Escape from Paradise

by D. Richard Ferguson

  When Alexander claimed fruit was forbidden in the high country, Adam took it as an exaggeration. But now, looking at Abigail’s desperate face, realization settled on his mind like a dark cloud. It’s true!

  “So eating really is against the law for you people? Why would the most natural function of life be illegal?”

  “Not everything that’s natural is good,” Abigail said. “A lot of things about the natural world are broken. What do you feel after you eat fruit?”

  Adam shrugged. “Nausea, like anyone else. But everyone knows that can be controlled with moderation. Sometimes I barely even feel it.”

  “The reason you always feel sick after eating fruit is that we weren’t made for fruit.”

  Abigail’s words did what Adam had thought impossible. They strained his willingness to go with her. The thought of depriving himself of one of life’s greatest pleasures seemed an intolerable prospect.

  He had not realized until this moment how much he had come to love this world. He loved the freedom he enjoyed here. He loved the fruit. He loved the ideas of the prophets. He loved the salve they had put on his eyes and the promise of knowledge that came with it. And he sensed all of that was possible only in a half-real world.

  Adam pulled his hands from Abigail’s. “Your ruler doesn’t ask much, does he? I’ve already sacrificed my home, my job, and a chance at some real wealth. And now I have to give up eating?”

  “Sacrificed?” Kailyn said. “Is that how it feels?”

  Watson shook his head. “Is it a sacrifice for a drowning man to let go of the anchor he is clinging to? It is true—you must leave everything behind. But the Ruler will never, ever ask you to make a sacrifice.”

  “What does that even mean? Of course it’s a sacrifice if I have to give up everything of value.”

  “When you give it up, you will find it had no value compared to what you receive in return. The only demand the Ruler ever makes is that you trade the worthless for the priceless.”

  Adam looked again at the trees.

  Abigail took his face in her hands. “No. Look at me. Looking at the fruit will only feed your Judas desires.”

  “Judas desires?”

  “Desires that betray you. Your cravings should be your servants, helping you obtain what is good. When a desire draws you toward what is harmful instead of what is good, it has betrayed you. And strengthening your Judas desires with your eyes is suicide.”

  “It’s true,” Watson said. “There is a reason your desire for fruit is so strong. It is not just about pleasure. There is something deep within you that is attached to it. On the day you decide to forsake the orchard forever, that part of you that loves the fruit will resist. It will feel like someone is tearing your insides apart. You will hate the fruit and love the fruit, and that hatred and love will go to war. When the hatred destroys the love, only then will you have an appetite for real food.”

  “Real food? Are you saying fruit isn’t real?”

  Since Adam had arrived in this world, he had never heard of any food other than fruit. But at this moment, faint memories of his childhood, before the pond, wafted through his mind—memories of eating food that was not fruit. In fact, it wasn’t even sweet, yet somehow still pleasurable and satisfying. Happy, fulfilling times with his family around a dinner table sketched the back of his mind. He could recall nothing specific—only a general feeling that things had been ... as they should be. But why was it so hard to remember? Were these memories even real?

  Adam gazed to the west. “What is the ... ‘real’ food like? Does it taste like fruit?”

  “There are banquet halls throughout the high country,” Kailyn said. “That will be our first stop when we—”

  “The high country? You expect me to travel all the way there before eating anything?”

  “Don’t worry,” Watson said. “If you truly want real food, that appetite will strengthen the wind at your back and you can travel as far as you need to travel. But the only strength the fruit will give you is strength to resist the wind. The wind always blows toward life. Resisting it is the way of death. If you want to live, forsake the fruit and come to the high country where you can dine at the Ruler’s table by the cottage.”

  “You talk a lot about appetite and desire. Why is that so important to you? I don’t look at life that way. I think if a man fulfills his duty, he’s a good man—whether he felt like doing it or not. If desire gets on board with duty, great. But character is measured by doing what you ought to do. If I do what’s right, what does it matter what I desire?”

