Escape from Paradise

by D. Richard Ferguson

  Calm yourself, Abigail. You’ve been in this orchard all these weeks, and no one’s hurt you. It’s probably just—”

  She flinched at the sound of a stick breaking in the woods and burst into an involuntary run. With her deformed hip, she felt as though she were running through molasses—as in a bad dream. But her adrenaline-dosed panic pushed her forward.

  Another branch snapped to her right and she caught her first glimpse of one of her pursuers. Her chest tightened. It was one of the little ones she and the others had confronted when they rescued Adam. But now she had no weapons—and no friends.

  She looked ahead. Less than a hundred yards to the border. The man to her right was closing fast. She tried to gauge his speed, angle, and distance. It will be close.

  Gasping for air, she summoned every ounce of strength for her final push. Her toe caught a root. She stumbled but stayed on her feet, willing herself forward.

  Another glance to the right. A tangle of thick brush slowed the man—just the few extra seconds she needed. Thirty feet. Twenty. Ten.

  Something clamped down on her ankle like a bear trap and she slammed to the earth. She rolled over and pushed backward with her hands and her free leg, but it was useless. A massive hand held her fast.

  When the other man arrived, he caught her flailing arms and held them both with one hand. His other hand smothered her face.

  She fought like a wildcat, but they were too strong. Her struggle slowed, then stopped. She went limp.

  When the man holding her ankle relaxed his grip, she kicked upward with her free leg. Her foot caught him square in the nose. The man cursed and let go.

  This distracted the other man enough that with a strong jerk, she freed her arms. Her hand found a stone and she smashed it against his face.

  She scrambled to her feet and looked toward the border but saw only a blurred wall of browns and greens. She blinked twice, trying to clear her vision.

  A peach tree stood ten feet away. She saw every strand of fuzz on a single peach, as if looking through a magnifying glass.

  With great effort, she tore her gaze away from the peach. When she did, the landscape was so distorted she couldn’t even tell which way led to the exit. Then she spotted a grape, and again she could make out the texture on the grape’s skin.

  She rubbed her eyes then looked at her hands. The little one had smeared their salve on her face.

  *****

  When Adam woke to an empty camp, he began a desperate search. No sign of Abigail. She felt pretty bad after losing control last night—maybe she went back toward the high country. Given his own misery, Adam was inclined to join her. Wherever she was, he wanted to be with her.

  He ran due west. If he was right about her returning to the high country, with his speed he would soon overtake her. He ran until he reached the end of the orchard but found no sign of her.

  Next, he went to the place where they had first entered the vineyard. From there, he ran along the border. Every hour that passed made him more frantic. Where could she be?

  He started toward the city. But where would he even begin to look there? His pace slowed as hope drained away. He raked his fingers through his hair and turned in a circle, as if scanning his surroundings would somehow give him answers.

  He hadn’t noticed the breeze until a small gust brought a shower of leaves floating down from the branches above. He watched them land. Once adorning beautiful trees, now dead on the ground, soon to become dirt. That’s life in the lowlands.

  Life in the lowlands was futile. The banquet food in the high country was tasteless. And now he had lost the only thing he had left to live for. Abigail had left him.

  He dropped to the ground and pulled his knees to his chest. The mix of abandonment, loss, guilt, and despair pressed down on him like a crushing avalanche.

  He folded his arms across his knees and rested his head on his forearms. His gaze landed on a fallen leaf. Wait, what is that?

  In the center of the leaf, there it lay—plain as day—a curled strand of blond hair. She must have come through here!

  He leaped to his feet and ran down the path. But then his pace slowed. Abigail isn’t the only one with blond, curly hair. He could be chasing Alexander. Still, it could be Abigail. He kept running.

  Rounding a corner, his hopes fell. A hundred yards ahead stood the towering, blond scholar.

  Adam’s first impulse was to hide. He had no desire to talk to Alexander. He didn’t trust him, and he blamed Alexander for getting Abigail started on grapes, which led to ... all this.

  Approaching him seemed neither wise nor safe. If Alexander wanted, he could crush Adam. But he may have seen Abigail. If there was a chance of finding her, Adam didn’t care about the risks.

