The Dark River

by John Twelve Hawks

  It bothered Michael that he kept returning to his room to see the motionless body on the table. He felt like a boxer who had backed his opponent into one corner of the ring. It looked like the fight was over, but somehow his father had sidestepped and danced away from him.

  “So here’s the famous Matthew Corrigan,” said a familiar voice.

  Michael made a half turn and saw Kennard Nash standing in the doorway. Nash wore a blue business suit with an Evergreen Foundation pin on the lapel.

  “Hello, General. I thought you were still on Dark Island.”

  “I was in New York last night, but I always show up for the final ceremony of the Young World Leaders Program. Besides, I wanted to inspect Mr. Boone’s recent acquisition….” Nash strolled over to the table and studied Matthew Corrigan.

  “This is really your father?”

  “Yes.”

  The general extended his index finger and poked at Matthew’s face. “I must admit, I’m a little disappointed. I thought he was going to be a more impressive-looking individual.”

  “If he were still active, he could have caused significant resistance to the Shadow Program in Berlin.”

  “But that’s not going to happen, is it?” Nash sneered at Michael, making no effort to hide his contempt. “I realize that you’ve manipulated the executive board and made them frightened of a lifeless body on a table. As far as I’m concerned, Travelers have stopped being a relevant factor. That includes you—and your brother.”

  “You should speak to Mrs. Brewster. I think I’m helping the Brethren achieve our goals.”

  “I’ve heard about your various suggestions and I’m not impressed. Mrs. Brewster has always been a firm believer in our cause, but I think she’s done great damage by allowing you to travel around Europe and spout a lot of nonsense.”

  “You were the first person to introduce me to the executive board, General.”

  “That’s a mistake that will soon be corrected. It’s time you went back to the research center, Michael. Or perhaps you could just join your father in a different realm. I mean, that’s what Travelers are compelled to do. Correct? You’re genetic freaks. Just like our splicers.”

  The French doors were still open, and Michael listened as the string quartet glided toward a soothing conclusion. A few seconds later, there was a slight squeal of audio feedback and then Mrs. Brewster’s voice boomed out of a portable speaker.

  “Welcome,” she said, pronouncing the word with two distinct syllables. “It’s a beautiful day and a fitting conclusion to this three-day symposium of the Young World Leaders Program. I have been inspired—no, not just inspired—I have been genuinely moved by the comments I’ve heard in the garden today….”

  “Sounds like Mrs. Brewster is about to begin her little speech.” Nash thrust his hands in his pockets and headed for the doorway. “You coming along?”

  “That’s not necessary.”

  “No, of course not. You aren’t really one of us. Are you?”

  General Nash swaggered away while Michael remained behind with his father’s body. The threat from Nash was quite real, but Michael felt calm at that moment. He had no intention of returning to a guarded room, nor was he planning to float off to another realm. There was still time for some maneuvering. He had already formed an alliance with Mrs. Brewster. Now he had to get other members of the Brethren on his side. Michael found it easy to talk to anyone these days. Since he could see the subtle, split-second changes in each person’s expression, he could adjust his words to guide them in the right direction.

  “So why didn’t you do that?” he asked his father. “Get some money. Get some power. Get anything. Instead you made us hide….”

  Michael waited for an answer, but his father remained silent. Turning away from the body, Michael left the room and returned to the balcony. Mrs. Brewster was still giving her speech.

  “All of you are true idealists,” Mrs. Brewster said. “And I salute you for your strength and wisdom. You have rejected the foolish slogans of those who advocate the so-called ‘virtue’ of freedom. And freedom for whom? For criminals and terrorists? The decent hardworking people in this world want order, not rhetoric. They are desperate for strong leadership. I thank God that all of you are ready to answer this challenge. During the next year, a European country will take the first step toward an orderly control of their population. The success of this program will inspire governments everywhere.”

  Mrs. Brewster raised her wineglass. “I offer a toast to peace and stability.”

