Escape from Paradise

by D. Richard Ferguson

  “She is in the lowlands.”

  Layth raised a brow.

  “She is convinced that, with her influence, Adam will come around. Without her, she fears he would die of his wolf bites. She promised me she intends to abstain from all fruit. She is only attempting to reach Adam.”

  Watson’s answer caught the attention of Charles Baxter, who was clearing dishes from the table. “Did you say Abigail has missed the last few meals because she is trying to persuade Adam to come to the meals?”

  “She is confident she can win him,” Watson said.

  “Why would Adam want to come to a place Abigail is willing to forsake? And how can Adam follow her to a place she is not going? Will she stimulate appetite in Adam by suppressing her own? And will she find the strength to help him by starving herself?”

  As usual, Charles’ questions shed enough light on the matter to answer themselves.

  Charles sharpened his gaze, put both hands on the table, and rattled Watson’s soul with the strength of his exhortation: “Watson, go get her.”

  Suddenly, the room echoed with the sound of sliding chairs. Everyone stood as the Ruler appeared in the doorway from the kitchen, his unflinching gaze fixed squarely upon Watson. Interpreting Watson’s questioning eyes, the Ruler gave a single nod.

  Watson had his orders and made his way to the exit.

  The Ruler’s voice reverberated through the hall. “Watson.”

  He turned. “Sir?”

  “I will be with you.”

  Watson bowed and disappeared out the door.

  Another server stood beside Charles. “Do you think one of us should go with him?”

  Charles remained quiet a long moment, then slowly shook his head. “We’re needed here. Now more than ever. I would like to go, but this isn’t a good time.”

  “I see,” said the young server. Then he caught Charles’ eyes again. “You’re sure?”

  Charles drew a deep breath, exhaled, and stared at the door. “No. I’m not.”

  *****

  Adam was getting worried. He watched helplessly as Abigail struggled to breathe. Her whole body trembled, and her deep blue eyes flashed fear. They seemed to plead with Adam, Help me.

  He touched her forehead. Her fever is getting worse. The illness had come on suddenly and was progressing so quickly that, without medical care, he feared she wouldn’t survive.

  “Could it be your body is reacting to the change in diet—going without banquet food?”

  She shook her head. “It’s more serious than that. I need a doct—” a fit of coughing interrupted her words.

  Adam helped her to her feet, pulled her arm around his neck, and they began working their way toward the city.

  One mile of travel consumed the remaining daylight, and Abigail fell limp in his arms. “I can’t go any further.”

  In that hour, they had encountered several travelers. Adam pleaded with each for help but wasn’t surprised when they not only declined but appeared angry that he would dare risk exposing them to sickness. In a world that valued body above soul, the present above the future, and comfort above conscience, people avoided disease at all costs.

  “Leave me here,” Abigail said. “Go to the city and get help.”

  “No way. There are predators out here. You would have no protection.” He took her in his arms and carried her. He made it another two miles before collapsing in exhaustion.

  “We are still miles from the city,” he said. “We’ll have to camp here for the night.”

  He found a sheltered spot, set Abigail on a patch of soft ground, and as the dark of night descended, they huddled against the cold.

  Approaching footsteps caught Adam’s ear. Peering into the darkness, his mind raced to assemble words that might persuade the passerby to at least send some help from the city. But it was not a passerby. The moonlight lit several pairs of eyes close to the ground. When his eyes met theirs, they growled.

  Chapter 23

  The circle of wild dogs closed on the helpless couple like a noose. They sense Abigail’s weakness. Adam searched for a stick or rock but found only twigs.

  He threw up his arms and shouted, hoping to startle the canine mob. To his surprise, one dog yelped, rose off the ground, and sailed, flailing into the night sky.

  The rest of the dogs left Adam and Abigail and surrounded the attacker—Alexander, Kailyn’s former husband.

  The mighty scholar sent two more dogs flying and crushed another with his foot before the rest retreated.

