Fire Of Heaven Book II Threshold

by Bill Myers

  The current immediately snatched him up, pulling him so quickly through the Threshold that, as he entered, Jenny leaped aside. She shouted as he passed, but he could not hear over the roaring wind.

  Then, suddenly, instantly, it stopped — the current, the speed, the wind. Everything.

  Now he was simply floating. In complete silence. Peaceful, serene silence. The towering doorway had vanished; so had its light. And as the quiet peace continued, his fear slowly began to ebb. It was then that he noticed the colors. Beautiful. Sparkling. As diverse as the rainbow, but many times more vivid. They were moving about him, gently brushing against his clothes, caressing his skin, his face, exactly as the wind had. In fact, they were the wind. Only now he could see them. And now he could clearly hear them — they were voices. Human. Human voices singing lovely, sustained chords.

  He turned, searching for Jenny. At first he couldn’t find her, and his panic began to return. Where was she? Had he left her behind? Had he —

  And then he heard it. Gentle laughter. A little girl’s giggle. Jenny’s. He tilted back his head and saw her floating just above him, surrounded by the sparkling, dancing colors of light.

  Brandon’s heart leaped. He’d forgotten how much he loved the sound of that laughter. He smiled, reveling in it. What had he been so frightened of? Now, at last, after all these months, they were finally together.

  As they floated, she motioned toward his stomach. He looked down and noticed a silver cord passing under his shirt. He pulled up the shirt to see that the cord was attached to his navel. How odd. It was like some sort of umbilical cord.

  He looked back up at Jenny questioningly. She giggled and motioned for him to look for the other end, to see where it led. He obeyed and looked back down. To his surprise, he discovered that he was floating ten, maybe fifteen feet above the observation room at the Institute. Sarah and Reichner seemed completely unaware of his presence as they continued the session. The cord drifted above their heads, snaking this way and that until it dropped to the adjacent lab — the very lab where his body lay in the recliner.

  Strangely enough, Brandon wasn’t surprised at seeing himself. He’d watched this sort of stuff on TV, heard the stories of people leaving their bodies and hovering over themselves. Some thought it was a hallucination; others insisted it was their spiritual body looking down on their physical. It made little difference to Brandon. Not now. At last he saw the other end of the cord. It was attached to his other navel — the one in his physical body that rested on the recliner.

  He looked up at Jenny. She had drifted several yards higher and seemed to be moving on, picking up speed. She motioned for him to follow. There was no fear now, and he nodded. By simply willing it, he started to move in her direction. But he had traveled only a few feet when he was suddenly brought up short. He looked back down to the cord. It had reached its limit and was stretched taut. Now it was acting as a tether, holding him back.

  Jenny was moving farther away. She motioned for him to hurry. He noticed that the sparkling colors surrounding her were turning more golden in hue. The singing voices were growing louder, more pronounced. He had to do something. He hadn’t come this far to be left behind. He reached for the cord, wondering if he could somehow disconnect it. He looked back up at Jenny. It was hard to tell from that distance, but it looked as if she was motioning for him to pull. Obeying, he placed both hands around the cord. Then he gave it a firm tug. There was no pain, no sensation of any kind, as it easily detached from him. He let it slip through his hands and watched as it fluttered back down toward the lab.

  Sarah jumped at the sound of the alarm. Her eyes shot to the monitor. “Blood pressure is dropping!”

  “What?” Reichner rolled his chair back to see for himself.

  “Like a rock.” Sarah scanned the other monitors. “So’s his respiration, EMG. They’re falling. Everything is falling!”

  “That’s impossible.”

  Sarah fought back the panic as she read, “Diastolic is 59…51 …”

  Reichner spun back to the intercom button and hit it. “Brandon, Brandon, come back up.”

  “46…38 …”

  Again Reichner spoke into the mike, less calm. “Brandon!”

  Still no response.

  Another alarm sounded. Sarah spun to the EEG. All of the brain waves were flattening.

