“That night, I dreamt of the necklace, the very one I turned over to your possession when you first came. I was flying, near midnight, high over my hometown in New York. The chain of the necklace bound my chest tightly, but I knew it was the means by which I was able to move, as a bird, through the air. I was terrified of the object, but also too scared to unwind it from my body. Again, this kind of abject fear was rather unknown to me. Not that I have never been afraid, but I have always kept that fear in check. Not during that dream, I didn’t. It ran rampant in me, totally savage.
“I saw that the water in the river running past my town had been replaced with blood. I knew, somehow, that everyone below me was dead. No, worse than dead. Unborn. As if they had never existed. I knew, if I were to see someone, and thank God I did not, they would no longer be the person I had known growing up. These unborn would be servants of the puppet master I’d seen, Paul. When I awoke from this dream, again from a pounding at my door, someone yelling that it was time to depart, I had the necklace in my hand. I carefully hid it in my effects, knowing it to be of terrible value.
“We marched all day, and when the darkness came we pitched our tents. By that time the men issuing me orders were gone, but I did not know how to return. That night I dreamt of you, Shad Matthews. I saw you step inside the machine you mentioned, and it took you up into the sky. You came down into this place, this unholy place I had marched to, and we met. In the dream you seemed desperate for the necklace, and I admit I was surprised to find you much more pacified in person. In the dream you said you had to take it to Paul, and though I was concerned about what it might mean to that… that man, I wanted you to deliver it as well. It seemed important to me as well as you. But now I find you playing all day, every day. The sun has ceased to set since you came, so who can even say it has been a day? But it has. It’s been much longer than that. And I—apparently, I alone—feel the tension increasing with each second you wait. Perhaps you are right to play. Perhaps Paul should never get this necklace. I don’t know. I leave it up to you entirely. But I want you to know that I wait in agony for him to have it, an agony of the mind if not the body. I no longer know if I am fully real, or even what such a thing would mean. When I woke up from that last dream, I was here. No one seems to think it’s a strange place but me, not even Davis. I’m… disturbed.”
He was breathing heavily. His face was that of a desperate man. But throughout the entirety of the speech, his voice had not lost any of its cold power. At first, Matthews thought there was more he had to say, but soon it became obvious he was done. He was waiting for some kind of reply.
“No,” Matthews said, still wrestling away thoughts of the game he’d been playing when Jeffs had approached him. “You’re right. I feel drugged in this place. I’m not right here. As much as I want to stay, I think you’ve got a lot better chance of thinking clearly than I do. If you feel like we should take the necklace to Kenner, let’s do it.”
Jeffs closed his eyes. Sweat had broken out on his forehead, though the day was pleasantly cool. He smiled, and Matthews saw the real gratification of that smile. “I am glad,” he said. “When will you tell your friends?”
But Matthews was already walking toward them. “No sense in waiting,” he said, not adding that he needed to talk to them before he lost his nerve or forgot what he was doing in favor of a beanbag.
3
Clare, Matthews, Chase, and Captain Jeffs walked up the alien hill to the cave where Paul had been secreted. Davis had been left in charge, though there were no real orders to be given. When Matthews had verbally pushed Clare and Chase into taking the necklace to Paul finally, Clare was surprised by how easily she was persuaded. She, like her two male friends, had been happy to stay at camp for the rest of eternity, but as soon as Matthews had said otherwise something within her tipped over, like a precarious domino, and she knew it was time. She had grown to like Matthews and Chase very much. She’d considered on more than one occasion offering one of them, probably Chase, the kiss she had teased them with. But, worried they would not accept her young age, she hadn’t yet.
They’d made up their minds to go to Paul, but quickly realized they still did not know exactly where he was. No sooner had Clare said something to this affect than the monster dog, who was actually quite cute, had appeared from out of the trees, looking much happier than it had upon leaving camp.
Jeffs had said, “This is Cards. I’ve dreamt of her, too.” They each took turns petting the huge animal, still feeling childish and playful from their stay. Even Jeffs touched its coat reluctantly.
On the far side of the lake, they followed the happy giant dog to a cave-like area atop a hill that was picturesque even though it was covered in purple grass. She knew Chase and Matthews were each dealing with their feelings of guilt. They were ashamed because they wanted to please the man, the monster that was Paul. She could see it in their downcast faces as they walked. She felt no such guilt. She had done much worse things for a high than simply hand a man some jewelry. Despite the men of the group experiencing such doubts, they were also excited. They had found what they had been sent to find—and that was a wonderful feeling.
Matthews, Chase and Clare enjoyed light conversation on the way. They spoke as friends do who have known each other for a long while, through times of plenty as well as sorrow. Jeffs did not speak. He walked haughtily, as if with great effort. Clare did not know what to make of the man, but Matthews seemed to trust him, and that was enough for her.
She knew she was going to surprise them with her question. Once the dog stopped walking to indicate they had arrived, she asked: “Can I be the one to show him? Can I hand it to him?”
“Why?” Chase said, in a curious, friendly way.
