by Bryan Davis
Bonnie spun around. “Why not?”
“Watch.” Shiloh ripped a stave from a rotting barrel that stood next to the door and gave it an underhand toss toward the opening. As soon as it reached the space, it sprang back like a shot from a rifle, leaving a trail of sparks behind it.
Bonnie ran to the street and retrieved the stave. One end emitted a plume of thick, curling smoke. “Wow! How did you know not to try it yourself?”
“Because I knew I wasn’t like the ghosts.” Shiloh took the stave and rapped it on the porch, detaching its smoky ashes. “So after I saw Frankie go through the main door, I tested it with a piece of wood just like this one. Then, about a month after I got here, a man showed up. He was a real weirdo, claiming to be the next King Arthur and that he was here to rescue me.” She pointed at the door with the stave. “I showed it to the guy, thinking it might be a way out. Of course I warned him that it might carry a jolt, and I even showed him what it did to my stick, but he puffed up his chest and said, ‘Stand back, fair maiden. If the ghosts can do it, I can do it.’” Shiloh rolled her eyes. “I was thinking, ‘Fair maiden? What kind of crackpot is this?’ But before I knew it, he was walking right into the doorway.” Shiloh spread her arms and bulged her eyes. “His body stiffened, his hair stood on end, and he lit up like a throbbing X-ray screen. I could even see his bones! The door shot him like a daredevil out of a cannon, all the way to the street.” She smacked her hands together. “He hit those stones and skidded thirty feet.”
Bonnie held her breath, unable to speak.
“I ran over to check on him,” Shiloh continued. She lowered her head for a moment, then looked up at Bonnie, new tears glinting in her eyes. “He was dead.”
Chapter 15
NEW EDEN
Billy flailed in the darkness, hurtling through the void. He tumbled headlong, turning over and over, stretching out his arms. Gotta . . . catch . . . something! Or . . . I’m history!
Velvety fingers brushed by his hands, then his back and legs. He felt like he was rolling through soft bushes, being tickled by downy vegetation, yet he sensed no ground, nothing to support his weight. How could he fall and roll like this without getting hurt?
At last his momentum slowed, and he floated to the ground, his shoes gently pressing spongy earth. Feathery probes still prodded him, like sniffing hounds checking out a suspicious new arrival.
Unable to see in the dark, Billy swatted at the annoying tickle. As his hand flicked in front of his face, a dim stream of scarlet light passed by. His rubellite ring! It pulsed slowly, its light shifting between two slightly different shades of red, like a warning beacon atop a radio tower.
Billy grabbed one of the thin, fibrous probes and placed his ring finger next to it. The tickling feeler looked like a fern leaflet, but in the red light the color skewed. The fern wiggled in his hand, feeling more like a squirming snake than a plant. He flung his fingers open, and the leaflet jerked away into the darkness.
An odd rumbling arose from the ground near his feet, gentle and rhythmic. He stooped and laid his palm on the grass. It felt like some kind of vibrating engine lay buried under the spongy earth, but it had a strange cadence, familiar, yet not like any motor he had ever heard.
He straightened again and rubbed his eyes. A faint glow slowly materialized in front of him, like the dawn of a new day. But the light didn’t come from a brightening horizon; it seemed to materialize in the air itself, as though every particle emitted its own radiance.
Billy eased forward, allowing each step to press down carefully. A hose-like object jerked out of the way just before his foot squashed it. Was it a snake? Or maybe something worse?
He glared at the ground. Something down there was breathing . . . panting. His eyes adjusted, slowly recognizing the outline of . . . “A lion!” He leaped backwards, and his foot slipped into a hole. He yanked it up and squatted low. Did it see him? Would it pounce?
The cat lay curled up in a nest of leaflets just inches from where he had been standing. Its head perked up, and its narrow, feline eyes stared at Billy. Rising to all fours, it let out a wide, stretching yawn, baring its dagger-like teeth. With a flick of its tail it turned and followed a narrow path that led to the border of the garden. Billy laid his hand over his heart, trying to slow its rapid-fire drumming.
