The light grew so intense that it began to burn him. Wherever the brown smoky discoloration in his glass body was strongest, the burning pain was most intense. He still wanted to go home to the light, but he had to be clear as glass to get there, and he was not.
With each step the little smoky discoloration that had not mattered at first mattered more and more as the intensity grew. He began to despair. He had so far to go. He was like a dirty projector bulb. If the smoke in his glass body burned now, what would it be like as he approached the mountains that were his destination and home? He seemed to be two people: one loved the heather and intensely longed for the light and the mountains; the other wanted to escape the terrible burning that the light caused.
He stopped, and a battle raged within him. On the one hand his desire for the light was intense, so that even the thought of stopping the journey was unbearable. On the other hand, the pain of the burning was so great he simply could not go on. What was the use! He had so far to go. Finally, his desire to go home to the mountains was overcome by his desire to escape the unbearable burning.
His ego rose as a third voice in his mind. I choose to be tough and strong like steel. I do not need to go home to the mountain. I cannot change the light, but I can kill my desire for it!
It came into his mind that he had grown in power since he had left his old body. In his old life, he could not wipe away feelings and desires; but now things were different. If he chose, he could wipe away the desire for the mountains forever, since that was something inside him. Once erased, like a beautiful story wiped from a blackboard, that desire would be gone forever.
He chose; his loneliness and longing for the mountains were wiped away, never to be remembered. When they vanished, he also lost his enjoyment of the heather, the sunlight, and the smell of spring. The place no longer looked like the path to home, and the very things he had enjoyed now angered and offended him. He turned and began to walk away from the repelling light. A part of him had died, but it was a different death from what he had seen in the hospital room.
The scene in the dream changed; much time had passed. Dave was sitting in a vast circle of beings. He was filled with a monumental boredom. He loathed himself and those around him. He was defined by his loathing. Nothing was left to give him delight. By conscious choice, he had slowly erased everything that had once been wholesome and good, because it caused him pain and reminded him of the mountains and the light, which he loathed above all. Now he was left with a vast hatred for himself, for others, but especially for that Being who had made him.
A sepulchral voice spoke in the gloom. He hated that voice—but then Dave hated everything. “We have destroyed everything else that reminded us of Him. We have nothing left to destroy, but our hate for Him has grown like a towering mountain. Let us punish Him who made us. From the heart of hell we will stab Him who still loves us. We will dig a great pit and fill it with burning pain. We will climb in, to our torment, and it will feed our hate. It will reduce our boredom. Each stab of pain we feel will bring pain to Him who created us, and this is how we will punish Him. His love for us is the only weapon we have to torment Him.”
And so the dreadful work began on the lake of fire. Driven by hate, they toiled ceaselessly. Their hate for Him continued to grow.
__________
Dave woke up in a sweat and shuddered as he thought about his terrible dream. He went outside to reassure himself that the world was as he remembered it. The day was overcast and somber, like his mood. A hawk circled in the air currents looking for breakfast. He hadn’t prayed since that brief cry for help when the ape¬men had seized him, but he tried to pray now. He stood with his palms flat against each other, but words wouldn’t come to him.
“Begging your pardon, Rokomer, there’s trouble in the dead city.” He turned to see Hanomer standing beside him.
“What kind of trouble?” asked Dave.
“Come have a quick breakfast,” said Hanomer. “Then you ought to come with us and see. I will tell you the scout’s report on the way.
Chapter 31 City Point
The waterfront was dimly lit by a row of electric lamps running the length of the wharf. A mist from the cool water made the scene indistinct, as if seen through a camera lens coated with Vaseline. Pam scanned the hazy pool of light around the wharf. The boats were gone. They had left without them! Panic began to rise in her mind.
What do we do now? Where do we go? How can I hide Al on this island?
