The Marus Manuscripts

by Paul McCusker

  “Look that way,” the doctor said, pointing. “I was born near the park. Do you see? There’s a market area. Nadia’s Market, we called it when I was a boy. Now they call it something else, a contrived name that’s supposed to entice people to spend their money.”

  Wade focused the telescope until the stalls, displays, and tents became clear. He saw plenty of merchandise and food. But, apart from a few stragglers, it was surprisingly empty. “Where is everyone?” he asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I see the market and all the stalls, but there aren’t any people around.” Wade scanned the area. “Wait. There they are. They’re crowded up at one end.”

  “I can guess,” Dr. Lyst said.

  Wade squinted to see more clearly. “They’re gathered around someone. Listening to him. It’s Arin!”

  “That doesn’t surprise me. He often preaches on market day.”

  Wade looked over at the doctor. “Preaches about what?”

  “The end of the world, of course.” Dr. Lyst wiggled a finger at Wade. “Would you like to see? I can show you.”

  Wade followed Dr. Lyst down a set of stairs and back into the laboratory. The doctor pushed a button on the wall, and a curtain moved to one side to reveal a large television. “The market, please,” he said to the screen. It suddenly came to life with a full-color picture of the crowd that Wade had seen through the telescope, only the people were much closer and clearer. “Focus on the speaker, please,” Dr. Lyst said. The picture moved to the right and stopped on Arin, who was gesturing at the crowd. “Sound, please,” the doctor instructed.

  Arin’s voice suddenly boomed out. “Only in the shelter will there be protection!” he cried. “Return to the Unseen One and be saved!”

  Some in the crowd laughed.

  “Why should we believe you?” someone shouted.

  “I don’t have to give you my credentials,” Arin replied. “You know me!” He moved and spoke with great energy, but he didn’t sound excited. “You know that I am truthful with you. More truthful than the leaders of this city, who wish to keep the truth from you.”

  “Where’s your golden-haired boy?” a woman asked. “Why don’t you parade him out for us?”

  “He’s gone,” Arin said.

  “Gone! You mean he’s vanished into thin air?” a heckler called out.

  “I believe he was kidnapped.”

  The crowd laughed, and someone said, “Oh, that’s handy!”

  “Off, please,” Dr. Lyst said to the television. The screen went blank.

  “He’s probably worried about me,” Wade said thoughtfully. “I should let him know where I am.”

  Dr. Lyst smiled sympathetically. “I’ll see that Thurston takes care of the matter.”

  “You think Arin is crazy, don’t you?”

  “Not crazy. Simply deluded.” The doctor rubbed his eyes wearily. “I think anyone who feels he has to rely on some supernatural force—like the Unseen One—is trying to escape from the realities of life.”

  Wade wasn’t sure he agreed. Arin didn’t seem crazy or deluded. But what did Wade know about things like that?

  “It’s a lot of superstitious hocus-pocus,” Dr. Lyst said.

  “But what if he’s right?”

  “If he’s right, then we’ll all die as he says.”

  Wade shuddered. “That doesn’t sound very hopeful,” he replied.

  “As far as I’m concerned, we’re going to die anyway if we don’t unite under Tyran and defeat our enemies.” The doctor gazed steadily at the boy. “We each have to make a choice, Wade. We have to decide whose side we’re on. You can go the way of Arin or the way of Tyran. There is no middle ground.”

  “I don’t have to make a choice, do I? Remember, I don’t belong here. Sooner or later, I’m going home. Aren’t I?” Wade felt a sharp sting of panic. He imagined what it would be like if he couldn’t get back. Though he enjoyed being important to Dr. Lyst and Tyran, he couldn’t forget his poor mother. She’d be worried sick about him.

  Dr. Lyst smiled at Wade. “As soon as we get the job done for Tyran, I’ll do everything I can to get you home.”

  “Do you really think you’ll figure out how?”

  “I’ll do my best. I promise.”

  Thurston suddenly appeared at the door. “Dr. Lyst, Tyran would like to see you,” he said.

  “I thought he might,” Dr. Lyst replied and immediately left.

