Lumière (The Illumination Paradox)

by Garlick, Jacqueline E.

  Backlit by the roiling smoke of Embers…

  ...stand the cornerstones of a building.

  Abandoning Eyelet, I race up the hill, galloping the final few strides, falling to my knees on the overgrown stone path that had eluded me—

  “It’s gone,” I gasp, shuddering. “My father’s lab is gone.”

  Only the front pillars and the cornerstones remain. The rest of the building lies scattered about the ground, like the ruins of Stonehenge. To the rear, Embers froths, its black guts belching sour smoke into the air. A vile combination of pungent Vapours, crisped earth, charred wood and scorched stone.

  “No!” I slam my fists to the dirt. “This can’t be happening! It can’t be true! Please!” I shout to the sky. “Something has to be here! Something has to be left!”

  I launch forward, stumbling through the brush, my knees weak, my muscles quivering, searching the site for something, anything, any form of shelter, any protection from the Vapours. “Please, let there be something left.”

  Using all my strength, I shoulder aside the slabs of broken alabaster wall, searching the ground beneath them for a tunnel, a hole, a hidden hatch maybe. And then it hits me…

  My father’s constructions always included an underground bunker. Built to soothe his irrational fears of toxic war. Always kept stocked and readied to support life within them for up to ten years should his worst nightmare materialize. Surely he would have built one here as well.

  Eyelet coughs and my head swings around. A shadow sifts through the trees. One at first, and then several. I swallow. Gooseflesh prickles my neck.

  I turn and race to Eyelet, gathering her up in my arms. “Hold on,” I whisper, travelling the same path back to the Core, laying her down on the soft ground beside me. I lean, pressing my lips to her cheek. “Hold on, Eyelet, please.”

  Covering her with my coat, I scan the grounds for any indication of the bunker’s lid, clawing at the dirt, rolling aside the larger rubble, and digging beneath it. A dark mass of cloud cover closes in on me from behind.

  I swing around, catching it out of the corner of my eye. “Blast it!” I gasp.

  The Turned.

  They waft in and out of the shadows of the rubble, so close I taste their sour stench. They must have followed us, tracked us somehow through the woods. Something howls, and I crank my head around. More waft toward me through the trees on the opposite side. We’re surrounded.

  My gaze drops to Eyelet, lying lifeless on the ground. I’ve got to get her out of here before they take her from me.

  I lean over, scooping her up into my arms, folding her close to my chest as I paw at the dirt. “Please!” I beg. “Please help me find a way in.”

  The Turned swoop, dragging their atrophied fingers over Eyelet’s cheeks, knocking me in the back.

  “No!” I swing at them, whirling around, curling Eyelet under me. “You will not take her from me! I will not let you!”

  Laughter, chatters through the trees. Fingers comb through Eyelet’s hair.

  “It’s over,” one whispers in my ear. “She’s ours now.”

  “NO!” I swing. The spirits bend in the air.

  “It’s no use! You’re surrounded! We’ve won!”

  They cackle.

  “No you haven’t! You never will!”

  They laugh again and it rolls down my spine. I lower my head and claw at the earth, fingers bleeding. “Come on, come on.”

  The Turned swirl closer, their voices worming like a disease into my head. I close my eyes, trying to shut them out.

  “She’s ours!” They hiss. “You’re ours. Give her to us!”

  “NEVER!” I twist, shielding Eyelet.

  Their ghoulish eyes sear through the mist. They twist and curl, their spiny fingers pulling at her shoulders.

  It has to be here! I cradle Eyelet in one arm and dig with the other. Somewhere! Let it be here! Please!

  The face of a spirit appears at the back of Eyelet’s head, shimmering silver through the dark cloud. Its jaws stretched wide, teeth gleaming.

  “No!” I backhand the spirit into ash, and yank Eyelet to the other side, groping at every dent and pebble in the earth until—at last—my fingers catch on something solid, something gold in a sea of beige earth.

  A ring, glinting in the darkness. I clear the dirt and find a solid brass ring, big enough to fit the nose of a bull. I pry it upward and yank it back hard, finding it attached to a latch. Another tug engages the lever beneath. The ground beneath us shudders.