Just as another wave of despair washed over her, she heard the faint sound of oars in the water. A boat with six oarsmen and a coxswain crept into the pool of light and continued to pull until it bumped into the side of the wharf with a gentle clunk. A man, indistinct in the mist, climbed out and scanned the shore.
“Pam!” the man called quietly.
Floyd!
He began to walk along the wharf and repeated his call with increased urgency.
Pam roused herself, left the shadows, and ran to Floyd, relief pouring over her. “We were so afraid you’d left!” she said.
Pam saw concern on Floyd’s face in the dim lamplight. “The expedition left early because of the favorable wind. Obedient to orders, we did leave along with them,” he said, smiling mischievously. “However we had trouble with our sail just beyond the point, and the other boats sailed on ahead. I think our equipment trouble would have continued until I found you. I’m sorry I gave you such a scare.” Floyd peered into the gloom. “Did you get him?”
“Yes,” said Pam.
“Then we’d better get back to the boat,” said Floyd, “and get underway as soon as possible. Everyone on board is part of the conspiracy, but no one else in the fleet must know.”
Dwight and Tom appeared from the shadows, carrying Al.
“Are we glad to see you!” said Dwight to Floyd as he carried the stretcher along the wharf.
Pam looked into the boat. Five faces were smiling up at her, but she didn’t recognize any of them. In the back, one of the oarsmen was hunched over, tying his shoe. Floyd and Pam helped Dwight and Tom hand the stretcher to the oarsmen, who placed it gently down amidships, resting on the rowing benches. Floyd held the gunwale while Tom and Dwight took seats beside the stretcher. Pam climbed to the back of the boat and sat on the last rowing bench so she could steady Al’s head. As Floyd began to swing the boat around, the rower beside Pam lifted his head, smiled, put his arm around her waist and gave her a squeeze.
“Hi, honey,” he said in a low ominous voice. “It’s been too long.”
Pam stiffened as she heard the familiar voice. Anger mingled with fear and dread rushed into her mind like water bursting a dam.
“Don’t touch me! Don’t ever touch me again.”
__________
Al awoke in a dark place. He tried to get up, but weakness and nausea made him fall back. Even before he was able to focus, he could tell from the rocking motion and the creaking of the rigging that he was in a boat and the boat was underway. He raised his head and looked about the hold. In the gloom he saw his pack and gear next to him. He managed to open the top of his backpack and find his notebook. Seeing his things made him feel more at home. There wasn’t enough light to read.
He was so tired. He let his head fall back on his pillow again. Clasping his journal tightly to his chest, he squeezed his eyes shut and searched for memories. He remembered his interview with Jonathan Boyd. After that there were hazy visions of Pam and Dwight and many other people he didn’t recognize. A feeling of loneliness descended on him. He began to talk to God in his mind, telling him how he felt and asking for help, even for those in the other world he’d left behind as a result of the dislocation, and he was comforted.
For Al, God formed a link to his old world. He could pray for his parents and siblings and know something was being done. His fatigue hung over him like a cloud. Presently even the mental strain of praying began to be too much for him. The sedative, which lingered in his body, made him fall asleep again.
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When he next awoke, a bright shaft of sunlight from an overhead hatch was lighting up a large coiled cable in front of him.
“You’re awake,” said a familiar voice. He turned and saw Pam sitting beside him. She looked different somehow. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail, except for a rebellious wisp that fell across her forehead.
It was her smile. She hadn’t smiled at all when he first met her. Her smile lights up even the darkened hold of this ship. She’s even more beautiful than I remember.
But there was something else. A cloud of worry hovered about her that she couldn’t completely conceal. He could see it in her eyes and in the tightness around the edge of her mouth when she smiled. If anything, the care—mingled with tenderness—etched on her face made her even more beautiful.
He closed his eyes, and when he reopened them Pam was looking down at his jacket in her lap, smoothing it absent-mindedly. He watched her without saying anything, as if she were a much-loved painting.
“Where am I?” asked Al at last.