  There was a respectful murmur from the crowd. All over the rose garden, other glasses flashed in the sunlight.

  36

  L eaving Alice on the island with the nuns, Hollis and Mother Blessing returned to London. Hollis had been in the city for only twenty-four hours, but he had already come up with a plan. One of the Free Runners, a college student named Sebastian, had fled to his parents’ house in South England, but Jugger and Roland weren’t going anywhere. Jugger spent an hour pacing around a two-room apartment in Chiswick making speeches against the Tabula and waving his hands. Roland sat on a wooden stool, hunched forward with his hands on his knees. When Hollis asked what he was thinking, the Yorkshireman spoke in a low, menacing voice. “They’re gonna pay for what they did.”

  At six, Hollis went back to the drum shop to guard Gabriel. Jugger showed up four hours later and wandered around the cluttered room inspecting the African statues and tapping his fingers on the drums.

  “This place is something,” he said. “Like a bloody trip to the Congo.”

  As it got close to midnight the Free Runner began to get nervous. He kept eating chocolate bars and his head jerked around whenever he heard a noise.

  “Do they know I’m coming?”

  “No,” Hollis said.

  “Why not?”

  “There’s no reason to be frightened. Just tell them what you told me.”

  “I’m not frightened.” Jugger stood up straight and sucked in his stomach. “I just don’t like that Irishwoman. She’d kill you if you coughed on her.”

  The dead-bolt lock clicked softly, then Linden and Mother Blessing were in the shop. Neither Harlequin seemed pleased to see Jugger. Instinctively, Mother Blessing crossed the room and guarded the entrance to the hidden apartment where Gabriel’s body lay in the darkness.

  “It appears that you have a new friend in London, Mr. Wilson. But I don’t recall making the introduction,” Mother Blessing said.

  “Maya saved Jugger and his friends when she came back to London. She told me where they were hiding. As you know, Gabriel gave a speech to the Free Runners. He asked them to find out what the Tabula were planning.”

  “And that’s why those men tried to kill us,” Jugger said. “I guess people talked too much on their mobiles or sent some gossip through the Internet. But we got some crucial information before they burned down the house.”

  Mother Blessing looked skeptical. “I doubt that someone like you knows anything crucial.”

  “The Tabula have a public face called the Evergreen Foundation,” Jugger said. “They do genetic research and bring foreign policemen here to England so they can learn how to track people on the Internet.”

  “We know all about the Young World Leaders Program,” Mother Blessing said. “It’s been going on for several years.”

  Jugger stepped between a zebra-skin drum and a wooden statue of a rain god. “Our friends in Berlin say that the Evergreen Foundation has been testing a beta version of a computer program called Shadow. They use data from RFID chips and surveillance cameras to track every person in the city. If it works in Berlin, they’re going to roll it out to all of Germany and then the rest of Europe.”

  Linden glanced at Mother Blessing. “Berlin is a good location for them. That’s where they currently have their computer center.”

  “And we know where the center is,” Jugger said. “A Free Runner named Tristan found the building. It’s in an area that used to be the
dead zone for the Berlin Wall.”

  “That’s all we need to know at this point. Thanks for coming tonight, Jugger.” Hollis opened the entrance door to the shop. “I’ll be in touch with you.”

  “You know where to find me.” Jugger sauntered over to the doorway. “There’s just one thing I want to know—is Gabriel all right?”

  “No need to worry,” Linden said. “He’s being protected.”

  “I don’t doubt that. Just be aware that the Free Runners are still talking about him. He made us feel that there was a little bit of hope.”

  Jugger left the shop and the three of them were alone together. Mother Blessing shifted her sword case and crossed the room. “He might tell his friends about this place. That means we have to move the Traveler.”

  “Is that all you’re going to say?” Hollis asked. “Aren’t we going to do anything about his information?”

  “What happens in Berlin is not our concern.”

  “If the Shadow Program works, every government in the world is going to end up using it.”

  “The technology is inevitable,” Mother Blessing said.

