by Richard Dusk
He didn't mean to stop her. She had all the right to do everything she sets her heart on. At least one of them is happy for a while.
"We must move now. It's just a few miles, so we'll get there today. The last day," he put his bag on.
Flying snowball smashed on the doors behind him. He glimpsed at it but didn't care. The only thing he wanted was to ease the sudden urge to be walking on the road in the very next seconds. He took empty bottles and went outside to fill them with a top layer of pure snow. The moment he came one step away from the door, a second ball near-missed his face.
"Hey, we're going," he called her and began filling the bottles.
"Are we going?" she shouted back to ensure herself.
"Yes," replied Garrett for himself and went inside to pack her bag. He heard a snow crunching under nearing steps and her heavy breathing from the recent snowball rolling.
"I want to see it all," she rushed up the stairs.
"Girl, slow down," he called at her, but taking stairs by two, she didn't listen to him.
She stamped all the way upstairs, picturing the idyllic snow country. Trees and branches bowed under the weight of snow and hills covered with dense layers; snowcapped mountains, wide-spreading and dominating the country with loose powder avalanches; a frozen river with endless splits in the ice; icicles hanging from telephone wires and lightly sprinkled roads. She couldn't wait to see the scenery and quickened her pace.
At the top, she reached to the newel to pull herself up but missed it by an inch. The parched stair beneath her feet broke into halves, and treads flew the long fall to the ground. As she fell through the air, she reflexively grabbed a heavy baluster and ripped off the fragile railing.
"Garrett!" she cried in fear, propped one-handed on the plank floor.
She dropped the railing bearing her down. It smashed through the stairs below and tore them down to the ground. Garrett, rushing to help her, dodged the fragments and splinters of wood shot out at his face in the last second. Stairs lost the strength and support of central post and squeakily swayed from side to side. Jillian pulled herself out of the hole on the top wooden floor.
"Climb to the win-" he yelled, but his voice got drowned by the noise of cracking wooden construction breaking to pieces.
Joist holding planks slipped out of the walls. The square wooden floor with Jillian lying on it instantly tumbled down with everything below. She screamed all the way until her body hit bottom. A hard impact bounced her back an inch. She remained to lie motionless, and Garrett dashed to her, climbing up the heap through the stirred up dust.
"Jillian," scared to death, he shook her gently by the shoulders.
Crumbling mortar sprinkled over his back, and cracks in wall broadened.
"Jillian, wake up," he pressed fingers to her neck and listened to her breathing when she indistinctly whispered a few words.
It sounded like a plea of dying human asking for help, who knew that doesn't deserve any but believed in a little bit of mercy.
"What? We must leave," he tapped her face lightly and checked for any wounds.
Walls began to separate, letting the light come inside through gaps between falling out bricks. Garrett, stepping on unsteady wooden remains, carefully lifted her inert body, took her bag, and hurried towards the door. One foot outside, the wall over his head terribly cracked, and the entire right side of the tower fell apart. Holding Jillian and slipping on the snow, Garrett dashed to get away from the church, while the other side of the tower gave way under the roof's weight too. Spinning sharp splits of wooden planks nearly struck him just a second after the entire building collapsed into itself. Garrett didn't care about the church or anything happening behind him. He returned out in the snowfall and windless air with a girl lying in his hands. The clouds hid the sun already, and the murk replaced the bright morning light.
"Jillian," he laid her on the ground, "for God's sake, come around."
The moment his hand touched the cold snow, he realized that something warm and sticky covered his palm. His suspicion got real when he looked at it. Blood came from Jillian's lower back.
"No, this can't be happening," he spoke in haste and turned Jillian on her right.
As he rolled up her clothes, a deep wound revealed with a rusty nail thrust through muscles into the side of the backbone. Garrett didn't want to but had to remove it. He took one of two last bandages he had and slowly pulled out the nail. Blood instantly squirted from the wound and covered his hands as he tried to stop the bleeding. It took ten never-ending minutes of pressing and cooling it with snow until it ceased. He taped the bandage to her back, and holding it under clothes, he gently lifted her head.
