Rivers of Fire (Atherton, Book 2)

by Patrick Carman

  "So you can still protect us?" asked Dr. Kincaid.

  Vincent tried to move his arm back and forth and winced in pain. "I just need a minute," he said.

  Edgar fished around inside the pocket on the front of his shirt and pulled out his sling and a black fig. "I can protect us."

  Dr. Kincaid beamed at the boy, then turned his eyes on Vincent. "You stay here. The boy and I can handle one rock-throwing maniac."

  Vincent protested, but he knew Edgar's skill with a sling, and soon Dr. Kincaid was running out into the courtyard waving his arms and dodging flying rocks. Tyler appeared to have quite a collection of smaller stones and he knew how to use them. Dr. Kincaid was hit once square in the back and was just barely able to dodge a near direct hit to the head.

  "Ha-ha-ha-ha!" howled Tyler from above. But he hadn't

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  seen Edgar sneaking out into the open to hide behind a row of hedge. Tyler could hear the sound of the sling swishing over Edgar's head and the snap! of the black fig as it came flying toward him, but it all happened so fast. The fig smacked him flat on the forehead and he fell out of Edgar's sight. There was a dead silence in the courtyard.

  "I got him," said Edgar, looking into the room where Dr. Kincaid had taken shelter again with Vincent. "You can come out now."

  Dr. Kincaid and Vincent emerged from Samuel's room, glancing up warily at the possibility of a heavy falling object. Then Vincent, with a burst of renewed vigor, charged up a flight of white stairs off to his right in search of the culprit.

  When they arrived they saw that Tyler was not dead, but also not moving. Behind him sat a pile of rocks, a box filled with stale bread, and a rather large wooden bucket half filled with water.

  "Edgar, you first, and quickly!" said Dr. Kincaid.

  Edgar approached the water and cupped his hands inside, quickly gulping down as much as he could hold. He took a loaf of the stale bread, a kind of food he'd tried only once before, and he tore a large bite off with his teeth, chewing vigorously.

  They ate and drank hastily, leaving most of the food behind. All three of them wondered who the person was and why he had stayed. He had the look of a man without a family, and they felt sorry for him.

  "We'll leave him be," said Dr. Kincaid, "with water and some of the bread. He's going to need it. Now, follow me." There

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  was a new resolve in his voice and a feeling in the air of having arrived at the very place where the answers they sought could be found. The three of them departed with a growing sense that this man was the only enemy they would find in the deserted House of Power.

  Down the stairs they went, to the very end of the courtyard and into a rotunda with three sets of stairs. Dr. Kincaid hesitated only a moment--glancing in every direction--and then started up the middle set of stairs, two steps to a stride. At the top he continued on until he arrived at the door to the main chamber.

  Dr. Kincaid looked back at Edgar and Vincent. All the color had gone out of his face.

  "It begins," he said, and he put his hand against the door, pushing it open.

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  *** CHAPTER 11 A PLAN SET IN MOTION

  Maude had never been on a horse before and it was a harrowing experience. She was riding with Horace, her arms wrapped around his waist as they raced across the barren landscape. There was no saddle, only a rope between the horse and the man, and the animal was difficult to control, even for a skilled rider like Horace. The speed at which they traveled was alarming, and Maude was convinced a fall like that would kill her. As this thought grew in her mind she tightened her grip around Horace's middle until he could barely breathe.

  "We're almost there," he said, trying to comfort her. "You're a natural rider. Soon you'll be doing this without me."

  "You can keep your horse," said Maude. "I'm perfectly content to raise rabbits."

  Maude felt Horace's body shaking with laughter.

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  "You won't think it's so funny when I fall to my death and pull you right off with me," she said. This made him laugh even more, and she took one hand from around his waist and slapped him in the back of the head. Horace thought this was the funniest thing yet, and he nearly laughed himself right off the horse.

  He pulled up short of the Village of Sheep and let the animal walk as they drew near. "I think we've run her hard enough," said Horace. "Best we give her a rest."

  The two had already ridden to the village at the grove and talked through their plans, but their job was only half done. Already midmorning had arrived and with it the growing threat of Cleaners finding them. Now there was only Wallace, the leader in the Village of Sheep, to convince.

  "He's the wisest among us," said Maude. Horace knew she was speaking of Wallace without her having to say his name. "If he's unconvinced, our plan will fail."

  "I believe you're right."

  The two dismounted the horse and began walking. Soon they spotted a group of four people approaching from the village, but Wallace was not among them.

  "It's me, Maude, from the Village of Rabbits!" hollered Maude. The four took this as a good sign and advanced more quickly. They'd seen horses the day before when they'd fought back those in the Highlands, and the sight of the big animal made them nervous.

  "Where's Wallace?" asked Maude as the two parties neared each other. "We need to talk with him right now."

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  The four from the village hadn't had the occasion to witness Maude's direct approach to things, and it took them somewhat by surprise. "What's he doing here?" said one of them, looking at Horace, then at the horse.

  "We don't have time for this," said Maude, her voice rising just enough to let them know she meant business. "Take us to Wallace or we'll sic the horse on you."