  “Are you okay?” Alexander asked.

  Adam was at once relieved and concerned. Grateful to be delivered from the dogs, he still feared for Abigail, remembering her last encounter with the Great Ones. He stood in front of her, hoping Alexander wouldn’t notice her.

  “Who is this?” Alexander said, leaning to one side. “Is that Abigail?”

  He pushed past Adam and knelt beside her.

  “You’ve studied medicine, right?” Adam asked. “Can you help her?”

  It only took Alexander a moment to diagnose her condition.

  “She needs immediate attention,” he said, gathering her into his arms. “We must get her to the city right away. I can treat her there.”

  Even burdened with Abigail, Alexander easily outpaced Adam.

  “Wait” Adam called.

  Alexander gave a backward glance but didn’t slow.

  “No!” Adam shouted. But Alexander disappeared into the night.

  How will I find them in the city? Will he take her to the other Great Ones?

  Adam recalled that in the previous battle Alexander had stayed with him while the others attacked the children. Would he protect Abigail as well? Or ...

  He pushed to run faster.

  *****

  “Here, drink this.”

  Abigail forced her eyes open and wondered if she was hallucinating. Alexander? Too weak to refuse the cup or to even think about whether she should refuse, she took a sip and laid back.

  The soothing elixir tasted sweet and soothed her dry throat. Within seconds, the fever broke and she felt her strength returning.

  Alexander gently slid his giant hand from behind her head and she came to rest on a feather pillow. She melted into the mattress as the medicine chased the pain from her body.

  “Where is Adam?” she asked.

  “Close, most likely. I will go find him while you rest.” He placed a large cup on the table next to the bed. “If the pain returns, take as much of the medicine as you need.”

  It wasn’t long before it did return. She grimaced as she reached for the cup and took a sip. It brought relief, but not as dramatically as before, so she took a big swallow. Comfort returned. Her body relaxed, enjoying the softness of the bed, and her worst day soon faded into blissful sleep.

  When she woke to full daylight, she had no idea how long she had been asleep. Alexander sat reading in a chair across the room. She turned her head. Adam occupied a stool at her bedside.

  Adam smiled. “How are you feeling?”

  “The medicine helped.”

  She looked at the table. Yes, the cup was still there—along with ... Oh my. Grapes? The cluster of tiny green grapes had not been there before.

  “Help yourself,” Alexander said, setting his book down.

  “No, thank you. But I do want you to know—I’m grateful for all you’ve done.”

  “Of course,” he said, now joining Adam beside the bed.

  She glanced again at the grapes. “May I ask—what is in the medicine?”

  “It’s a complex recipe, but the sweetness you taste is from those little grapes. They have wonderful healing properties.”

  “There were grapes in what I drank?”

  Alexander smiled. “Don’t worry. They won’t hurt you. You don’t feel any nausea, correct?”

  She didn’t, but she wasn’t ready to admit that to Alexander.

  “We have conducted extensive tests on these grapes. There are fruits that do great ha
rm, others that harm only when eaten in excess, and others, like those grapes, are good for you. It’s all documented in our studies.”

  Abigail pushed herself to a sitting position and glanced again toward the table. An intense craving overtook her. She put her hand on the bunch. “I’ve never seen such tiny grapes.”

  “They are rare and difficult to find. Few have ever tasted them. They are used mostly for medicine.”

  “I see,” she said, still eyeing the cluster.

  Then she closed her eyes, turned to Adam, and reopened them. “We should go.”

  Alexander smiled. “That’s fine, if you’re up to it. You’re welcome back any time.”

  Abigail slid her legs off the right side of the bed and stood. She paused for a beat, took a quick sip of the medicine, and started toward the door with Adam.

  *****

  When they first arrived in the orchard, Adam had been painfully aware of the disdainful looks he received from virtually everyone. No mystery why. He was openly associating with what looked to those people like a child. The less traveled paths would reduce their exposure. Adam came close to suggesting it once or twice but couldn’t think of how to say it without Abigail detecting his embarrassment at being seen with her.