  Thurston entered the room and began to look under the counters, behind a curtain, and in the corners.

  “Are you looking for something?” Wade asked.

  “Cromley the cat, Mr. Wade,” he said. “You haven’t seen him, have you?”

  “No, I haven’t. Is he missing?”

  Thurston opened a closet door and peeked in as he explained, “He hasn’t been seen since last night, which is very unusual behavior for him.” He suddenly sneezed, wiped his nose with a handkerchief, then resumed his search.

  “Can I help you look? I’m pretty good at finding things. At least, my mother says I am.” Wade began to hunt around the lab, without success.

  “Then I’m sure you are,” Thurston said.

  After another minute’s search of the lab, Wade left with Thurston to look elsewhere for the missing cat.

  Dr. Lyst knocked on the large oak door of Tyran’s study a few minutes later. He stepped in without waiting for a response, then paused. The beauty of the study always took his breath away. Windows stretched from floor to ceiling along the outside wall. Another wall was dominated by bookcases, the next wall contained paintings by some of Marus’s greatest artists, and the fourth wall was fronted by more bookcases, filing cabinets, and an enormous desk behind which Tyran sat.

  He was looking over some papers and spoke without looking up. “I have been watching the visual recordings of the boy on the television,” he said. He poked his pen toward the large screen in the wall behind him.

  “I had hoped you would,” Dr. Lyst replied.

  Tyran put down his pen and folded his hands under his chin. “It all sounds fanciful to me,” he continued. “Is he telling you anything valuable?”

  “I think his information is very valuable,” Dr. Lyst said enthusiastically. “He’s given us a whole new direction, a direction we wouldn’t have thought of in our solar-based society. It’s so simple . . . so primitive . . . it’s little wonder we didn’t think of it.”

  “But will it work?”

  “Yes.”

  Tyran eyed him skeptically. “You sound awfully confident.”

  “Don’t you see? All the elements for these bombs were right under our noses, but we didn’t realize it until now. All my technicians in Hailsham have been watching our interviews on closed-circuit television. I spoke to them briefly on my way here to see you. They’re already starting to put the pieces together.”

  “Can we create these weapons he is describing? Can we manufacture an atomic bomb?”

  “I think we can. But it will take a long time.”

  “We do not have a long time, my friend. I have just learned that the Adrians will probably join the Albanites to fight against us. We must have superior weaponry to scare them off.”

  “If it’s a scare you want to give them . . .”

  “Yes?”

  Dr. Lyst spoke slowly, thinking aloud. “It’ll take a long time to create an atomic bomb, but I think we can create some smaller yet very powerful bombs in a shorter time—they’ll certainly be more powerful than the solar bombs we’re throwing at each other now.”

  “How quickly can you produce these bombs?”

  Dr. Lyst did an estimation in his head. “A month, maybe more.”

  “A month! We don’t have a month! I must have something sooner, something now.”

  “You want the impossible.”

  “I need the impossible.”

  “My technicians are working around the clock.”

  Tyran paced with his hands clasped behind his back. “If I could st
all everyone with a demonstration . . . just enough to impress them that we have the capability to inflict damage . . . even if we are not ready to mass-manufacture yet . . . then maybe those fool elders will listen to me.”

  “You want to bluff them?”

  “Yes. Make them think we have a whole arsenal, even if we do not. Can you create just one bomb powerful enough to make them think twice about me?”

  “Without testing it first—”

  “Forget testing it! The demonstration will be the test!”

  Dr. Lyst looked doubtful. “I can try.”

  “When?”

  The doctor took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “Three days?”

  “Make it two.”

  “Tyran!”

  “Three days may be too late. Make it two days, my friend. I am meeting with the elders this afternoon, and I must have something with which to surprise them. Two days.”

  “Two days.” Dr. Lyst sighed deeply. “I’ll leave for Hailsham right away.”

  From his bedroom window, Wade watched Tyran climb into his black sedan and drive away. A moment later, Dr. Lyst left in his smaller car. Wade wondered where they were going and why Dr. Lyst had such a serious expression on his face.