  Reichner leaped from his chair, sending it rolling backward. He headed for the door, took all three steps in one jump, and raced into the lab.

  Brandon was free. Freer than he’d ever been in his life. But it wasn’t just his body; it was his mind, his emotions, everything about him — clear, unbridled, free. He was picking up speed, moving faster toward his little sister. And, as his speed increased, so did the volume of the singing and the intensity of the lights surrounding him. They sparkled brighter, gently caressing his body as they slowly changed from the beautiful ambers and golds to deeper, more vivid hues of orange and red.

  Above him, Jenny slowed slightly, waiting for him to catch up.

  Although he could see no trees or clouds or sky, Brandon knew they were now outside of the lab. They were someplace in the cosmos, someplace vast and deep and wondrous. Jenny hovered less than twenty feet away. As Brandon closed the distance, he willed himself to slow so that they would not collide. Gradually, his speed decreased.

  When they were ten feet apart, she stretched out her hands, waiting for him. He did the same. Seven feet. Four. Finally, at last, he arrived. They stared into each other’s eyes, drinking in one another’s love and affection. It had been so long. But now, at last, they were together. And for the first time since her death, Brandon no longer felt guilt or shame or failure. Here, everything was forgotten. Forgiven. For the first time in his life, he experienced only love and peace.

  The voices grew louder. The beautiful oranges and reds dancing about him were darkening to even more dramatic scarlets. But he barely noticed. All he saw was Jenny, her image wavering from the tears in his eyes.

  She smiled, blinking back her own tears.

  Moved by her affection, he reached out his hand to her cheek, to brush away one of the tears. His finger touched the moisture, the smooth skin —

  There was a tremendous searing, like lightning ripping through air, like gristle tearing from flesh. And with that sound came the transformation. Instantly Jenny’s nose grew, turning into a long, dog-like snout, its jaw open and panting. Her eyes shifted higher onto her face, then narrowed. Her skin erupted, suddenly bristling with gray and black fur as her lips pulled back, stretching, curling into a snarl that exposed large canine fangs.

  It was a wolf! Not Jenny, but a wolf. She had become a wolf!

  Before Brandon could pull back, the creature snapped at him. Its razor teeth tore into his arm, ripping and pulling away flesh. Brandon screamed. The animal showed no pleasure, no remorse — only hunger, only a ravenous desire to destroy as it shifted its weight, preparing for another attack.

  Brandon lurched away. The force threw him backward, tumbling, spinning, head over heels.

  “Jenny!”

  But there was no answer.

  As he spun, out of control, he saw other changes. He was no longer floating in some peaceful sky. He was falling. Falling into a fiery void that grew redder and redder every second. And the sparkling lights escorting and touching him now had shape and form.

  They were humanoid and they were on fire. They were burning cadavers, clinging to him, wailing in agony. These were the voices he had heard. Not gentle whisperings, not beautiful sustained chords but burning corpses, screaming in anguished torture. And they were falling. Falling into a bottomless, burning inferno.

  Back in the lab, Reichner grabbed Brandon, shaking him hard. “Brandon!”

  Sarah watched as other alarms in the observation room began to sound.

  “Come back up!” Reichner shouted. “Come back!”

  There was no response.

  She grabbed the phone.

  Reichner
dragged Brandon out of the recliner, ripping off a dozen sensors in the process. “Brandon!” He slapped him once, twice, but there was no response.

  Sarah watched the scene through the glass as she quickly punched in 911.

  Reichner spotted her and yelled, “What are you doing?”

  “I’m calling 911!”

  “Don’t be a fool!”

  She looked to him, confused.

  “They’ll close us down!”

  She could only stare at him in disbelief. The phone on the other end began to ring.

  “Records!” he yelled. “They’ll go through everything. They’ll find out about Vicksburg. They’ll shut us down!”

  Sarah understood, but she didn’t move.

  “Get in here!” he cried. “Give me a hand!”

  The phone continued to ring.

  “Dr. Weintraub, I need you, here!”

  The voice on the phone answered, “Emergency, 911.”

