Escape from Paradise

by D. Richard Ferguson

  His stomach growled. He knew he should be concerned about more important things—like learning the truth about why his friend was murdered. But try as he may, his mind could not be diverted from its fantasies about the fruit in that little bag.

  Levi groaned as he slid the gold bands off his wrists. “I don’t want these either. Obviously they aren’t doing me any good. Not even my arms have healed.”

  They fell to the ground and one rolled until Adam stopped it with his foot. He felt a slight burn through his shoe.

  “Take ‘em,” Levi said, looking up at Adam.

  Watson replied, “They aren’t yours to give, Levi. Nor are they yours to discard. You must return them to their owner.”

  Levi stared at Watson like a cow at a new gate.

  Of course he’s confused, Adam thought. He doesn’t have a moral fiber in his being.

  Abigail knelt before Levi and opened her pack. As she dug around, jealousy boiled in Adam. Is she going to show the same kindness to this monster that she showed me?

  She placed a cottage piece in Levi’s hand.

  “Read it,” she prompted. “It’s from the Ruler.”

  Levi struggled to focus, then read aloud. “Turn to me. I have crushed you to pieces, but I will heal you.” He closed his fingers around the piece, and color returned to his face.

  Watson plucked the cuffs from the dirt and placed them back on Levi’s wrists. “We will camp here for the night,” he announced. “Tomorrow is banquet day. In the morning, we will all go down to the hall and enjoy a much-needed feast.”

  Then he turned to set up camp. Walking past Adam, he leaned down and whispered, “Don’t worry about Levi. The Ruler knows of his crimes, and Levi will have to stand before him.”

  Adam glared at Levi. If I let him live that long.

  Chapter 18

  Adam watched the others drift off to sleep. Even Levi appeared comfortable and at peace. But the hard, cold ground pressed Adam, and each position grew more uncomfortable than the last. It proved the longest, most miserable night he had endured since Levi murdered George.

  He imagined the loathsome little wretch with his hands around George’s neck, choking the life out of a good man—one of the best in the city. And for what? So he could rob Adam’s house? The thought sickened him—Levi in his home, in his bedroom, helping himself to whatever he wanted, then taking the maps. An ache in his face made him realize his teeth were clenched.

  His eyes moved from Watson to Kailyn, then Abigail. He relaxed his jaw. In a matter of hours he would know. The banquet, the cottage, the Ruler—he would see for himself. Or ... would he see for himself how all those people died? Neither the little ones nor the friends had given an answer about the mutilated bodies, and both had strange responses when he asked. Perhaps neither side should be trusted. Maybe he should just return to the city and find Royce Steadman—and Jacqueline. He could be rich, and ...

  Abigail’s hand on his forehead startled Adam awake. “He has a high fever. And his wounds have reopened.”

  Adam squinted his eyes open. I must have finally gone to sleep. As consciousness returned, Adam’s whole body burned with pain.

  Kailyn parked in front of Adam and locked her eyes on his. “Is it the gold, Adam? Were you dreaming about the bands? Or the bag of fruit? Something is aggravating these wounds. What are you longing for?”

  Adam’s mind raced with arguments for why his desires were perfectly reasonable. And the way everything happened with that downed tree—it was like he was supposed to find the bag of fruit. And ... why should he have to answer to these people anyway?

  Abigail’s tone was soft. “You want that fruit, don’t you Adam?”

  “Of course I want the fruit! Are you going to tell me you don’t?”

  “Actually, I do when I think about it. But when I think about real food—the food at the banquet—”

  “Enough already about the ‘banquet.’ I’m sick of hearing about it. If you want to be there so bad, go.” He dropped his head. “I’ve had nothing but misery ever since I met you. I’m done. I’m going to go find that bag so I don’t starve to death. And then I’m going home.”

  Abigail gently tended his newly inflamed wounds. “I don’t blame you. You’re hungry, so you crave the only food you’ve ever known.”

  She pulled a fresh piece of cloth from her pack and tenderly replaced one of his bandages. Adam could hardly look at the disgusting cloth she was handling, soaked with blood and pus.