  “It’s true that one must fulfill duty. But your highest duty is to have pure desires. Suppose one man gives you a gift, but secretly wants to see you suffer. Another man gives you a gift desiring only your good. Which is the better man?”

  “I guess I can see that. But how can I be held responsible for my desires? I can control my actions, but I can’t just flip a switch and change what I desire.”

  “No, you cannot. Not with a switch. But you can with a taste. Or even with a gaze. A satisfying taste has expulsive power to drive out disordered appetites. We cannot choose our desires, but we can stimulate them—both good ones and bad ones. Sample the Ruler’s delicacies, and you will see.”

  A war raged between Adam’s curiosity and his suspicion. He had been warned about becoming trapped. But with the clear vision he now possessed because of the eye salve, he was confident he would be impervious to deception and could expose myths as myths. He was equally confident he would detect any kind of trap or ambush—especially if they didn’t detect his skepticism.

  He manufactured a smile. “I’m convinced. I want to find my home. I will go with you to the cottage.”

  Chapter 13

  As they entered the valley, Kailyn, Watson, and Abigail slowed, then stopped, scanning the landscape.

  “The grasslands are dangerous,” Watson whispered to Adam. “Stay here. We will make sure the way is clear and come back for you.”

  “I’ll be here,” Adam said.

  When they were out of sight, Adam made his way back inside the tree line and took a position against a rock wall that protected him from behind and provided a good view of all angles of approach. Until he knew for sure who he could trust, he would not let his guard down.

  He wished he could see the other side of the valley, but it was too far. In fact, he couldn’t make out much of the slope right in front of him. Even shrubs thirty yards away appeared blurry.

  He rubbed his eyes, but it didn’t help. The miraculous close-up vision from the salve had so enthralled him that he hadn’t noticed the damage to his distant vision.

  He squinted toward three figures approaching from below. Are they back already? Yes. That must be them.

  He stepped out to meet them and was greeted by a child’s voice. “Excuse us, sir. Do you need help?” Three smiling young boys stood before him. “Are you going to the cottage?” said the tallest boy.

  “I was, but—”

  “We can help you,” said the second boy. “Crossing the river can be tricky.”

  Adam tried not to stare at their extravagant clothes and gold jewelry.

  “Do you have a boat?” Adam asked.

  “There are public boathouses on both sides. Anyone can use the boats. But going by yourself isn’t a good idea. You have to make it across before you get to the gorge. Drop into the gorge, and you won’t make it out. But we can get you across.”

  Adam studied the boys.

  “You’re wondering about the gold?” said the first, holding his necklace. “It came from the cottage. Come with us, and we’ll show you how to use the cottage to get more gold than you ever dreamed possible.”

  “I was told I had to leave the gold to go to the cottage.”

  “You were told wrong. The Ruler—the one who built the cottage—is the wealthiest man in the high country, and he wants his people to be rich. That’s what the cottage is for. It’s the tool he uses to show his love and generosity
.”

  “I’ve seen other children from the cottage. They didn’t have gold.”

  “That’s because they don’t have faith. If they would believe the gold is theirs and claim it, they’d receive it.”

  “That’s how you got the gold you’re wearing?”

  “Ha! The gold we’re wearing is nothing. We have barns filled with gold. Follow us.”

  The boys ran through the tall grass toward the bottom of the valley, but not directly west as the others had gone. Instead, they took a southwest line.

  Skeptical, Adam hesitated. This didn’t sound right. But then again, what reason did he have to trust the others?

  The thought that he might recoup his losses and that he may not have to choose between gold and the cottage appealed to him. He didn’t need barn-loads of gold, but if he had enough so he didn’t have to worry about working, that would enable him to spend his time searching for a way home.

  Adam ran to catch up. After several minutes, he stopped and scanned the area. They were gone.

  He looked back toward the tree line. If he retraced his steps, he might find the spot where the others had left him, even with his nearsightedness. He might also run into whoever killed those people. He turned westward and headed downhill, toward the river.