He reached back, searching for the hole. Ah! Here it is. As his eyes continued to adjust, he counted. Two, no, three holes! Three pits the size of manholes plunged downward with only a few feet of solid ground separating them. His fingers ventured a few inches into the middle one. A slight buzzing sensation crawled along his skin. Could they be portals?
He rose to his full height and stepped away from the pits. As the dawning glow spread, the scene sharpened. He stood in a field of lush ferns, each frond standing at least elbow high, some reaching above his head. They waved back and forth as if welcoming the new day. A fresh breeze blew over their feathery tops, creating a ripple of bowing heads. When the ripple reached the end of the field, the ferns waved again, as though they loved to celebrate every second of glorious light.
Enormous trees bursting with dark green leaves surrounded the circular field of swaying fronds, each tree nodding in the breeze as if agreeing with the morning adulation.
Stepping lightly along the path, Billy caressed the waving green stalks as he passed by. He could almost hear them purr as they arched their backs like satisfied kittens. When he reached the forest, he found a dome of earth next to a huge oak, a perfect place to rest. He sat and luxuriated in the bliss—perfect temperature, refreshing mists wafting through from unseen fountains, and pleasant aromas riding on gentle breezes.
For some reason his clothes had dried, even his shoes. Everything was comfortable, not an ache or pain, not even a hint of sweat on his skin. Could any place be more perfect than this? The forest stood in flawless beauty—without scar or knot on any trunk, without hint of mold on the myriad, multi-pointed leaves, and without sign of decay on the weed-free turf.
Although the air was saturated with pleasure, Billy felt a gnawing discomfort within. The simple delight of pure rest had pushed out nearly all distractions, but something was wrong. A single word kept prodding his conscience. Bonnie? He jumped to his feet and swiveled his head all around. Bonnie! How could I forget? That witch must still have her!
He gazed over the field of ferns and then into the forest. Although the tremendous tree canopy should have blocked normal sunlight, he still had no problem peering into the matrix of woods.
Nothing there.
He searched the ground for a clue, stepping to the edge of the ring of ferns. Am I in another circle? Would this be number four? He spotted something white where two paths crossed at the center of the ring and dashed toward it. Another stone! Snatching it up, he drank in the words on its face, whispering each phrase.
New Eden lives in circle four,
Beginning new a world thereof,
But paradise is sealed for us
Who suffer now for those we love.
Billy carried the stone back to the edge, touching the fronds with the end of his finger as he passed by. Eden? Like the Garden of Eden?
A soft rustle sounded from the midst of the ferns. Billy spun toward it, trying to focus his eyes in the strange light. Someone was walking down the path—a female—petite, dainty, almost nymphean. Dressed in flowing silk she seemed to float through the garden, her bare feet brushing the ground like whispery kisses.
She smiled as she approached, radiant, chestnut hair draping her shoulders over her white gown. A leafy garland dotted with tiny white flowers crowned her head in a circlet. Without wrinkle, her skin told of less than twenty years of life. Without blemish, it told of spotless purity. As layers of thin silk flowed around her body, they accentuated her slender curves, giving hints through the translucent curtain that a girl had recently blossomed into a young woman.
Billy’s heart thumped, and he swallowed hard. Was this a dream? He hid the stone behind his
back, unsure if he should have left it where he found it.
When the girl drew near, she gave him a formal curtsy, then bowed her head. “Welcome, my king. I have been waiting for you.”
Billy cleared his throat, trying to keep his voice from squeaking. “You’ve been waiting for me? Who are you?”
She lifted her head and gazed at him, her bright blue eyes sparkling. “I am Naamah, the maiden of this new world. Merlin told me you would come.”
“Merlin told you?”
She rose to her feet. “Yes. You are the coming king, are you not?” Her eyes moved toward his arms. “I saw you pick up the stone you now hold. I assume you have read the prophecy.”
Billy brought his hands forward and laid the stone gently on the ground. “I read it, but I’m not a king. . . . I mean . . . not really. I’m not a real king . . . not like a guy who sits on a throne or anything. I’m just Arthur’s heir, and I’m here to rescue any prisoners I find.”
