Eternity's Edge (13 page)

The panel's reflective surface melted away. Now just a section of transparent glass, the doorway revealed a stairwell descending into darkness. Francesca stood and set her foot over the highest stair. Her gym shoe sank into the glass. “Let's go,” she said as she descended into the clear gel. “We don't want to get stuck.”

A movement in the distance caught Nathan's eye. The stalker they had seen earlier was heading their way. As he pushed his shoe into the goop, he tapped her shoulder. “Someone's coming.”

Francesca quickened her pace, holding her nose as her face sank through. By the time Nathan had descended to waist level, she had submerged completely. As soon as he dropped below
the surface and broke through into normal air, he looked up through the still-transparent door. The stalker climbed into the triangle area and stared quizzically at the glass panel. He laid a hand on the surface, his fingers splaying as he pressed down, but nothing passed through.

Walking on tiptoes to silence his shoes, Nathan held his breath. If the stalker couldn't see or hear them, maybe he would just go away.

The four-foot-wide staircase twisted in a steep spiral, eventually descending into complete darkness. After at least thirty more steps, Francesca whispered, “We're almost there. You still with me?”

“Right at your heels … I think.”

“Okay. Here it is.” Her hand touched his chest, halting his progress. “It's another door,” she said, “but it's upright and not transparent, and it always uses the same code as the other one. When it opens, just look. Don't step through or it'll be the longest step you ever took.”

“Gotcha.”

She played the seven notes again three times, pausing about a second between each run. A glow appeared around a rectangular shape, making the outline of the doorway easy to see, and the glow seemed to eat away at the edges, shrinking the door toward the center. Light filtered into the steep corridor, illuminating Francesca as she kept her violin poised in playing position.

“Take a look,” she said, nodding at the doorway. “They call this place Sarah's Womb, but I haven't figured out why.”

Touching the side of the opening to keep his balance, Nathan leaned out. An enormous chasm yawned below with rocky cliffs on each side, interrupted about a hundred feet down by a wide ledge that encircled the cylindrical chamber. That ledge seemed to be the lower level's floor, a floor that had collapsed in the
center, leaving a circular pit. A single step would send them plunging through its jaws and into a black void.

He looked up. A jigsaw pattern of semitransparent glass, the floor of the misty world, provided filtered light. A shadow crossed the glass, drifting slowly from one side of their ceiling to the other, a vision stalker on patrol.

Nathan grabbed a rocky protrusion at his side and held on. Danger lay below and above, and both directions looked like dead ends. Literally.

8
SARAH'S WOMB

 

Francesca pointed into the chasm with her bow. “The violin your mother mentioned in her vision is down there. The strings are stretched across this chasm. The only way down is a basket tied to a rope.” She reached out with her bow and touched one of two ropes dangling in front of them. She then pointed at a pulley protruding from the rocky foundation above the outside of the doorway. The rope looped over it, and a large knot kept it in place. “I pull the basket up, get inside, and lower myself down, but there's only room for one of us.”

“But we're right over the chasm,” Nathan said. “What do you do, swing until you can get to the side?”

“Exactly. But it's pretty safe.”

“Safe?” Nathan peered down again into the seemingly bottomless pit. “You gotta be kidding!”

She laughed. “It isn't easy, but it's safe. I slipped once and fell out of the basket. I kept falling for a long time but never hit bottom. I just snapped out of the vision. Since we're not really here, I guess we can't be harmed physically.”

“Then why are we worried about the stalkers hearing us?”

She poked herself in the arm. “I said we can't be hurt
physically
. They have other ways of hurting us.”

“When does the vision end? When we stop playing?”

She nodded. “But time passes a lot faster here. We're not even to your solo yet.”

“Yeah. It's kind of weird, but I knew that. I still feel myself playing the piece.” He looked down at the chasm once again, this time trying to focus on the shapes within the darkness. The violin strings, like four shimmering golden ropes, spanned the hole in the floor underneath their door. The basket swung lazily over the strings, as if pushed by a gentle draft. “I'll go first,” he said. “Then I'll lower you down.”

Nathan grabbed the rope just below the knot and pulled the basket to the top. Rectangular and made of dense wicker, it looked like a gondola from a hot air balloon, only smaller, barely enough room for one rider. The rope led into the passenger compartment and through a hole in its floor, apparently secured underneath with a knot big enough to keep it from popping out. He gave the base a nudge with his foot, making it sway. It seemed sturdy enough, but riding in it could prove to be a wobbly adventure.

