After and Again

by McLellan, Michael

  Emily had overheard a man telling Frank Olsen that The Crack was two hundred miles from where they’d been camped at the pass. If that was really the case then he should be getting close, maybe two or three more days.

  And then what? He didn’t know. He guessed that he would see when he got there.

  Three days later the track—he really couldn’t call it a road anymore—cut a tight left through a pass in the hills, turning him from what had been a fairly consistent northwesterly path to one that was almost due west. It dropped down rapidly and opened up into a high valley; “There it is, Grace,” he said to the mare. “Has to be.”

  He stopped at the severe bend overlooking the valley and dismounted. There was nothing to obscure his view and had it been under other circumstances the scene might have left him breathless with its beauty.

  It wasn’t however, under other circumstances and he gave the valley only a cursory glance.

  His attention was drawn to a large building at the left side of the valley, at the foot of the hills. It appeared to be constructed of some sort of masonry or gray brick and its roof was made of some shiny black material that reflected the sun. There were other buildings; smaller and made of wood, scattered around the area, maybe houses, as well as a huge horse corral, wagons, and various things that all looked like machinery of some kind. He could see people moving about, and there was smoke coming from some of the buildings. Emily was down there somewhere.

  He decided that the best course of action—much like when he’d rescued the women at the pass—was to get as close as he could without being seen, assess the situation, and then move in after dark. He looked at Grace and was unsure of what to do with the mare as he knew that there was a real possibility that he’d be killed. He thought of Holly Sanderson and the time-rip and hoped that she and the Goodmans would make it. Maybe she was right all along.

  He got back on Grace and headed down the wagon track. There were still a lot of trees along the hillside and he was reasonable well hidden for the next hour. Soon though, the trees cleared again where the path took another turn—this time to the right, and appeared to make a straight trajectory to the village, or whatever it was….he didn’t see any reason why it would be named The Crack though.

  There was another wooden sign just before the corner, it read;

  Abandon Hope All Ye Who

  Enter Here

  Zack stood staring at the sign, unlike the one announcing Herald’s Ford, which had been carved, this one had been painted in black letters; a long time ago from the looks. The way that it was worded was strange, but the meaning was clear and Zack felt more uneasy than ever.

  He worked his way up the hillside where the trees were thicker and looked for a place to lay up for the rest of the day. The spot presented itself in the form a gully carved out of the hillside, possibly an old landslide from a previous heavy winter. If anyone came from either direction on the wagon track, they would be unable to see him or Grace.

  In a short period of time, and by necessity, Zack had become accustomed to making things up as he went along. He devised his plan sitting on a rock in the gully and chewing on a piece of the gum from the dwindling supply in his pack. There wasn’t much forage up here for Grace, but there was plenty down in the valley. If he let her go down there however, she would surly be caught and probably the men would suspect that she was accompanied by a person, thus giving him away. So he decided that he would leave the saddle and other tack in the gully, wait until well after midnight, and then walk Grace down and sneak her in the corral with the other horses. There were so many that Zack figured she would just blend in, and if he were killed, he guessed that she would be taken care of along with the others.

  The other part of his plan was to get into the gray building. He thought it the most likely place for them to be keeping Emily. Once he was in, if he could get in, he would have to try and think fast as things happened. That was all that he could come up with.

  He was standing by the wooden sign looking down at the cluster of buildings. There was a waxing moon, but it was hardly more than a sliver, and it wouldn’t have been the problem even if it had been a fat and full moon like the one in the harvest season. The place was lit up like it was noon, not midnight; they somehow had electricity down there.

  The only good news that Zack could see is that the horse corral was positioned far enough away from the buildings to be out of the light. He thought that he could get Grace in there pretty easily, after that he would have to hope for the best.

  He waited another hour, then led Grace down the hill. Everything was silent except for the occasional chuff of a horse and a constant low buzzing sound that came from the direction of the gray building. He located the gate to the corral and quietly tried to shoo the horses away from it. Stroking Grace’s neck and whispering a thanks to her for carrying him so far, he opened the gate and led her in.

  21

  Emily sat in the room where Trask had so roughly shoved her hours before. Maybe a whole day she thought, as she had fallen asleep for awhile, how long she didn’t know. She was not tied and the door was ajar. The room was brightly lit with what she gathered were electric lights. They were large rectangles and were set into the ceiling, four in all. The room itself was white, completely white, and was furnished with six white plastic chairs, nothing more. She was just getting ready to get up and take a look down the corridor when two women came in, clothed in white dresses.

  The two women smiled at Emily and then performed a short bow in unison. They stood aside from the doorway and one of them held her hand toward the door indicating that they wished Emily to come with them.

  “Where are you taking me?” Emily asked, feeling both afraid and confused. The women just smiled patiently, one still holding her hand toward the door. Emily got up and walked past the women and into the long corridor that Trask had brought her in through after he had pushed her through The Crack. The women fell in beside Emily and they began walking in the opposite direction from which she had come in.

