The bridge was fractured and overgrown with foliage, much of which was brown and dying from the increasingly harsh frosts as winter descended on the northeast. They stayed clear of obvious weak areas where bricks had crumbled or fallen away, and the company spread out, keeping weight in any single area to a minimum. Rusted metal lampposts wrapped in kudzu and stone balustrades marked the edges of the bridge. Before them the back of the brown and green covered Lincoln Memorial stood on the horizon, and like a broken pencil the Washington Memorial stood off to the right, its metal top broken.
Milly felt exposed on the bridge, even though they stayed out of sight in the tall plants and had Pepper scouting before them. They were halfway across the river when a horn bellowed in the distance. “That doesn’t sound good,” Milly said. She was on point, pushing through the overgrowth and around rusty piles of metal and plastic that had once been automobiles.
“Could have nothing to do with us. It sounded far off,” Tye said.
“Still, lock and load,” Tester said.
Milly checked her Glock, and pulled her knife. She tightened the straps on her pack and tied a rag across her face. Her friends did likewise, and they crept across the bridge. A flock of birds cruised overhead, squawking and hooting, and Milly thought of Larry. Ozzie had said he’d found the turtle, so she assumed he’d be waiting for them, but she knew assumptions made an ass out of you and me.
At the end of the bridge, green tarnished bronze statues sat atop pillars of stone, and the Lincoln Memorial loomed before them. Vines and dead foliage covered the marble Greek columns, and the lawn surrounding the building had been replaced with trees and underbrush. It took the party an hour to find their way through the young woods to the front of the memorial. Virals scuttled amongst the bushes with the deer, but they appeared timid and hesitant.
The climb up the great steps left Milly winded, but as she looked upon the huge broken statue of the old one called Lincoln, she couldn’t help but be inspired. To the east, the cracked dome of the capital building, and the remains of the Washington Monument rose above the blanket of green that covered Washington, DC. The reflection pool was a swamp, and it had overflowed leaving parts of the National Mall and surrounding areas submerged. The still water reflected Washington’s failing obelisk on its murky surface. The other monuments were nothing more than mounds of green and brown, their majestic beauty retaken by the land.
“Everything’s ruined,” Tye said. “When I came here as I boy, I remember thinking how strong this place looked, made of rock, and how it would always be here. In a few more generations all this will be piles of tumbled stones.”
More virals watched and followed the party as the day wore on, and at noon they stood at an intersection with the capital to the east and the White House to the north. Milly studied both with the binoculars. The White House had mostly collapsed, the old wooden sections rotting away leaving a concrete and metal skeleton. The capital building had fared somewhat better, though half the dome had fallen in and many of the marble slabs had broken free of their mortar and lay in large piles around the building.
Washington’s monument was missing huge chunks of its marble facade, and parts of its bluestone rubble and concrete innards could be seen like bones through an open wound. It would fall someday, and that seemed appropriate. She’d learned about George Washington in Foundation, and since his country fell, eventually so would his legacy.
Milly led her friends behind the National Mall to the south and down Independence Avenue because the mall was flooded in spots, and the giant buildings of the old government left little cover. Seeing the tokens of the past started Milly thinking of Respite, and Randy. Soon he would take his fire guard test, and she wouldn’t be there to see it. She was no mother, she’d known that the day he was born, yet she hurt inside at his absence. He was a void within her now, and it grew with each passing day. Whether she wanted it or not, she was a mother, and Randy her son. She never should have left him, and she hoped she’d have the opportunity to tell him so.
The capital building rose on their left, and there was an overgrown sign for the Library of Congress. “The national library. It was a complex of buildings designed to house the world’s knowledge and protect it against time and circumstance. Like the Foundation except on a larger scale,” Tye said.
They passed the James Adams Building to their left, and things opened up. The remains of smaller buildings ran on both sides of the road, trees and underbrush packed between the crumbling buildings. Hunks of metal and plastic sat in ordered lines along the old road, and Milly felt more secure undercover in the lost world’s remains. “Do you think anything is left in the library?” Milly said.