Pam looked up, startled, but her smile broadened when she saw he was awake enough to converse.
“You’re on the Falcon, a Viking longboat under the command of Floyd Linder.”
“I feel so strange,” said Al. “I don’t even know how I got here. The last thing I remember is an interview with Boyd, the psychiatrist.”
“It’s no wonder,” said Pam. “Boyd kept you under sedation in the psych ward.”
“Under sedation!” said Al slowly. He still had trouble forming his words. “How long have I been under?”
“It’s been a little more than two weeks. We had a devil of a time finding out where you were and an even harder time getting you out!”
Pam gave him a brief description of their escape. Al nodded, his scattered visions and memories falling into place, as Pam recounted their journey to the wharf and then out to sea.
“Where are we going?” he asked.
“We’re part of the invasion force to seize and hold the ruined city that we discovered.”
A feeling of dread rushed in upon him. “What? When was this decided?” he asked, half rising from his bed.
“Hush now! I’ve talked far too much already. If it were anyone but me, your doctor would have told them in no uncertain terms to let you rest. There will be time for long explanations later when you’re better rested. Now you need to have something to eat.”
Pam helped Al sit up and brought him a meal consisting of seaweed, herring filets, and water. Al insisted on eating on his own, but his hands were still so uncoordinated he spilled as much as he was able to spoon into his mouth.
“My turn!” said Pam. She took the plate away from him and fed him rapidly and efficiently. Al’s ravenous hunger made even this simple fare seem tasty.
Pam said nothing while he wolfed down the food. She fed him a second plateful, after which he tried to rise but couldn’t. He felt as weak as a child and couldn’t push himself off the bed.
“Pam, help me get up. I can’t stand lying here any longer.”
“Al, you’re crazy! The sedative is still in your system,” Pam protested.
But Al was so insistent she relented.
“All right, I’ll help you walk a little. You’d probably get up and try to walk anyway as soon as I was out of sight.”
Al smiled. “Hmm, you know me too well!”
Pam helped him up, warning him to keep his head down. He stretched out his hand to shield his head from the deck beams. At 5’ 8” Pam could just stand up straight on the lower deck, but Al, was 5’ 11’, and so had to duck to avoid every deck beam. He could barely walk, and Pam had to support him as he shuffled his way back and forth, tracing a six-foot circular path in the bowels of the boat. Nevertheless, the exercise seemed to do him some good, and he grew steadier as he continued walking back and forth. Finally, he decided to try to go up on deck. After struggling up the ladder, he came out of the hold into brilliant sunshine.
They were on the Halcyon River. With a string of other vessels ahead, theirs seemed to be the last boat. Familiar faces from their previous voyage welcomed Al with warm handshakes and claps on the back. He was surprised to see Dwight and Tom among the crew. He hadn’t realized that they had come too. Others were new; he nodded to them, and they returned in kind. He tired quickly but took the time to say “Thank you!” to Floyd, Tom, and Dwight.
The boat was much bigger than Al had realized from his constrained perspective in the aft hold, and he soon determined that a much larger hold in the bow housed the crew when they were not on watch.
The next morning, as Al was back in the aft hold, sitting in a patch of sunlight reading his journal, he heard steps on the ladder. Hoping it was Pam, Al looked up and saw a crewman, descending with his back to Al. The large man seemed familiar. When he turned, Al recognized him. It was Stan Bigelow.
“Hey, how are you, Al?” said Stan, offering his hand.
Al was pleased and shook it warmly. He and Stan had had their differences, and Al was glad to be able to make peace.
“I’m on the mend. I did not know you were part of this, Stan. Thanks for helping me out!”
“No problem, Al. Pam means a lot to me, and so I wanted to help. Besides, I couldn’t let an opportunity to be of service pass me by. After all, that’s what comrades are for, right?”
Al smiled at him and searched his face.
Is he mocking me?
“Well, I’d better get back to the rowers’ bench. I just wanted to say hello, since I’d heard you were up.”