  The corridor was white like everything else, and longer than any hallway that Emily had ever been down. The women stopped at a door and gestured for Emily to enter.

  It was a large bathroom tiled with a polished white stone, there were basins along one wall and commodes with small partitions on another. One of the women walked forward and turned a silver handle on another wall and water came from a spout above. She made washing gestures and pointed at Emily, then pointed at a white dress hung on the wall. Emily walked over to where the dress was hanging and began to take off her clothes. She had considered resisting but then decided against it. Trask was gone and she didn’t want him called back.

  She hung her clothes next to the dress and one of the women moved forward to take them. “No!” Emily shouted at her. “Those are mine.” The woman stepped back and then mimed washing the clothes and looked at Emily expectantly. Emily nodded her consent and then stepped into the shower area. There was sweet smelling soap in a glass dish attached to the wall, and a washcloth folded neatly above it. She realized how dirty she was when she saw the water that had come off of her body running toward the drain on the plain white tiles.

  She pulled the simple white dress over her head and then looked at the two women who had been sitting silently by the door. One of them got up and walked over to a small cabinet on the wall with a mirror on the front and motioned Emily over. The cabinet had hairbrushes, ones like Emily had never seen before, and bottles of things that may have been scents or lotions. She took one of the hairbrushes and quickly brushed out her hair, and then returned it and closed the mirror. She turned to the women and asked. “Can someone please tell me what’s going to happen to me now?” Just then there was a light knock and the door opened.

  “I believe that I may be able answer that question for you, Emily.” the man standing in the doorway said, then; “thank you ladies, that will be all,” smiling at the two women, who hurried past him and out the door. “I must s
ay that you are even more beautiful than Desmond told me,” he said, looking hawkishly at her.

  The man appeared to Emily to be in his late forties or early fifties, with graying brown hair that had receded considerably. He wore a white shirt that buttoned up the middle, white trousers and black shoes. “My name is Paul Nesbitt, welcome to my home….which is now your home as well, as long as you like.”

  “As long as I like?” Emily said incredulously. “I was forced here against my will.”

  “I guess that it would appear that way,” he said smiling at her, “but please, allow me to explain. If you’ll just walk with me a moment.” he gestured toward the open door much as the women had earlier.

  Emily looked at him warily, “Why wouldn’t those women talk to me?”

  “Oh, my dear, they don’t speak english, and I doubt that you would understand their language. There are other women here who do speak your language though.”

  “More women that were taken after their families were murdered and their homes burned?” she thought that she saw a brief flash of anger in his eyes, then it was gone, the smile however, never left.

  “Emily, your world is dying anyway, has been for three hundred years. I should know, I came from there, originally. What Trask and the others were doing was nothing more than a mercy, all to benefit the greater good.”

  “And what greater good is that?” Emily asked angrily.

  “Why immortality of course, or close to it anyway.” he said, walking out the door and waiting for her in the hall. She followed him out and he proceeded down the seemingly endless corridor.

  “I can see already that you will not be easy to convince, so I will table this conversation until we have more time. For now, rest assured that you are safe here, and that all of your needs will be attended to. We will discuss things in great detail tonight when you join me for dinner. Until then I trust that you will find this room satisfactory,” he stopped in front of a door, reached past her and opened it. “I will send for you.” he said, then turned and continued walking down the corridor.

  The room was large and comfortable and was as white as everything else that she had seen so far. The bed was huge and was piled with white pillows and a puffy white coverlet like nothing she had ever seen. There were at least, paintings on the walls that blunted some of the starkness. Two more doors were inside the room and Emily opened them to see where they led; one was a closet and the other was a bathroom. She had been startled when she walked into the bathroom and the room lit up on its own, Zack would have understood. There was a shelf on the wall in the main part of the room filled with books, maybe a hundred Emily thought with wonder, walking over and running her hand across the bindings.

  There were no windows.

  Emily was sitting on the edge of the bed trying to makes sense of all that had happened. She thought that maybe she was losing the ability to feel anything. She had cried silently over Zack for most of the trip with Trask, and endured his cruel comments like how he wasn’t going to give her anymore water if she was just going to waste it through tears. Now she just felt numb.

  There was a knock at the door and she walked over and opened it. There was a young woman, probably not a whole lot older than Emily, and obviously pregnant, standing at the door with Emily’s clothes folded neatly in her hands. She was wearing a light blue dress and was very beautiful.

  “So you’re the new one,” a statement. “Welcome to Lenhoan….I guess.”

  “You speak english….what is Lenhoan?”

  “It means paradise in the language that the people here speak. And yea, I’m not from here. I used to live in Betton, but me and my sister were brought here after they burned everything….and killed almost everybody.”

  “I’m Emily—thank you.” Emily said taking the clothes. “Do you want to come in?”

  “I’m Lisa, no thank you, I have to go….listen, it’s easiest just to do what he says. You only have to be with him once in awhile, and otherwise it’s pretty nice here. You don’t even have to cook or clean, and hey; you won’t get any older….at least not for a long time.”