  He had been harsh, almost hoping for a response in kind that would give him an excuse to give up on this agonizing quest. But Abigail’s soft answer robbed him of all excuse.

  “How do you do that?” he asked.

  “Do what?”

  “I just snapped at you, and you’re on your knees tending my wounds.”

  She shrugged, continuing her work. “The Ruler sent for you. He wants you to come home.” Then she raised her eyes and added, “And so do I.”

  Adam flinched at yet another pain in his leg. Something sharp stabbed from his pocket. He slid his hand inside and the object punctured his thumb. He jerked his hand away. But the ache in his leg grew worse, so he reached in again and gingerly took hold of the barbed irritant and pulled it out. The cottage piece Abigail gave him earlier had splintered and become razor sharp. He threw it to the ground.

  Abigail stood and drew back. Watson stepped forward. “No. You must keep it. Whether or not you come with us to the banquet, if you wish to survive your injuries, you must never lose that piece.”

  “But it’s—”

  “Don’t worry. It may hurt you, but it will never harm you.”

  Adam tried to make sense of Watson’s words. It will hurt but not harm? It reminded him of Abigail’s story earlier about painful happiness. He wanted to dismiss the idea as nonsense, but he couldn’t. The appeal of escaping empty pleasure still drew him.

  He flipped the piece over with a stick, looking for the colors he had seen before. He saw none. “Why do they come and go—the colors?”

  “They don’t,” Kailyn replied. “The cottage pieces never change. What changes is your ability to see. When your vision grows dark, that which is glorious appears dull or even ugly.”

  “So what makes my vision change?”

  “Your appetites. Whatever your heart craves most determines how well you see. When you desire fruit, the cottage and the banquet lose their appeal. But the more you desire real food, the more you are strengthened to pursue it. That’s why yesterday you had strength to climb all the way up here, but now you only have energy for finding fruit.”

  Adam shifted his weight and groaned. He looked again at the cottage piece. “I can’t carry that. It will cut me to pieces. How did it get so splintered?”

  “It becomes sharp when it touches your Judas desires,” Watson said. “Think of a porcupine with its quills lying flat. If you move your hand in the direction they lay, they are soft and pleasant. But if you rub against the grain, you catch the sharp ends. When your desires and your will move in a good direction, the cottage brings strength, comfort, and healing. When your heart moves the other way, the barbs catch you to keep you from slipping farther.”

  “Believe me,” said Kailyn, “we have all felt those barbs. Honestly, it’s one of my favorite things about the cottage. As painful as it is, I love it because it makes me feel safe. Once it has a hold on you, the cottage will never let you sleepwalk into destruction.”

  Destruction. I’ve already been there and back. But then again, so had Kailyn. She had lost her family too. But she seemed happy. Adam had enjoyed moments of levity, but his joy was so ... fragile.

  “How do you cope with the loss of your husband and child?” The moment Adam uttered the words, he regretted it. “I’m sorry, it’s none of my—”

  “It’s okay. I don’t mind talking about it.” She surprised Adam with a smile. “I don’t just ‘cope.’ I’m happier now than I have ever been. When I lost my family, the Ruler made me a promise. He s
aid he would give me a hundred times what I lost.”

  “You lost your family. What could he give you that would be worth a hundred times more than that?”

  Kailyn lifted a hand toward Abigail and Watson. “Do you remember when they risked their lives to save me from the powers? We are closer than any blood relatives. And a hundred more like them crowd the banquet hall.”

  Adam’s whole inner man melted within him. How he had longed for just one brother or sister all these years. George had been a good friend, but not a brother. Friends stay together while interests align. Family members belong to one another. All he had imagined family would be, he saw in these friends.

  Kailyn motioned to Watson and Abigail. “Just look at them. Natural siblings, yet the bond they share as members of the Ruler’s household is even closer than blood.”

  Natural siblings? Yes, of course! He could see the family resemblance now. His heart raced with renewed hope. Abigail and Watson weren’t a couple. They were brother and sister!