  An hour’s walk brought Adam close enough to the river that he heard the faint sounds of the rushing water below. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw movement. He turned. Only grass—and stillness. Another movement, to his right. Then a sound behind him.

  Something was out there.

  In a flash, they sprang on him. Snarling, growling wolves from every direction. He had always been a fast runner, but with adrenaline pumping, he lit out across the meadow faster than ever, flying through the tall grass, hurdling stones and ditches.

  A stand of trees appeared just ahead. If he could make that, he could climb out of their reach.

  The grass whipped against his arms as he sprinted.

  Almost there.

  Gasping for air and muscles burning, he assessed the closest tree. With a strong jump, he should be able to catch the lowest limb and pull himself to safety.

  He glanced back, and in that instant, he tripped on a rock and crashed face-first on the hard ground.

  He rolled to his side, his world spinning. His jaw ached from the impact. When he pushed to his knees, they had surrounded him.

  They attacked, snapping and snarling. He struck the first one on its nose, but the next was already upon him. He went down, stabbing at the wolf’s eyes. The wolf parried the effort with ease and countered with a stinging bite. Adam punched, dodged, scratched, and kicked. He grabbed a handful of hair and jerked a set of vicious teeth from his arm. But the pack closed in, mad with the scent of blood.

  Adam’s strength, adrenaline, and much of his blood soon drained, as did his will to fight. He rolled to his stomach, covered his face and neck with bloody forearms, and balled up. Hopelessly outmatched, he gave up the struggle.

  Sharp teeth ripped into his calf. Another on his foot. Then a powerful jaw crushed his shoulder. He wanted to scream from the pain, but his wind was gone.

  A deep growl, inches from Adam’s ear, signaled the killing bite. The creature’s fangs penetrated Adam’s neck with such force Adam expected his spine to snap.

  Then, the jaws released. Adam remained still while snarls, barks, and yelps increased then faded into the distance.

  He raised his head but saw only what looked like a child chasing other children into the tall grass.

  The intense pain of his injuries, fear that they might return, and the realization of how close he’d come to death paralyzed him.

  Had he encountered the powers that had attacked Kailyn? Or were they just ... wolves? Had those boys lured him into a trap? And who chased them off?

  He saw movement again, this time just below his position. A fresh surge of adrenaline made him alert, but not even adrenaline could enable him to run with his injuries.

  He summoned the dregs of his remaining strength and pulled himself along the ground through the tall grass toward a small clump of trees where he could hide.

  The sounds grew louder—footsteps coming up the hill through the dry grass. Adam stopped. It was no use. He wouldn’t make it to the trees. He lay still, holding his breath. Maybe they won’t see me.

  “Adam? Are you okay?” He breathed a sigh of relief at Kailyn’s voice.

  “You’re bleeding!” Abigail said, rushing to his side. She steadied him with one hand, and with the other gently touched his leg just below a severe laceration. Her already fair skin paled even further as she discovered his many other wounds. Her voice cracked and then faltered. “Oh my ...”

  “We need to get him out of here,” Kailyn said.

  “Yes,” Adam groaned. “Please. Anywhere but this place.

  Watson frowned. “I have seen wolf bites like this before. Men have died of lesser wounds. You will never make the journey in this condition.”

  “Let’s at least move him to some cover,” said Kailyn. “He’s exposed in this field. If the powers see him out here ...”

  “Indeed,” Watson said. “We will carry you to those trees.” Watson put his hands under Adam’s arms from behind, and the women each took a leg. They gingerly carried him into the stand of trees and leaned him against a rock.

  A wave of despair overtook Adam. He knew Watson was right. He couldn’t even sit up on his own, much less make the journey to the cottage or back up through the grasslands toward the forest.

  “I don’t want to die here,” Adam said.

