“I have observed,” Harry said, “that on more than one occasion, various members of our gang will say something significant. I think this is one of those times and I vote that we give it a pass.”
Without comment, we turned away from the great pile of stone.
“Did any of you notice,” Amy said, “that there is no breeze? I see no dirt, no mess, nothing broken and the only thing that smells in here is us.”
“I checked the long grass and some of the shrubs,” M2 said, “It’s all fake.”
We did agree that apparently, the familiar buildings were recreated on a smaller scale, probably just to fit on the island.
“You know,” M2 said, “This is going so well and I’m so anxious that I’d like to head for the top and see what’s there.”
We readily agreed and turned on the first path that went up the steep bank and inland. Once we crested the rise, the land leveled off to a moderate incline that extended about two hundred yards toward the island’s center where I saw another sheer rise. It looked from here like we would have to climb two more of the steep banks before we could reach the top of the island.
There was an intricate, interconnected network of pathways winding their way, here and there, over the rugged, but not impossible terrain. The fake foliage was more abundant, but not so thick as to obscure our orientation. As we walked we saw many buildings in the distance, some familiar and others not, but most recreated on a smaller scale. Each had its own tiled circle, but we had agreed beforehand that we would not complete any level, but head straight up as quickly as possible, merely looking and taking lots of pictures.
We soon reached a trail that went up to the next level. We were cautious on our approach, but no new barrier was encountered. This new inner ring was similar in terrain, but with less depth and smaller in total area. It had its own network of winding paths and profuse, if phony, vegetation. The big difference was the age of the displays. They were all much more ancient and in various stages of advanced decay. Those we could see were no more than the remnants of crude foundations and a few no more than mounds of grass covered earth.
“Fascinating,” Alice said, while we were passing a particularly forlorn edifice. “This must have been what the mysterious travelers found when they first arrived on earth.”
Amy spoke in a serious and thoughtful manner. “I’ll bet Pinocchio’s builders could tell us all about the missing link between the apes and man.”
Alice turned to look at me with raised eyebrows and clamped lips. She held both clenched fists against her mouth.
“Go ahead,” M2 said to her, “you may as well say it.”
“No,” she said, “it’s too easy.”
On seeing this, Amy said, “Oh, dear… That was not my intent.”
“We all know that,” M2 said, while patting her on the back. “Alice does it to help me maintain my bon vivant reputation.”
We were in good shape and ahead of schedule on our voyage to the uppermost part of Pinocchio, which was waiting for us at the top of the final bank.
M1 said, “Wish me luck, gang,” and slowly began to climb. The first four steps were without incident, but after step five we saw him stiffen then lurch back while holding his head. This time M2 was there to steady his partner.
“Are you all right?” Alice asked. “What was it this time?”
“Headache,” he said, while massaging his temple. “I’ve heard of debilitating migraines and now I know what it’s like to have one. James, over to you.”
I thought, Here we go again. I was carrying a full load, but I had to give it a try.
Bebe read my mind and said, “Do be careful, James. Do not let it overwhelm you. There is no dishonor in retreat.”
I tweaked her nose and spoke to the gang, “You all should go back to the first level while I do this. If this knocks me out, you might be helpless. I don’t know that Joe can maintain control in that event.”
“I don't like it,” M1 said, “but James is right. I’ll stay here, but the rest of you trot on down to level one.”
“James,” Alice said, “why not have Joe stay with you? We can stay right at the entrance and if there is trouble, Joe can signal us by turning off his barrier control for a second.” She undid Joe’s neck chain and handed him to me, “it’s a good idea and not just because it’s mine. Besides, it couldn’t hurt.”
Joe felt good around my neck. “Thanks, Alice. Great idea.”
“I see that look on your face, James,” she said with a slight smile, “but Joe comes back to me as soon as this is over.”
I thanked Alice again and we parted reluctantly. Bebe again told me to use due caution, gave me a rib bending hug and very soon M1, Joe and I were alone.
After giving the others time to reach the entrance I started up the slope with M1 close behind, holding my belt. It was a good thing he did, because as soon as I entered the new field the King Kong of all headaches engulfed me and it was both blinding and paralyzing. M1 kept me from falling as I staggered back. The headache vanished, but the echo bounded around inside my skull for several seconds. My recovery was fast, but it was something I would never forget.
“Good God, that was awful!” I groaned.
“You have my sympathy,” M1 said, “but d’you think you can overcome whatever the hell it was?”
“Give me a minute,” I said, “I have to unscramble all the little gray cells. I feel like they’ve been used in a giant ping pong tournament.”
“Joe,” M1 said, “are you okay?”
“Don’t ask,” he said, “just make it go away.”
“Well,” he said, “you both can still form a proper sentence. I guess there’s no permanent damage.”
“You know,” I said, “it’s like someone popping off a flash camera about three feet from your eyes. It takes a while to recover, but I do feel normal now so let me think about it.”
I walked to a nearby bench, sat down, took a healthy swig from my canteen then closed my eyes. As I looked inward, I saw that the new barrier still had an effect on synapses, although not as many and the grouping was in a tight bundle of nerves—nerves that transmitted pain.
