Doria Falls

by Michael Pierce

  When I turned back to the buildings, I found Lazarus and the boy—Kafka Lorne, Kafka the bogeyman—staring out at the trees, staring straight in our direction.

  “Oliver, it is you,” Kafka said with a devilish grin.

  11

  Tracker

  Under extreme duress, you get to see where your abilities truly lie. Finding your most laser-pointed focus in a split second is extremely difficult in practiced situations and nearly impossible under pressure. But every skill improves with practice. I can pass through walls, move between planes, slip out of handcuffs, and even dodge a bullet (well, I’ve at least done it once). But every situation cannot be accounted for and even those who are the best at what they do have missteps. Jeremy had killed Kafka once because Kafka was too arrogant to see any harm coming to him from a couple of teenagers. That arrogance had left him blind for a moment, and that moment was enough. I’ve learned so much from Mr. Gordon, but all these newfound abilities require focus, calm, and unwavering belief—what Mr. Gordon calls a knowing—which all go out the window under duress.

  As we ran deeper into the forest, the sprinkles of sunlight overhead became more of a downpour. The canopy above us was disappearing. The trees behind us were disappearing, creating a wide road leading back to the camp. I was just about to pass a tree to my left, and it too vanished from existence. Kafka was clearing his path and we were scampering away through an open field.

  “You can run!” he yelled. “But wherever you run, I will find you.”

  I was ready for bullets to come flying past, for some of us to start dropping like hunted game. I surely didn’t want it to be me, but I didn’t want it to be anyone else, either. I didn’t want to think of anyone as expendable.

  My heart felt like it was about to explode and every hair on my body tingled.

  Just when I was about to dodge a tree, it disappeared before me. I picked up my pace and began to run straight for the trees, knowing they would be gone by the time I reached them.

  No more yells came from the camp and no bullets flew our way. I didn’t know if anyone was even chasing us. I just knew we had to put as much distance between us and Kafka. The farther we ran into the forest, the darker it became under the canopy. The trees around me stopped disappearing, so I began dodging them again. I was in last place on our race to the hypothetical finish line, Autumn now the closest one to me.

  By the time we reached an actual clearing, I realized we were near the falls. A stream and rock cliff lay ahead and we followed the water around a bend to reveal the majestic waterfalls pouring from hundreds of feet overhead.

  “Where is everyone?” Logan panted, doubled over and gasping for air.

  Autumn crumpled forward, collapsing to a seated position like a folding chair.

  “They’re close,” Mr. Gordon said, his breathing only slightly elevated as if he’d just taken a leisurely jog instead of a sprint for his life. “Huddle up. We’re going to them now.”

  He had us all get in a circle and hold hands. Everyone was too tired and anxious to question or protest. I closed my eyes as Mr. Gordon directed, wondering what I’d open them to next. Listening to the rushing water was soothing, so I focused on that—until it stopped.

  I didn’t hear the falls anymore. Around me was silence, and then I heard the most beautiful voice call my name.

  “Oliver!” Desiree yelled.

  I opened my eyes to her rushing toward me and wrapping her arms over my shoulders. Her lips were on mine the second we connected. I curled my arms around her back and pulled her close as our mouths fervently attacked each other. It felt like we hadn’t seen each in weeks, or months, or years, even though it had only been hours—painfully long hours of uncertainty.

  “I didn’t know if I’d ever see you again,” she finally said. “Either of you.” Desiree broke our union and hugged Mr. Gordon.

  Then I saw the rest of our group and noticed our new surroundings.

  “We’re supposed to be looking out for each other,” Jeremy said, he too bringing me in for a hug. “It’s hard to do when you’re off fighting battles on your own.”

  “How was I supposed to know all that was gonna happen?”

  “I know. I know. I’m just relieved you’re all right.”

  “Same here,” I said. “We’re in this together.”

  “Definitely.”

  “Where are we?” I asked, not really directing the question at Jeremy.

