To the right, pedestrians had stopped. People seemed to be taking pictures of him with their cameras and mobile phones. Others were pointing. He heard the constant roaring of the crowd as numerous conversations took place along both sides of the street. Thinking he was safe, Landon opened his other eye and then he heard something else. It was a fast hum and reminded him of the sound his fan made as it spun round and round on his ceiling at the highest speed.
Then Landon noticed some of the people weren’t looking at him, but more so above him. He jerked his head upward and was met with a roof of metal. Grimy steel pipes ran along it and large dirty tanks seemed to be attached with thin metal stripping. Landon gasped once he realized there were four wheels spinning rapidly overhead, creating the strange humming sound. Is that the bus? That’s impossible!
Suddenly, a voice filled his mind, speaking to him so loudly that it blocked out all the other noises around him.
“Landon, you must run. It’s the only way out.” Her voice was so audible as if she was screaming into his ear, yet it chimed soft and soothingly, like honey—the voice of an angel. “I can help you. If you want to understand what is happening to you, . . . If you want to remember, . . . If you want to be safe, . . . I can help you.”
Landon looked all around, searching amid the myriad of spectators that congested the sidewalks for the one speaking to him. But he couldn’t find the serafin who’s voice filled his mind. To his left, though, he saw the two suited men waiting just outside the bus’ drop zone, afraid to get closer should the bus fall.
“I am very close,” she said. “And I am waiting for you . . . but you must run!”
He wasn’t sure why, but he felt he could trust her. Without hesitation, Landon darted out from under the bus and forced his way through the wall of spectators on the other side of the road. The bus continued to float, dangling in the air, but Landon stopped paying attention to it as he sprinted to the end of the block.
However, after he turned the corner, he couldn’t tune out the sound of crashing metal and squealing tires that reverberated through the streets once it dropped back to the asphalt, falling as if the invisible string holding it up had snapped.
“There is an alley beside the Cathedral of Saint Christopher. I am waiting for you there. Just follow the sound of the bells.”
Landon halted in his tracks and looked toward the sky, listening for the rhythmic chime of heavy church bells.
Blurrung! Blurrung! Blurrung!
The tonorous sound of the bells reached Landon’s ears. They were loud . . . and near. Kickstepping, Landon continued through the city, letting the sound guide him, and soon he found himself standing across the street from the massive gothic cathedral that stood as a beacon of hope in the middle of the Financial District.
He was arrested by the sight. Two monolithic towers reached toward the clear blue sky and framed the intricately ornamented façade. They were adorned with statues of saints and grotesque gargoyles, and the outline of brass bells could be seen through the long, narrow windows. Above the center entryway, a massive circular stained-glass window shone like a mosaic of precious gems. Its colorful panes depicted numerous Bible stories Landon’s mother had told him during his childhood, ranging from Moses descending Mount Sinai with the Ten Commandments, to Noah’s Ark, to David slaying Goliath.
“Hurry! They’re coming!” The angelic voice jolted Landon back to purpose.
He looked to the side of the cathedral and noticed a narrow, dark alleyway on its right. He rushed over to it, eager to find his guardian angel and finally be safe. There, in front of him, stood a beautiful woman waiting beside the open door of a large, black sport utility vehicle.
“Well, hurry up!” she said forcefully as she waved Landon into the large vehicle. “We don’t have much time before they find us.”
Landon didn’t hesitate and quickly jumped into the SUV through the open door.
CHAPTER THREE
SANCTUARY
Landon sat on the long, tan leather bench in the back of the SUV unaware of their journey’s end. The windows were tinted on the inside to a shade that made it impossible to see anything outside of the car. Torn between eager anticipation to reach their destination and unease over his decision to enter the car, Landon nervously rubbed his thighs, as the car weaved through traffic.
He felt something coarse on the right leg of his jeans; he looked down and saw the brownish-red crust that had formed and hardened over the weeks. It was his mother’s blood. He’d haphazardly rubbed it on his leg the fateful night when he found her lifeless body amidst the books.
Landon choked up, but quickly wiped away the tears that welled up in his stormy grey eyes with the back of his hand. He was more confused now than ever before. It had been three weeks since he ran away from home and he was no closer to understanding what happened that night. He didn’t know if he was responsible, if he was merely a victim of a tragic sequence of events, or if that night wasn’t the at all the tragedy he believed it to be. Just that morning, he thought he saw his mom roaming the streets of the city.
But there were those men—those suited men—loitering around him, always finding him within days of moving to a new hiding place in the city. He couldn’t seem to ever get away from them . . . until now. They were gone, but now he found himself in a car with a complete stranger as they seemed to move toward the edge of the city. How was she able to telepathically talk to me back there? How did that bus get lifted into the air? Did I do it? What’s happening to me? Landon needed answers more than ever before. She swore to him that she could help him. She said she had the answers. He only hoped that she wasn’t lying.