The difference was that instead of deactivating those synapses, the new field caused them to transmit continuously. After some trial and error I found a way to hold them neutral, but it created a secondary problem in that, once activated, I would feel no pain from various parts of my body. Seeing no other avenue, I began to flip some switches. As the process progressed I discovered that this time, the load was becoming much heavier and would be more difficult to maintain.
When I finished, I said to M1, “I’m sure I can do this, but it’s a bigger load than the other two combined. You’ll have to go down and join the others on the first level. I just can’t carry both of us.”
“Okay,” he said, “but we need a plan. How do you want to work it?”
I thought for a moment. “I’ll go to the top of the bank and take a look. If it seems all right I’ll scout the area, take some pictures then join you down below. If I see anything fishy, I won’t investigate and I’ll stay a maximum of one hour. How’s that?”
“It stinks less than anything I can think of,” M1 said. “How about Joe? Do I take him with me?”
“Not necessary, M1,” Joe said, “Both choices are undesirable, but if I am here, I may be able to help.”
“Okay,” M1 said, “just keep in mind that we can’t come and get you if something goes wrong. I just wish our radios were working. I do need to know if this barrier is the same deal as the first two.”
“Similar,” I told him, “but instead of deactivating some synapses, it activates a bunch that deliver pain signals. It’s sort of like holding a live microphone close to a speaker, causing a feedback loop.”
“Crazy,” he said, “Those builders meant business. Anyway, James, the clock starts now. Good luck, pal.”
A quick handshake and he ran down toward the first level. By the time he disappeared over the edg
e of the lower bank, I had all of my mental ducks in a row and with all of the due caution I possessed, I climbed the path to the upper level.
CHAPTER 18
Anticlimax was the only word that came to mind as the surface of this new place came into view.
It’s a very pretty park, Joe. AstroTurf never looked as good.
It is as dead as the rest of this place, James.
From where I was standing, I estimated this high place was not more than two hundred yards wide to the far edge. A variety of trees sprouted everywhere on the gently rolling landscape. There were benches and narrow pathways laid out in no particular order.
Right away my eyes were drawn to the single, substantial construction, sitting solidly in the middle of this large circle. It was a curious structure. The main part looked like a round oil storage tank, only smaller, and made with white stone or forever material. What I assumed to be the front was a large raised platform, fronted by a curved row of pillars supporting a substantial roof, maybe Roman or Greek. Viewed from above, I imagined it would look like a giant padlock—a fitting description if Pinocchio lived up to Amy’s worst fears that it was a prison or something worse.
Joe, can you sense any life in that building?
Sorry, James, my normal abilities are filtered through your brain—so I cannot do much.
Was that a dig, Joe?
No, James, simply a fact.
I let it go. Nothing moved. The place was as sterile as the lower reaches and my evaluation didn’t change as I headed toward the padlock. The fat pillars obscured the platform interior until I mounted the four steps and negotiated the space between two of the columns. There I stopped short.
Like this building, sitting alone in the center of the park, the large space I had entered was completely empty except for a single object in the center. There I saw a white, stone couch. It had no back, but one end was raised slightly, reminding me of a hospital bed. A thick, royal blue mattress covered the entire top, but the object lying on the pillow-like surface commanded all of my attention.
Although she was completely shrouded in a pearl white robe and turned away from me, I could tell it was a woman by the curve of her hip as she lay on her side. Was she real? Was I looking at a statue? I approached on tiptoes to about ten feet from the stone sofa.
Is she alive, Joe?
Yes, I can see her respiration and I also note your masculine reaction to her shape.
So you know about romance, sex and all of that?
Elementary, my dear Watson—Molly Watson that is.
I also let that go. What to do? I looked around to make sure I didn’t miss any other objects. The rest of the big space was still empty. I did see a single arched doorway leading into the oil tank, but the interior was dim and unrevealing.
The sleeper slept on as I circled around to the other side of her couch. I bent over at the waist and tipped my head sideways for a better view. My pulse rate went up several notches as I examined her features.
This is wonderful, James. I sense your reaction. I am happy to be here.
Me too, Joe.
Once I was sure, I stood up, but I was hesitant to touch her. There were no chairs to sit on. All I could do was to stand there like a dummy, twiddling my fingers behind my back. Soon I caught myself snapping my fingers and blowing puffs of air in her direction in the vain hope the mild disturbance might rouse the sleeping lady.
Joe became impatient. She may well sleep for hours, James.
We’re okay on time, Joe, but I do feel silly just standing here. It’s strange, she hasn’t aged.
I had to do something. My hand was hovering over her shoulder, ready to give her a light tap when she decided to turn over without really waking up. As her head followed her chest, her eyes half opened, then closed as she completed the turn. Now she was facing away from me. I was about to tiptoe back around when I saw her stirring. She rolled back toward me with half opened eyes and laid there quietly. I knew she saw me, but she was still partially asleep. All of a sudden her eyes popped open and she levered herself erect, facing me with her legs dangling over the edge. Her look of alarm gave way to puzzlement as she rubbed her eyes with the top of her wrist.