  Wade’s attention was drawn from the window by a strange scratching sound behind the wall next to the bed. Rats? he wondered. But then a dark-wood panel sprang open, as if suddenly released from a latch.

  Thurston stepped into the room. “Secret passageway,” he said to Wade as he closed the panel behind him. “I thought Cromley had gotten in there, as he sometimes does.”

  Wade approached the panel and ran his finger along the almost-invisible seam. “Really? Where does it go?” he asked.

  “To the various rooms, then down to an underground corridor that runs to a pump house at the edge of the gardens,” Thurston replied. “I believe it was used by the servants in the old days to retrieve water.”

  “How does it open on this side?”

  “I’ll show you,” Thurston said. He added cautiously, “But you mustn’t go in there. It’s off-limits to everyone except a few of the staff.”

  “Okay,” Wade said.

  Thurston reached up to the top-left corner of the panel, which was decorated with a small carving of a flower—just as each corner was—and pressed a petal. It released the catch, and the panel opened again.

  “Cool,” Wade said.

  Thurston closed the panel again, then asked, “Any sign of him, sir?”

  Wade turned to the room and resumed his search. “Not yet. But I haven’t really looked in here yet.”

  He and Thurston called out, “Cromley? Are you in here?” and then looked around the room, behind the curtains, in the closets, in the bathroom, and under the furniture. In the darkest corner under the bed, Wade thought he saw something move. “I think I found him!” he called.

  A few minutes later, Thurston had retrieved a lamp, and together he and Wade looked under the bed again.

  “It’s Cromley all right,” Thurston said, then beckoned the cat.

  The animal meowed weakly.

  “He doesn’t look very well,” Wade observed.

  Lying down on his back, Wade reached under the bed and, with a broad, sweeping motion, scooped up Cromley and brought him out.

  Back on his feet, Wade asked, “What’s wrong with him?”

  Cromley looked emaciated and had a crusty, yellow substance around his nose. “I can’t imagine,” Thurston said. He left immediately to call a veterinarian.

  Tyran was ushered into the chamber of the elders and found the room virtually empty. Only Liven and Dedmon awaited him. The two men looked tired and impatient.

  “Where are the rest of the elders?” Tyran asked.

  “They’re ill and couldn’t join us today,” replied Liven.

  “Ill?” Tyran was skeptical.

  “Yes, ill,” Dedmon answered with a scowl. “You’re familiar with the word, I think.”

  Tyran frowned. “I said I wanted to meet with all the elders.”

  “Well, you have the honor of meeting with Dedmon and myself,” Liven said. “Are we not enough for you?”

  “Frankly, no.”

  “That’s too bad,” Liven said and then shuffled a few of the many papers in front of him. “You’ll have to make the best of it.”

  “This is insulting!” Tyran complained.

  “Oh, please, Tyran!” Dedmon said. “We’ve listened to your rantings and ravings long enough.” He groaned, then wiped his nose with his sleeve.

  “Rantings and ravings?” Tyran asked indignantly.

  Dedmon continued, “You’re as bad as—what’s his name?—the mad prophet.”

  “Arin?”

  “He’s the one. The two of you are cut from the same cloth.”

  Tyran’s face turned scarlet, but he said with restraint, “You do not know what you are saying.”

  Liven snapped, “What’s your business with us, Tyran? We have a lot to do.”

  “What I have to say must be said to all the elders.”

  “Well, that’s clearly not possible,” Dedmon said. “Speak your piece or get out.”

  “Dismissing me like a schoolboy, is that it?”

  “Suit yourself.”

  Tyran fumed. “I will show you who is the master and who are the schoolboys! I have warned you.”

  “Yes, yes,” said Dedmon with obvious boredom, “you’ve warned us again and again. The people will rise against us, we must unite under your rule or perish, and I’m sick of your noise. The people have not rallied behind you, and we have not perished without you. I’m so bored with indulging you.”

  Tyran’s voice rose angrily. “See how bored you are in two days’ time! You will regret speaking to me in this way!”