The drive seemed endless as hour after hour crept by and Landon waited. He found himself constantly staring at the mysterious woman who ushered him into the car. She looked to be in her late twenties. She had long, platinum blonde hair that waved around her face. Her skin was the color of ivory, pale and smooth, and her eyes blazed ice blue. She wore a white suit with a flowing, sapphire blouse peeking out from the lapels of the jacket. With her slender legs crossed, she hadn’t moved an inch since they took off from the alley. She never said a word. She sat like a statue, staring back at Landon, frustrating him with her complete lack of expression.
The tension of the silence built within Landon over the hours. He couldn’t understand how this woman with her angelic voice guided him to freedom and then refused to say a word once he got into the car. He still didn’t know what possessed him to enter the car in the first place, but if this woman could do what she promised—help him remember and explain that night—then he didn’t care if it was the right decision or not.
The silence overwhelmed him, and he cracked.
“Ok, who are you? Where are you taking me? How did you do that back there? You said you could give me answers.”
The woman blinked in deliberate time and continued to stare expressionlessly at Landon, who now leaned forward with raised eyebrows, waiting for a response. Why isn’t she answering?
“Something is happening to me and I can’t figure out what it is. I am doing things that are impossible. I mean, impossible! And you said you had answers. So what are they?”
After what seemed like several minutes, she parted her lips, causing Landon to lean in even closer.
“My name is Sofia Petrovanya. We are going to the Gymnasium. It is a sanctuary for people like you. And all your other questions will be answered in time.” The sound of her voice was the same as before, but now she spoke mechanically; the angelic tone which he trusted wasn’t there at all. It was robotic.
“What? That’s it? They will be answered in time? All you say to me is, ‘My questions will be answered in time.’ And what do you mean ‘people like me?’ I need answers now!” He was irate. His breathing was violent, and he was leaning closer and closer to the woman with e
very word. He had been holding everything in since he got in the car, grateful for what she had done for him, but now it was all coming out. “And you’re taking me to a gym?”
“I’m sorry, Landon, but I cannot tell you anything more.” Her voice was soft again. She looked like she wanted to answer Landon’s questions but that her duty was holding her back. “Trust me. All of your questions will be answered in time.”
Landon sank back into his seat, crossed his arms and turned his head toward the window, staring into the darkness of the glass. Tremors of frustration coursed through his body. It made him sick; he was getting nauseated and he felt his blood boiling, heating up his skin and causing a thin layer of sweat to build up over his entire body. All of his questions continued to swim around in his head, and to add pressure to the situation, he couldn’t figure out how he felt about the woman sitting across from him. Initially, he saw her as a savior. A beautiful, attractive savior. Now, she infuriated him. For another long period of time the car remained silent.
It wasn’t until they went over a particularly sizable bump in the road, which nearly shot Landon out of his seat, that Sofia began to speak again.
“Now Landon, we’re almost there. When we arrive, you’re going to be subjected to a series of examinations. Please don’t panic—they’re routine. You’ve been living on the street for weeks, and we have to make sure you’re healthy before we can answer your questions. It’s protocol. There’s nothing I can do about it. Do you understand?” she said in a kind, sweet tone.
“Yeah, I got it,” Landon replied. “The tests, none of them are strange, are they?”
“No,” Sofia said. A smile stretched across her face. It was the first time he saw her smile, and it was definitely better than the stone cold expression she wore during the rest of the trip.
Minutes after she spoke, the car came onto a gravel road and stopped. Landon heard a thud as the driver’s door closed and listened intently to the sound of his steps as he walked over the small pebbles. After the footsteps ceased, the passenger door opened. The light that streamed into the car was blinding. It took a while for Landon to adjust. Then, with the wave of her hand, Sofia motioned for Landon to exit the car. As he stepped out, Sofia said behind him, “Welcome to the Gymnasium.”
The large gravel rocks of the road crunched loudly under the weight of Landon’s feet, but he didn’t notice. He didn’t pay any attention to the driver or the three men standing in front of the car. He didn’t notice anything but the unbelievable surroundings. As he tried to take it all in, his jaw dropped and his eyes shifted crazily in every direction.
He stood in a large valley. Surrounding him was a wall of majestic grey mountains; the warm evening sun rested inches above the summit of the western range. To the east was a deep crystalline lake. Lining its banks was a thin ribbon of pure white sand and beyond that sycamores, firs, ash trees, pines, spruces and evergreens blanketed the terrain, stretching up the north face of the mountains. A large portion of the valley was covered in lush, soft grass and meticulously landscaped with small shrubs and Italian cypress trees. The road beside Landon emerged from between two large mountains and led up to a massive building.
The structure was faced in marble. From what Landon saw, there appeared to be four large square towers, one at each corner of the building, and a large portico in the front. This portico looked as if it came straight out of Greece. Six columns tapered up to a large triangular façade. Directly above the columns, Landon made out the word “Gymnasium” etched into the stone frieze, and above that, the face of the triangular roof had an intricate carving that he couldn’t discern entirely from where he stood. The gravel road led to a series of long steps that went up to the doorway. What mesmerized Landon most about the building was not its size, but instead a huge glass dome that emerged from the building’s center, reaching high above the four peripheral towers. In total, the building reached at least six stories and covered several football fields.
