Escape from Paradise

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Escape from Paradise Page 13

by D. Richard Ferguson


  Adam turned away, but she stepped in front of him. “Your stomach was not made for fruit. The Ruler designed your body with appetites that can only be satisfied by his delicacies. You are restless, Adam, and you will remain restless until your soul finds rest in the Ruler.”

  Adam shook his head. “I’m just not ready. Maybe someday I’ll—”

  “No. Today is the day to come. Don’t you understand? You don’t have forever.” She drew a cottage piece from her bag.

  Adam lifted a hand. “No, I don’t want another—”

  “Take it.”

  He pushed his hands into his pockets.

  Abigail held the inscription in front of his face. He looked away at first but finally read the words. “Seek him while he may be found?”

  “It’s a warning. The door won’t stay open forever. The wind will only blow on your life for so long. If you keep resisting, it will stop. And then you can never come.”

  She took hold of his arm with both hands. “Come with me back to the dinner. There are some foods you didn’t try. Maybe if you—”

  “I don’t think so. I can’t go back there. Being in that place does nothing to make me desire the cottage.” Then he squeezed her hand. “But being with you does. I think if we could be together, over time I would come to desire the cottage.”

  She felt her hand tighten around his.

  “Come with me,” he said. “Surely the wind will keep blowing as long as you’re with me.”

  She withdrew her hand.

  “Please, Abigail. I’ll never pressure you to eat any fruit, but I need you to be with me.”

  She attempted to turn her gaze from him, but her eyes refused. There was something in Adam she admired. She wanted to be with him. But ...

  “You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen,” he said. “I’m sure other men have told you that. But for me, it’s more than just your beauty. There is something inside you that comes out through your smiles and your words that activates all kinds of things in me I didn’t know were there—things like compassion and courage and desire for good things. There is a purity in your soul that makes me want to be a better man—the man I should be. Please, just come with me.”

  She turned toward the banquet hall and then back to Adam. The high country was her home. The people were family. The food gave her life. But what would happen to Adam if he went back to the city alone? He’d never make it past the grasslands.

  Her hair moved in the gentle breeze. The draft carried the stench of the warriors to her nose. She sensed danger.

  “I’m sorry. I can’t go with you. Charles always tells us, ‘Walk with the wind, and you won’t want the fruit.’ The wind is not blowing away from the cottage. It never does.”

  “I’m not asking you to abandon the cottage—or the Ruler. You can still love him with all your heart and soul wherever you are, can’t you?”

  “It isn’t just a matter of my heart and soul, but also my body. I am not my own. I was bought with a price and I must honor the Ruler with both my affections and my actions.”

  “Bought with a price? What price?” As quickly as he asked, he raised his hand. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter. You may owe some kind of debt to the Ruler, but I’m a free man. And I have to follow my heart.”

  “Your heart is the worst thing you could follow. Nothing will deceive you more thoroughly.”

  “Abigail, can’t you see that I don’t belong here?”

  “Maybe not. But you can change where you belong. Just stay for a while—at least until your wounds heal.”

  “I’m stronger now than I’ve been in a long time. I think that means I’m supposed to go. I feel no resistance to walking east, and I am at peace with this decision. If you’re determined to stay, I understand.” He held her gaze with pleading eyes, then turned to go.

  After a few steps he turned to her again. “If you ever change your mind, I’ll be waiting for you.”

  Abigail watched until he disappeared down a trail leading to the ridge where he had seen the bag of fruit. She leaned back against a tree. Her legs weakened, she slid to the ground, and wept. The wind had enabled her to make the right choice. But why did it have to be so painful?

  The breeze brushed her again and she probed deeper into her own motives.

  The Ruler had sent her to bring Adam to the cottage. She wanted to please the Ruler, and she wanted Adam to know true joy. Both good motives. Is all that negated if she happened to like Adam? She remembered the day she gave him the cottage piece and noticed the calluses on his hand. She admired a hard-working man. The hall could use more men like him—a man’s man. And a kind man. A man who knows how to treat a woman.