  Emily took the clothes and shut the door. She set them on the bed and pulled the white dress over her head and tossed it aside. She picked up her blouse and saw a small sheet of paper poking out of the pocket of her pants. She put on her blouse and then picked up the sheet of paper. It read:

  Dearest Emily

  Do not drink the wine.

  W.P.

  Desmond Trask lay upon the bed while a man in a white tunic tended to his infected face. “Desmond,” said a voice from the doorway, “I wonder if I might have a word when Felson is finished with you?”

  “Sure,” Trask answered, his voice muffled by the poultices on his cheeks.

  “I’ll just wait for you in the anteroom then. Would you like tea?” Trask waved his hand in negation.

  Trask strode down the hall to the anteroom wondering what Weston Presley wanted. He didn’t like dealing with him, would in fact like to twist the man’s head from his body, but he was The Man in Charge’s pet and answered only to him. Therefore, for now at least, Trask had to listen to him.

  “That was an interesting story that you told us about your trip here with the girl, Desmond,” Weston Presley said, from his chair in the anteroom, The Crack buzzing quietly in the background. “I wanted to talk with you about the boy; the one that’s been following you.”

  “What about him?” Trask asked suspiciously.

  “Well, Desmond, it stands to reason that since he has been successful following you up until now, that he will continue to track you here. Maybe he’s already in the area.”

  “I am watching for him, he doesn’t pose any threat to Lenhoan.”

  “That’s what we’re afraid of, Desmond; Paul, umm, The Man in Charge rather, and I would like to meet this boy, and perhaps keep him here for a short time to make sure the girl is….cooperative.”

  “Are you serious? That whelp will be a danger if he’s allowed to live, and you want to let him in here?”

  “I think that you should let The Man continue to make the decisions Desmond, I don’t have to remind you that your future may depend on it. The Man is already disappointed in your failure to complete the tasks set to you. You should however, continue watching for him and simply perform a capture instead of a slaying. Do we have an understanding Desmond?”

  “Of course,” Trask mumbled. “all for the greater good.”

  “Yes, just that,” Weston said standing and walking toward the door. “Oh and Desmond?” he inquired turning back to Trask, “The Man will be….occupied with the new girl over the next few days, just send for me if the boy shows himself.” without waiting for a reply, Weston Presley turned, walked past the sentries and left the room.

  Desmond Trask watched the other man go, then after flashing the silent sentries a black look, walked through The Crack.

  “Hi Desmond.” the man said when Trask exited The Crack. Trask took two long strides forward and grabbed the man by the neck, lifted him off of the ground and threw him against the wall. There was a sickening snapping sound and the man didn’t get up. There were several other men in the room who were all looking at Trask warily.

  “You idiots need to be out of sight from here on out until that kid shows up and we capture him.”

  “You want to capture him?” one of the men asked doubtfully.

  “Just do what I told you,” Trask said, daring the man to speak further. “And get rid of that.” he added, waving his hand toward the man he had just killed.

  Emily was escorted from her room to a spacious dining area with the largest table that she had ever seen as its centerpiece. The table and chairs—probably twenty of them—were of some dark wood. The rest of the room was white except for a long wooden bartop with cabinets behind it and more paintings, which were done in the same fashion as the ones in her room: landscapes mostly, rolling hills, rivers, fields of wildflowers. There were two places set across from each o
ther and she was bid to sit down at one of them. One of the women left the room and the other went behind the bar and added ice to two glasses and poured an amber liquid over them.

  She brought the glasses to the table and set one in front of the empty place and the other in front of Emily, who picked up the glass and marveled over the perfectly uniformed blocks of ice in the glass.

  Emily sipped the drink, it was mildly sweet and delicious, some sort of tea she thought. The woman went and stood by the door, and after a few minutes Paul Nesbitt entered the room.

  “So sorry to keep you waiting my dear, busy busy you know. I see you have tried the tea, isn’t it wonderful?” he asked, taking the seat next to her. “It’s grown right here on the compound, the Lenhoans are highly skilled farmers, far better than any I have ever seen.”

  “It’s good, thank you….you said that you’d explain to me why I’m here, and why my family and friends are all….” she trailed off.

  “Yes of course, allow me to first convey my sorrow for your loss. I know too well how it feels to lose loved ones. Time however, heals all wounds, and you can take my word, Emily, it really does. Ahh, appetizers!”

  Two men in white tunics arrived carrying several trays. They placed these on the table in front of the diners and left without a word. The food smelled wonderful and Emily realized how hungry she was. There was a tray of roasted mushrooms with different kinds of peppers, some bright pink smoked fish, slices of melon and strawberries, fresh bread, and other more exotic items that Emily could not name.

  “Please help yourself,” he said, “I can imagine that you are quite hungry.”

  Emily dished herself a little bit of everything while Paul Nesbitt watched indulgently. “Why do they call you The Man in Charge?” Emily asked, uncomfortable with the way he was staring at her, and wanting to get him talking instead.