  It looked like we had entered a dream, a nightmare—some type of post-apocalyptic, horror movie. The sky was the orange of early twilight with the sun nowhere in sight. The ground below us disappeared in a low-lying fog, my feet along with it. The crescent-shaped rock cliffs beside us stood like ancient fossils, and dry fossils at that. No water flowed off their peaks into a sparkling pool like the majestic Doria Falls we had just left. The trees surrounding the clearing were barely there, phantoms of their former selves. We were the only things that seemed to be fully here. We stood in some type of limbo or dying reality—and then I knew.

  “We’re in Acanombia,” Mr. Gordon said. “Or at least what’s left of it—the plane Kafka’s collapsing. There’s not much here. With two more cuts, this plane will be gone, and we don’t want to be here when that happens. We don’t want to be here for either cut. Since Kafka was in the camp, I know we have some time, but we should get moving.”

  We were on the run again, but at least I found comfort in the fact that our group was growing. We had our core group plus Logan, Darius, his little sister Amber, their parents, and now the newest edition, Autumn.

  “We have a long walk ahead of us,” Mr. Gordon said. And with that he bent down and picked up a woven basket with brown leather handles from beneath the fog. It was filled with slices of different colored breads and rolls. “Eat up. We need to get moving.”

  Mr. Gordon led us through the phantom forest. I noticed Darius’s family and Autumn avoiding the spectral trees, while the rest of us strolled straight through. The orange glow of the sky didn’t seem to be changing. It was just bright enough to light our path. There were no bird calls overhead or the sound of crunching leaves beneath our feet. Not even a soft breeze. There didn’t seem to be anything alive in this plane besides us. We were headed in a similar direction from where we’d come, and soon we’d be passing right over the fallen camp.

  “Where are we going?” I asked Mr. Gordon.

  Desiree hurried with me to catch up to him, refusing to leave my side, which I was definitely not opposed to.

  “A rendezvous point Nicholae told me about, to be used in a scenario such as this. Hopefully, he makes it there, too—with others.”

  “How far is it?” Desiree asked.

  “I don’t know, twenty miles or so.”

  Desiree’s eyes went wide. “That’s a lot of walking.”

  “It’s good exercise,” I said with a smirk and an elbow jab.

  “Yeah, tell me that again after ten or fifteen miles.”

  I finished my third and final roll as the clearing where our camp was one plane below became visible through the phantom trees. Translucent posts were positioned in neat rows all throughout the clearing like headstones in a cemetery. No bodies littered the ground here, but I could still picture them, bloody images of fallen and awkwardly contorted bodies burned forever in my mind.

  “Can he see us?” I asked softly to Mr. Gordon.

  “If he specifically looks for us here in this moment, but chances are he’s moved on, continuing his search for the next guardian.”

  “What happens if he finds it while we’re still here?”

  “Then we’ll drop back down to Doria. And as you’ve seen, we’d like to land in a clearing, away from anything and anyone.”

  “Totally,” Desiree said.

  Desiree and I kept pace with Mr. Gordon. Darius and his family walked together, and Jeremy, Logan, and Autumn had formed their own little pack, bringing up the rear.

  Desiree reached inside the front of her sweat
shirt and pulled out a small stuffed animal—Frolics!

  “I thought you might want this,” she said, handing it to me. “He seems pretty important to you.”

  “Thank you,” I said, taking Frolics from her and stuffing him into my jeans front pocket. “I don’t want to lose him again. You’re a life saver.”

  “Just wanted to help.” She took my hand again and I interlaced my pinky with hers.

  I couldn’t tell how many hours passed as we continued through the forest of ghostly trees because the sky never changed. The sun was somewhere well hidden. There were no stars or clouds in the sky, just a strange orange glow like we were under a tinted glass dome. The only thing I knew for sure was how heavy my legs had become. My feet dragged through the low fog like they were wading through water. My stomach began to growl again, and since Mr. Gordon wasn’t offering any more refreshments, I didn’t want to be the one to ask. I wasn’t the only one slowing down. Darius now carried his little sister on his shoulders—and comparing myself to him only made me feel more pathetic.

