Paradeisia: The Complete Trilogy: Origin of Paradise, Violation of Paradise, Fall of Paradise

by B. C. CHASE

  What she said cut to the quick for Henry. But what the woman didn't realize is that, although he didn't want to reject Aubrey, he did so because he had no other choice. They were quite clearly incompatible. She was the most alluring person he had ever encountered, and he was afraid of himself, on her behalf. He said, “Look, I know it's hard for you to resist, but I'm in no need of a bloody matchmaker.”

  She snorted, “And it's a scandalous shame. Iron sharpens iron.” Lady Shrewsbury pursed her lips and shook her head regretfully. Then she placed a hand on his shoulder and looked sympathetically into his eyes, “You could be so much greater a man.” She let her hand slide down to grasp the lapel, “And eversomuch less lonely.”

  “I'm not lonely, and I don't need a mother hen telling me what to do.” He said it confidently.

  “Why do you insist on suffering so?”

  “I’m not suffering!”

  She took a deep breath and said, “Of course you aren't suffering. The great Henry Potter never suffers. He's too clever for that! He relies on himself, because he never fails! Well,” she straightened her shoulders, “forgive me for interfering with perfection! I'm afraid it quite escaped my notice.” She turned to walk away, but then spun back. Her voice seething with emotion, she said, “And one more thing, Henry Frederick Potter. If I were your mother, I'd have put you over my leg for what you said to that poor boy! In fact, I certainly should have!” Then she strode away, her shoes clacking on the concrete.

  Henry called out with a smirk, “You'd have had a hard time managing that, I wager. I am six foot nine, you know.”

  She turned to stare at him and said emphatically, “I mean before! When you were a child!”

  Henry’s gaze became icy. Lady Shrewsbury appeared to sense that a line had been crossed and she stood motionless, tense. Henry swallowed and said, “Why did you do it, then?”

  Her expression soft, she asked quietly, “Do what, Henry?”

  His voice overwhelmed by bitter emotion, he said, “Why did you send me away?”

  Lady Shrewsbury raised her hand to cover her mouth, containing powerful feelings that were threatening to break through. When she finally spoke, she said, “You were so young. You were too young when it happened,” she gazed off as if trying to capture the words in midair, “When they brought you to me, you wouldn’t speak. You wouldn’t let me touch you. You wouldn’t look me in the eye. You were … broken.” A tear rolled down her cheek. “I didn’t know how to fix you. So I sent you to the school—they had professionals. Counselors. People who I thought could get you through. But Henry, my boy,” she stepped toward him, “I didn’t want to send you away. It broke my beating heart to see you go.” She raised a hand as if to reach out for him. “My greatest wish was to become the mother that you had lost.” Her face fell, “But I failed.” She looked back up and her voice trailed off as she suppressed a cry, “I am your aunt, and nothing more.”

  Bolivar, Venezuela

  The rifle went off again, this time a little farther away, Layla thought. So Bertrand hadn’t killed David with the first shot. Hopefully the second shot hadn’t met its mark either.

  She immediately struck out through the tropical underbrush toward the sound. As she ran, she heard crashing through the foliage ahead. The sounds led her to the thunder of the waterfall where the ground was wet with continuous mist. She could no longer hear them. With no sound to follow, she stopped, waited. She could see the cascade of water lit by moonlight through the branches nearby. Her clothes were quickly permeated.

  A sudden shout rang out from higher up. Another round. She clambered up beside the falls as quickly as she could, struggling to see through the leafy darkness of the night. She finally made it to near the top of the falls, where she saw a tree with a giant hole blasted in the bark. She hurried up to the tree and looked toward the river.

  Bertrand was standing at the steep bank, shouting to Doctor Katz who stood almost waist-deep in the water near the precipice. “It’s your own fault, you know. I told you not to make contact!” He cocked the weapon, but a new round didn’t chamber. He was out of ammunition. He reached for another round in his pockets.