“Just Arthur’s heir?” Naamah let out a short, nervous laugh. “My lord, please do not blaspheme that fair name with such a word.”
Billy shook his head. “I didn’t mean it like that. I meant that I’m just a guy who’s here to help. I don’t want a throne.”
Naamah’s smile slowly dissolved, her eyes welling with tears as she turned her head away. “Then I must continue to wait for the true king. I trust in Merlin’s prophecy. My king will come.”
“Look . . . Naamah . . . I really am Arthur’s heir.” He pulled the sword from his back scabbard. “See? I have Excalibur. But I don’t know anything about being your king.”
She rushed forward and threw her arms around his torso. “Then you are the one I’ve waited for!” She tilted her head upward, gazing into his eyes. “And not just my king! You are my betrothed. We are to populate this new world and establish your good rule forever.”
She laid her head against his chest. The warmth of her body radiated into Billy’s, sending prickles of heat across his skin. He grasped her shoulder with his free hand and pushed her gently away. “Naamah,” he said, his voice catching, “I . . . I don’t think this is part of the plan.”
She bent her knee in another brief curtsy. “Please, my lord, I beg your pardon. But Merlin has foreseen it. Do you not know the great prophecy of old?”
Billy slid Excalibur back into its scabbard. “I’ve heard a lot of prophecies from Merlin, but nothing about being your betrothed.”
Naamah’s brow furrowed. “How strange! Merlin said you would recognize his song.”
“His song?”
“Yes. I’ll sing it for you.” She folded her hands across her chest and lowered her head, as if praying. Then, with a gentle smile, she began singing in a sweet, hypnotic voice.
The child of doubt will find his rest
And meet his virgin bride
To build a world of love so blest
Forever to abide.
For Arthur has a choice in hand,
To choose this lasting bliss
Or fly again to troubled lands
And toil through hell’s abyss.
Billy shifted from one foot to the other. “I don’t remember hearing that song.”
Naamah lifted her gaze again and met Billy’s. “You are the child of doubt, are you not?”
He nodded, barely able to blink. “Yeah. I’ve been told that before.”
“Then release your doubts and believe. Why choose the toils of hell when you can live in bliss with me?” She spread out her arms, her eyes sparkling like dew-misted gems. “I am your virgin bride. Do I displease you?”
Billy gulped. “Uh . . . no. It’s not that.” Her smile penetrated his heart, joyful, yet sad at the same time. With her arms spread, her silky gown pressed closer to her body, outlining her lovely form.
Billy’s heart raced wildly. Cool sweat slicked his forehead. He lowered his chin. “No. You don’t displease me. I just—”
Naamah grabbed his hand. “Then come with me. I want to show you something.”
Billy allowed her to lead him across the field of ferns and into the surrounding forest. What did she want to show him? Maybe it would be better if he didn’t see anything more she had to offer, but he wanted to know what she had in mind. Maybe it was innocent. She seemed to ooze innocence, didn’t she? He tried to push the battle out of his mind as they hurried past the nodding ferns.
Naamah stopped at a gap in the trees where two holes scarred the dark earth, each about ten feet across and five feet deep. She waved her arm over the expanse. Her smile and gleaming eyes sparkled in the forest’s heavenly glow. “Here we are.”
Billy set his hands on his hips. “What happened here? A couple of trees got uprooted?”
“Yes. The tree of life and the tree of the knowledge of good and evil once resided here. But this is New Eden, so we need only the tree of life. Our union will restore it to this place, and we will live in bliss forever.” She pulled the garland from her hair and fashioned the strands into a figure eight. She looped one end around her wrists and extended the other loop to Billy, her face beaming. “Unite with me, my lord, under this eternal covenant, and we will build a new world together.”