  “Alexander!”

  The giant turned, and just behind him, there she was.

  Adam barely recognized her. Dark, sagging bags burdened her eyes. Her skin had become scaly with oozing sores. Worst of all, no trace of her magnificent smile remained.

  “What have you done to her?” Adam shouted. Yes, the man could crush him, but Adam didn’t care. If Alexander took her, it would have to be over Adam’s crushed body.

  “I’ve done nothing but help her,” Alexander said calmly.

  “It’s true,” Abigail said, barely audible. “He didn’t do anything to me.”

  “Let’s go back to the banquet hall,” Adam said. “I’ll go with you. They’ll be able to help you with your ... problems, right?”

  Alexander turned to Abigail, moved to the side, and swept his arm toward Adam as if to say, “Go ahead, if you like.”

  “Go away, Adam. I want to be with Alexander. This is my home now.”

  “But Abigail—”

  “I said, Go. Away.” She turned and, hand-in-hand with Alexander, set out toward the golden city.

  Women had broken Adam’s heart before, but this was different. It felt like more than just the loss of a relationship. That woman disappearing down the path represented Adam’s connection to the high country, the cottage, the banquet. It wasn’t just a piece of his heart ripped away. His only tether to the good just vanished over the rise.

  Now he was tethered to nothing. He didn’t belong in either world. His life was pointless, he’d lost everything, and worst of all, somehow it seemed it was his own fault.

  The wind gusted and a painful gnawing grew in his stomach. In the past, pangs of conscience struck only after bingeing on fruit. But why now? He had eaten no fruit today. Yet these guilt pangs pressed harder than ever before. He sensed they had nothing to do with any individual failure. It was something worse—something deeper, as if he were failing in his very purpose for existing. The pleasure of Abigail’s company had suppressed these feelings before, but now ...

  Chapter 25

  The orchard trees flew by in a blur. Adam was determined to make the trip to the banquet hall faster than it had ever been made, and heaven help the wolf or anyone else who tried to get in his way.

  Sheer hatred for the orchard powered his running. Every piece of fruit he saw made him angrier. His greatest fear had always been loss of freedom—to be held captive against his will. But this was worse. Abigail was being held captive by her will. Even if he raised an army to fight the little ones, what could be done about the chains of her own desires?

  In that moment, Adam knew there was only one hope for Abigail, and, for that matter, for himself. He must find the Ruler.

  When Adam reached the grasslands, he could already see the cottage—exploding with colors. The wind at his back seemed to carry him. Blue mist covered his legs. Streaking through the valley, his feet hardly touched the ground.

  Once across the river, Adam dragged his raft into the boathouse.

  “Where is my sister?”

  Adam let go of the boat and turned. Watson stood in the doorway, fists clenched.

  “She’s in the orchard with Alexander. I came as fast as I could.” He stepped closer. “Watson, I tried to bring her bac
k here, but she ... wouldn’t.”

  Watson turned white.

  From outside, Kailyn’s voice rang out. “Watson!”

  Both men stepped from the doorway to meet Kailyn and Layth, who had been running. Kailyn spoke between gasps. “We have to hurry! Abigail’s in trouble. We don’t have much—” She noticed Adam. “Adam! You’re not with Abigail?”

  Watson answered for him in a low, grave tone. “She has been taken.”

  “Oh ... no.” She turned her face away, sobbing, “No, no, no.”

  “What did you mean when you said we need to hurry?” Adam asked.

  Layth answered. “We visited the map room. Destruction is coming soon. Sooner than any of us thought.”

  “Not years or months,” Kailyn added. “Days!”

  “Destruction?” Adam asked. “What—”

  “The city will fall.” Kailyn said. “And no prisoners will survive the battle. We have to get to Abigail before it’s too late—if it isn’t already.”

  “The prisoners?” Adam said. “What prisoners? And why won’t they survive?”

  “The king of the lowlands captures people by feeding their Judas desires until they love the lowlands more than the Ruler,” Watson said. “When the Ruler comes in judgment, he will offer them amnesty. But all who are enslaved by Judas desires will reject it and will be destroyed.”