“Don’t see why not. If anything, I’d think Argartha would preserve it,” Tester said. “History repeating itself and all that.”
“Should we check it out? Might find something useful?” Tye said.
“We’re so close to the turtle now,” Ingo said. “We can come back later.”
“Ingo is right. Curiosity must wait,” Milly said. As much as she wanted to see books, she needed to see the turtle more. She’d found books in her travels, but they were always burned or missing pages. Most paper books had been consumed by the weather and time, so having access to an unlimited supply would be a dream come true.
“Is it true every book ever written is in there?” Robin said.
“Many of them. As technology changed, more books were produced. Many titles are only indexed or on microfiche or digital files, and who knows what time and lack of temperature control has done to them,” Tester said. “But yeah, they have more than nineteen sacred texts.”
“Microfiche?” Milly said.
“An old form of data compression. They’d put entire books on small clear slides, then you’d put the slide on a machine that magnified it as light shined through it,” Tye said.
“Like an old picture negative,” Tester said.
Milly had no clue what they were talking about. Broken glass crackled underfoot. She’d seen plenty of broken glass, but only a few intact windows. Tye had explained that over time the rubber seals holding the window in its frame became brittle from the changes in temperature, and that eventually a gust of wind blew the window out.
A crow shrieked as it flew overhead and banked hard and came back. It cawed again, and when Milly saw the one-eyed bird land on a pile of stones, she cried out with joy. Larry hooped and squawked, then took flight and headed up the street.
White particles like ash fell from the sky, and Milly held out her hand. “Snow?” she said, and laughed. She’d never seen snow before. It floated lazily, cold and white and mysterious. Robin and Ingo had never seen snow either, and the three danced and laughed as the white stuff covered them. It had been awhile for Tester, also, and Tye had his head back catching flakes in his mouth.
They came to a triangle-shaped intersection with a park nestled in the odd angle where Independence met 7th Avenue. The area was thick with trees and overgrowth, and there was no path. Milly worked her way around to the point of the triangle where the streets crossed because she thought there might be an entrance there. Pepper and Turnip led the way, and the fellowship followed in silence. There was nothing left to say. Above, Larry circled over the small woods.
As figured, they found a thin path that led into the overgrown park, its dark maw unnatural. The trees and underbrush had been cut back recently, and it was clear the path was looked after. Milly went first and only took twenty steps before she hit an open patch.
At the center of the clearing was a huge stone turtle, with three smaller turtles around it. The cement sculptures were dirty and worn. The snow picked up, and large white flakes filled the air. Milly stuck out her tongue, catching the frozen water. The area was maintained, and a clean brick walkway encircled the turtle and its young. A sign that was barely legible said “Turtle Park.”
Milly saw the children frolicking and climbing on the turtle in her mind’s eye. Laughing in the
snow and playing games. She stood before the turtle with Tye, Tester, Ingo and Robin, the snow covering them. Pepper and Turnip stood by, and Larry cawed as he streamed in for a landing.
As Ingo had foreseen, they’d made it to the turtle, but Milly saw no sign, or clue, and her stomach turned to ice, doubt gripping her. What if the turtle was a lie? The path of understanding, Argartha, all of it? Part of her had never really believed, and now with the turtle before her, belief still eluded her, and she stood shivering as the snow wrapped her in its cold embrace.
Chapter Twenty-nine
Year 2075, Washington, DC
The sun started its descent to the horizon, and the snow let up. There was an inch on the ground, and Tye’s feet were getting cold. When it got dark, they’d need a fire, no way around it. If it brought trouble, it did, but he had no intention of freezing to death. In the middle of the small wood, the gone world faded into the background, the collapsing buildings and decaying cars hidden by trees and underbrush laden with snow. Everything looked clean and fresh, all the gone world’s wounds hidden.