"Jillian, wake up. Wake up already," he repeated, checking her breath and pulse, but she didn't react.
Tranquilly falling snow got denser and veiled the road ahead of him. He lifted her in the hope that this was the only serious injury and began to run. The wound had to be treated as the bleeding could start anytime anew. Hurrying himself to the only place where they could hide from the open world, he held the single person he cared about. The building he saw on the map only once in his life, was supposed to be a shelter for him and injured Jillian in his hands. His fragile hope of finding it hanged on a thread. He ran eternal minutes with snow crunching under his feet, and furiously hammering heart rushed blood into his ears. Chest ached him terribly. He felt he swallowed blood but didn't ease up. There will be nothing standing in his way. No pain, no sweat, no blood. Nothing. He ran down the road, slipping and barely keeping him standing, surrounded only by bare trees. Jillian lay unconscious in his arms. Her head swayed from side to side, rhythmically to Garrett's running, and he pushed himself as never before, picturing the map in his pocket and guessing the length.
Snowfall intensified, and the power of wind grew. It got severely colder in a matter of seconds, and he saw no more than fifty yards ahead. The distant tree line disappeared in a snow mist; the sky turned into a thick gray cloud blotting out the sun. Garrett stopped. He was lost, and all his remaining strength depleted. Heavily coughing, he fell to knees, watching Jillian. There she was, in his arms, subtle and vulnerable. Her auburn hair covered light freckles on her face. She slightly opened her amber eyes and looked at Garrett's frightened face.
"Garrett, it hurts so much," she whispered, barely moving her lips turning pale, and shut her eyes again.
It wasn't the first time he heard these words. The anger to this world rose inside him beyond the measure to contain it. He didn't know how severe the wound was, but he stood up and began running again. His body fought and despised him. It screamed inside his head, and he yelled back. His fingers stiffened from cold and weakness, and he could hardly move them.
"It must be somewhere here," he sought for any hint.
Gloom and snow hid every sign and every guidepost lying on the ground. He was losing hope and couldn't run anymore. Coughing and shaking, he passed by the thinning tree line that ended all at once by his left side. Garrett walked off the road, still feeling hard tarmac surface under his feet. Sharp silhouette of a monumental building revealed more and more from the snow mist with every step he made. He wanted to speed up, but his legs barely held him. Only with the strength of will, he forced the exhausted limbs to take them to a signboard sprinkled with snow covering the name of this place he couldn't read on the map.
"We're here, Jillian. Everything will be all right," he whispered and wiped the snow off with an elbow. He revealed the white decorative letters on the blue board. "Abberville Paradise Gardens."
Chapter 08 Headless By A Hair
I'm speechless. Truly. I can't find any words to describe how much you've changed. We used to exist along with each other despite your reproaching, blaming, and offending me. I did let you live because you were as I was. But now, I see your intentions. I've never liked your presence, but I can't get rid of you. I didn't ask for it, and I see it's not you anymore. You are furious and terrified of the injured girl lying over
there and despise me no matter what I do. I brought her here, she's alive and will live. She is my burden, not yours. You are the burden. No. You are my... What are you? I don't even want to give you a name because you would become stronger. So what is your purpose then? Do you want to keep me for yourself, don't you? Following your rules and your noble plans of whatever you're hiding from me? Because right now, you are crossing all the lines! Why did I get stuck with you!? You are just a broken fragment of my imagination that deserves nothing more than a painful, lonely death in a dark corner. I don't want to hear your voice ever again, and if I do, I promise to destroy you once and for all!
Garrett wrote into his jotter with the little pencil that was barely possible to hold in hand. The final words slightly tore the paper because of the anger and emptiness he felt.