With that he patted Al on the shoulder and climbed back up on deck.
Five minutes later, Al was trying to write in his journal, but his thoughts kept returning to Stan. What did Stan mean by “Pam means a lot to me”?
He heard someone else climb down the ladder. This time, it was Pam. He smiled.
Pam looked at him critically, hands on hips, and then sat on a box in a beam of light.
“I see you’ve been up and about,” she said. “I hope you’re not overdoing it.” “Yes, I feel much stronger today,” said Al. “Honestly, I’ve been behaving myself!”
“Yeah, sure.” Pam looked at the open journal he was holding. “Whatcha working on?”
“I had some time to amuse myself, since I am not up to rowing yet, so I thought I’d doodle.”
“May I see it?” asked Pam. Al reddened but handed the notebook over without comment. He’d been working on a poem. Pam started to read it out loud.
“The Day the World Changed
“Halcyon proudly strode ahead
The future sure in glory bright
Fearing neither God nor man
Forbidden knowledge—keen delight.
“Without remorse they toiled and dug
We can—we will! Their keening cry
No bound or limit stayed their quest
Until the blinding change of sky.
“And now despair has gripped my soul
All friends and soul mates stripped away
I’m chained to foes who warp my mind
Who chafe and grind till spirit fray.
“I cried to Him from deep despair
For solace to my wounded soul
The silent torment grew and grew
No whisper came to make me whole.
“A tiny light I saw afar
Beauty past the ken of men
The light cast shadows in my gloom
I’d learned to love and dream again!
“She filled me with such sharp delight
Her laugh, her smile, that wisp of hair
She knew not how much joy she brought
She lifted me from deep despair.
“You may forever stay afar
Yet love and beauty mingled sing
Your song that wakened up my soul
And taught me new to love my King.
“A day of warmth was my request
He answered with a blessed spring
I prayed and s
ought a crust of bread
He raised me up and made me king.”
Pam’s voice faltered, and Al saw her turn crimson in the sunlight.
She swallowed hard and answered in a quiet, low voice. “I’m sorry, Albert. I shouldn’t have barged in and so cavalierly read your journal. This poem - it’s beautiful, but very personal.” With that she thrust the notebook back at Al and rushed up the ladder.
Al tried to speak, but no words came. For once he didn’t know what to say.
I’ve really done it now! I’ve scared her away. Whatever possessed me to imagine that she could ever love a clumsy oaf like me!
__________
The next few days followed a familiar routine. Al spent the day walking and exercising on deck and gradually regaining his strength. Determined not to frighten Pam again, he was careful not to appear too eager to enter into conversation with her. Pam still brought him his meals below decks, but she said nothing more. Their times were awkward and filled with uncomfortable silences. Every time she came, Al wanted to take away the wall that had grown between them, but he didn’t know what to say.
The boat made rapid progress. Unlike the previous voyage, they did not camp during the journey upriver but kept moving at the best possible speed. When the wind was favorable, the crew was able to relax, but when it was not, the crewmen took turns rowing. After three days, Al took his turn at the rower’s bench, joining the crew in the forward berth when his watch was up. Now there was even less of a chance of talking to Pam privately.
It was a bright sunny day when they arrived at the stone pier and the road to the dead city. However, instead of moving to Fort Linderhof, the expedition stopped at the large island previously used as their campsite.
The island was shaped like a linden leaf with the stem and a large piece ripped out the bottom end. Twenty-five longboats were crowded into this eastern bay, hull to hull. Planks were placed from boat to boat, and the crews began unloading their supplies. Each boat’s company was assigned a separate campsite on the island. The center of the island had a rocky plateau that provided an excellent view of the jetty and Fort Linderhof. This plateau became the command center and home of the First Platoon. Floyd located the Twenty-fifth, his own platoon, on the west tip of the island, well removed from the others.
The Halcyon Dislocation Page 25