  “Sarah!” Reichner’s eyes flared in anger.

  “911,” the voice repeated. “Are you reporting an emergency?”

  Suddenly a loud drone filled the room. Sarah spun around to the heart monitor.

  “He’s flatlining!” Reichner shouted. “Get down here, now!”

  She looked at the phone, hesitating.

  “Now!”

  Another moment’s hesitation.

  “Sarah!”

  And then slowly, but decisively, she hung up.

  “Come on!”

  She ran out of the room and into the lab, her hatred and self-loathing already rising to new heights. As she entered the lab, Reichner was ripping off the boy’s shirt. Buttons and sensors flew in all directions. She dropped near Brandon’s face, preparing to give him CPR as Reichner placed his hands on the boy’s chest and began to pump and count.

  Brandon was covered in flames. The burning corpses continued to cling, clawing, shrieking for relief. Pieces of their flesh dripped and fell onto his own body, burning whatever they touched, igniting his clothes, his own skin.

  “Jenny!” he screamed. “Jenny!”

  Through his own cries and the tormented wails of the bodies around him he heard laughter, but it wasn’t Jenny’s. It was deep, guttural, malicious. He craned his neck and spotted the wolf through the flames. It was heading directly for him, laughing, its mouth opened wide, ready for the attack.

  “My God!” he screamed. “Help me! Please, somebody — my God, help me!”

  The plea snapped the wolf’s head around. His laughter faltered. He was only yards away, moving in for the kill, but now he seemed uncertain, tentative. He began to search, looking one way, then the other.

  That’s when Brandon heard it. Another, entirely different sound. It began to overpower the shrieks and wailings. Mighty, all-consuming. Like the roar of a waterfall, but a thousand times greater. It increased, booming, thundering, roaring. Not only did Brandon hear it, he could feel it. It vibrated through his entire body.

  Then he spotted something high above him. It was another light, brighter than anything he had ever seen, many times brighter than the sun. Instinctively he knew that it was the source of the sound. The wolf and the burning cadavers tilted back their heads, looking up at it with fear and awe. As it approached, Brandon could see that its sides were moving, rotating like wheels. But they were more than wheels. They were alive. They were covered in eyes — hundreds, maybe thousands of eyes — all-searching, all-seeing, all-knowing.

  Although its appearance was terrifying, Brandon somehow sensed that it was good. More than good — it was pure. But with that purity came a dread. Not the dread he had experienced with the wolf, or the horror of the burning corpses. This was different. Deeper. Yes, it was terrifying. But terrifying in its awesomeness, in its power — and its unwavering, absolute perfection.

  He watched as it slowly came to a stop. Everything around Brandon seemed to be waiting, but the light moved no closer. It simply hovered a hundred yards above them. It offered Brandon no help, no promise of rescue. Just its presence. And yet, somehow, that presence was enough. It began to stir something inside of him. An expectation. Somewhere inside of him a quiet hope and assurance began to swell and grow.

  Maybe it was this assurance, or maybe it was simply having a point of reference, an idea of up and down. Whatever the case, Brandon once again willed himself to move — only this time upward, toward the light, toward the wheels of eyes. Of course it frightened him, and of course he knew that its power and purity could kill him. But death by goodness seemed far preferable to destruction by evil.

  As he rose, Brandon felt the clinging, burning cadavers start to lose their grip. First one, then another, they began slipping away, falling with horrific screams back into the flaming void below. And the more that fell away, the more swiftly he rose.

  He looked up. Although he was traveling faster, he never seemed to draw any closer to the rotating light. It seemed that the more quickly he rose, the more quickly it rose. In fact, it had kept the exact same distance from him as when he’d first started his ascent. He wasn’t sure why, but he sensed that this distance might be for his own protection — that if he drew too close, its terrifying purity could indeed destroy him. And as far as he could tell, it had not come to destroy.

  Off in the distance, he saw the laboratory approaching. But it wasn’t below him as before. Now it was above him — thirty or forty yards above him. It was as if he were looking up through a glass floor. There was the recliner, the console, Dr. Reichner and Sarah kneeling beside his body trying to revive him.

