by Melissa Roen
In the early hours of the morning, I’d descended from the Astrarama and hiked cross-country. It was now a quarter past eight, and the mist that hugged the ground was steaming under the sun’s warming rays. I’d been watching the empty road for twenty minutes, but no cars passed this way.
Unfortunately, I’d be exposed while traversing the road, until about seventy meters ahead; there was a little-used footpath hidden amongst the vegetation that led to the grotto at the base of the sanctuary’s walls. From the top of the footpath, I’d have a clear view of the parking lot and the main entrance to the church.
I hadn’t planned on coming back here, but when I awoke this morning after a night of restless sleep, haunted by a pulsing, red eye, I felt a compulsion to visit Laghet’s sacred grounds once more.
I swept the surrounding countryside one last time with my binoculars. I left the stand of oaks, and with Buddy loping by my side, ran the seventy meters to the turnoff to the footpath.
The only car in the parking lot was the church’s van. No one saw me as I slipped through the wooden door in the wall and descended the worn stone stairs to the cool grotto. It was 8:40; the offices of the morning were over, and the members of the order were, most likely, breaking their fast.
I lit a candle and placed it before the photo of Julian. The reflection of the flame caused points of light to dance in his eyes, and I imagined a spark of sentience lurked in their green depths.
I knelt before the altar and prayed to I knew not which god. Maybe it was the Sisters’ beloved Seigneur. Or some ancient spirit who inhabited this sacred grotto since the dawn of mankind. The chill and dampness seeped into my knees from the old stones, until they ached as though I was crippled with arthritis, and still, I stayed kneeling before the altar. I beseeched the nameless power who resided in this holy grotto to keep Julian from harm and speed him safely back to my arms.
I don’t know how long I knelt, lost in supplication, before I felt Buddy’s nose nudging my arm, his breath warm against my cheek. I climbed the steep steps, thinking to slip out the door and disappear into the countryside, but Sister Marie-Timotee was waiting outside of the wooden doors.
“Good morning, Maya Jade. I thought that was you, tiptoeing down these stairs. We’re you planning on sneaking off without even saying goodbye?” Her face was stern, but I could see the humor twinkling in her eyes.
She was as saintly as any of the other nuns of the order, but I wondered what other lives she’d led before retreating to a cloistered life of contemplation and prayer. I sensed that she once knew, firsthand, of the pleasures and temptations, the sorrows and joys of the secular world.
“You’re right, Sister Marie-Timotee. I did sneak in and was planning on leaving without saying anything. I feel guilty because I’ve never come back since that day at Lac Saint Cassiens. I’ve been so lost. It feels like the world’s ending, and we’ve run out of time.”
She took my hand in hers and led me to a secluded bench under an enormous oak, the boughs spreading in a russet canopy over our heads. Buddy lay down at my feet. The valley spread before us, carpeted in autumn shades of rust and gold. The days were still warm, but you could feel the seasons changing, the nip in the air at night. And taste the approach of dark and melancholy winter days.
“My dear Maya, it doesn’t matter why you’ve stayed away. We’ve missed you. But you’re here now. I’m glad you came. I’ve worried about you. I know you were so full of pain and grief. I can see in your eyes, you’re still troubled.”
I think more than anything it was the kindness in her voice, because the words poured out in a torrent.
“Sister, I don’t know what to do. I don’t think you can help me, but I received a message from Julian. Or at least I thought it was from him. He’s still alive. The message told me to wait. That he would come for me. But it’s been more than a week… I don’t know if he’s coming. I don’t know anymore if the message was even from him.”
I could feel the panic well up inside as my doubts threatened to swamp me.
“Maybe it was a hoax. Maybe the message was a trap, sent by someone else. I don’t know what to do. I had a chance to leave. There were people who wanted to help me. But I turned my back on their help. I stayed for him. And now, I don’t know if I made a mistake. There are people looking for me. Some really dangerous people. I’m in trouble. What will I do if he doesn’t come?”
“My dear child, so many worries, and you feel so alone. Apart from your loyal friend here, lying at your feet.” She smiled and reached down to pat Buddy’s head before continuing.
