by Nancy Madore
While it was still a considerable ways off, Poseidon rotated his trident the slightest bit in order to turn the quaking, crackling din away from the arena to encircle the city. The crowd’s fear was slowly being replaced with curiosity. What was he doing?
Poseidon continued until he reached the foothills of one of the mountains that rose up in the distance—and then finally he stopped. Now, Poseidon traced his trident back over the fissure he had just created again, this time going even more slowly than before. Occasionally water would shoot straight up out of the ground. The crowd, which had calmed down considerably by this time, began murmuring among themselves about what it might be. Was it a spring? Perhaps it was a moat!
Poseidon did not speak. He just kept painstakingly working his trident back and forth over the rift that he had created. The trembling grew more intense at times, even causing a few people to fall out of their seats. The minutes seemed to turn to hours, but gradually it became apparent that the rift was becoming a stream. The crowd waited patiently for Poseidon to finish his task. Carefully, and with great effort, he finessed the crevice open, wider and wider, until at last, it was a river. Waters were now rushing past the crowd, but even still, Poseidon continued to make a few final adjustments.
More than an hour had passed by the time Poseidon lifted his trident and leveled his gaze at the crowd.
“People of Attica,” he thundered, his fierce eyes glowing with pride. “I grant your new city access to the Great Sea. From this river will come all the delights of the world—from the coveted spices in the east to the precious olive in the south—right to your door!”
There rose up a resounding cry of delight. Poseidon basked only a moment in their applause before turning to his adversary expectantly.
Athena smiled. “Worthy though your offering is, oh master of the sea, there is one delight of this world that these mortals will nevermore have to seek elsewhere.” Pointing toward the very mountain through which Poseidon’s river ran, she addressed the crowd as follows: “I, the goddess Athena, bring the precious olive to you!” And indeed; there, where she pointed, was a row of fresh young trees unlike any they had seen before.
Another cheer rose up, and Poseidon winced as if he’d been struck. His soul seemed to shudder as he stared at the strange looking trees—which did appear to be sporting some kind of dark fruit. The trees, though young, were vigorous and well established. How had Athena managed it? She must have brought them in and planted them ahead of time. How long had she been vying for this city?
Poseidon watched Athena as the cheering continued for what seemed like an eternity. He saw her smile and wave at the mortals, and it was all he could do not to remove the smile from her face, right then and there.
King Cecrops—quite unaware of any danger—rose from his seat and motioned for the crowd to be quiet. He was exuberant, clearly delighted with the gifts that had been bestowed upon his city that day. “We have gained not one, but two gods, today,” he began tactfully. “How can we, mere mortals, repay you, our beloved gods? Our sacrifices seem terribly insignificant, though you will never be neglected on this account.” A cry of assent rose up through the crowd as if to verify this, but to Poseidon it seemed like yet another affront. He felt mortally wounded. He longed to disappear—and would have, had he not been immobilized by the sheer horror of the event. He couldn’t seem to drag his gaze away from Athena, who was still smiling and waving at the mortals.
Finally the crowd grew quiet enough for King Cecrops to continue. “To, Poseidon, our great god of the sea, we present our hearts in eternal loyalty and gratitude,” said the king. “And to Athena, the gentle goddess, we entrust our fair city, which shall hereafter be called Athens.”
Poseidon could feel himself rising up in the air, although his rage had reached that point where he was hardly aware of what he was doing. Up, up, up, he rose, reflexively lifting his trident and leveling it at the Great Sea. The sky turned dark overhead as the water began to shift and rise. Athena let out a little cry and the crowd gasped in alarm.
Poseidon urged the water to rise up higher still. It was almost as if his anger was gaining power with the energy flowing through his trident. The water was so far away that the crowd couldn’t see how high it had risen. But Athena saw it, and she cried out again. She called for Zeus, but even this couldn’t stop the water from rising even higher as Poseidon prepared to wash away the city of Athens—and his humiliation along with it.
But suddenly Zeus was beside him.
“No!” he cried, grasping Poseidon’s arm.
Poseidon immediately lowered his trident, but the wall of water was already moving in their direction. The crowd at the arena scrambled to get away. Hundreds of people were trampled to death as everyone rushed to find higher ground.
Though the water never quite reached Athens, it left a trail of devastation across Attica’s coast, wiping out several of the cities that had chosen Poseidon as their patron god.
Mortified, Poseidon plunged himself into the sea. His only thought was to go where no mortal could follow. But days, and then months, passed, and Poseidon decided that he preferred living underwater. He enjoyed the company of the sea creatures, finding them more agreeable than the creatures on land. It would be several years, in fact, before he would be ready to live among mortals again.
Chapter 36
Delta Junction, Alaska
Beth still had the gun in her hand, but she had all but forgotten it. Her head was spinning. She felt as if she were the one being held prisoner, and the ties that bound her were grief and hope.
It was impossible to believe what she was hearing. Yet it was equally impossible to ignore. Isabella’s claims, bizarre as they were, seemed to fit with the events that had occurred. But Beth wasn’t sure whether it was logic or wishful thinking that was making them fit.