  “Are we there yet?” I whispered just loud enough for Desiree to hear, making her laugh.

  “As a matter of fact, yes,” Mr. Gordon replied nonchalantly. I should have known he could hear almost anything. “You know the answer before you are consciously aware of it. Over there.” He pointed off to the left.

  I saw a phantom building sticking out above the phantom trees—several tall steeples.

  “We’ve passed this before,” I said, remembering the oddly placed cathedral, consumed by trees, on the drive up to Doria Falls.

  “It doesn’t look familiar to me,” Desiree said.

  “Is something happening?” Jeremy asked from behind.

  “We’ve reached our rendezvous point,” Mr. Gordon said. “Time again to huddle up.”

  We linked up, closed our eyes under Mr. Gordon’s instruction, and fell silent. I felt the light behind my closed eyelids fade. The trill of crickets broke the silence with the occasional bird calls and owl hoots to accompany their symphony.

  “You may open them,” Mr. Gordon said.

  The sky had gone from a perpetual orange to a dark blanket filled with twinkling diamonds, more stars than I had ever seen in my life. The stars themselves were enough to light our way through the forest, the rest of the way to the cathedral. We now passed solid trees, trees with off-shooting conjoined twins, trees that were real and alive.

  A faint light shone through decorative glass at the top of one of the steeples.

  “Someone’s there,” I said.

  “Hopefully, friends,” Mr. Gordon said, and we continued toward the cathedral.

  As we drew closer, we began to see other buildings as well, previously hidden beneath the trees. These new buildings were small and quaint, stone, wood, and clay huts. Most were dark, many framed by trees or punctured by trunks right through the middle. All of them seemed to be cocked at an angle. Dim light emanated from some of the buildings. Occasionally, a face would flash in a window as we walked by, and then vanish just as swiftly behind the stone or wooden walls. We walked past a crackling campfire, with several men and women in animal skin and leather dress seated around the flames. A boy was lying with his head in a woman’s lap, presumably his mother’s, shaking and moaning. She gently stroked his hair, which did little to calm his spasms. When they heard us approach, they looked up, but no one said a word—their eyes wide and full of fear. We gave the group a wide berth as we passed, trying not to spook them more than we already had.

  Once we reached the back side of the cathedral, I noticed several men standing about. Familiar golf ball-sized orbs floated in different arrangements above them. What looked like dead bodies wrapped in sheets hovered like they were on invisible gurneys. When a body reached one of the men, the man placed his hands on top of it, stopping the wrapped object from moving forward. The man pushed down until he was on his knees and the body followed his guiding hands. Once the sheet touched the ground it was swallowed up like entering quicksand until the body was completely enveloped by the earth. The other men on this side of the cathedral performed the same actions as the procession of hovering bodies continued from beyond the light of the orbs.

  Mr. Gordon walked up to the man closest to us. “Erik, I almost didn’t recognize you. It’s been a long time.”

  “It sure has, Daniel,” Erik answered with an extended hand. He was a tall man, almost larger than life, with well-defined arms and giant hands. Long, dark hair fell to one side on an otherwise shaved head. The front portion of his hair was decorated with a thick braid. His exposed ear was adorned with a collection of earrings. And tattoos snaked around his neck.

  “Is Nicholae here?”

  “Inside.” Erik stopped, looking past Mr. Gordon. “And you must be Oliver. It has also been a long time, but I’m sure you don’t remember me. You’re the spitting image of your father.”

  “I’ve noticed,” I said. It was so much easier to see since Nicholae appeared to be nearly my age.

  “Yes, I guess it’s obvious.”

  Erik led us past the other men tending to the wrapped bodies, and around the front of the cathedral where more bodies were in the process of being wrapped in midair by men, women, and even children. Many more orbs lit the cleared area. Several wolves stalked around the workers and out to the perimeter of trees.