“I’m not sure,” she said. “I guess I want him to want me around.” She cast her eyes to the strange verdant soil below, a mixture of enchantment and sadness played on her pretty, wasted face. Subconsciously, her hands came up to rest on her fullish belly. “I don’t want the baby to die.”
She had tried not to think about the baby much in their time at camp, not wanting it to upset the wonderful balance they had there, but she had still begun to feel tenderly about it. Whether it was a boy or girl or whatever meant nothing to her. The fact that some fat womanizer more that twice her age was the father meant nothing to her. She loved this little baby. She thought of Jen, who she barely remembered, and wished she could be there to see the baby be born. She knew this child had saved her life by way of Deeny’s protection; it had saved all of them.
Chase, who had been holding the necklace for the last few minutes, probably with the secret hope that he might be the one to give it to Paul, handed it to her. Their hands lingered at the slight touch between them. She was sure if they lived another day she’d give him that kiss. If she was old enough to have a baby, she was old enough to kiss Chase.
The mouth of the cave was unspectacular; they walked into the darkness, where the red light of the sky seemed reluctant to go. Slowly, their eyes adjusted to the tiny cavern around them revealing a stone door. It reminded Clare of something that might be on The Flintstones.
Matthews tried knocking, but the rounded door was thick, and his attempt did not reverberate at all. Anyone within would have heard nothing. He shrugged and pushed on the door. It swung open easily, revealing the pitch blackness within.
“What?” a voice came out of the darkness.
At first no one could speak. They had all been struck with terror too fundamental to be called simply mortal. Eventually Matthews motioned to Clare, indicating that if she wanted to present the necklace, now was the time.
She cleared her throat and stepped forward. For the first time in a very long time she felt truly pretty, though why that particular moment should engender the feeling was beyond her.
She said, “We found it.” And then, with relish, “I’m holding it in my hand.”
Paul stepped out, fully nude, as emaciated as some extremist Indian monk. H
is hair had grown ragged over his shoulder. It was clear he had not eaten or bathed in a long while, perhaps so long that his clothes had rotted off. Clare could practically read the minds of the men with her; they were each calculating, trying to guess if they could take Paul down in this state, but they each came to the conclusion Clare had already come to: what he looked like meant nothing now. He was beyond human frailties.
Before anyone could do anything stupid, Clare held out one delicate hand and dropped the necklace into Paul’s waiting, ash-gray palm. The silver chain spilled from one person to the next like a fountain.
He brought the necklace to his eyes, admiring it as a new father might admire his infant. Here was his whole world in his hands. His hollow, bloodshot eyes almost seemed unable to focus on the thing, but no one doubted that he saw it.
The relative silence was broken by Jeffs, who said, “What the devil are you?”
Paul looked up, noticing the man for the first time. He then did the last thing anyone would have expected at that moment. He laughed. A dry, loud heave came out, like the high call of a gigantic, ancient bird: “Ha!” The echoes of the sound quickly died, and silence followed.
He clutched the necklace in one hand carefully as one might some expensive piece of electronics that would break if dropped. He stepped closer to the Captain and said, “Jeffs. I’d know you anywhere. What a great joke.”
“What are you? Who are you?” Jeffs said, making it clear that he was not in the mood for jokes, great or otherwise.
Clare was surprised to see that Jeffs actually had an effect on Paul, who seemed to want to apologize for his outburst, but was not quite willing to do so. He said, “I’m your father, aren’t I? I wrote you into being.”
Jeffs grimaced, but did not seem shocked by this news. “You are a sick man, Paul,” he said, sounding reasonable, courteous even. “You ruined my whole world. Where is Valerie?”
At this, Paul grimaced back. He frowned and put a hand on Jeffs’ uniformed shoulder. “I’m sorry. I really am. But I don’t make that world anymore. I don’t create anything now. That part is over. Now the other thing must happen. The—”
“Listen to me,” Jeffs interrupted, taking Paul by each shoulder even with one of Paul’s hands on his. Jeffs’ anger showed through his face and mannerisms, but his voice remained strong and collected. “You can’t do this. There’s a war going on, and I don’t think it can happen without you. All this fighting, everyone who died, all that will be in vain if you stop. Please, man, please continue what you’ve started. Send me back. You have a responsibility to me, to Davis, to Valerie. To everyone.”
Paul looked at up him, and Clare saw tears rolling down the man’s slack cheeks. “I don’t do that now,” he said. “I don’t. I don’t.” He sounded exhausted. “It’s time for something else. The other thing.”
“What other thing?” Matthews said.
And now Paul smiled, shrugging off the sadness that had overcome him just moments before. He stepped back from Jeffs, freeing himself from the man’s grasp. Though still physically wasted, he looked like a new man.
“Now,” he said, “it is time for Mayhem.”
4
“Out! Get out, my friends! I will let you live!” Paul then yelled dramatically, flinging his hands in the air madly, nearly sending the necklace crashing into the stone wall of the cave’s entrance. “Get out of my house, and go back to the camp, and have some fun! Your work is all done!”
They only stared at him.