  Her thoughts drifted to the time they had spent together. She loved how he made her feel. Abigail attracted the attention of a lot of men, but Adam was different. With him, she felt at once desired, valued, and respected. She could tell her words mattered to him.

  She wrapped her arms around herself, aching for his companionship.

  *****

  Adam made good time down to the river, across, and up through the grasslands. He stayed alert, but the only movement in the silent darkness was his own.

  As he approached the tree line, he hoped the bodies would be gone. Instead, to his horror, a new mutilated corpse lay in the path. This one looked to be the most vicious killing yet.

  He didn’t want to look, but the thick brush bordering the path forced him to step over the gruesome obstacle. As he did, he felt the blood drain from his face.

  It was Levi!

  Chapter 21

  Adam’s first night back in the lowlands dragged interminably. His exhausted body fought his racing mind in the battle for sleep. The grotesque image of Levi’s mutilated corpse refused to leave his consciousness.

  He recalled the day he first met Levi. That night, after learning that Levi had murdered George, Adam would have welcomed the sight of Levi’s dead body. But now it broke his heart, as if he had lost another dear friend. Watson’s words rang in his mind—that Levi would have to answer to the Ruler for his crimes. Was the Ruler’s justice that violent?

  The thought terrified Adam. But why? I’m no murderer. I wanted to kill him that day, but I didn’t touch him. If anything, I should be rewarded for my restraint.

  But then why did he feel so guilty? He imagined himself in the Ruler’s courtroom and shuddered. Did he deserve what Levi got just for having murderous thoughts he never even acted on? It was a prospect he refused to accept ... but couldn’t deny.

  It seemed like only moments after he finally drifted off to sleep that the light warmed his face. His eyelids refused to open. How could it be morning already? His first sensation was the same as always after going to bed eating fruit—nausea.

  He forced his eyelids open, squinted, and realized morning had not come. A shining figure lit the dark landscape in a wide radius. He was considerably larger than any of the Great Ones, more muscular, and dressed in exquisite white robes. Both his face and his clothes emitted brilliant light, and his voice boomed like thunder.

  “On your feet, Adam.”

  Spellbound, Adam rose in awe of the glorious creature, yet at the same time, something about him set Adam at ease. The great being exuded benevolence and goodness.

  “You’ve had quite a restless sleep tonight, haven’t you?”

  Adam meant to nod, but his head hardly moved.

  “It’s not surprising. Abigail and her friends pressed you pretty hard. They’re friendly, kind—nice folks. But they ask you to believe things that go against everything you observe to be true. I can see how you would be conflicted.”

  “Exactly!” Adam said.

  “The conflict within you is normal. We naturally want to trust people who show us kindness, and there is great appeal in the things they promise. Food so satisfying that merely desiring it gives you strength? Who wouldn’t want that? But you’re right to be uneasy about Levi and the other bodies.”

  “Do you know wh
at happened to them?” Adam asked.

  “They were all slaughtered by the high country ruler and dumped here. It happens routinely, I’m sad to say.”

  “May I ask—who are you? And how do you know everything I’m feeling?”

  “My name is Michael. I am the chief guardian, and I have come here to help you find your way.”

  It was easy for Adam to believe this being was a guardian. In fact, he seemed like something more than a guardian. “Tell me—who should I believe? The cottage people or the Great Ones?”

  “If I answer that question, I become just another voice you have to decide whether to believe. How would that help you?”

  “Yeah, I ... guess you’re right.”

  “Every person must answer the question for himself. Never let someone else tell you what to believe. Listen to your heart. What does it tell you?”

  Adam considered this. “I feel like the answer is somewhere in the middle. I know I’d be happier if I cut back on fruit. I don’t like feeling sick, and I don’t like losing control when I eat. I’ve given it a lot of thought, and I think ... I think I want to be a cottage person. But I don’t want to take it to the extremes of people like Kailyn or Watson. Moderation in all things, right?”