  Horace rolled his eyes and tried to explain the animal was harmless, but this got him nowhere.

  "You're not bringing that thing into the village. What if it tries to eat the sheep?"

  Horace smiled and explained that horses don't eat other animals, but the men were unmoved.

  "You'll have to leave it here."

  "If I do that it will run away," said Horace.

  The four men conferred briefly and the unluckiest among them was chosen to hold the horse while the rest went to find Wallace.

  "This is ridiculous," said Horace, observing the terror of the poor man who'd been chosen. Horace handed over the rope and told the man to stay clear of the back legs.

  "She'll just stand there as long as you don't make any sudden movements," said Horace.

  The group moved off while the man holding the rope stood perfectly still, glancing sideways at the glossy shine on the horse's neck. The animal turned and sniffed the man's face, blowing his hair back through thick nostrils, and the man nearly jumped out of his pants.

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  "Don't feel too bad," said Maude as they departed. "At least you don't have to ride it." She was walking unnaturally bow-legged, feeling the tightness in her legs.

  The Village of Sheep was beginning to look dry, less green, and a little worse for the wear. Soon the group found Wallace, who was standing among his sheep in one of the few remaining patches of green grass. He seemed genuinely happy to see them, though Maude and Horace were both alarmed by how little he and the rest had prepared.

  "Wallace, what have you been doing all night?" said Maude. "This place doesn't exactly look fortified for an encounter with Cleaners."

  "I've been waiting for you," he said.

  "That's not much of a plan," said Horace. "I expected more from a man of your intellect."

  Wallace scratched the red hair on his head, smiling.

  "You're a man of action, and I was sure you would come with plans of your own," he said. "One good plan is better than two competing ones. It saves an awful lot of time, and time has recently become more valuable."

  Horace was visibly pleased. If Wallace had forgone making plans and fortifying his village, it meant that the man trusted Horace to lead and t
hat he was not attached to the idea of staying. These were significant steps in the right direction as far as he was concerned.

  "Can I speak openly?" said Horace, gazing off at the three men who'd accompanied him and Maude. Others from the village were creeping quietly closer to hear what was going on.

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  "Come with me," said Wallace, and he led Horace and Maude away to a rise out in the grass, where the three sat down together.

  "Fresh air makes me think better, what about you?" asked Wallace, gulping a deep breath of air and releasing it with a great sigh.

  Horace was a gifted communicator, and so it was that he was able to use few words to describe the escape from the Highlands, the formation of a new village, and the encounter with a young Cleaner in the Village of Rabbits. When he came to the plan, Maude broke in.

  "We can't know everything," she said, concern in her voice. "There are some things we have to guess."

  Wallace gazed at the woman before him and understood her motive.

  "You wonder whether I've guessed the same as you," he said, an unnerving sort of coolness in his voice. "We shall see."

  Horace had the distinct feeling that Wallace had indeed made a plan after all, only he hadn't chosen to share it. Somehow Horace felt the two men had thought of very nearly the same thing.

  "The Cleaners," started Horace, "are our biggest threat now. It is as Maude said--we must all unite against the one enemy -- if there is any chance of surviving in these hazardous new surroundings. In another time or place we might have fought for what remains or kept our distance from one another, but this threat comes to kill each and every one of us."

  Maude was still the only one among the three who had

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  actually seen a Cleaner, but she was incredibly persuasive when she knew she must be. "They will devour everything in their path," she said. There was finality in her voice.

  "But there are three things that work to our advantage," continued Horace. "The first is that they appear to be dormant or at the very least quite a bit less dangerous at night. We must use this information wisely." Horace said this with a nod toward Wallace. "The Cleaners crave meat and bones. They are carnivores. Maude has even seen them go after the weakest among them, so they make no distinction between what kinds of meat interest them. All meat interests them."

  This highly gruesome idea hung in the air on the pale green hill for a few seconds before Horace completed his thought. "They will follow the scent of food."

  Wallace only nodded as if Horace had spoken a rather obvious truth.

  "People don't smell as strong as animals do," said Horace. "And there's no way to quickly get rid of a smell that's been festering for a very long time. I surmise that the Cleaners will go first to the Village of Rabbits and the Village of Sheep, because these places have the scent of food they will like. They might catch the scent of the horses and come by that way as well, but the really pungent odor of food is in the two villages, and it cannot be erased overnight."

  Horace was coming straight to the point now, and kept right on going.

  "The grove will be the least interesting to the Cleaners. We may see a small number of them there, but the really big groups

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  will go there last, after ..." He realized he was touching on a difficult subject.

  "After they consume everything in my village," said Wallace, "and hers." He nodded at Maude.

  "Unfortunately, I believe that's correct. And I don't think there's anything that can be done about it."

  "I completely agree," said Wallace. "Go on."

  "If we all converge on the grove but leave most of the animals behind, there is a chance of gaining an upper hand. The Village of Rabbits has already begun to empty out. Everyone is on the move to the grove. Even Gill, one of my men, is moving the Highlanders as we speak."