Isabella was, perhaps, the most confusing piece of the puzzle, though Beth was aware that she was only seeing one side of the woman. She had gotten a mere glimpse of the other side, first in the cemetery and then later, when Isabella approached her with the knife in her bedroom. She suspected that that other side would emerge again at some point if Isabella didn’t get what she wanted.
Beth’s only hope was to discover the truth. But it was hard to recognize the truth. She made another attempt to comprehend what Isabella was telling her.
“So…T.D.M.R. caused those earthquakes in California,” she summarized. “And you, Asmund and Wayne were trying to stop them…and save the world from Armageddon.” She shook her head. She felt ridiculous even saying the words.
Isabella just watched as Beth grappled with what she’d been telling her. Her quiet conviction was disturbing. There was no doubt that she believed what she was saying—and yet, there wasn’t any of the mania that one would expect from someone who was deranged. Beth knew this because she’d spent her first few years out of nursing college working the fourth floor of the hospital, or ‘the loony bin,’ as most people called it. Those patients believed what they were saying too. But Beth could always tell that they also believed, on some level, that they were wrong, because they became so angry when confronted with facts. They were too desperate to convince others that their delusions were real.
No. Isabella wasn’t crazy or delusional—which compelled Beth to consider her claims yet again.
In fact, hadn’t Beth thought the California disaster might be connected to Wayne’s death? Hadn’t she suspected foul play on the part of T.D.M.R.? And then there was the death of that security guard and Max Wessler. Really, what were the chances that the head of the Department of Defense and two department employees would be killed on the very same day that the United States was struck by the worst disaster in its history? It seemed an unlikely coincidence.
If T.D.M.R. was intentionally creating earthquakes (and there were many conspiracy theorists out there who believed that they were), it seemed likely that Wayne would try to stop them somehow. That would explain his death—or at least the
motive behind it. The death itself would be Isabella’s most compelling argument.
“The condition of his body proves what I’m telling you,” she’d insisted. “I didn’t see it, but I can tell you what it looked like. It must have appeared as if Wayne had been ripped apart from the inside—because he had. They forced his soul out of his body. And I’ve no doubt that he fought them every step of the way. The struggle must have left him mutilated beyond recognition.”
This explanation raised more questions than it answered, but at the time, Beth had been too affected to give voice to any of them. Going back over it now, she said—“How did T.D.M.R. know that Wayne had one of these special souls that keep coming back?”
“Because they had a similar soul helping them,” said Isabella. “It must’ve seen the soul in Wayne’s body.”
“You mean these souls can see each other?” Beth shook her head, unable to accept this. “There’s no way Wayne could’ve hidden this all his life. He would’ve said something to someone.”
Isabella hesitated. “I doubt Wayne was in that body all his life,” she told Beth. “At some point he…chose it to inhabit.”
Beth’s heart began to beat a little faster. “So…he wasn’t born in it?”
“No,” replied Isabella. “He was not born in it.”
“He…possessed it?” asked Beth, incredulous. She was finding it hard to believe that Wayne would do such a thing. The man she knew—
This thought was halted so abruptly that Beth gasped. She felt as if ice water had been thrown in her face.
The man she knew!
She knew when it happened. She’d seen it. The ‘Wayne’ she lost a few weeks ago was not the same man she married. In fact, short of Beth, the two men had nothing in common.
She had always believed that Wayne was a kind man, but in fact, he had simply been too weak to openly assert himself. He had stayed with her, but he had not been faithful. Nor had he tried to make their relationship work. He had dulled the pain with alcohol, and encouraged her to do the same.
And then one day, quite out of the blue, he had changed. The change went unremarked because it was a change for the better. Suddenly he wanted to know her. Suddenly he wanted them both sober. Suddenly he wanted a home—with a private office where he would go online and write messages about Armageddon.
“Perhaps you know when he took the body,” suggested Isabella.
“Yes,” whispered Beth. “Perhaps I do.”
“And you also know that the new Wayne loved you more than the old Wayne ever could,” continued Isabella.
Tears filled Beth’s eyes. “Yes,” she agreed. But this was hard to accept. “What happened to the…old Wayne?” she asked.
Isabella’s eyes remained steadfast. She didn’t even blink. “He went to sleep,” she said.
Beth hoped this was true. “How did it happen?” she asked. “How did that…soul get here without a body?”
“It had a body,” said Isabella. “It came into this world like everyone else. But for whatever reason, its soul didn’t leave here when it died.”
Beth considered this. She had heard theories from various religions, especially Hinduism, regarding life after death. It seemed possible that certain souls might be permitted to continue on—particularly if they were on a mission to save the world. If there ever was a worthy soul, it was the one she had come to know as Wayne. She found this explanation believable—but was it because it made sense, or simply because it made her feel better to believe it?
“It’s the same with Asmund,” said Isabella, following Beth’s train of thought. “His is an extraordinary soul. It’s why I want to help him back into this world.”
“To save it from T.D.M.R.,” said Beth.
“Yes!” insisted Isabella. “This world is closer to destruction than you realize.”
“But you can’t tell me why,” said Beth.
“Because I don’t know why,” said Isabella. “I don’t know what they know about what’s happening in the world.”