  Hollis concentrated on the silver locket hanging from his neck and an ice-cold anger changed the tone of his voice. “You can think whatever you want—run around the world with your goddamn sword—but I’m not going to let the Tabula win.”

  “I want obedience from you, Mr. Wilson. Not initiative. Blind obedience and mindless bravery.”

  “Is that why you brought me to see Vicki’s body?” Hollis asked. “You wanted to turn me into a perfect little soldier?”

  Mother Blessing smiled coldly. “I guess it didn’t work.”

  “I want to destroy the people who killed Vicki. But I’ve got my own way of doing things.”

  “You don’t know the history of the Tabula and the Harlequins. This conflict has been going on for thousands of years.”

  “And look what’s happened. You Harlequins are so wrapped up in the past—all your little traditions—that you’ve lost the war.”

  Linden sat down on a bench. “I don’t think we’re entirely defeated. But we are at a turning point. It’s time we did something.”

  Mother Blessing spun around and faced the other Harlequin. Although her face was a rigid mask, her dark green eyes were intense and focused. “So now you’re on Mr. Wilson’s side?”

  “I’m not on anyone’s side, but it’s time to face the enemy. The Tabula don’t fear us anymore, madam. We’ve been hiding for a long time.”

  Mother Blessing touched her sword case as she moved around the cluttered room. Hollis felt as if she wanted to kill someone just to prove that she was alive. “Do you have a proposal?” she asked Hollis.

  “I want to travel to Berlin, contact the Free Runners there, and destroy the Shadow Program.”

  “And you’re going to do this alone?”

  “Looks that way.”

  “You’ll fail completely—unless a Harlequin is with you. Any successful plan will require my participation.”

  “And what if I don’t want you to come along?” Hollis asked.

  “You don’t have a choice, Mr. Wilson. What you’re telling us is that you want to be an ally, not a mercenary. All right, I’ll accept that change of status. But even allies require supervision.”

  Hollis let a few seconds pass, and then he nodded his head. Mother Blessing relaxed slightly and smiled at Linden. “I can’t imagine why Mr. Wilson wouldn’t want to go to Berlin with me. I’m just a pleasant middle-aged Irishwoman….”

  “Oui, madame. Une femme Irlandaise… with a very sharp sword.”

  37

  A t random intervals, the man with the blond braids and the black man wearing the white lab coat would remove Gabriel from his cell and drag him downstairs to the school gymnasium. The long, narrow room still had bleachers on one side and a wooden floor with red stripes painted on the edge. Instead of basketball and badminton, the room was used for the torture of prisoners.

  There were no new forms of torture in hell. All of the techniques used to inflict pain, fear, and humiliation had already been used in Gabriel’s world. At some earlier time, the wolves had learned about the four barriers that separated their own realm from the others; their particular system of torture corresponded to the barriers of air, fire, water, and earth.

  For the interrogation inspired by air, Gabriel’s wrists were tied to a rope and his arms twisted behind his back. The rope was attached to a basketball hoop; then he was pulled upward so that he was dangling a few inches off the ground. “Are you flying?” the men asked. “Why don’t you fly a little more.” Then someone would push him, and Gabriel would swing back and forth while his arms were almost pulled from their sockets.

  For fire, metal rods were heated up in a gas flare and then pressed against his skin. For water, his head was pushed deep into a tub of water and released only when he had sucked water into his lungs.

  The “earth” interrogation was particularly frightening. One day, he was blindfolded and dragged out of his cell to a patch of dirt behind the school. Someone had placed a straight-backed chair at the bottom of a deep pit in the ground. Gabriel was strapped to the chair and then—slowly—his interrogators began to bury him alive.

  The cold dirt surrounded his feet first, and then moved up past his legs, waist, and chest. Occasionally, the two wolves stopped and asked the same questions: Where is the passageway? How do we find it? Who knows a way out of this place? Finally the dirt reached Gabriel’s face. He was completely covered, each breath drawing dirt into his nostrils, before the two men dug him out.