  "You must keep the horses, all of them," said Wallace, breaking in uncharacteristically. "They will be needed."

  "We are of the same mind," said Horace. "For now, they are all on the way to the grove, where I hope they'll be happy to eat the figs off the trees and gain some strength."

  "Continue," said Wallace.

  "I think we can hold the grove," said Horace. It was his most bold statement yet, one he wasn't entirely sure of. "The trees will be of some help, and the greater number of us to fight with the aid of horses. I believe it's our best chance."

  Wallace sat motionless, looking out over the green grass that was starting to turn brown in patches.

  "So it is to be an exodus," said Wallace. There was a calm force in his voice. "And then a stand to the last."

  Horace nodded slowly, not sure if he'd convinced the shepherd to leave his flock.

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  A "Your plan gets us all through today and into the first night in a changed world," said Wallace. "Who knows what another morning will bring that will force us to change course?" Wallace had hit on precisely the thing Horace had been stewing about all morning. Atherton was changing rapidly and unpredictably. It was a variable that had to be accounted for.

  "You said there were three advantages we held over the Cleaners. What is the third?"

  And then Horace told of what he thought this third advantage was, and in the telling he could see that Wallace thought the same thing.

  "It's time I said goodbye to a good many of my sheep," he said, a weary pitch to his voice creeping in. "We must be on our way."

  ***

  Cleaners were on the move, a wild fury boiling between them as they climbed over one another to get in front of the pack. The slippery suction cups on their long underbellies were scouring the dust as they went, searching for the trailing scent of food. They made a terrible slurping sound that blended with their clattering legs and snapping jaws. A deadly smell hung in the air.

  The Cleaners lunged at one another, biting with their sharp teeth. They were almost three hundred in number, heading directly for the Village of Rabbits, and they had never been in such a rage. It was a slow journey, because one of the beasts would lash out at another and a war would break out between them until one

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  was felled, and the Cleaners that were near heaped into a pile over the victim and devoured it. The race for fresh food sizzled in their tiny brains like acid, driving the Cleaners into an unprecedented frenzy.

  They smelled food, lots of it. It was food they would have.

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  PART TWO MULCIBER

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  Do I contradict myself?

  Very well then I contradict myself,

  (I am large, I contain multitudes.)

  Walt Whitman's Song of Myself as quoted by

  Dr. Maximus Harding

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  *** CHAPTER 12 TWO PARTIES UNITE

  Dr. Kincaid went directly to Mead's Head when they entered the main chamber in the House of Power and ran his hand along the chiseled hair of the statue.

  "Just as I left it," he said with some satisfaction. He glanced at Edgar, who was looking back and forth between the bust and Dr. Kincaid.

  "Is that you?" Edgar asked.

  "It most certainly is," said Dr. Kincaid. The old scientist was in a high state of anticipation. "And it appears to be unharmed, which means it might still work as it once did."

  "But how ..." What Edgar was seeing threw his mind into a state of confusion. How could a statue of Dr. Kincaid's head have been in Lord Phineus's chamber all this time, while Dr. Kincaid was in the Flatlands?

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  Before Edgar had a chance to voice his puzzlement, the floor beneath the group of three began to quake, slow at first but growing more violent. The three stumbled across the room to steady themselves by grabbing vines on the ivy-covered wall.

  As the quake grew in intensity, Edgar glanced out the window of the main chamber. The Highlands were crashing fiercely, faster than he had ever seen or imagined any part of Atherton falling. It felt like
a near freefall, and as they descended, shadow fell on the Highlands. Edgar could not understand the sound it made. If ever he had heard a massive wave breaking against a shore, he would have said it sounded like that, only the wave would have been filled with boulders the size of houses, exploding all around him.

  The Highlands came to a brutal stop, which threw the three companions onto the floor of the main chamber in a heap. Edgar banged his head against Lord Phineus's table on the way down and it nearly knocked him unconscious. The sound of liquid and stone lingered, slowly dying in the air, and Edgar felt as if the brains in his head were sloshing back and forth.

  Vincent was the first to rise and look out the arched opening, but soon all three were standing there. Dr. Kincaid put his arm around Edgar.

  "Are you all right?" he asked, examining the round bump forming on the boy's forehead. It was bruised, but there had been no blood.

  Edgar nodded, but looking out the window made him think differently. They were so deep inside Atherton now, deeper

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  than he could have imagined was possible. Light poured in weakly from above, but frightening shadows now filled the once majestic Highlands.

  Edgar looked directly at Dr. Kincaid, rubbing the bump on his head. "I'm not sure I can climb out of here," he said. He could see that the walls in the distance were wet and slippery, and rock fragments were crumbling off and falling into the Highlands as he spoke. "This might be beyond what I can do."

  Dr. Kincaid knelt down before Edgar and put one hand on each shoulder, examining Edgar's head. In his mind he pronounced the boy fit for travel.

  "One disaster at a time," he said, and then he was quickly up on his feet and moving toward Mead's Head, He turned it back and forth, unlocking the secret passage in the floor, and then he turned to Vincent.