  “You are a wise man, Adam. Few people have the courage to think for themselves in these matters, which leads to extremism on one side or the other. And it is extremism that suppresses freedom.”

  Hours later, the sunrise touched Adam’s face. He sat up, fully rested and without a hint of nausea. It was the best he’d felt in a long time, and he was glad to be back in the lowlands.

  He stared at the spot where Michael had stood. Was that a dream? A vision? Or was it a real guardian? It had to be more than a dream.

  Adam stretched and rose to his feet. He drew in a chest full of the crisp morning air. Then, the sweetest sound he knew touched his ears.

  “You’re awake.”

  Adam spun. “Abigail! You came!” He wrapped her in his arms. “When did you ...”

  “I’ve been here a while. I couldn’t ... I can’t let you just walk away. I understand why you didn’t like the banquet hall, but I came to ask—would you come with me to the cottage? If you just saw the inside, I think it would change your mind, especially if—”

  Adam took hold of her hands and his eyes brightened. “Last night I had an experience that ... I don’t know if I can describe it. But everything is clear now.” He squeezed her hands. “I’ve decided I want to be a cottage person.”

  “Oh, Adam, that’s wonderful! You won’t regret it. I can’t wait to tell Watson and Kailyn. Let’s go!”

  She tugged his hand, but he stood firm. “No. I have to do it my own way, here, in the lowlands. This is my home.”

  “Oh ... I see,” she said, eyes to the ground. Then she lifted her face with a dull smile—the dullest he’d ever seen from her. “I understand. I won’t pressure you.”

  “You won’t have to pressure me. When I’m with you, I don’t need fruit. I’m just not ready to live in the high country. There is so much of the world I still want to explore—with you by my side.”

  Adam knew she would miss her friends and the banquets. He felt a little guilty for pressuring her, but maybe it would be good for her to expand her horizons and explore the lowlands. There was more to the world than just the high-country.

  Abigail bit her lip, then drew a breath. “I will go with you, but you have to understand—I will not eat the fruit. We can explore, but no fruit.”

  “No fruit,” he agreed. “In fact ...” He turned to the east, “the orchard is that way ...” He glanced to the south, then squared his shoulders due north. “I’ve never explored the northern country. Let’s go this way. It’ll take us far from the orchard.”

  They set out on the northward road, and the air was still.

  Within an hour, the road narrowed to a path, increasingly rocky and overgrown, then ended at the foot of a sheer cliff.

  Adam craned his neck. “Feel like making a climb?”

  “No.”

  “Come on. Where’s your adventuresome spirit?”

  She rolled her eyes. “I’m tired, okay? I’m not going up that.”

  “Fine. You have a better plan?”

  “It wasn’t far back we passed a trail that branched off toward the northeast. It looked rough, but not as bad as this.”

  Retracing their steps, they found the path. Soon that trail ended and they took another branch to the right, then another, until they were traveling due east toward the orchard. In that direction, the rugged paths widened to roads, crowded with travelers.

  When the orchard came into view, Abigail stopped.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “We’re going to face temptation,” she said. “We need to be ready.”

  “Just walking through the orchard? It won’t be a problem for you, right? After years of enjoying the banquets—I thought that changed a person’s appetites.”

  “It does. But memories of the fruit never really go away. I’ve missed several banquets now, and I’m hungry. And I can feel part of me hoping to stumble across some fruit.”

  She said something else, but a trumpet fanfare not far ahead drowned her out. A bend in the road lined with trees blocked their view, so they hurried to see what was happening. Progress slowed as the crowd increased.

  Adam caught a man in the throng. “What’s going on?”

  “The king has come! He is about to make a proclamation.”

  Adam took Abigail’s hand and pressed through the crowd. “I’ve lived in the city since I was a kid, and I’ve never seen the king. I’ve only heard about him. Come on! I want to see—”

  Adam stopped, let go of Abigail’s hand, and stared.