  Spirits swoop and scream overhead as the earth begins to shake. Gears creak and turbines tumble, giving way to a trap door buried just below the ground’s surface. A siren screeches, driving back the Turned, as the long, thin door rumbles open. Launching to my feet, I throw Eyelet over my shoulder and stumble down a set of stairs through a blinding waft of steam. The hammered fingers of the Turned claw at my arms, my face, her clothes, as we descend.

  Sweaty and breathless, I roll the door closed over our heads and fall to the stairs, shaken and gasping, the bitter voices of the Turned still screeching overhead.

  “We’re safe, Eyelet. At last, we’re safe.“

  I drop Eyelet softly down on a bed and run to the storage room in search of oxygen, feeding it to her straight from a tank I find among my father’s stash, hoping the supply is still good.

  “Please,” I whisper, rocking her. “Please, Eyelet,” I stroke her forehead, and press my lips to her brow, over and over again. “Please come back to me. Don’t leave me now, please, Eyelet.” I lift the mask and kiss her lips. “I can’t go on without you…”

  I replace the mask, stroking her hands. Her nail beds are blue. Her skin is the color of stone. I’m losing her. I weep inside, adjusting the flow on the pump to pour a steadier stream, unable to breathe myself.

  Come on, Eyelet...Come on, please…

  She sputters, then coughs. Her eyelids flutter.

  “Come on, Eyelet!” I breathe.

  Slowly, mercifully, color seeps in, pinking her cheeks. Her eyes roll before finally popping open, looking glazed and groggy, but alive.

  I suck in a breath as she scans the room, her gaze finally settling on my face.

  “There you are,” she says. I smile and she smiles back. The most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen. I take her hand in mine, squeezing the warmth back into her fingers. Slowly they turn from grey to pink.

  “What’s this about you not being able to go on without me?” She grins. The warm toffee centers of her eyes sparkle in the room’s flickering aether light.

  “Oh, Eyelet.” I fall forward, crushing her to my chest, lost in her scent, our hearts beating wildly. “Promise me.” I breathe at her neck. “Promise you’ll never ever leave me—”

  “Never,” she whispers, her lips grazing the side of my raised purpled cheek. “Promise you’ll never leave me, either?”

  I pull back, taking her face in my hands. “Oh, I promise,” I gasp.

  She reaches up, pulls me closer, her lips hovering over mine. Her warm, cinnamon breath wakes a part of my soul I never knew existed. Every cell in my body illuminates, as though she were the light I’ve yearned for all these years. Surging forward, I drop my lips over hers, engulfing her in a kiss so deep, and so long, it’s electrifying.

  Her hands caress my hair, my face, my chest. Lacing her fingers behind my neck, she urges me to lower myself over her on the bed. The heat between us burns hot as white coals.

  “Are you sure?” I whisper, our lips tightly pressed.

  “Aren’t you?” She breaks away, looking forlorn.

  “Of course I am,” I breathe into her mouth. God knows I am. “I just want you to be—”

  “I’ve never been more.” She lurches forward, peppering me in savage kisses, kneading my arms, my shoulders, my chest. Slowly, she unbuttons my shirt, yanking its tails from the top of my britches, and peels it back—exposing my bare chest.

  I sink into the moment, her mouth on my mouth, her hand on my hand,
guiding it beneath her skirts. The touch of her thighs, so soft and warm—then all at once she pulls back.

  She’s changed her mind. Thought better of me...

  My heart falters in my chest. “What is it? What’s the matter?”

  “Shhhhh!” She scowls, pressing a finger to my lips. “Don’t you hear it?” Her head cranks around.

  “Hear what?”

  “That sound. In the wall. What is it?” She clings to me, frightened, as the sound of churning gears increases.

  “I don’t know,” I shake my head. “I’ve not heard it before.”

  “It’s getting louder.” She looks panicked.

  “You stay here.” I push up onto my arms over top of her. “I’ll go find out what it is.” I launch myself off the bed, about to leave.

