“John, I hear something, a shrill note. Do you hear it?”
“Yes, it’s as annoying as hell.”
“It doesn’t belong in our keys. John someone’s attempting to reach us. I’m going after it.”
“No, Strange, wait for me. Strange?” John floated in his minor key. I’m lost without my major. Strange, where are you?” He felt himself becoming absorbed in the music— a soft mournful tune.
“John, it’s Strange, come follow me.”
“Of course, it’s you, who else would it be?” he snapped. “I’m sorry, Strange. I trust you, lead us out of this place.”