  What had been a curious interest in seeing the cottage now swelled to a driving need to go there. As he felt death encroaching, every other priority faded to gray. He spoke through a stream of tears. “I need to see the cottage. Please. Carry me, drag me—whatever it takes. I have to see it before I die.”

  “I’m sorry,” Watson said. “Carrying you would do no good. If you can’t walk on your own, you will have to stay here because progress toward the cottage is impossible when your heart is enslaved to something else. Wolf bites inject poisons that incapacitate desire for good and cause you to love the wrong things. In this case, gold. We could no sooner carry you to the cottage than force a camel through the eye of a needle.”

  Adam could feel heavy golden shackles constricting his heart, squeezing tighter, anchoring him to the lowlands.

  “How do you treat injuries in the high country?” Adam asked. “If there’s no gold, then—”

  “Oh, there’s plenty of gold,” Kailyn said. “But we don’t need our own gold. Once you get your new name, anyone’s gold can heal you. And you don’t even have to touch it. Just seeing them enjoy their own gold heals your wounds.”

  *****

  In the hills to the north, silent eyes watched from within the black timber. Hundreds of warriors, swords drawn, awaited Anzu’s order.

  Anzu turned to Adramelech, the legion commander.

  “Hold,” Adramelech said.

  He wants to wait for the scouting report? Anzu glanced down at Adramelech. How did a passive, scrawny little worm like him ever make commander? Anzu straightened. “Yes sir.”

  Anzu had initially welcomed his transfer to this legion when he was told he’d serve as a lieutenant under a legendary strategist. Other commanders studied Adramelech’s methods on the battlefield, and rumor had it he was in consideration for promotion to the rank of regional power.

  But so far, Anzu remained unimpressed. I’m supposed to learn battle tactics from him? Wars are not won with timidity.

  An hour passed before the advance team returned. Adramelech had not moved, nor taken his eye off Adam until the breathless scouts arrived with their report. “The area is clear. We are free to engage.”

  Hand-picked by Anzu, a detachment of elite warriors waited like a frenzied pack of dogs straining at their leashes, eyes fixed on Anzu’s upraised hand. At his signal, it would be a race for the honor of delivering the lethal
blow to finish Adam.

  Anzu tightened his fist and watched for Adramelech’s nod. “Now?”

  *****

  “What is it, Kailyn?” Watson asked.

  Kailyn studied the grasslands. “I don’t like this.”

  Watson shifted his eyes to the north. “They’re probably close. We need to stay alert.”

  “Who is probably close?” Adam asked. “The Great ... or, uh ... little ones?”

  “No. Our battle is not against flesh and blood. Remember when we told you about the powers that control the little ones? Those powers command thousands of warriors. They are the enemy. They are invisible except when exposed by the colors of the cottage. But sometimes it is possible to sense their presence—such when you saw what appeared to be wild animals.”

  “You said they’re exposed by the colors of the cottage. I saw those colors, years ago, when I was a child. And I saw them again when you fought the powers. What are they?”

  “Those colors give substance to life,” said Watson. “The gray of the lowlands is a sign of deadness. The life of that entire world is draining away. The cottage was designed and built by the author of all life, and those colors are glimmers of his life. His nature is pure goodness and virtue. In fact, it is the source of all goodness and virtue everywhere. It is the source of all beauty and all joy. Everything that is good emanates from his heart. He created the cottage as a way of transferring traces of his nature to us.”

  “So when I visit the cottage, I’ll become ... better?”

  “Not if you merely visit. Only when you pass through will you be transformed.”

  Adam shivered and closed his eyes.

  “Stay awake,” Abigail said with a gentle touch. “They prey on the weak.” Creases of anguish cut across her forehead as she regarded the lacerations that covered his body. “Why didn’t you wait for us?”

  “Some boys came. They said they could bring me to the cottage. I trusted them because they were children.”

  “You should have checked their prints,” said Watson. “You would have seen wolf tracks. Everyone’s true nature is exposed by the trail they leave.”