“You guys find anything?” Tye said. Tester was examining the bricks around the large turtle, and Milly and Robin were checking out the small turtles.
“Nothing on these small ones. Smooth concrete with some design accents. No other clues,” Milly said. Pepper and Turnip were by her side.
“There are numbers on many of these paving stones, but they could mean anything. I have no idea where to start, or what order they might be in,” Tester said.
Tye shook his head. Ingo sat beside the big turtle, cross-legged, eyes closed, a big smile on his face. He was covered in snow, but didn’t appear to notice. “What about you, Ingo? Got anything on that radar of yours?”
Ingo said nothing.
“Radar?” Robin said.
“Forget it,” Tye said.
It was getting dark, and the gray of twilight seeped through the snow. “I think we need to give Ingo a new perspective,” Tye said. He propped his rifle against the trunk of a large oak, then jumped and grabbed the lowest limb, pulled himself up, and climbed. Limb to limb he went, and when he’d gotten halfway to the top, he stopped and looked down upon Turtle Park. “Wipe the snow off the bricks.”
Two of the smaller turtles sat at the tips of what looked like a right angle. “Tester, which way is due north?” Tester pulled out the compass, and pointed. “The two small turtles closest to the main turtle are at the west and north points, if the big turtle is the center of the compass,” Tye said. “But the numbers…”
“What about them? Probably coordinates,” Tester said.
Tye climbed down.
“Why you coming down? What does the number pattern look like from up there?” Tester said.
“There’s nothing. Just numbers. No pattern at all,” Tye said. “I think we’re missing a piece of the puzzle.”
“I agree. A cypher,” Tester said. “Without it we’ll never get the numbers in the correct order.” Tester sat on the ground and grunted.
“A cypher?” Milly said.
“A mathematical process that lets you decrypt a code. In this case, we think it would provide numerical coordinates to Argartha,” Tester said.
Tye suggested they make camp beside the turtle for the night. The snow had stopped and was replaced with frozen rain. They built a shelter beneath the bows of the large oak, their fire hidden by the diminutive forest. They ate a dinner of dried beef and greens Ingo and Robin had picked. Tye took a piss in the woods, and when he returned the grousing had begun.
“This is bullshit,” Tester said.
“Which part specifically?” Milly said.
“‘At the turtle all will become clear.’ That’s what the prophesy says. It even said so on the guidestone. As clear as mud. All we have is another riddle,” Tester said.
“One I don’t see how we’re going to solve,” Milly said. “Where do we go from here?”
Ingo sat quietly, eyes closed.
“Ingo, wake the hell up. How are you so calm? What do you know?” Tye said.
“He is coming. Be patient,” Ingo said.
“Who is coming?” Milly said.
“Me.”
Milly cross pulled her Glock and Tye trained his rifle on… nothing. There had been an old man standing there, and then he was gone. The next instant he was sitting by their fire, warming his hands.
“Put those things away before you hurt yourselves,” the man said. He was old beyond the count of years. Long straggly gray hair fell over a hollow face, skin sagged, and he was wrapped in rags. Tye shifted his aim, then his gun was gone and in the man’s lap.
“I foresee what you will do before you do it, so can we stop the nonsense?” the man said. “My name is Jerimiah, and I am a shepherd of Argartha and a brother of the Order of Historical Preservation. I’m here to help you.”
“Argartha,” Milly said. “You know where it is?”
“Of course. How could I lead people there if I didn’t know where it was?” Jerimiah said.
“Lead us?” Tye said.
“Yes. We secure the Forever Library, and several other buildings of significant historical significance, but our main purpose is to watch for those seeking the turtle, and aid them in the final stage of their journey.”
“Just like that?” Tester said. “No questions asked?”
“You’ve already answered our questions. My people have been watching you since you entered the city. You came right to this spot,” the old man said. “Plus, there are brothers with me who can see the past.”
Tye felt as though Jerimiah was speaking to him alone. He and Jerimiah were the only ones there, and Tye the sole focus of his attention.