  She had only seconds to act. As fast as she could, she grabbed a sharp-looking stick from the ground and thrust it into the blasted out tree trunk. She raced at Bertrand who had chambered the bullet and was raising the barrel to aim at Doctor Katz.

  She jabbed the point into Bertrand’s neck with as much force as she could, sending them both tumbling forward into the raging water. His body floated limply.

  Bertrand was right. The poison sap killed instantly. No wonder the Yanomamo used it for their poison darts.

  Her feet were slipping on the bottom as Bertrand’s corpse pushed her. She shoved it aside, the dead eyes staring up eerily as it floated by, but it was too late. They both rushed toward the precipice.

  “LAYLA!” Doctor Katz shouted, lunging through the water at her.

  “Help!” she screamed. She was passing underneath some low-hanging branches. She jumped for one, but missed. She would need more height. The edge sucked her and the body with incredible, growing power as it fast approached.

  She only had one chance.

  Drawing a breath, she ducked beneath the roiling surface and lodged her feet against the ground, propelling herself out of the water. She couldn’t see, but felt a branch and gripped it. With alarm she sensed the water pulling her off the brink as she tightened her grasp. She saw Bertrand’s body toppling down beneath her to land on rocks below. The torrent pounded her and stretched the branch out to its limit as she held on. She could scarcely draw in a breath through the continual cascade.

  “LAYLA!”

  David’s voice was barely audible through the thunder.

  “DAVID!” she screamed, getting a mouthful of water for her trouble. She felt the branch move. Just a twitch. Then a tug. Then a wrench. Up.

  She felt the rocky edge. Couldn’t breathe. David groaned with effort as she was pulled over the top. She inhaled and, once her feet were up, kicked against the rock. She saw Doctor Katz on the bank drawing the branch in like a big fishing rod. She reached the shore and he gripped under her arms, heaving her out of the water on top of himself.

  She lay there with her head on his chest panting in exhaustion. As she caught her breath, she said, “What are we going to do now?”

  “We will find where Bertrand hid the canoe and get away from this place,” he replied. “As fast as the motor will take us.”

  They had made it a few steps down the slope toward the beach when a sudden, terrifying scream echoed from distantly in the forest. This was followed by a solo, blood-curdling chant, uttered in low and high notes, sounding animalistic.

  It was so chilling that Layla grabbed Doctor Katz’s hand.

  He translated in a whisper, staring into the darkness, “I am meat hungry! I am hungry for flesh!” He turned to look at her, “They are coming for us. They want revenge.”

  “How do you know what they are saying?” she said.

  “I saw it in a video I watched before we came,” he said lowly.

  A host of voices joined the soloist, making Layla’s spine tingle. She felt as if she were in a time long ago in the ancient, wild world.

  The reality was that she was about to be hunted by stone-age men here, now.

  “We have to find that canoe. Fast,” Doctor Katz cautioned.

  The chant terminated in a frenzy of violent screams. Then there was silence, with only the chirps of jungle insects.

  Doctor Katz said, “They are coming.”

  They crashed along the shore, making much more noise than Layla thought they should. But the urgency to find the canoe was second to any other consideration. The experienced jungle hunters would find them whether they made noise or not.

  Doctor Katz exclaimed in frustration, “Where could he have put it? I wouldn’t think it would be this far!”

  A shout in the Yanomamo language came from behind them.


  “They’re close,” Layla said in a whisper.

  Doctor Katz nodded.

  They crept along the bank as quietly as possible, eyeing the swift-moving current for any sign of the tied-up raft. The moonlight sparkled off the water in what would have been a beautiful scene if not for the circumstances.

  They neared a clearing in the trees, with a sandy embankment. As they approached, Doctor Katz stopped, crouched low.

  Layla gave him a questioning glance.

  He looked up and around and put his finger to his lips.

  She understood, noticing how quiet the jungle was. The frogs had stopped chirping. The hunters must be nearby.