  During each of these ordeals, Gabriel wondered if his father had also been captured. Maybe another group on the Island was holding him prisoner or maybe Matthew had finally found the passageway home. Gabriel tried to figure out what lesson his father had learned from this place. It wasn’t surprising to discover that hatred and anger had a persistent power, but compassion still survived within his heart.

  Gabriel refused to eat the scraps of food brought to his cell, and the hungry guards gobbled down anything left in the bowl. Gradually, he became frail and weak, but his memories of Maya remained. He could see the intense grace of her body as they practiced together in the loft back in New York. He could remember the sadness in her eyes and the way her skin felt against his when they made love in the chapel. These moments were gone—lost forever—but sometimes they seemed more real than anything around him.

  THE BLOND MAN called himself Mr. Dewitt, and the black man was Mr. Lewis. They were enormously proud of their names, as if having a name suggested both an elaborate past and a possible future. Perhaps because of the lab coat, Lewis had a quiet, serious manner. Dewitt was like a big boy in a schoolyard. Sometimes, when the two men were dragging their prisoner through the hallways, Dewitt would tell a joke and laugh. Both wolves were terrified of the commissioner of patrols, who held the power of life and death in this section of the city.

  Time passed and, once again, he was brought back down to the gymnasium, where the tub of water was waiting for him. The men tied Gabriel’s wrists in front of him with a length of rope, and he suddenly glanced up at them.

  “Do you think it’s right to do this?”

  Both men looked surprised—as if they had never heard this question before. They glanced at each other, and then Lewis shook his head. “There’s no right or wrong on this island.”

  “What did your parents teach you when you were children?”

  “Nobody grew up here,” Dewitt growled.

  “Were there any books in the school library? A philosophy book or a religious book—like the Bible?”

  Both men glanced at each other as if they shared a secret; then Lewis reached into the outside pocket of the lab coat and pulled out a loose-leaf school notebook filled with stained sheets of paper.

  “This is what we call a Bible,” he explained. “After the fighting started, certain people realized that they were going to be killed. Before they died, the
y wrote books describing where weapons were stored and how to destroy their enemies.”

  “It’s kind of a textbook explaining how to be powerful next time around,” Dewitt explained. “People hide Bibles around the city so that they can find them at the beginning of the next cycle. Have you seen the words and the numbers painted on the walls? Most of the numbers are clues about finding Bibles and caches of weapons.”

  “Of course, some people are really smart,” Lewis said. “They write false Bibles that deliberately give the wrong advice.” Cautiously, he offered the book to Gabriel. “Maybe you could tell us if this is a false Bible.”

  Gabriel accepted the notebook and opened the cover. Each page was scrawled with instructions on how to find weapons and where to establish defensive positions. Some pages were filled with meandering explanations about why hell existed and who was supposed to live there.

  Gabriel handed the notebook back to Lewis. “I can’t tell you if it’s real or not.”

  “Yeah,” Dewitt muttered. “Nobody knows anything.”

  “There’s only one rule around here,” Lewis said. “You do what’s good for yourself.”

  “You better rethink your strategy,” Gabriel said. “Eventually, you’ll be executed by the commissioner of patrols. He’s going to make sure that he’s the last person alive.”

  Dewitt scrunched up his face like a small boy. “Okay. So maybe that’s true. But there’s nothing we can do about it.”

  “We could help each other. If I discovered a door out of here, you two could leave with me.”

  “You could do that?” Lewis asked.

  “I just have to find the passageway. The commissioner said that most of the legends involve the room where they keep the school files.”

  The wolves glanced at each other. Their fear of the commissioner almost overwhelmed their desire to escape.

  “Maybe…maybe I could take you there for a quick view,” Dewitt said.

  “If you’re getting off the Island, then I’m leaving, too,” Lewis said. “Let’s do it now. Everyone is out of the building, doing a sweep for cockroaches….”