Still hanging on to the rope on the knot side of the pulley, he climbed in, straddled the rope holding the basket, and descended, letting the rough, intertwined hemp slide bit by bit through his hands. Knowing he couldn't get hurt made the job easier. Still, friction warmed his skin, then burned, but not enough to make him let go. When the knot passed through his hands, the one that held the rope in place at the pulley, he knew he was about halfway down. It wouldn't be long now.

Finally, the basket stopped. The knot lodged in the pulley again, signaling that he had arrived at the right level. He pulled on the rope and gave the basket a shove with his body, then repeated the process until he swung back and forth several times. Again, pain burned his hands as the rope bit into his palms. He tried to blow on his skin, but it didn't help. Maybe Francesca was wrong. Maybe they could be hurt here. After all, she was a visitor, too. The mysteries of these visions had to be deeper than what appeared to the eye.

When the basket finally landed on the ledge, he jumped
out and began pulling the rope again to lift the basket back to Francesca. He let the excess rope add to a coil that already rested on the ground near his feet. Coming out from the bottom of the coil, the rope led to the wall where it was tied to a thick iron hook. The whole system seemed primitive, but it worked.

After Francesca climbed into the basket, Nathan lowered her, feeding the rope hand over hand. When the knot lodged at the pulley level, he dug his heels in to keep his balance. Then, pulling on the rope and letting it run through his hands, he made the basket swing. When it finally came close enough, he grabbed the side and pulled Francesca to safe ground. As soon as she disembarked, he noticed a long pole with a shepherd's crook on the end. Apparently that was how the stalkers reeled in the basket, but it was too late for that now.

Francesca pointed with her bow. “That way.”

Just as she was about to march ahead, Nathan grabbed her elbow and pulled her back. “Wait a minute. Let me check this place out.”

He gazed in the direction she had pointed. Just as it had appeared from above, the ledge curved into the dimness, creating a full ring around the void. The entire chamber was really a circular pit, with a rock-encapsulated stairway dangling over the middle like a stony finger reaching down to pluck the strings, their path downward from the stalkers' abode.

A glow emanated from narrow gaps at the edges of the ceiling. The ceiling and the walls didn't quite meet, allowing the gaps to reveal the lower arcs of three earths on the sides of the upper chamber. From this angle, the fissures between the planets seemed deeper, making the entire wall appear fragile.

A faint cracking sound echoed from above. A few shards of glass tumbled through the gap and down to the floor. As soon as the shards struck the stony surface, they melted into a crystal rivulet that coursed in a meandering path toward the dark
pit. When the liquid spilled into the void, the entire chamber rumbled.

The ground quaked, shaking so hard, Francesca fell backwards. Nathan crouched at her side and hugged her close as the quake roared on. Fragments from the edge of the pit broke away and tumbled in. The basket tipped over the side and swung across the strings. With every jolt, the precipice inched closer, threatening to swallow them into its violent yawn. But they couldn't move, not without risking a tumble into the void. The basket suddenly plunged. Rope reeled off the coil until it tightened against the wall hook with a dull twang.

Soon, the last crystalline drop disappeared into the pit, and the trembling slowly eased. Nathan rose to his feet and helped Francesca to hers. Neither said a word. She ran her hand up and down his arm, her eyes wide. Her expression said it all. The danger was greater than she had thought, and the more wounds inflicted on the interdimensional fabric, the worse the danger would get.

“Okay,” he said. “Let's go.”

With the pit to her left, she walked near the edge and halted where the first golden string crossed their path at knee level. The other three strings lay beyond it, each separated by a gap of about six feet. Well to their right, the strings coiled around broomstick-sized dowels anchored to the stone floor. Underneath the strings, a polished black layer of wood acted as the fingerboard for this enormous violin.

She stepped over the first string and sat down on the second. It seemed to carry her weight without a problem.

Nathan ran his finger along the closest string of gold. As thick as rope, it pushed a tingling sensation through his still burning skin. So this was the place his mother described. During her visions, she tried to play a tune, obviously pizzicato since she didn't have a bow, but the strings were too far apart. She would have had to lunge from one string to the other, probably
leaping over one or more strings between each plucked note, while still maintaining perfect rhythm.

No wonder Francesca needed his help. With two people it would be a lot easier, one person manning two strings, and no leaping required. But what was the point? She had said the strings spanned the celestial wound. Would playing the music repair it?

Gripping the string, he pulled it up an inch or so. Plucking it would be no problem, but would the sound alert the stalkers?

“Have you tried playing it?” he asked.

She nodded. “But I have no idea what I'm supposed to play.” She bounced her weight up and down on the string. “And I can play only four notes, because I can't press a string down. Even if I were heavy enough, I couldn't pluck the string while I'm pushing on it. And every time I play a note, the ground shakes like it did a minute ago. It's impossible to keep your balance.”