“You feel overwhelmed. I understand. But you came here today, with your sorrow and your confusion. You couldn’t carry the burden by yourself anymore. The Seigneur is like a father who wants his children to be happy. He doesn’t want you to suffer this burden alone. He wants to help you and take away your pain.” Her soothing voice and reassuring words flowed over me, easing the knot of panic in my chest.
I gazed into her clear gray eyes and felt the warmth flowing from her hand into mine. “All you have to do is give Him your sorrow, your worries, your pain. He will carry the burden for you. You need only lay it at His feet. Believe in His love, because you are loved. You’re one of His children. We all are.”
It all sounded so easy. If only it could be that simple—to believe we are loved. That there exists a higher power who will shoulder our burden, ease our pain and sorrow.
“If God is love,” I thought cynically, “then we, His children, have taken His gift and twisted it into war and hatred. Slaughtering each other and doing our best to destroy the world. More likely, we are Lucifer’s children. We are fallen angels, once blessed, now doomed.”
But I couldn’t fling these words at her and disappoint her with my doubts. Instead, I answered, “Sister Marie-Timotee is it really that simple? All I need to do is ask and believe?”
“Maya, I see you have your doubts. I understand when you look at all the misery, destruction and hatred that fills our world today that it’s hard to believe in something so pure and healing as His love. But it doesn’t have to be that complicated. Child, open your heart and believe in His love.” Her voice rang with absolute conviction.
“I’ll try, Sister, I’ll really try. But sometimes it’s so hard.” I tried to pull myself together. If I broke down now, all would be lost. I had to stay strong. I changed the subject.
“Anyway, how have you been? The sanctuary seems so quiet. For some reason, I thought there would be more people here: refugees, families seeking shelter.”
Worry creased her brow for a second.
“We do as much as we can to help and welcome anyone who seeks a place of shelter. These are dark days. Strange and troubling times have been unleashed on this world.” She regarded me intently. “We’ve had visitors here, unsettling visitors. And there’ve been people asking about you, Maya Jade.”
“Who? Did they leave their names? When were they here?” I looked around in panic, imagining binoculars trained on me even as we spoke. I shouldn’t have come here today.
“I’m sorry to frighten you, Maya. One was your friend, Bilal. He came here two days ago and asked if we saw you, to give you a message. He said to tell you to be careful; there are dangerous people looking for you. He said you would understand. That if you needed him, you know how to contact him. He’s worried about you, Maya. You said you’re in trouble. Do you want to tell me about it?”
I wanted so much to confide in her. But what could a posse of nuns do against someone like Slava?
“You said there were other visitors looking for me? Besides Bilal?”
“Yes, there’s been someone else. A big man; he looked like a bodybuilder, with massive arms. He frightened me, but then we’ve been hearing disturbing rumors. We’ve had refugees here from the camp in Nice. They talk about children going missing. Orphans kidnapped from the camp. They mention a place called the Farm. Horrible things happen to the children there. He’s been here several times since the summer.”
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“What did he look like?” My heart started pounding, and I knew what she was going to say even before she described my visitor.
“He spoke French, but with an accent. His eyes were pale blue. He had tattoos everywhere: on his arms, his neck.”
“Did you notice anything about his teeth?”
“Yes, now that you mention it, his incisors were filed to sharp points. His whole appearance instilled fear. It was very disturbing, talking to him. Father Dominic spoke with him and sent him on his way.” She shivered and crossed herself before continuing. “Father Dominic thinks he could be involved with the kidnappings. Involved in this place called the Farm.”
“Did he ask for me by name? What did Father Dominic tell him?” I was standing now. I knew I had to go. The freak could be lurking anywhere.
“He came here for the first time near the end of August. He said he was looking for a couple of teenagers, a young boy and a girl. He said he was their uncle. Then, at the end, he asked about you. He didn’t know your name. He described you, though—your hair, the color of your eyes. Of course we told him we didn’t know you. That you’d never been here to Laghet. He’s been here two times since. The last time was two weeks ago. And he always asks about you, Maya. This man means you harm.”