  “I’m sure we will. But until then, if you please . . .” Liven gestured to the door.

  “Remember this day, gentlemen, and make note of what has transpired here,” Tyran threatened. Then he stormed out the door, pausing only long enough to hear the two men inside laughing at him.

  For the rest of the day, the castle seemed to bustle with activity, but none of it involved Wade. Dr. Lyst was gone for most of the afternoon, and when he returned in the evening, he locked himself in the lab to work. Even Thurston was unavailable to Wade, since he’d taken Cromley to a veterinarian.

  With time on his hands, Wade wandered the castle like a small ghost. He tried reading but found the books in Tyran’s collection too political for his taste. He walked up and down the halls, glancing at the various paintings and statues, but he soon tired of that. Then he peeked in the various unoccupied rooms, strolled along the castle wall, and felt generally bored. Without Dr. Lyst, he didn’t know what to do with himself.

  He thought about his mother and wondered if she were upset because he’d been gone so long. It was wrong of him not to try harder to get back to his world, he figured, though he didn’t have the slightest idea how to do it. Dr. Lyst had promised he would attempt to figure it out, but could he? What if he didn’t know how? Wade then thought of Arin, who’d suggested that the Unseen One might return Wade to America. Did Dr. Lyst remember to have Thurston tell Arin I’m all right? he wondered.

  Arin . . . Dr. Lyst . . .

  They were so different. Arin believed in the doom and judgment of the Unseen One—that the end of the world was near. Dr. Lyst believed in the hope and future of Tyran—that a new beginning was at hand. And somehow Wade was the missing piece to both their beliefs. How was that possible? Wade didn’t know what he believed.

  That night, he dreamed of Arin preaching in the streets and a giant mushroom cloud growing on the horizon behind the city. The atomic bomb! Wade tried to shout, but he had no voice. Thousands died from the explosion.

  The next morning, Thurston came to Wade’s room as usual and threw open the curtains. Wade flinched and covered his face, as if protecting himself from an explosion.

  “Are you all right, sir?” Thurston asked.
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br />   Wade was breathless. “I had a bad dream,” he said.

  “I’m sorry,” Thurston sympathized.

  Wade sat up and asked, “How’s Cromley?”

  Thurston turned, clasping his hands anxiously in front of him before saying, “Bad news, I’m afraid. He died last night.”

  “Oh no!”

  “I’m going to miss him terribly.”

  “Me, too,” Wade said with a nod, then asked, “How did he die?”

  “The veterinarian wasn’t sure. He’d never seen anything like it.” Thurston pulled the covers aside so Wade could get out of bed. “It’s all very mysterious,” he added.

  Wade looked at him, perplexed.

  “Not only about Cromley, but the others, I mean.”

  “What others?” Wade asked.

  “Some of the staff have taken ill. We have only about half of our usual people in place.”

  “Does anybody know why?”

  “No, sir,” Thurston said. “Tyran called for a doctor.”

  Thurston went into the bathroom to start the water for Wade’s bath. Wade got undressed and wrapped a robe around himself. He walked into the bathroom, where Thurston was testing the temperature of the water.

  “Thurston . . .” Wade began hesitantly.

  “Yes, sir?”

  “Did Dr. Lyst ask you to deliver a message to Arin?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Oh.” Wade thought for a moment. “I’d like to go see him if you can arrange it.”

  “Arin?”

  “Yes, please.”

  “I’m afraid that isn’t possible,” Thurston said.

  “Why isn’t it?”

  “Tyran has given express orders not to allow anyone in or out of the castle right now.”

  “Why?” Wade asked in surprise.

  “He and Dr. Lyst are in the middle of some very important work, and they fear that a breach of security could compromise them.” Thurston stood away from the bathtub. “At least, that’s what they’ve told me.”

  “In other words, he’s locked us in,” Wade said.

  “Yes, I suppose you could put it that way.”

  Wade folded his arms and thought for a moment. He wanted Arin to know where he was and that he was safe. “Thurston,” he said finally, “I have to get a message to Arin. I want him to know I’m all right.”