“We don’t have to prove ourselves? What if we mean Argartha harm?” Milly said.
“Oh, we’ll know. I can see what you plan to do before you do it. Also, I’m far from the final say. Just because I’m bringing you to the end of the path doesn’t mean your trials are over. Argartha may reject you.”
“What does that mean?” Tester said.
“It means exactly what you think it means. The end of the path is really the beginning,” Jerimiah said.
“He’s like Ozzie,” Robin said.
“No, I’m not. I am reborn,” Jerimiah said.
“You know of Ozzie then?” Tye said.
“Oh, yes. A very sad case,” Jerimiah said.
“Is he innocent?” Milly said.
“It is not my place to say. Why worry of death, anyway?” Jerimiah said.
“Easy for you to say. You’ll never die,” Tye said.
“Eh? What foolishness do you speak?” Jerimiah said. “I will die, sir. All things fail, and so it will be with the bodies of the reborn. How long that will be, I cannot say, but I will die. As winter turns to spring, and the sun sets, even the reborns will eventually give up their ghosts.”
Pepper and Turnip migrated to Jerimiah, and the old man stroked the unlikely friends. Turnip didn’t even go near Tester or Tye, and Pepper was the most distrusting canine Tye had ever experienced, yet both seemed at ease with Jerimiah.
“What of the numbers around the turtle? Coordinates? How can I untangle them?” Tester said.
“And why the bloody hell are they even there if you’re here to give us an escort?” Tye added.
“The fathers and mothers of Argartha had to plan way in advance for the worst-case scenario, one in which there were no shepherds to guide the flock. The first citizens of Argartha followed the original path of understanding and used the cypher needed to decode the coordinates on the stones around the turtle,” Jerimiah said.
“Where might those coordinates take us?” Tye said.
“Fort AP Hill,” Jerimiah said.
“The Army training base in the Blue Ridge Mountains west of here?” Tester said.
“That very one. The squires… what you call greenies, are the gatekeepers.” The old man pulled a bottle from within his robe of rags.
“Holy shit,
” Tester said. “Where’d you get that?”
“Is it real?” Tye said.
The old man handed Tye the half full pint of Johnnie Walker Blue. “That half bottle is worth a month’s pay back home. Take a swig. Me and the boys got a stash out here in the wild. The white wigs knew how to live.”
“How long have you been out here?” Milly said.
“Tours are for six months. I’m due to head home, so I’ll be taking you in,” Jerimiah said. “I’ve been a shepherd for thirty years.”
“Are you a knight of Argartha?” Tye said.
Jerimiah laughed. “No. Not a knight. They maintain the path, make sure the squires do their duty.”
“Were you not good enough to be a knight?” Ingo said.
“Discipline and control are the keys to a reborn’s growth and survival,” Jerimiah said. “Do you ever plan to learn either? If not, your stay in the city will be short.”
“What do you mean?” Milly said.
“He’s one of us. He’s held to a hi… different standard than survivors or their kin,” Jerimiah said. “But you’re a special kind of survivor, aren’t you Milly? Clean and unsullied. Rare. Very rare.”
“What can you tell us of Argartha?” Ingo said. “It’s a blank canvas for me. I have no images of it at all.”
“It is more than you could imagine. It’s the gone world reborn,” Jerimiah said.
“And there it is again. Reborn. You guys run everything?” Tester said.
“We get a say, even low bor… survivors get some say. They have two seats on the council,” Jerimiah said.
“Of how many total?” Tye said.
Jerimiah coughed. “Twenty-one,” he said.
“And highborns run things, I imagine?” Tye said.
“The people of Argartha choose their leadership, but yes, for the most part the highborns run our society,” Jerimiah said.
“So you’re shit like us?” Tester said.
“Maybe a bit less smelly,” Jerimiah said.
A horn sounded close by and Jerimiah was gone.
Keepers of the Flame Page 20