  Layla’s heart was beating ferociously with anticipatory fear. Her mouth was totally dry. She had a horrifying sense of being watched. She looked behind, searched the darkness of the jungle.

  Nothing. She saw nothing.

  Then she drew a sudden breath and squeezed Doctor Katz’s arm. She had seen a totally black and very broad-chested figure illuminated by dappled light as it silently flashed across a small open space in the distance.

  Doctor Katz hadn’t seen it. He searched the blackness all around them, clearly shaken. Suddenly his face went ash-white as he stared wide-eyed into the brush.

  A fearsomely red-painted Yanomamo man had stepped forward right before them, his bow string still vibrating from the release of an arrow.

  Layla realized with horror that the six-foot-long arrow had impaled Doctor Katz in his chest. Blood soiled his shirt and he fell forward, against the shaft.

  Dozens of other naked men emerged from the darkness, each painted red or black from head to toe, and the eyes of each gleaming white with bloodlust.

  Facility AII-B

  Holes along the top of the container allowed in enough light for their eyes to adjust. Wesley and Kelle made their way to the back of the container where Reebok and the shaven orang sat in the gorilla’s cage. The gorilla was very large and the bars of its cell spaced widely enough for the orangutans to have slipped through.

  Suddenly the container jolted, then started to move upwards.

  If Reebok thought the gorilla was safe, that was enough for Wesley, so he also entered the cage through the bars. Kelle quickly followed, holding the bars to steady herself as the container shuddered.

  Shadows moved across the walls and floor as the container moved. Finally, it lowered and there was a terrific thump as it landed. They could hear a truck engine running and it wasn’t long before the container moved again, this time horizontally as the engine shifted gears.

  Wesley sat down in the straw across from the gorilla. He noticed a band on the gorilla’s wrist. He cautiously moved closer to examine it. There was a code:

  He didn’t have his cell, of course, so he couldn’t scan it. But it wasn’t important, anyway. He had hoped the band might have given him some clue as to the destination of the container since they were now unwittingly along for the ride.

  They seemed to pass through a door to the outside. The chirp of insects could be heard and moonlight streamed in from the holes.

  He looked around for some way to get out. The doors had no mechanisms on the inside with which they might unlock them. They would just have to wait until the container reached its next destination. He didn’t see any food for the animals; only water, so he assumed somebody would be opening the doors to feed them.

  The gorilla, a female, surveyed him with gentle, brown eyes. Kelle came and sat beside him. The gorilla invited the orangs closer and wrapped them under its arm as they reclined against him. Then it opened its other arm up to Wesley and Kelle. Kelle rose from the uncomfortable seat against the bars and sat beside it, leaning back against its fur. Wesley was reluctant at first, but ultimately reclined using its leg as a pillow. The motion of the container as it traveled was somehow soothing and he suddenly realized how exhausted he was. Within moments, he was drifting off to sleep.

  The sun was sparkling off leaves outside the windows, framing her attractive, full figure with angelic light. She stood on a stool outside, cleaning the windows, spraying the foam in a zigzag pattern and wiping with paper towels. Two days ago, he had dropped a note into her English II book asking for her phone number, but hadn’t heard anything back.

  She wasn’t interested.

  Oh, well. That was just one more girl he could add to the list of girls who thought they were out of his league. Wouldn’t stop him from trying.

  Even so, he found himself staring at her as he lowered his tray of college cafeteria food onto a table. She stretched her body to reach high on the window, accentuating her graceful figure. She caught him staring and he looked away. When he glanced up again, she was setting the step ladder in front of the next window. This time, he met her gaze purposefully.

  She smiled.

  A smile of condescension. A smile from out of his league. Out of this world, too, but definitely out of his league. She was grinning down at the commoner who had the gall to ask for her phone number.

  He grinned back stupidly.

  She sprayed the window. A number. She was spraying numbers. A phone number. Her phone number.