  But there was something else around his body as well.

  A group of creatures. Grotesque, hideous things. There were nearly a dozen, and yet Sarah and Reichner seemed oblivious to their presence. Some were small, some big, but all were equally repulsive. They reminded Brandon of gargoyles, of the trolls and monsters from childhood books and nightmares.

  They spotted his approach and immediately snarled and screamed at him. Some shouted threats and obscenities. Others waved their claws and talons menacingly.

  All but two. These two were several feet taller than the others. They were clothed in brilliant, shimmering light that made it impossible for Brandon to make out any detail of their features. One stood near the head of his body, the other at his feet. They said nothing and made no movement, but there was a presence about them. A strength.

  The last of the burning corpses fell away, and Brandon realized that he was no longer fighting to rise. He found himself in another current — but this time, a current pulling him into his body instead of away from it.

  The creatures moved to block his path. They continued waving their claws, gnashing their fangs, screaming their obscenities — some in English, others in languages he could not understand. They did everything they could to intimidate him, to scare him away. But, even if he’d wanted to, he could not have stopped his approach now; he was moving too fast.

  He raced toward them with increasing speed. He was going to crash into them, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He raised his arms to protect his face —

  Then, just before impact, just before he felt their claws and fangs tear into him, the two taller figures extended their arms. Effortlessly, they knocked the smaller creatures aside, making a clear and direct path for Brandon to reenter his body.

  Reichner sat back on his legs and wiped the perspiration from his face. He had finally restarted the boy’s heart. Sarah leaned forward and felt for Brandon’s breath. He was breathing. A moment later his eyes shifted under closed lids. They rolled once, twice, and then opened.

  Time passed. Ten, maybe fifteen minutes later Brandon was on his feet, pacing the lab.

  “Be reasonable,” Sarah argued. “At least have a doctor examine you and see —”

  “No.” He cut her off as he continued buttoning his shirt, preparing to leave.

  “But it’s for your own good,” she insisted.

  “My good?” His voice trembled in rage. “You ne
arly killed me, and it’s for my good?”

  She had to look away. It was true. Once again she had caved in to her guilt and ambition, once again she had allowed herself to be manipulated — this time at the risk of nearly killing him. What was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she stop? Would the past ever let her go?

  “Listen, son.” It was Reichner’s turn. “I know you are upset. But what we are uncovering here may completely redefine paranormal research. And not only that branch of science.”

  Brandon said nothing.

  “Everything may change. Physics, our understanding of the brain, the soul, even our most rudimentary —”

  Brandon turned on him. “Shut up! Just — shut up.”

  Reichner appeared unfazed. “We are in the midst of a major scientific breakthrough. You, Dr. Weintraub, myself — we could advance science by logarithmic leaps, and —”

  “Science?” Brandon was livid. “This isn’t about science. This is about you.” Reichner glanced away. Brandon spun toward Sarah. “It’s so you can get your awards, your Nobel prizes. It’s so you can prove whatever it is you think you’ve got to prove.” His words cut deep. “That’s it, isn’t it? Isn’t it?”

  He waited, hovering just a few feet from her. She knew that he was waiting for an explanation, for her to defend herself. But when she looked up at him, there were no words. For a brief moment their eyes connected, looking into each other as before … until Brandon broke it off. He turned and headed for the door.

  “I never said my purposes were selfless.” Sarah was surprised at how calm her voice sounded.

  Brandon came to a stop but did not turn to her.

  “I never said they were pure.” She took a breath, then continued. “They may have exploited you, even hurt you — and for that I’m truly sorry. But —”

  Before she could finish, Reichner interrupted. “But at least she has one. At least she has a purpose.”

  She threw him an outraged look, but he ignored her. He’d already sniffed out the boy’s weakness, and now he was going for the kill. “But tell me, son. If you walk out that door, what exactly do you have? Hmm? What purpose? What reason do you have for living?”