  “And you think Abigail is ...” he turned to Kailyn.

  She bowed her head.

  Well then, let’s go!” Adam said. “We have to—”

  “No,” said Layth. “We’ll go. You’re not equipped.”

  The others agreed.

  Adam surprised himself when he didn’t argue. As much as he wanted to help rescue Abigail, his desire to meet the Ruler was even greater. When he saw the change in Abigail, something changed in him. Desperation? More than that. It was like the morning sun had broken the horizon on the world—the real world. Values came into focus. He was beginning to see what mattered ... and what didn’t.

  “Please, hurry,” he said. “Bring her back.” Then he turned and started up the west side of the canyon toward the cottage.

  The wind still at his back, Adam scaled the steep side like a mountain goat. As he approached the banquet hall, he felt like a child on Christmas in his excitement to meet the Ruler—and to see the people again. The whole time in the lowlands with Abigail, thoughts of the family warmth he’d seen at the banquet stayed with him, tugging at his best desires.

  He pushed through the door and chose a table near the back. A server placed a full tray of food before him and smiled. “Enjoy!”

  Adam didn’t recognize anything on the tray. He pushed his fork into a morsel and lifted it to his nose. He inhaled slightly, then returned it to the plate. He surveyed the surrounding tables. There were even fewer people eating than last time.

  His stomach tightened and he took a deep breath to suppress rising feelings of panic. What if I still can’t taste it? He eyed his plate as if staring down an adversary.

  Then, a hunger pang. It was a strange sensation. A pure, wholesome desire—powerful, yet no threat to his self-control.

  He sipped a spoonful of soup. It wasn’t sweet. Nothing like fruit. But ... did he taste something?

  Another spoonful. Yes. Yes, I think I taste it!

  He bit into a roll. Nothing. Some potatoes. No flavor at all. He chewed a bite of steak ... delicious! He devoured that piece and started another.

  After several more bites he pushed his plate away and braced for a wave of nausea. Instead, a wave of happiness swept over him. He pulled the plate back and wolfed down another piece of meat. He felt ten years younger. He stabbed a morsel of beef and held it up, turning his fork. This can’t be real.

  “Enjoying yourself?”

  Adam looked up to see Tichi just as a bit of gravy ran down his chin and dropped on a pile of crumbs surrounding his plate. He couldn’t suppress a grin, realizing he must have looked like a wild animal devouring its prey.

  Tichi chuckled and took a seat across from him. He sensed her slight frame was a contrast with her true strength, and that wisdom and experience lay beneath her graying hair.

  Moments later, Hodia approached the table. Tichi welcomed her with a warm smile. “Have a seat.”

  Adam hoped the women wouldn’t ask why he had left last time, or where he had been since.

  When the ladies got their food, Adam resumed eating. The more he ate, the better it tasted. He wanted to share his joy but thought it would sound strange that he was excited about something that was so routine for them.

  Adam pointed to what looked like a pile of string on Tichi’s plate. “What is that? It smells amazing.”

  “It’s called lasagna. And it tastes as good as it smells. Here, try it.” She scooped a portion from her plate to Adam’s, then started in on her meal with obvious delight.

  After several ravenous bites, Tichi raised her eyes to Hodia, set down her fork, and let out a sigh. “What’s wrong, Hodia? Aren’t you hungry?”

  “Guess who I ran into the other day.”

  Tichi raised her eyebrows, prompting Hodia to continue.

  “Abigail! And guess what she was doing.”

  Tichi broke eye contact and looked back to her plate. Hodia continued anyway. “Eating grapes.”

  Tichi looked startled for a split second but didn’t lift her face. She slowly turned some pasta on her fork.

  Adam lost his appetite. If Hodia saw Abigail eat the grape, she knew Abigail had been with him at the time. He looked at Hodia, ready to give an explanation, but she would not meet his gaze.

  She shook her head. “Such a disgrace.”

  Tichi shifted in her chair and looked around. She lowered her voice. “I think the person you should be talking to is Abigail—not us.”