  “No.” She grabs my arm and hauls me back. “I’m coming with you.”

  “Eyelet, I don’t think—”

  “You just promised never to leave me, remember?” She sits up, her lips quivering.

  “Very well then,” I say, and she breaks into a smile in that precious way she does. “We’ll go find out together.” I collect her in my arms and start down the hallway, the sound getting louder. It leads us to a massive set of black iron doors at the far end of the Core. The doors fill the wall from side to side and floor to ceiling. I’ve never seen anything quite like it. A jagged saw-toothed joint runs through its middle, vertically. That must be how they open.

  “Where do you suppose that leads?” Eyelet whispers, over the chug of gears that roll inside. Her eyes are wide and fearful.

  “I don’t know.” I drop her feet to the floor. “You all right to stand?”

  “I think so,” she nods, though she’s still a bit wobbly. I reach over, threading my fingers through hers. She steadies almost immediately.

  “I thought you said you’ve been here before.” She turns to me.

  “I have. Once. I’ve just never been inside.”

  Slowly, I drag my hand down the saw-toothed joint that runs the length of the middle of the doors, laying my ear to the jagged crack. The churn of gears inside grows stronger. Eyelet steps forward, placing her ear at the door as well.

  “Look,” I say. Her necklace is levitating.

  Eyelet’s eyes are wide, shocked by the sight of it—the chain standing horizontally, the vial at its end pointing toward the crack in the door.

  “What on earth?” She turns to me. “Why is it doing that?”

  “If you have no idea, I surely don’t.” I reach out for the necklace and it hovers away, tracing the crack between the doors.

  She tries to pull it to her chest but it just floats back up, as if it has a mind of its own.

  “Has this ever happened before?”

  “No. And it’s never flashed as brilliantly either.” She loops the chain from her neck and lets the vial go. It dances mysteriously up and down the crack in the door. Emerald bolts of lightning streak like rays between the vial and the jagged opening, bursting into a searing flash of light when the vial finally reaches the floor. It releases and rolls to her feet.

  A buzzer sounds and the door wafts open, engulfing the hallway in a violent gust of steam. We jump back, coughing as it fountains up from the floor and clouds the hallway.

  The doors shimmy, then roll slowly open, disappearing into hidden wall pockets on either side of the doorway.

  “Where did you get that?” I gasp, swooping to pick up the necklace.

  “From my mother.” She takes it from me, looping it again ’round her neck. “It was my father’s. He asked my mother to keep it for him the day he left for the Follies and never returned.”

  “And you never knew what it was? You had no idea it could do this?”

  “No.” She shakes her head. “My mother told me it was the key to the future. Mine and everyone else’s. But I never understood what she meant.”

  “The key to the future.” I scowl, coughing, waving off the smoke that lingers in the hall. “Well, shall we go see?”

  Eyelet takes my hand, and we step across the threshold through a warm veil of steam, her hand trembling inside my own. Buzzers sound. Sirens scream. The floors vibrate, shaking the walls.

  “Perhaps we’d better go back,” she gasps, squeezing my hand.

  “There’s no going back now,” I say.

  We carry on, into the center of the dark room, following the low pumping churn of the gears.

  “Look!” Eyelet’s head pops up. She sucks in a sharp breath.

  I follow her gaze to the ceiling.

  The walls of the room stretch up much higher than they did in the hall. They must extend thirty, maybe forty meters. A solid stained glass dome of windows crowns the top, featuring scenes of gods and their worshippers from the ancient book.

  In the middle of the room, the floor sinks into a circular well, which I’m certain adds to the height. Inside the sunken circle sits an array of extendable telescopes, high-powered eyes, and looking glasses used to explore the planets.

  “It must be some kind of underground Observatory,” Eyelet whispers, creeping away from me.

  “More like a planetarium,” I say.

  “Strange, don’t you think?” She turns. “To keep such things underground.”

  “Very.” My head twists, taking in more details, my eyes locking on several large rectangular windows cut into the sides of the glass dome, apparently designed to roll open, allowing the nozzles of the great ocular guns to project through.