Landon now stood twenty yards away from the SUV. As he took in his surroundings, he had unknowingly wandered into the middle of a grassy field. Once he turned back toward the car, he was confronted with five people standing beside it. Sofia stood on the end, and she was beaming. A beautiful smile stretched across her delicate face, and the light gleamed off her hair, making her glow in the evening sun. Beside her, there was a relatively husky man in a navy suit that Landon figured to be the driver. Beside him a set of three men stood shoulder to shoulder, each of them tall and lanky with disheveled hair. One of them looked noticeably older with grey hair and wrinkles, two had pairs of thin-framed glasses, and each wore long white coats with an identification card clipped to the breast pocket.
“Landon, can you please come back over here?” Sofia asked. Landon obeyed and walked over to the car. Once he got close enough, Sofia continued, “I would like you to meet the man who drove us all this way, Mr. Andrews, and these gentlemen in the white coats are Dr. Dodgson, Dr. Márquez and Dr. Longfellow. They will escort us into the facility and administer your tests.”
“Hello Landon Wicker, I’m Dr. Thaddeus Longfellow.” The older scientist stepped out from the line. “Would you please come this way?” He bowed slightly and stood there motionless, awkwardly staring at Landon.
“Sure.”
It wasn’t until Landon took his first step that Dr. Longfellow rose out of his shallow bow and began to walk up the gravel path toward the building; his fellow scientists followed close behind. As they approached the steps, the carving above the columns came into focus. It depicted a set of armored soldiers, each clad with a sword and shield, triumphing over a band of savage warriors. Etched into the shields of the victorious was a symbol. It looked like an eagle with wings outstretched and head cocked, carrying an arrow clutched in it talons. The carving was magnificent and terrifying. Landon stared at it in wonder as he mindlessly ascended the front steps of the building, not looking down to see where he was going until the carving fell out of his line of sight.
“Please try and keep up,” Dr. Longfellow said. The other five members of the group waited at the doorway, staring at Landon as he meandered down the portico. “Once we get inside, we have to head straight to the examination room, so please stay close. I know this is a lot to take in, but you’ll have time later. Shall we?”
With that, Dr. Longfellow forcefully pushed open the entrance that led into the Gymnasium. The large doors looked as if they were composed of pure gold, with intricate carvings etched into their individual panels. And the inside was massive. Landon could see straight back to the Atrium and beyond. He had no idea how far back it went. The light from the evening sun reflected off a series of mirrors ahead, bathing the entire space in warm golden light. The floors were a dark wood and the walls stretched high into the air. The ceilings reached so high, Landon couldn’t even distinguish what was up there.
Upon entering, the scientists immediately turned right. Dr. Longfellow swiped his identification card through a scanner and ushered everyone in while he held open the door. What was on the other side was much less grandiose. There were no high ceilings, beautiful flooring, golden doors, or detailed carvings. It looked as if they had entered a hospital. The walls were a strange yellowish-white. Florescent bulbs lined the ceiling, the floor was covered in nondescript tiles, and the walls were lined with doors.
“This is our medical wing,” Dr. Longfellow said. “Now if you will please follow Dr. Márquez. He’ll perform all of the required initial tests and then escort you to one of our main examination rooms.”
“I believe #132 is available,” Dr. Márquez interjected.
“That’ll do splendidly,” Dr. Longfellow replied.
Dr. Márquez turned to Landon and beckoned him to follow.
“Landon, I am very glad you have come to us,” Dr. Márquez said over his shoulder while the two of them walked down the hallway. “Now, fir
st things first, we need you to take a shower and change into a set of sterile clothes. It’s just a pair of pants and a shirt that have been meticulously sterilized. We believe that all medical tests need to be conducted in an absolutely sterile environment. Therefore, the clothes you will be putting on have been put through quite a series of treatments to make them completely null in the examination process.”
“You know, you could have just told me to put on the pants and shirt. I would’ve understood.”
“Oh yes, of course. I sometimes get a bit carried away in the details. It’s just one of those scientist things.” The doctor opened a door and ushered Landon inside. As Landon passed Dr. Márquez, he noticed on his lab coat, just above the pocket, stitched in gold thread, an eagle holding an arrow. It was identical to those on the shields on the carving outside.
He walked into the room slowly, taking in the sight of the first clean bathroom he’d seen since he ran away. But this was more like a one-man locker room. A single metal locker hung on the wall and a small bench stretched along the sidewall. Resting on the bench was a clean towel and a set of pure white clothes and on the floor was a pair of white slippers. Everything was perfectly set out, waiting for his arrival.
He heard the door shut behind him, and when he turned, he saw someone he didn’t recognize. He starred into a mirror, gazing at a shadow of himself. The weeks on the streets had hardened him. His naiveté and innocence were stripped away and replaced with instinct and loneliness. His face looked worn from numerous sleepless nights trying to get comfortable on the asphalt or a bench. His shirt, which once was a warm yellow, was now some semblance of brown and black, with tiny holes that bore their way through the fabric around the shoulders and back. Dirt and grime coated his face, leaving no piece of skin untarnished. He ran his fingers through his dark brown hair. It was long and unruly, tangled and matted into a heap of greasy dreadlocks.
The Search for Artemis (The Chronicles of Landon Wicker) Page 4