  Abigail’s pleading eyes dissolved Adam’s defenses. “Adam, if you want happiness, then forget about that bag of fruit and come with us to the banquet. Real joy only comes from real food.”

  “That is correct,” Watson said. “There is a kind of pleasure that comes from fruit—unquestionably, but it is happiness-killing pleasure. The fruit fills your stomach but empties your soul.”

  Happiness-killing pleasure? The phrase grated against Adam’s sensibilities. Yet the more he considered it, the more he realized it described his entire life. He turned the idea over in his mind, allowing the eyes of his heart to adjust to the newly shed light.

  “Do you know the difference between heart and soul?” Watson asked.

  “Never really thought about it,” Adam said.

  “Your heart is the part of you that loves and hates. Your soul is the part of you that desires and craves. It is the seat of appetite. One of the most important disciplines of life is to learn to detect thirst and hunger pangs of your soul.”

  “How?” Adam asked.

  “When you feel empty, bored, lonely, lost, restless—those are not merely moods. They are the hunger pangs of the soul. And when you are dry, depressed, irritable, discouraged, frustrated or unhappy—those feelings are the thirst of your soul. Just as your body is designed to repeatedly become hungry and thirsty to signal your need for food and drink, your soul is designed similarly.”

  Yes, yes. Adam thought of how many of the painful emotions inside him so often had no rational explanation. And all his efforts to feel better had realized only the most superficial and temporary success. But now it made sense. If those feelings were hunger pangs and he wasn’t eating real food, of course he would feel dry and empty. The fruit had indeed filled his stomach but emptied his soul.

  “So the Ruler has food that will satisfy those pangs?” Adam asked with a mix of hope and doubt. Such food seemed too good to be true.

  Watson answered. “Yes. His food is perfect, reviving the soul, giving joy to the heart, and light to the eyes. It gives wisdom and insight. It fortifies your inner man and keeps you on the path of purity. It empowers, enlightens, enlivens, enables, and enriches your life. It brings comfort and healing. It is costlier than gold, more desirable than any pleasure, and sweeter than fruit from the orchard.”

  Watson placed a hand on Adam’s chest. “And that is why he designed your soul to keep drying up. If thirst were not an unpleasant sensation, we would not drink. The same is true for dryness of soul. The discomfort is designed to drive us to the Ruler’s table.”

  Adam looked down at Watson’s hand. He had never given much thought to his soul. As Watson removed his hand, Adam’s heart strained to cross the divide. The promise of deep satisfaction of his cravings beckoned him. But each time he began stepping over the threshold of belief, something drew him back.

  Abigail extended her hand. “Please, Adam. Just come and give it a try.”

  He studied her hand. What seemed before only gestures of friendship now took on a new meaning. Does she have feelings for me like I have for her? He tried not to read too much into the subtle redness that had emerged in her cheeks. She was a woman who blushed easily. Whatever the cause, he was glad for it because it colorized her already vivid smile.

  Looking into her eyes—pools of joy and mercy—Adam was sure he had never seen anything as beautiful as what stood before him in this moment. Whatever lay in store, it would be worth it if he could be near Abigail.

  Adam accepted her hand and rose on wobbly knees. The group set out for the banquet hall.

  Chapter 19

  As Adam and the group stepped through the splintered doors of the wooden hall just north of the cottage, unfamiliar aromas enraptured Adam’s senses.

  Abigail and Kailyn’s conversation sounded to Adam like a foreign language. Filet mignon, rib eye, rack of lamb, garlic potatoes—what were these strange terms? Adam and Levi exchanged puzzled looks. Could they be talking about food that wasn’t fruit?

  Abigail’s smile brightened as she greeted more friends than Adam could imagine one person having. A woman hugged her from behind. Somehow Abigail knew who it was, and both women laughed.

  The bright faces, the laughter, and the warmth of all the greetings struck Adam. He’d never seen anything like it. The pleasantries among friends in the lowlands didn’t compare. The scene brought back dim memories of Adam’s life with his family before the pond.

  Abigail turned to greet another friend. “Tichi! So good to see you. Is Hodia here?”

