Simone stepped across the threshold...
...and vanished.
Madeleine caught Jon by the arm before he could follow.
"We must return to where we were when ze Pause began, and quickly. We can deal with zis later."
“But—” Jon pointed helplessly towards the Door.
"I know. But your friend needs our help first. And perhaps, together, we may finally make some sense of what my old friend meant by what she wrote 'ere. "Madeleine gently tapped the small book she was still carrying.
Only then did Jon realise she had been holding it all along.