  Chapter 22

  The crowd chanted, “Hail, King Michael!”

  “What’s wrong, Adam?” Abigail asked. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  “Not a ghost. A guardian. King Michael—he’s the one who appeared to me the night my eyes were opened. Now he’s the size of a normal man. In the dream he looked ... different. But there’s no question—it was him. He showed me the truth. But he didn’t tell me he was the king.”

  Abigail listened to the king’s speech for a moment, then turned away. “I don’t want to be here. Let’s go somewhere else.” She pushed through the crowd away from the king.

  Adam caught up and took hold of her arm. “Wait. What’s wrong?”

  “This doesn’t feel right. Something about him ... I don’t ... Please, can we just go?”

  “Abigail, if you only met him, you would—”

  “Met whom?” Adam started at the unmistakable voice and turned. King Michael stood before them.

  Adam wondered if he should kneel, but something about Michael made him so comfortable that it didn’t seem necessary—or even fitting.

  “I was explaining to my friend that she can trust you,” Adam said.

  The king smiled. “I don’t expect you to trust me, Abigail. You’ve never even met me. Your caution is wise.”

  “How ... do you know my name?”

  “This is my realm. I know who you are and why you are here. And I must say, I’m impressed. Placing yourself at risk to help a friend avoid over-indulgence—it’s admirable.”

  He spoke with disarming gentleness. “I understand your caution, but I assure you—you have nothing to fear here. I respect your convictions, and I will see to it you will never be pressured to do anything you do not want to do.” He turned with a wave of his arm. “Explore the orchard. You are free to leave whenever you please. My most important task as king, in fact, my only task, is to guarantee the most important value there is—freedom.”

  The reference to freedom drew Adam’s mind back to his first day in this world. Twice that day he had felt trapped—deprived of freedom. Once when he emerged from the pond and couldn’t find his way home, and again in the city when the gates closed behind him. In the city, he felt trapped by the walls. At
the pond, the whole wide world stood open to him. No boundaries, no rules, no authorities. But too many options had terrified him just as much as too few. The strange thought lodged itself in his mind—What is freedom?

  Adam couldn’t understand why Abigail’s initial reaction had been so negative, but he was glad to see her face soften as the handsome, amiable king spoke.

  Reassured by Michael, and by each other’s presence, Adam and Abigail entered the orchard hand-in-hand. Adam found it easy to abstain from fruit. He contented himself with the beauty of the orchard paradise and its rows of flourishing green trees stretching as far as the eye could see, the refreshing smells of the fruit, and, most of all, Abigail’s company.

  As they walked, Abigail removed her belt and started to place it in her satchel. “Let me see that,” Adam said. With a hand on each end, he stretched the belt in front of him. “What are all these inscriptions? Mirror Room ... Blood Room ... Promise Room—what does this mean?”

  “It was a gift. The Ruler gave it to me after my first time through the cottage. It’s supposed to be a reminder of my experiences in those rooms. He told me to wear it in times of danger and it would protect me.”

  “Why are you taking it off?”

  “It restricts my movement. And it’s rubbing my hip raw. Besides, I don’t sense any danger here.”

  As they approached an overlook with a view of the orchard, they stopped to rest.

  “Have you ever seen a panorama like this?” Adam asked.

  “It’s amazing.” She leaned against him. “I love this spot. So beautiful—and quiet.”

  A flock of birds swooped across their view. As they watched the undulating, surging mass, they drifted into a state of peaceful, contented half-sleep.

  *****

  Watson chewed his last bite of steak as Layth placed his napkin on his plate, leaned back in his chair, and smiled. “Unbelievable!”

  “Was it ever!” Kailyn agreed. “It’s too bad Abigail didn’t make it today. She would have loved this spread.”

  Layth eyed Watson. “Where is your sister? I haven’t seen her at a banquet for a few weeks now.”

 

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