Sitting in an empty fountain, leaned against its wall in the light of a fire, he sighed. They hid in the remains of an old botanical garden miraculously untouched by all quirks of the last year. The massive outer circle of the ebony green marble fountain carried inscriptions of gold calligraphic words Septentriones, Oriens, Occidens, Meridies directing to cardinal points with golden arrows. The middle part made of carefully carved and shaped gray stone symbolized the highest mountains of the Earth joined in a circle. Their peaks glistened with painted white snow while the bottoms carried their names pressed into golden tags on small oak boards. A cave carved out beneath them was big enough to hide a man, and a thin white line of limescale reminded depth of the water that used to fill the fountain. A white tree with silver frost sprayed leaves towered above this marvelous work, above the mountains. The fountain gave the ravishing impression even though the perceptible simplicity.
All of this endured in the garden with high, wonderfully chiseled Corinthian pinewood pillars holding a dome made of translucent blue and green glass slabs with a viewpoint built upon it. The path to it led through two and half hundred stairs finished with a view on vast mountains in the northwest and river on the east. Once vibrant, blooming in vivid colors of exotic flowers, there was nothing in the world that matched this beauty.
Garden, made of five great domes linked together by straight corridors, led mind and heart from deepest valleys to highest mountains. From east to west, from north to south. Unmistakable fragrances made people sit and imagine places only flowers truly knew. Rainforests of Amazon, mountains in Switzerland, or gardens in Japan. Small pools in every hall of the garden, blooming with water flowers and inhabited by various animals, changed the experience of every visitor. Mainly the hummingbirds from Yucatan, mesmerizingly, rapidly waving with their wings so close you needed only to reach. But this was a long time ago.
Garrett didn't think of this garden more than as about another shelter. As for every building and place he slept in the past year. He scratched his dirty hair and looked at Jillian sleeping next to him in a torn sleeping bag with her boots sticking out and bag under her head. All the layers of clothing to keep her warm and bandages to cover wounds allowed her to sleep only on her stomach. He knew she slept dreamless and shallow and heard she breathed faster than usual. After her fall, he is glad that she is still alive and at least half as strong as he knew she is. He had to sew the wound and hoped that no severe infection will spread through her body.
It's been three days already since they've come here. The overwhelming pain stopped them from carrying her right away, and Garrett decided to wait. Old snow melted in the meantime, and a new one fell yesterday. All this time, he barely ate or slept. How could he? They were hiding in the open space of vast hall that could be discovered anytime by any stranger seeking shelter. If a group of men came there, Garrett wouldn't stand a chance to fight them off, and it might be the last thing ever done in his life. He was weak and hungry despite the cans in his bag, as he didn't want to touch them only because the end of the journey might not be as close as he expected.
She's hurt. She'll need everything to heal. Not me, he told himself all the time while breaking the wood in the garden to make a fire of it or filling the bottles with snow to melt.
Jillian severely coughed, and her sudden waking up covered in sweat and mild fever made him worry more and more every time. She always drank only a little water, and he helped her to eat a bit of food, after which they spoke a few words together, and she fell asleep in pain again. When she asked him why he risked his life to save her, he only answered, 'I owe one life already, and I didn't want yours to be the second one.'
After fatiguing run carrying Jillian in his hands and two sleepless nights they've already spent there, he felt enormous exhaustion crashing down on him. His red eyes smarted from dry air. He couldn't allow him to sleep, but he wanted to because they have to move on the next morning. Jillian's back looked worse than before, and they couldn't wait anymore. He folded his arms on bent knees, and his head slowly fell.
He needed to sleep.
Rest.
Dream.
Lie back home in the warm bed, spooning his beloved wife, while the cold, winter air sneaked into their bedroom.
The wind blew this clear sky night sedately, and trees scratched the glass walls with their bare branches. Garrett woke up from the doze and looked at them. The dying fire lighted his dirty face.
"No iron, nothing to disappear," he assured himself the twentieth time and looked around to find something he could use to keep the fire burning.