She stepped up so close, he could smell the sweet fragrance of her hair and sense the warmth of her body. Another aroma drifted past his nose. Something rich and earthy, like the sultry odor of clean sweat, permeated the air. She placed her palm against his chest and rested her head on his shoulder. As she sighed, her gentle breath penetrated his shirt and warmed his skin. “Will you stay with me?” she asked.
Billy’s heart raced. A million needles pricked his skin. He swallowed a trickle of saliva through his parched throat. A bursting surge of heat erupted from within and roared through his body. It was too much . . . just too much. He bit his lip hard, and his mind cried out. Help me!
The words of Merlin’s poem flowed through his thoughts. But Paradise is sealed for us who suffer now for those we love.
A hint of paradise lay on his chest, but she was not the one he loved. As far as he knew, she was merely a passion, not a promise. She was a flash of light, not an enduring flame. Her vows rested only on her ability to provide comfort and pleasure, and he could never pledge his heart to a girl who might be nothing more than a phantom.
Taking a deep breath, he grasped her shoulders and gently, but firmly, pushed her away. He reached back and drew out Excalibur, gripping it with both hands and raising it high. As his eyes absorbed its magnificent glow, soothing coolness penetrated his body like fresh rain on a sizzling sidewalk.
He slowly turned away. “I . . . I’m sorry, Naamah. I have to go.” He took two steps toward the field of ferns and stopped. “I am prophesied to be the husband of someone else, and I have to find her.”
“But if you leave me here without the tree of life, I’ll die!”
Billy refused to look back. He could picture Naamah’s beautiful, pleading face in his mind, and he knew it would melt his resolve. He began walking again, this time without hesitation, calling back, “Whoever put you in this garden is responsible for taking care of you. I have to move on.”
Naamah’s voice cried out in lament. “I’ll be good to you. I promise.” The sound of weeping followed, then sobs. She added, “Don’t you like me?”
Billy paused again, but only for a second. Still clutching Excalibur, he marched down the path that crossed the field, his voice rising. “I guess I like you, Naamah, but I have to be true to someone I love. She’s worth waiting for.” He stopped in the middle of the field. The urge to turn around and see her face tortured his mind, but he knew looking back would be a mistake . . . his last mistake.
He swept aside a cluster of ferns and located the three pits. Full daylight revealed nothing inside. They seemed identical, completely black and apparently bottomless.
Naamah called out. “If you must leave me, choose the portal on the right. It will take you to your beloved. At least I can die knowing you found happiness.”
Again
, he refused to turn. He studied the pit on the right. Clean, sheer walls plunged into blackness. Rocks lined the middle hole’s inner wall, but it was equally black. In the pit on the left, bugs and worms crawled along the walls, but a faint shimmer of light emanated from deep within.
He leaped into the hole on the left, but instead of plummeting, he drifted downward as though sinking into thick liquid. Particles of light erupted from underneath and formed a halo around his body, sending shivers from head to toe. As he sank farther, dazzling brilliance melted away the forest, the ferns, and the freshness of all that was New Eden. In a flash, Billy left it all behind.
A tombstone?” Walter said, crouching over the hewn rock. “What’s a tombstone doing way out here in the trees?”
Ashley planted a knee next to a tree root. “Well, I guess it’s really a memorial stone. It doesn’t look like a body’s buried here.”
Walter read the inscription. “Shiloh Nathanson, beloved—” He looked up at Ashley. “The rest is worn away.”
Ashley shone her penlight beam on the eroded word. “Looks like ‘beloved daughter.’ I can’t read any more after that.” She caressed the top of the stone. “Except down at the bottom it says, ‘Last seen on October 31, 1964.’ That’s exactly forty years ago today. I guess a girl got lost, and her parents just marked the place where they last saw her.” She flicked off her light and shook her head. “So sad!”
Ashley drew her computer up to her eyes. “And here’s something else strange. It looks like Bonnie is now in this exact spot, or at least very close, not more than a few feet away.”
Walter lifted the stone to test its weight, then settled it back in its bed of rotted leaves. “Creepy!”
A beam of light swallowed Ashley’s feeble ray and washed over Walter’s face, blinding him. He fell back on his hands, blinking.