  Besides, those looks were becoming fewer. Were people beginning to see Abigail as just another woman in the lowlands? If he was honest, Adam would have to admit she looked that way to him. Her child-like joyful spirit and bubbling gratitude had given way to discontent and frequent complaining. She seldom spoke of the Ruler or banquet hall anymore. That troubled Adam, not because he wanted to hear about them, but because recalling them made her happy.

  “These paths are so rocky.” Abigail kicked a stone out of the way. “You would think they would do a better job maintaining them with all the people who travel along here.”

  “Uh-huh,” he said, not looking up.

  “What’s wrong, Adam?”

  “Why do you ask?”

  “Everything I say, you respond with a mumble—if you say anything. It seems like something’s eating at you.”

  He looked off at an imaginary distraction to buy himself a few moments.

  “Are you happy, Abigail?”

  “Am I happy? You mean, right now?”

  “I mean compared to before you left the high country. You used to smile so much there. And I never once heard you complain about anything. Now ...”

  “Now what?”

  “I don’t know. You just don’t seem like yourself.”

  Abigail progressed several quiet paces. “I’m okay. I guess I’m just ... hungry.”

  The two walked in silence for half an hour alongside a large vineyard. Abigail veered a few steps off the path, bent down, and picked a single grape. She examined it for a moment, tossed it into her mouth and rejoined Adam.

  *****

  Neither Adam nor Abigail noticed Hodia sitting on a rise just to the south. She wasn’t sure why she had chosen to sit on that rise and watch the path, but when she saw Abigail, she was glad she had come. What had Abigail been doing all this time in the lowlands? When Abigail ate the grape, Hodia had her answer.

  Shaking her head, Hodia turned to go home—oblivious to the arrows the warriors had fired into her heart.

  “Look,” Morax said, pointing to Hodia’s tracks. “She’s infected.” The warriors grinned. No question about it—her footprints were shrinking. And her fingernails curled, becoming claw-like.

  *****

  Abigail’s mind raced. Why is Adam being so quiet? Everyone enjoys a little fruit. What does he expect of me? No one is perfect.

  She tried to think about something else—the past, the future, friends, family, a favorite song, the beautiful scenery. None of it brought comfort. She felt incapable of enjoying anything ... except, maybe, another grape.

  I’ve already blown it. Might as well get it out of my system. I’ll try harder tomorrow. She ate several more grapes. Slowly, the nausea subsided.

  When the sun neared the western horizon, they found some level ground and began preparing their campsite. Adam built a fire and dragged a log to it for a place to sit.

  In the past, Abigail would have raved about the magnificence of the starry display on a night like this. Tonight, she never even looked up. She only stared blankly into the fire.

  “I’m worried about you, Abigail.”

  “Why? Because I had a grape?”

  “You know I don’t care about grapes. It’s just that ... well ... I miss ...”

  “Miss what?”

  “Your smile. I want you to be happy again.”

  “Adam, I don’t eat any other fruit. I’m nothing like all the lowlanders, pigging out on everything in sight. It’s just an occasional grape.”

  “I told you, I don’t care about that.” After a few moments of silence, he spoke again. “I was thinking we could visit the high country. Maybe go to the banquet hall for a meal. You could see your friends again.”

  The fire still held Abigail’s gaze. “I don’t think so.”

  “What? Why not?”

  “I love my friends, but sometimes they can be”—She searched for the word—“I don’t know, kind of ... judgmental.”

  She picked up a twig, turned it in her fingers, then snapped it in half and flicked both halves into the fire. She let out a heavy sigh. “I know I shouldn’t be eating grapes.” She looked up at Adam. “I’ll stop. Okay?”

  *****

  Morning arrived with a chill that awakened Abigail to a world of misery. She sat up in a bed of watermelon rinds, banana peels, and apple cores. Nausea racked her body like a black death devouring her insides, and she lay back down.