I took a couple of deep breaths, trying to subdue the waves of panic. I had to get myself under control and think logically. The disturbing stranger was looking for two teenagers. It wasn’t a stretch to suppose he might have been seeking Luca and Joanna, or some other runaways from the Farm. But he hadn’t seen them in my company. He couldn’t definitively tie me to their escape. At best, it was conjecture on his part. I’d escaped his trap, bested him. His motivation for seeking me was solely revenge.
So much else had happened since our confrontation that I’d succeeded in suppressing the memory. I’d escaped. I didn’t want to constantly relive that harrowing experience and become paralyzed by fear.
Still, prickles of apprehension traced an icy path between my shoulders, knowing he was intent on finding me. He couldn’t associate me with the sanctuary; it’d been a fishing expedition. I prayed that Father Dominic was a convincing liar. My safety depended on it. Hopefully, my trail had gone cold and he wouldn’t come back. I realized with a sinking heart, if I ever crossed paths with the psychopath again—if I wanted to survive—I would need to shoot first and save the questions for later.
“I can’t stay, Sister Marie-Timotee. I’m sorry to ask you or Father Dominic to lie for me, but no one can know I came here today. And thank you for your words of comfort. If only it could be that easy…”
“It is that easy, Maya. You’re welcome here anytime. And don’t worry,” she added with a twinkle in her eye, “it’s okay to sometimes lie, especially if you’re protecting someone from harm.”
“I guess this is goodbye…” I shouldered my pack.
“Maya Jade?” Sister Marie-Timotee’s face was wreathed in the most beautiful smile. “Miracles do happen, my child. Angels can appear when you least expect them. Especially in dark moments. They do it all the time.”
I started up the path, Buddy by my side. I thought about Sister Marie-Timotee’s parting words. I saw her gaze before me in my mind’s eye, the twinkle like a sliver of starlight shimmering in the depths of her eyes.
CHAPTER 33
ALL HALLOWS EVE
Buddy and I left the Astrarama in the early afternoon. I wanted to be settled in before dark. I knew I was taking a foolish risk coming here—to this vantage point overlooking the city of Nice—but I needed to know what was going on.
There was sporadic gunfire by the airport, and long lines of cars jammed the Route de Grenoble, the last desperate evacuees, fleeing before the incoming tide. All was chaos below. Military vehicles streamed past on both sides of the Autoroute. The tanks that had locked down the “quartiers chauds” of L’Ariane and Les Moulins were gone.
Acrid smoke from the guns and the wildfires to the west tasted bitter on the back of my throat and stung my eyes. I could feel the panic and fear spreading across the city in the last dying rays of the day. The insurgents were waiting for the cover of nightfall to make another push.
Tonight was Halloween, and the Pleiades glimmered overhead like fireflies.
The first tongue of fire appeared by the airport about midnight, but as the night wore on, other fires sprang up in different neighborhoods across the city. The flames licked the night sky, and the sound of guns beat out a staccato rhythm like tribal drums. Tracers of rocket fire lit up the sky in a shower of phosphorescent light. The Acropolis was hit by a rocket missile about three o’clock, and exploded in a shower of glass and flame; then, the fronds crowning the palm trees lining the Promenade des Anglais detonated like a string of fire crackers. The first headlights appeared on the Autoroute heading east towards Italy, but as the night wore on, more and more joined them in a headlong rout.
Below, at the foot of Mont Boron and the neighborhoods around the port, the French forces, backlit against the flames, were digging in and setting up their defensive position.
As the hours passed, Nice became a great bonfire burning out of control. I saw figures cavorting like demons amidst the flames. I heard the screams of the dying on the wind. Would the French forces be able to hold until dawn, a couple more days, a week? Nice was falling, and only a tide of blood and death would extinguish these flames.
Buddy and I retreated, the flashlight the only illumination as we moved as swiftly as possible over the trails in the blackness of the waning night. I didn’t pause to watch our back trail. I wanted to put as much distance between us and the carnage I’d witnessed on the streets of Nice before the break of dawn.