  “Right over there.”

  Abigail and the others crossed toward Hodia’s table. Adam and Levi followed.

  The inside of this unremarkable pine edifice was nothing like what Adam expected. He had imagined something akin to a museum where people sat quietly and observed the colors of the cottage. But the room bubbled with energy. And the happy, friendly rumble of conversation and laughter accompanied by the clinking of glasses and dishes filled the hall with a mood of celebration.

  “I’ve never seen architecture like this,” Adam said. “Such a high ceiling! And ...” he pointed to the massive balcony surrounding the room, “what is that for?”

  Abigail exchanged a smile with Tichi, then turned back to Adam. “You’ll see.”

  Conversations paused as an infectious laugh rang out.

  “Layth’s here!” exclaimed Kailyn as everyone at the table except Adam and Levi smiled. Clearly, they all knew that booming laugh.

  A patchwork of scars decorated Layth’s leathery skin. Adam leaned close to Watson. “What happened to him?”

  “He has faced the warriors in many battles. I doubt anyone in this hall has fought as valiantly as Layth has. The joy you see in him has grown out of the soil of bitter suffering.”

  Between smiles, Adam saw pain in Layth’s eyes, and a subtle limp that hindered his quick, powerful stride.

  “No one enjoys these dinners more than Layth,” Abigail added.

  “I can see that,” Adam said.

  Abigail smiled. “I’m not talking about his size. I mean his delight in anything that comes from the chef. You can’t talk to Layth more than a couple minutes without the conversation coming around to the chef and his amazing food.”

  As Layth approached the table, Watson rose and the two men embraced.

  “Layth, I want you to meet Adam and Levi.”

  “Looks like you’ve encountered our canine ‘friends,’” Layth said, noticing Adam’s wounds.

  “Uh ... yeah,” Adam stammered, surprised by the abruptness of the remark. I guess he’s not the type to waste time on small talk. Adam glanced at Levi, whose injuries were far more severe. Why did he notice my wounds and not his?

  Despite this man’s intimidating forwardness and immense size, his genuineness and joyful demeanor drew Adam in. He seemed to know Adam’s troubles, like a lifelong friend who is free to bypass social convention and go right to what matters.

  And whatever discomfort Adam felt was more than
offset by Abigail’s presence. He could handle anything, it seemed, with her by his side.

  And she was. To Adam’s delight, Abigail had taken the seat next to him. She leaned close and grasped his arm. “I’m so excited you came, Adam. You’re going to love it!”

  He assumed Abigail was always happy when someone visited the banquet hall for the first time, but he hoped her happiness in having him there meant something more. He sensed it did.

  The doors opposite the entrance opened and several men carrying loaded trays began serving the tables. Each person received a different entrée.

  Adam eyed the strange objects on the plate before him, then glanced at the other dishes around the table.

  “The chef decides what to serve each person,” Watson explained. “He always gets it right. He knows our appetites better than we do.”

  “He certainly does,” Tichi added as she received her plate, eyes wide and smiling like someone who had just received a priceless treasure.

  When Layth took a seat next to Kailyn, Watson motioned to the head waiter. The tall, stately gentleman approached the table and, standing behind Tichi and Hodia, laid a hand on each of their shoulders.

  The gestures of warmth, the familiar yet respectful interactions, their body language—everything about these people gave Adam the sense that they had known one another a long time. Or that they had labored together in some great task.

  Layth leaned toward Levi and Adam, lifted his arm toward the waiter, and said, “Charles Baxter. No one serves it up like him!”

  Charles smiled behind a gray beard. “It’s not like it’s rocket science, Layth. The chef does all the work. All I have to do is get it from the kitchen to the table without dropping it.”

  Adam and Levi, now on their feet, shook his extended hand.

  “Pleased to meet you both. I hope you’ll make yourself at home.”

  Charles then made his way around the table, hugging each of the others.

  Judging by the way he spoke and carried himself, Adam took Charles to be an educated, capable, and distinguished gentleman. And his handshake revealed unusual strength for someone his age. Why is a guy like that working as a waiter?