All species of valuable and unique plants, blazing in the days of their absolute beauty, lay dried and dead. Garrett rose to his feet and slid jotter in a coat's pocket. Turning around, he searched through the hall in the hope of seeing some wood to break and throw in the fire. Overstepping fountain wall and walking by dried plants, he heard only his steps on the arid soil and cracking of burning wood behind him. Flames already consumed the wood that lay around, and he had to look for it in other garden domes or out in the forest. He took his bag and headed to the corridor but stopped after a few steps. The light from the fire faded out, and everything began falling into darkness. He looked to his right at all dead plants, and his sight fell on an unusually big plant with a chalice he didn't notice before. He ripped the tag away from the ground and illuminated it with the last flames of dying fire.
"Ne-pen-thes Atten-boro-ughii," he syllabled for himself. "Nepenthes Attenboroughii. Well, it wasn't that hard," he praised himself and kept reading.
This unique endemic plant grows on steep hills of Mount Victoria in the Philippines. The estimated amount of individuals is only a few hundred. These plants are carnivorous. Their chalice contains a fluid that lures insects and small rodents inside, which are subsequently trapped and digested by the plant.
The displayed exhibit is genetically modified for improved visitors' experience.
Genetically modified meat-eating plant? he raised one eyebrow, grabbed the chalice, and wrenched the plant. "I need wood," he crushed it in hand and scattered the parched remains on the ground.
Garrett walked further in the corridor joining adjacent domes, keeping his hands in front. After a few steps, he stopped in complete darkness, seeing nothing. He reached into his backpack and unfastened the buckled wooden pole. Like a blind man with a walking stick in the right hand, he slowly advanced further with left hand stretched in front and waving from left to right. Slow, short steps with a tapping of the pole hitting the ground echoed through the silence of the corridor into the vast hall in front of him. Garrett focused all his senses on the space close to his face, expecting to be hit in the nose very soon.
Echo changed and sounded distant. He sensed that the walls of the corridor are not by his sides anymore, and he entered the space of another hall. With the pole, he examined the ground as far as the length of his arm allowed him. He started when he kicked into something and heard a screechy sound of scrap-iron.
"What is that?" he reached down and tried to distinguish the object he kicked into. "What on earth is that?"
Garrett lifted the object above his head and put it in line between h
is eyes and blurred curves of Moon, hoping that he will spot the contours of his finding.
"A broken lantern?" he frowned. "But still, there might be a bit."
He dropped the lantern on the ground and smashed it with the pole. Lifting it up, the shattered glass fell out, and he shook it to remove all sharp pieces. The little container remained inside. He broke it out and shook it by his ear. Remains, hardly more than a little above the bottom, splashed inside. Garrett took out his lighter.
"Work! I am not going back just to light this," he snarled at almost empty lighter and looked back at weak traces of fire reflecting on walls. He rolled down the spark wheel. Once. Twice.
"Come on, you piece of junk," he coughed and rapidly rolled spark wheel again. Out of nowhere, the spark ignited the last drops of fuel.
"Took you long enough," Garrett lighted the wick.
The light became gradually stronger. Holding the container above his head, he checked the close surroundings.
"Europe – France – Provence," he read on a wooden board nailed to the pillar, ripped it down, and started breaking it into pieces.
Looking around, he noticed a young tree. He climbed over the brick wall to terraced trees and reached to grasp the branch and break it.
The moment he laid hands on the wood, he froze. A subtle booming came from everywhere and grew in strength.
"Oh, God, please no."
The ground under his feet began violently shaking. Overwhelming earthquake rumbling interrupted all of Garrett's thoughts and intentions. He held the tree firmly but was instantly thrown down to the ground.
"Aargh, dammit," something stabbed with stinging pain into his wolf-unbitten arm.
All the large paintings of flowers hanging on the walls fell down and smashed. Pipes leading air into hall squeaked under their own weight, and the hangers' screws loosen. His only source of light broke as he dropped it. The sound of cracking trees outside overlapped with the shattering glass slabs of the garden's walls as heavy branches fell and knocked them out. Rain of glass showered Garrett with shards. The wooden overlook slid by the wall, beating out all the slabs of the corridor, pierced its vault and smashed on the ceramic marble floor.