She cleared her throat and then found her voice. “I’m the only one who should be awake.” After a pause, she looked at me intently. “I don’t recognize you.”
She spoke English—my English—without an accent.
I couldn’t resist a dramatic introduction. “Hello, Nora. Harry sent me.”
CHAPTER 19
A look of wild disbelief washed over her face. She started to fall back, but caught herself and lurched forward. At the same time her eyes rolled up until all I saw were the whites.
“Oops!” I said, as I made a grab for her. “Too much drama.”
I did manage to catch her, but her forward momentum and dead weight proved to be too awkward and down we went. I was flat on my back with the princess squarely on top. The fair lady was in a dead faint and no one, especially me, was in control.
She smelled nice and she felt even nicer although I noticed that here and there I had most unfortunately lost the sensation of touch because of the synapses I was blocking. Cheek to cheek we lay there, her long, chestnut hair cascading down over my face and obscuring my vision. I felt her stir. Her breathing increased and although we were still cheek by jowl, I knew she was awake and that her eyes were open.
“You okay?” I asked, from behind the chestnut curtain.
She slowly raised and rotated her head while I did the same. We were nose-to-nose, breathing each other’s air in that dim light.
“I know this is a dream,” she said, flatly.
“How so?” I asked her.
“It just feels different, I’ve never met you before and I definitely didn’t ask for whatever program this is.” She looked away for a moment. “But I was sure I had woken up. I came outside…” she looked back to me. “I came outside, didn’t I?”
“No dream,” I said. “This is real.”
“It can’t be. I’m pinching your side as hard as I can and you don’t react.”
I told her I had taken some strong painkillers. It was those pesky synapses, but I didn’t want to get involved in a lengthy explanation. She may or may not have believed me, but that was the least of her concerns. It was very encouraging when, after staring intently into my eyes, she asked, “So, where’s your white horse?”
Her giggle turned into a shrill but short laugh that she choked off by clamping her lips and puffing out her cheeks, chipmunk style. She must have then opened her mouth because I felt a drop of drool land on my lower lip. I knew that she knew what had happened when she reached into our little cavern and wiped it away with her finger. This lady was not shy at all.
“Sorry,” she said, “but I’m not myself today.”
We both burst into laughter. I soon calmed down, but Nora’s whoops turned into tears. She lowered her head to rest on mine and had a good, solid cry for about three minutes, followed by a few sniffles.
The questions began. We were still nose-to-nose in our little bubble, but the princess took no notice of our awkward and, in the eyes of some, compromising position on the floor.
“Harry sent you? Where is he? Is he here?”
“Harry is waiting down near the entrance,” I said, “because I’m the only one who could come up here. We’ll explain it all later.”
“But why couldn’t Harry come here? You obviously found the switch.”
“Switch? What switch?”
“The switch that turn’s off the barrier. You couldn’t have made it here otherwise.”
“We found a way around that problem, but tell me about the switch… Is there one up here?”
“Good God, no! That barrier is what has kept me a prisoner here, it seems like forever.” Her face twisted up, but she fought down the urge to cry. “The only switch I know about is down at the bottom, near the entrance. I saw them use it when they brought me here.”
“Do you know who they were?” I asked.
“They were tall with slightly oriental eyes—that’s all. They didn’t talk to me.”
“Were any dressed in black?”
“No, there were just a few tall men. Two of them had surgical bandages. One had a large patch on his head and the other on his hand. Anyway, they didn’t speak at all. Before they turned the barrier off they let me experience the effect. I saw one of them go to the right edge of the entrance arch. He reached in and along the face of the inside wall and pushed on something I couldn’t see, that is until we walked through. It looked to me like a small, ornamental gargoyle. I guess you just have to give it a push.
“That’s great news,” I said. “I can have Harry up here in ten minutes.”
But she wasn’t finished with the questions.
“Before you go, tell me how long I’ve been here. It seems an eternity. I’ve had no way to keep track of time.”
“Less than half of a century—give or take.”
She absorbed this for a time. “Then my brother must be an old man. We’ve lost a lifetime.”
This time a salty tear landed on my nose. She wiped it away, but with no apology.
“Look at me,” I said, “I’m about Harry’s age. We’ve been given a miraculous treatment you’ll be told about in due course. I must say you seem not to have aged at all.”
“No one ages in this place. I’m a display in this horrible museum. Do I still look, uh, good?”
“You look good, smell good and feel good.”
She rewarded me with a lopsided smile.
It was my turn for a question. “When you first woke up, you said to me that you were the only one who should be awake. Are there others here?”
“Yes,” she replied, “about seventy others and all are from Earth. Bermuda Triangle and all of that, you know. Right now they’re all in dreaming chairs in a chamber below this building. We use them in turn to keep from going crazy. One man hasn’t woken up in fifty-five years and most haven’t woken up in over ten.
LOST AND FORGOTTEN: BOOK THREE - ENIGMA Page 14