  He dialed.

  She slipped her phone out of her back jeans pocket and answered. “Hi.”

  “Aren’t you impressed I was able to read those numbers backwards?” Wesley said.

  “Oh yeah,” she giggled, “So impressed. But you can’t call me now. I’m at work!”

  “Oh, yeah, sorry. When?”

  “Tonight, after class.”

  “Okay, I’ll call you tonight,” he said.

  “Okay.”

  “Later,” he said.

  “Bye,” she said.

  I’m in love, he thought, smiling at her as she slid the cell into her back pocket.

  The container jolted on a bump on the road, rousing him from his sleep. Kelle was staring at him. “You look very peaceful when you sleep,” she commented.

  “I was having a good dream.”

  “What about?”

  He was silent.

  “Sienna?” Kelle probed.

  He nodded.

  She said hopefully, “I think we got away.”

  “Yeah, I think so.”

  “Unless they catch us when they open the doors.”

  “Hopefully they’re not looking for us. I think they would have stopped the truck if they knew we were in here.”

  “True, that,” she smiled confidently.

  “Question is, where will the truck stop? They have to feed these animals at some point if the destination isn’t close.”

  “So, assuming we get out of this container okay, what’s the plan?”

  “The plan?” he asked.

  “Yeah. What’s the plan?”

  “I don’t know. I …” He sat up.

  “What?”

  “Doctor Angel said that Abael Fiedler is behind this, the chief of staff to President Surrey. You said that news agencies are under surveillance and that you can’t report on the truth. Furthermore, your boss was killed.”

  “Right.”

  “And we know that the FBI is also under Fiedler’s influence.”

  “Right.”

  “So, who can be trusted?”

  “No one.”

  “Right, so I think it’s up to us.”

  “Up to us?”

  “Yes. We have to fight this on our own.”

  “We don’t have to fight it at all, you know,” Kelle stated.

  “What do you mean?” he said accusatorily.

  “We’re free. We can just get away.”

  “And what, hide?”

  “Yes.”

  “And let them keep doing what they’re doing? What they are doing is unbelievable. We can’t forget what we’ve seen. What they’re doing to people.”

  “You mean what they did to you.”

  “What happened? I thought we were on the same page? What about what they did to your husband? Your kids?”

  She looked down. “T
hings have changed.”

  His tone was fierce, “Changed? The only thing that’s changed is we’ve learned how evil they really are! They’re killing people at that place! Kidnapping and killing!”

  “I know!”

  “Think about what they almost did to you! We have to stop it from happening again! To anyone!”

  Finally, “I’m scared, okay!”

  He softened his tone, placing a hand on hers, “I don’t blame you. That was really horrible. I’m sorry.”

  She looked up at him, “No, it’s not that.”

  He searched her eyes.

  She looked away, wiped away a tear. “I’m scared for you.”

  His head spun. He didn’t know what to think, much less what to say.

  Suddenly the truck slowed and gradually came to a stop.

  “Uh oh. That ain’t good,” Kelle said.

  There was a loud bang from the doors, and a clack. Wesley and Kelle scrambled behind a hay bale as a door swung open, revealing a bright flashlight. “Kelle?” a voice called. “You in there?”

  “Trey!” Kelle exclaimed, rising to her feet and squinting into the light.

  “Thank God,” the voice said.

  Captain Trey Wiggins led them to his Manassas Police squad car. Kelle asked, “How in the world did you find me? And why were you even looking in the first place?”

  “Jarred had told me things were heating up with some cases he was working. He was afraid. He said that if anything happened to him, he trusted me to take care of you. I hadn’t heard from him in a few days, so I went to your house. I saw what happened. Gunshots, everything. Kyle and Braden didn’t make it, did they?”

  Kelle shook her head sadly.

  “I’m very sorry. Whoever is behind this are cold-blooded killers.”

  “We know who’s behind it.”

  “You do?”