Abdul had been right all along—that I didn’t understand the danger I faced by staying behind. No matter how many back-up plans I had, Julian wouldn’t be able to get through this madness. I wouldn’t be able to, alone, survive the savagery I’d seen this very night. Slava’s people were hunting me, not to mention the psychopath with the tattoos and fangs.
The sun was trying to break through the pall of smoke from the fires still burning in Nice as we finally made it back to the Astrarama. I was reeling; my head throbbed from lack of sleep and the horrors I’d seen. I wished I could pull the covers over my head and sleep through this nightmare. But we had run out of time.
I spent the rest of the day going through my supplies. I could only take as much as the Land Rover would hold. Extra gasoline, food and water were a priority; the guns and ammunition, too. I knew it was a risk, but I drove to the training center at dusk and loaded up the last bags of Buddy’s dried food and any medical supplies we might need. I parked the crammed vehicle facing towards the camouflaged screen of brush. I hung the keys on a chain around my neck.
I studied the maps Arnaud had stashed in the glove box, plotting our route. We would head into the Alps. Maybe we’d find an abandoned cabin in the back country to shelter in while I tried to figure out our next move.
By nightfall, I hadn’t slept in thirty-six hours, but the Land Rover was loaded and we were ready to evacuate. I’d done all I could to prepare for our escape. I barred the door to the dome and lay down, fully dressed, on the couch, the Glock and Judge close to hand. Buddy prowled restlessly about the room, his ears alert to every sound. I would wait for Julian as long as I could. Tomorrow would be November first, the day of the dead. Sleep claimed me as soon as I closed my eyes.
CHAPTER 34
SURRENDER HILL
A mosquito buzzed around my face, swooping and darting like a miniature airplane. I swatted it away in annoyance. It came back, the whine increasing in volume. I put a pillow over my head and turned over to go back to sleep. But somehow, the pernicious creature had found its way under the pillow; the whine burrowed into my eardrum.
Only now, the ominous rumble of Buddy’s low growl drowned out the whine of my winged tormentor. I sat up in exasperation and saw Buddy poised at the doors leading to the viewing deck, hackles raise
d. Something outside spooked him. I slipped on my tennis shoes, stuck the Glock in my belt, eased the safety off the Judge and crossed the room to his side. I stood still, my ear pressed to the door. Everything was silent outside, but Buddy pawed impatiently at the door and barked once.
“Nature calling? Okay, big guy, you can go outside.” I relaxed and ruffled his coat.
I unlocked the door, and he was through in a flash. That’s when it hit me; the guns had fallen silent over Nice. A patch of starlight glimmered through the cloud cover overhead. I watched as the opening widened, exposing a swath of diamonds shimmering against black velvet. The familiar constellations bathed the peak in fairy light. Then, I heard a whine, insistent and growing louder. Befuddled by sleep, I thought for a second that damn mosquito was back.
I saw Buddy silvered by starlight, standing on point by the Land Rover. I was wide awake now, every sense alert as I heard the engine straining as it changed gears on the steep road below. I turned the light switch off inside the door of the dome and grabbed my pack. I crept to the screen of brush and brambles that hid the entrance to the Astrarama. The dim beam of a single headlight cut through the blackness below as it turned onto the Grand Corniche. I watched as the headlight clung to the first curve and accelerated again. The headlight disappeared on the next curve, but I could still hear the powerful engine as the biker rode with the headlight turned off, only the starlight to guide his way.
My heart pounded as I crouched by the camouflaged entrance to the Astrarama. I prayed whoever it was would keep going and not find the turnoff to the rutted track. Only someone who knew where to look would find it at night, in the shadows of the hillside. I glanced behind me, and my heart sank. The dirt and branches I’d used to cover the dome had been washed clean by the rains. The metal dome glowed like a beacon reflecting the starlight.
I heard downshifting on the last curve and the engine cutting off as he coasted onto the track. Long minutes passed before I saw the silhouette of a man in a black helmet and leather, stealing from shadow to shadow as he moved silently down the rutted road, a gleam of metal in his hand.