  The front of the cathedral had arched windows that extended up to sharp points and backlit stained glass, making the stone building look like a crooked bright-eyed monster. We avoided the unwrapped corpses floating through the double doors and solemnly entered the uneven catacomb inside.

  Nicholae and Matilda, along with a few others, worked silently at pulling bodies from the trees within and those fused with the building itself. Once freed, the deceased bodies were pushed away to float down an invisible stream, flowing out the front doors.

  Nicholae looked over at us and attempted a sad smile. “Glad to see you’re all right.”

  A body rose from the pews next to him and found the energy stream flowing toward the door.

  Nicholae rubbed his hands together, trying to clean them from a thick layer of dirt and tree sap.

  “We’re just about done clearing this place out,” he said.

  Matilda guided another body into the stream and came to join us. She started by giving Mr. Gordon a hug and then turned to me, taking my chin in her soft hand. “You look healthy.”

  “I’m fine,” I said.

  Another woman approached from the depths of the cathedral. She wore a long black leather coat with a fur collar and long raven-black hair to match. Her heeled boots made her at least six feet tall. And like all the other Lorne’s, her skin was flawless porcelain and pale.

  “This is Cassandra,” Nicholae said, placing a hand on her shoulder and giving it an endearing squeeze.

  “Hello, Oliver,” she said in a light, angelic voice. “Daniel. Jeremy. Logan.” She nodded to each of them without breaking eye contact.

  How did she know Logan on sight?

  “Now you’ve met what’s left of us,” Nicholae said. “This is the rest of the family fighting against Kafka. Luckily, Bruno and Julia will come back to us shortly, but it will be quite some time before they’re ready to fight again.” Nicholae’s weak smile he’d greeted us with was now gone. He sounded defeated, but after a setback like we’d had today, I didn’t know anyone who wouldn’t be. Then his demeanor changed instantly. “What’s she doing here?” His eyes shot to Autumn.

  “She’s not one of them,” I insisted. “Her name is Autumn.”

  “I don’t care,” Nicholae spat. “I found Bruno dead in the interrogation room, along with three others from her group. Georges and she were missing. You’re telling me Georges killed everyone else and let her go?”

  Mr. Gordon spoke up. “He was going to, but I stopped him—I mean, he slipped away. I arrived before he had a chance to finish what he’d started.”

  “So Georges was the only informant within the
ir group? And it’s because of you she’s here?”

  “Yes,” Mr. Gordon said confidently. “Despite your suspicions, I believe she’s clean.”

  Nicholae regarded this for a moment before speaking further. “I’ve trusted your judgment all these years. I shouldn’t disregard it now.” The expression on his face softened. “You’re probably all famished. Let’s get something to eat. Tomorrow we continue the fight.”

  Nicholae ushered all of us out of the cathedral—everyone except for me. He asked me to stay behind. Desiree lingered, but I told her to go on ahead. Nicholae closed the doors as soon as she had crossed the threshold.

  “I need to check you out before you settle in here,” he said.

  “Check me out? Why? I’m fine,” I said.

  “I don’t know why I didn’t think of this earlier.” Nicholae guided me to a slightly slanted pew and we both sat. “Are you the only one in the group who spent time in the hospital?”

  “Yeah,” I answered. Every time I thought of Alexandria and that awful place, I pictured Anna dying in her room, with only her mirror to save her. “Why?”

  “Turn around.”

  I did as he asked, spinning on the wooden bench so I faced away from him. The pew a row ahead died into a tree trunk several feet from the brick wall.

  I felt Nicholae touch the back of my head, picking through my hair to find the scalp underneath. Then I felt the pressure of a few fingers pushing at the back of my head. Small lightning bolts shot through my head as I did my best to remain still. After a few quickened heartbeats, the electric shocks and strange pressure I felt inside my head were gone.

  “Just as I suspected,” he said.

  “What is?” I turned back to him and found a small computer chip in his palm. “Was that in my head?”

  “Remember when I told you that Alexandria embeds tracking devices in all of her patients? This is it.”