  “Good merciful heavens,” Eyelet gasps, clutching her heart. She turns. Her face is the color of ash.

  “What is it?” I race over, tracing her gaze.

  “The Illuminator,” she stammers. “It’s grown.”

  Forty seven

  Eyelet

  “It’s as big as the entire room.” I let out a breath, albeit a very shaky one.

  “It is indeed.” Urlick bursts forward, delighted.

  In the center of the room, on a raised platform—now exposed through the dissipating cloud of steam—sits a giant replica of the Illuminator, several times the size of the original.

  I gasp and stumble backward. How can he see this as anything good? It’s a monster. A monster-sized machine. “This is terrible.” I shake my head.

  “What are you talking about, terrible?” Urlick jerks around. “This is wonderful! Look at the size of that thing!” He throws his hands in the air.

  Turning, he trundles up a metal staircase on the side of the platform that leads to the base of the great machine. A starter throttle protrudes up through a hole in the grates. Urlick takes hold of it and I shiver.

  “Just imagine its power! Imagine its ability!”

  “I am. That’s why I’m worried.” I swallow.

  “What are you talking about?” He turns, almost laughing.

  “That’s a giant cathode-ray lens looming above your head. You do realize that, don’t you?”

  “What of it?” He frowns, furrowing his brow.

  “What of it? Are you kidding me?”

  “Don’t you think you’re being just a little bit silly?” He holds his fingers up as if he’s about to pinch salt. “I mean, we wanted to find the machine, and now, well…” He turns, looking dreamily up at the massive Crookes tube perched high above the machine in a giant copper stand. “…We certainly have.” He smiles at me. “Don’t you see? With a machine this size we could affect far more things than we ever thought possible.”

  “That’s just the problem.” I bite my lip. “I think it might have already done just that.”

  He scowls. “What are you saying?”

  I have to tell him.

  I have to tell him everything.

  About the journals. The letter. His father.

  Everything I know.

  I lower my head and suck in a shaky breath.

  “Go on, tell me.” He nods his head.

  I hesitate, suck on my lip, then blurt it out. “In my father’s journals, back at the Academy, I fo
und some information I don’t think you’re going to like.”

  He looks offended and yet I’ve barely started.

  “There was a letter tucked in the middle of the journal you passed to me. It was penned by my father’s hand. Inside it, my father wrote of your father and your father’s connection to the machine, and how he feared what might happen to the world at large if his Illuminator was left to your father’s sole discretion. In short, he didn’t trust him.”

  Urlick’s demeanor grows cold, but I must continue. He has to know the truth.

  “According to the letter, your father was obsessed with interplanetary research. In particular, he had a lifelong desire to confirm the existence of an alternate universe beyond our own—where the dead still live. He sought to find it in order to join your dead mother there. He was ill, Urlick. Your father was ill.”

  “Stop!” Urlick raises his hand. “You’re making this up!”

  “I wish I were, Urlick. I truly wish I were.” I swallow, rolling my hands inside each other. “But it appears the death of your mother sent your father over a brink...from which he never returned—”

  “Enough. I will not listen to this.”

  “I’m sorry, Urlick, but you have to know. You deserve to know the truth. My father tried to warn your father about the machine—of its dangerous side he’d only just found out about—but your father refused to listen to reason. Obsessed with finding this alternate world, he pushed on with his plans to manipulate the power and scope of the Illuminator and use it to search the heavens.”

  “What are you saying?” Urlick scowls. “Be clear.”

  “I’m saying my father feared your father’s plan so much, he came out here the last day of his life to try and stop him.”

  “Are you implying my father’s responsible for your father’s death?”

  “Look up, Urlick. Look at the Crookes tube.” I lift my eyes. “It’s pointed toward the heavens.”

  Urlick’s gaze swings between the Crookes tube and me. “No.” He shakes his head. “It’s a lie. You lie. It can’t be true. My father may have been a lot of things, but he was not a murderer!”

  “Think about it. It all makes sense. The letter. The claims. What’s happened here. Look around you, Urlick. Don’t you see? Together our fathers created something that ended our world, as we knew it. Or, at least, changed it forever—”