  She rolled to her side. A cottage piece had slid from her satchel and in the glint of the morning sun, the polished surface reflected her face. She already knew her days in the orchard had not been kind to her body—she had become obese and her hips had twisted causing a severe limp—but the image she saw in the piece startled her. She hardly recognized her own face. It was hideously contorted and much of her hair had fallen out. She pushed the piece back into her satchel.

  On the opposite side of the fire pit, Adam stirred, turned on his side, and continued his slumber. In that moment, she hated him. Even more, she hated herself. Why did I follow him here? How could I be so stupid? She never imagined she would lose control like this.

  Adam stirred again. With haste, she gathered her things and stole out of the camp. She didn’t want to talk to him. She only wanted out of the orchard.

  The density of the trees made progress difficult, but after ducking through a gauntlet of branches, averting her eyes from the fruit, she emerged onto a broad path which widened into a road. She took several brisk steps, then broke into a run. Faster and faster, every step escalated her desperation. Get me out of this place!

  Having run to exhaustion, she slowed to a walk on blistered feet. I’m getting nowhere.

  Progress was impossible because the wind was against her, no matter what direction she tried. She knew escape would only be possible with the wind at her back, but on every path, she met only headwind.

  She had resolved not to touch any more fruit, but the ache in her stomach screamed for attention. How would she escape her leafy prison without strength? She took a few nibbles, but nothing like the excesses of before. She curled up under a large apple tree, buried her face in her arms, and wept.

  A sudden warmth in the air interrupted her despair. She lifted her eyes, and before her stood King Michael.

  Chapter 24

  The king radiated light and warmth and exuded the same air of comforting benevolence as before. Still, his sudden appearance startled her. No crowd, no entourage—why would the king be here ... alone?

  Abigail sat up, then pushed backward in the dirt until her back pressed against the tree.

  “Don’t be afraid. I won’t hurt you I was just out for a walk and heard you crying,” he said. “Are you okay?” His smooth, disarming tone calmed her. />
  “I ...” Should she confide in this man? He was friendly and seemed genuine, but ...

  “You told me I could leave this place whenever I want. But I feel like a prisoner. Can you show me the way out?”

  “Of course. There are a hundred different paths. And I will gladly point you to any or all of them.”

  Abigail looked around at the several trails she had already tried.

  The king smiled. “You feel trapped because you’ve been trained to fear freedom. All those taboos and rigid traditions in the high country—it’s paralyzing. Have you noticed the only one condemning you for eating fruit is you? You feel sick when you eat only because you have been controlled so long by guilt.” He extended his arm. “Why else would you feel trapped in a wide-open orchard with a hundred exits?”

  A ray of sunlight lit up a large, ripe peach on a nearby tree. She considered the king’s words. Could it be her conscience was oversensitive? Maybe just a little fruit once in a while isn’t such a big deal. Maybe ...

  A deep, powerful craving arose within her. But she couldn’t shake the sense she did not belong here. Her time in the orchard, while pleasurable, had not been happy.

  “I will consider what you said. But if you wouldn’t mind, I would very much like you to show me a path out of the orchard.”

  “I don’t mind at all. I’ll show you several, and you can take your pick.”

  Abigail listened carefully to his directions until she was satisfied she had enough options. She thanked the king and started on the path that seemed most direct.

  In under an hour the exit from the northwest sector of the orchard came into view. Only a five-minute walk now stood between her and the border. Soon the orchard would be behind her—along with all her failures and shame.

  She thought she heard a noise in the trees and spun around. Nothing there. Then, out of the corner of her eye she saw movement to the north. Her pulse quickened.

  She turned her back on whatever was out there and began walking again, forcing her trembling body forward.

  Hairs rose on her neck. She sensed the unknown threat closing. She quickened her pace, glancing behind and to the north every few steps. Now faster, almost running.