  Hodia ignored the remark. “It’s just so disappoin—”

  “Hodia! Stop.” Tichi looked straight at her. “If you haven’t even talked to Abigail, I don’t want to hear about it.”

  Hodia’s lips tightened. Adam wasn’t sure if the redness in her cheeks showed embarrassment or anger.

  “I was simply going to ask your advice on how to handle it. I thought I could come to you as a friend. I guess I was wrong.” Hodia stood and left the hall.

  Tichi put a hand to her face, then drew it away—her fingers dripping with blood. Adam had noticed Hodia’s claw-shaped fingernails but never saw her touch Tichi.

  Another woman sat next to Tichi and pointed to her laceration. “What happened?”

  “I don’t know. I was talking with Hodia and she just ... went off on me for no reason.”

  “She can be like that,” the woman said.

  Tichi nodded. “She thinks she’s so much better than everyone ...”

  As the women spoke, Adam’s attention fell to their hands. In just the few moments since Hodia had drawn blood from Tichi’s face, Tichi had grown claws like Hodia’s.

  Adam stood, taking his plate, and was glad when the women didn’t seem to notice. Perhaps things would be different at a table where people were eating.

  As he searched, he saw something that almost made him drop his food. “Levi?”

  “Adam! You came back!” Levi wiped his mouth with his sleeve and stood to shake Adam’s hand. “It’s great to see you.”

  Adam didn’t take his hand. “You’re ... alive.”

  Levi smiled and spread his arms. “Good as new. Once I got a few of these meals under my belt, my injuries healed right up.”

  “No, that’s not what I mean.” Adam lowered his voice. “Levi, I saw your body in the lowlands. You looked like your heart had been ripped out. I know it was you.”

  “Yeah, I know,” Levi said, retaking his seat. “That’s the old me. When I went through the cottage, the old Levi died.” He buttered a roll. “And good riddance!”

  Levi had been stacking his used plates in the space next to him. He pushed the pile toward the center of the table and motioned for Adam to sit.


  Adam didn’t move.

  “What’s wrong, buddy? You look kind of ... rattled,” Levi said. “Oh, you haven’t been through the cottage yet, huh?”

  Adam took a seat. “No, not yet. I came here to meet the Ruler first.”

  “Good idea. That’s how it was for me too. The last time, the Ruler came out right after you left. I was so blown away, I could hardly talk. Then he and I went down to the cottage and—”

  “Just the two of you?”

  “Yeah! I couldn’t believe it. He came right over to our table and invited me.”

  “What was it like in there?”

  “Oh, man, I can’t even describe it. You need to see it for yourself.”

  “Did you get a ... new name?”

  “Sure did! An empowerment too—the gift of faith. He made it so trusting him comes easy to me. It wouldn’t really have been my first choice for a weapon, but he promised me I’ll use it. I have no idea how, but I figure he knows what he’s doing.”

  A deafening roar halted their conversation and brought all who were eating to their feet. The sound of the Mighty Wind filled the banquet hall.

  Levi leaned close and shouted over the roar. “This is the best part of the meal. In fact, I think it’s the whole point of the meal. The Mighty Wind always blows first. The stronger the wind, the more spectacular the Ruler’s appearance.”

  Men with trumpets, French horns, and ram’s horns lined every wall, and the rumble from dozens of timpani drums from the balcony shook Adam’s chest. Cheers erupted but were nearly drowned out by the crescendo of the instrumental fanfare.

  A deafening voice rang out from above—“Ladies and Gentlemen, the Ruler of the kings of the earth!”

  The great doors from the kitchen burst open and light shot out like sparks from an anvil, flooding the hall—and, it seemed, the entire high country. The hall erupted with thunderous applause, cheers, and joyful laughter.

  The Ruler’s face shone like the sun. Adam couldn’t look directly at him, and his first impulse was to duck behind something. But at the same time, the Ruler’s countenance warmed parts of Adam’s soul that he now realized had been cold from the day he was born. The light seemed at once life-threatening and life-giving—deadly, and essential.