“NOW,” he bellowed as fire—literally, fire—came spewing forth from his mouth. It was orange, red, and gold—a beautiful flame. Like children, the group stumbled backwards, practically stepping on one another to get back to the cave entrance. Then rock grew over the opening. They watched part of the mountain come up out of the earth, lifting a ball of stone containing Paul up and up, finally resting in the shape of a large closed sphere nearly a quarter-mile from the ground. It was held up by a thin tube of rock matter.
To no one in present company, Jeffs said, “I’m sorry, love.”
5
“Speak… Do not be silent, my little one… you called for me… you wanted me… so, say something…”
Paul cradled the necklace in his cave. It gave off a little light.
He said, “Please.”
CHAPTER THREE
HAVING NOTHING ELSE TO DO, the group headed back to camp. Cards led them even though they knew the way themselves.
On the way back, all of them noticed the new markers of decay. Some needles, now brown, had fallen from the trees. In some patches, the grasses were dying. Although on the whole the landscape remained unnaturally opulent, they saw no animals.
“What does this mean?” Chase asked.
“It means our Eden is over,” Matthews said, and they all felt a twinge of happiness at the thought. They’d loved the place, certainly, but it was an unnatural love. Not a love given freely. And now as they felt that love dying, they were pleased.
Just as they were about to crest the last small hill to camp, Jeffs stopped abruptly. Matthews looked at him, asking with his eyes what was wrong. Jeffs said, “I feel… I fear something is not right at camp. My men—” He ran ahead and stopped at the top of the hill where he could see the camp in its entirety, a look of disbelief and disgust on his roughly hewn soldier’s face.
The others came forward to see what had caused Jeffs’ distress. The tents were burned. The ground was scorched and charred in places. Many of the soldiers were dead, lying half-eaten by flame, face-down, face-up, on their sides, strewn across camp. Those who lived milled about distractedly, a few also consumed in flame but taking no notice.
Davis appeared from behind the only tent still standing. Jeffs hurried to him. The rest of the group followed, careful not to get too close to the fires. Their faces shared impotence. Clearly, it was too late for anything to be saved.
“Davis, what’s happened here?” Jeffs asked.
Davis looked up into his Captains eyes and smiled, “Aww, I knew you was gonna be mad. It was just a little bet, Cap’n. You need to loosen your corset some notches.” He laughed. His eyes were open as wide as they would go. Another soldier wandered nearby, burning. It was the basketball player Matthews had noticed earlier. He nodded at Matthews in salutation.
Jeffs said to Davis, “Explain.”
“Well the—” But Davis was interrupted by the passing anaconda, which was now twelve feet of flame. “Aww, hang on there a minute, Cap’n. I gotta see to this.” He scampered off toward the animal. “C’mere, you devil!” When he reached the snake, he smashed its large head under his army boot. Thankfully the fire covered most of the gore, but Clare looked away anyway.
“Sorry, fella,” Davis said.
Matthews said, “What’s going on?”
Jeffs said, “I think I’d rather not know. This is probably the ‘other thing’ Paul mentioned. He’s through with my world.”
“No,” Clare said. “This isn’t it. Not yet.” She was thinking of the few times Mitchel had been given a less-than-dank bag of weed when expecting something much better. Though the outward effects were quite different, the underlying feeling was one she recognized. “I think the necklace isn’t what he’d hoped.” Amid the flames and madness all around them, she smiled. “He’s throwing a temper tantrum.” She folded her arms over her belly. “He thought the necklace would tell him something or give him something. But I don’t think it did. He’s probably locked up in that stone ball throwing a fit like a little kid.”
Jeffs said, holding the jacket of a fallen comrade. “And we pay the price for his anger.”
2
But Mayhem was not angry.
Mayhem was livid.
The glow of the necklace had faded. It was silent. It was just a hunk of metal and glass. The jewel wasn’t even real. It was exactly as Deeny had said. It appeared useless, not important at all.
He spewed blood onto the cave walls from his nose and mouth in a vulgar and
pointless display of frustration. He had power—great power—but to what end? There was no direction, no light, no purpose. He paced his tiny space like a brilliant tiger in a cage. This tiger could easily break free, but the world outside was just as empty as the cage. Deeny had wanted murder, Sean had wanted something more—but what did the necklace want?
Mayhem just couldn’t remember. Something to do with clocks.
Something to do with clocks.
Mayhem said, “Please,” to the necklace. Pale, sick parts of his skin fell to the stone floor and began to sizzle. They let in light from below as they burned through the stone floor. He said things out loud to Sean and Deeny and to the necklace, but no one responded.
As his acid skin flaked off him, he himself burned through the floor and into the dangerous red light of his weird sun. He fell into the dying grasses. Animals lay down around him and did not get back up. Already there were mounds of flesh where the herds met to die together. The dirt reclaimed few of the bodies, leaving the others to silently rest. Mayhem screamed out to the empty heavens. He had nothing to blame and nothing to hate. He had nothing to go to, to hold, to love. He nearly gave up then, committing a grand and tacit suicide. This world meant nothing to him. Nothing at all had meaning if he did not get direction. The necklace had been everything to him. Now he didn’t know what to want or do. Already, he had lost it, did not know where it was.
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