“Then how do you know it’s true?” asked Beth.
“I just do,” replied Isabella. “And you do too. More than anything else, you know that T.D.M.R. killed Wayne.”
Beth wondered. Did she know this?
“You can see him again!” insisted Isabella. “His soul is tied to a ring, just like that one you took from the cemetery. Asmund can tell you where it is.”
Yet it still didn’t quite fit. Why would T.D.M.R. want to destroy the world? What if Isabella was misleading her? What if these souls were the ones trying to bring about Armageddon?
“I still don’t understand what happened at T.D.M.R.,” said Beth. “You said they were planning to create a major earthquake somewhere—you don’t know where—but you and Wayne changed the formula so it would actually set off an earthquake here in Alaska and destroy T.D.M.R.”
“That’s right,” said Isabella.
“But your formula caused an earthquake in California,” Beth reminded her.
“I know,” said Isabella. “I told you, the new formula must not have gone through.”
“If it had gone through, everyone I know would’ve been killed,” said Beth—and suddenly it dawned on her. “Including me.”
It was Isabella’s turn to be surprised. “No!” she said. “Wayne told me that he sent you away!”
She was right! Beth had almost forgotten. Wayne had sent her to Minnesota to visit his sick aunt.
“It was hard enough for him to leave you,” said Isabella. “He definitely didn’t want you hurt. That’s why he left you with enough money to start over. I thought he explained all this in his letter.”
Beth’s heart seemed to stop. “Letter?” she echoed.
“Yes,” replied Isabella. “Didn’t you get it?”
Beth’s mind whirled. Wayne wrote her a letter?
But she hadn’t received any letter. And then it came to her—the letter would’ve gone to where she was supposed to be. In Minnesota.
Beth walked backwards to the door and cautiously left the room. She locked the door on the other side. Then she went upstairs.
Wayne had left her a letter? Was it possible?
Setting down her gun, Beth fished around in her pocket for her phone. Finding it, she immediately dialed Wayne’s aunt.
“Aunt Carol,” she said when the woman finally answered. “It’s Beth.”
“Beth!” cried Wayne’s aunt. “I’ve been meaning to call you! Did you get my card?”
“Yes,” said Beth.
“I was so sorry to miss the funeral,” she said before Beth could say more. “It’s just so hard to get around anymore. Oh, but listen to me…going on like this. How are you?”
“I’m fine,” said Beth. “I just wondered—have you received any mail for me?”
“Mail?” she repeated, surprised by the question. “Hold on a minute and let me check.” Beth heard the click of her walker as the older woman made her way into another room. A few minutes later she heard her returning. “Hello? Beth? Are you still there?”
“Yes, I’m here,” replied Beth impatiently. “Was there a letter?”
“Yes!” she replied. “There is a letter. I had forgotten all about it. I had set it aside for you and then…I just forgot it, you know, with everything that happened. I’m so forgetful these days,” she was mumbling by the end.
“Aunt Carol, I think the letter may be from Wayne,” said Beth. “I know this is a strange request, but…would you mind opening it and reading it to me?”
“Oh!” gasped her aunt. “Oh, my dear girl. Oh!” A small sob escaped her.
“Are you okay, Aunt Carol?” asked Beth.
“Yes,” she sniffed. Beth could hear her tearing the end of the envelope. And then she heard her utter a shaky sigh. “Here it is,” she said. “I’ll read it now. It says; ‘Dearest Beth. I can’t explain my disappearance any further than to tell you that I had no choice in the matter.’” At this point Aunt Carol stopped reading.
&nb
sp; “Are you okay?” asked Beth again.
“Yes,” she replied, though Beth could hear the distress in her voice. “‘I have set up a bank account in your name,’” she continued shakily. “‘The account information has been added at the bottom of this letter.’” Wayne’s aunt paused here, as if to verify that the information was there. “‘The last six years were the best years of my life,’” she resumed after a moment. “‘You are a beautiful woman, inside and out, and stronger than you know. Live your life to the fullest, Beth. It is my dearest hope and desire that you and I shall meet again.’” There was another little sob before her aunt finished—“It’s signed, ‘Wayne loves Elizabeth.’”
Beth couldn’t find her voice.
“Are you still there, Beth?” asked Wayne’s aunt.
“Yes,” she choked out. “Thank you for reading it to me, Aunt Carol. I didn’t want to wait for it to be forwarded to me here.”
“I understand,” said her aunt. “But…I’m not sure I understand the letter. I thought Wayne died of a stroke. Do you suppose he knew he was going to die?”
“I think he did,” replied Beth, not wanting to tell Wayne’s aunt that he had been planning to leave her the day he died.
“Shall I forward the letter to you now?” she asked. “You’ll want this bank information.”
“Yes,” said Beth. “And thank you again.”
Beth hung up the phone and sat down in the nearest chair.
Wayne loves Elizabeth.
Beth unclasped the chain around her neck and lifted it from beneath her blouse. She caught the ring as it slid off the chain and slipped it on her finger.
Okay Wayne, she said. I guess it’s my turn to save you.
Chapter 37