Nathan pushed all his weight on the string and pressed it firmly against the fingerboard. He was heavy enough, so Francesca could play while he pushed, but she'd still have to jump around from string to string like a maniac. Still, maybe only four notes were necessary. Mom didn't mention having to push the strings down during her vision.

He felt for the music sheet in his back pocket. “Foundation's Key” was a simple tune, but it had more than four basic notes. If that was the right piece to play, they would never manage it with only the two of them. Finally, he let out a sigh. “We'll need help.”

“I know. I think if we come here for real with Kelly, Daryl, and my father, we could play almost anything.”

Nathan gave her a slow nod. Kelly knew music, so she could help, and so could Dr. Malenkov, but what about Daryl Red? At least she wouldn't freeze when she saw the pit, like Daryl Blue would, and she could pluck a string when told to do it. “Okay,
so if we use a flash from the camera to come here, how do we avoid being seen?”

“That's the tricky part. That's why I showed it to you first so you could see all the obstacles.”

Nathan ran through the path in his mind, from the glassy walkway to the domes to the panel in the floor. Being invisible had made everything much easier, but they still had almost been caught.

He shook his head. “It's impossible. Once we're visible, we're dead meat.”

“We have to try, don't we?” Francesca looked toward the void. “If we don't heal the wound, we'll all die anyway.”

“I know that …” He paused. He had almost added “Mom” in response to the feminine voice that had nailed him with a good argument so many times before. Looking at the stairway above, he stooped low. From this angle, he could see more of the upper chamber through the gap near the wall. “Maybe I should go back upstairs and see if Scarlet can help somehow.”

“The girl in the dome? The one in the red dress?”

“Uh-huh. She seems to know a lot about everything.”

Francesca rose from the string, careful to keep it from sounding a note. “Well, it's time for your solo anyway. When I stop playing, I'll be pulled back into my bedroom. I'll tell everyone what's going on.”

He rose to his full height. “So I guess I have to climb back up the rope to get to Scarlet.”

“If you want to go that way. Like I said, if you fall, you'll just wake up in the bedroom. Then you could start over and come in through the foggy path.”

“I'll climb. I want to test something.”

She pointed her bow toward the stairwell. “Do you remember the notes to open the floor panel?”

“I think so.”

“The door by the pulley stays open for a long time, but you'll
have to play the key again if you want to go through the upper door.” She angled her head as if listening to something in the air. “Okay. It's time for your solo. Play well, my son.” Still clutching her violin, she blew him a kiss and faded away.

Nathan rubbed his eyes. Would he ever get used to all this appearing and disappearing?

He jogged back to where the basket had fallen, grabbed the rope, and reeled it up to his level. Apparently the knot had slipped through the pulley, and now he had to jerk it back over the wheel to pull the basket any higher. With a firm tug, he popped the knot through. Now the basket hung over a point near the center, swaying back over the violin strings and then toward him again in a rhythmic motion.

As if ringing a huge church bell in a tower, he pulled on the rope and released it, timing his pulls to increase the sway. He imagined the basket as a huge violin bow, stroking the strings with each pass, and composed music in his mind's ear to match the strokes.

He watched the surreal scene, the basket's hypnotic sway as it brushed over the strings again and again. Could that be the best way to play the gargantuan instrument? But with what? A bow the size of a vaulting pole?

When the basket finally swung close enough, he grabbed up the shepherd's crook and snagged the side, giving the rope slack as he fished in his prize. The knot now moved freely through the pulley. It would no longer work as a way to prevent a plunge.

After setting his violin inside and climbing aboard, he swung himself back over the center. As he passed by, he again imagined a bow stroking those beautiful golden strings and playing “Foundation's Key.” With another slight pull, he adjusted the gap between the basket and the strings and pictured himself leaning over with a bow to reach them. Firming his chin, he nodded. It just might work.

He hoisted himself up, pulling hand over hand. His raw
skin burned, and his muscles ached, but he didn't want to test Francesca's claim that falling into a bottomless pit was nothing more than waking up from a nightmare. Even without Daryl Blue's phobia, that seemed like a scary way to snap out of this vision.

Soon, perspiration drenched his back and sleeves, but after a few minutes, he reached the doorway and leaped inside.

He retrieved his violin and released the basket, then hurried up the stairs. Again, his muscles ached. Even though he wasn't really here, the effort was grueling. No wonder his mother was exhausted after she explored this place in her own vision.

When he reached the glass panel, he peeked out. No one was around. He lifted his violin and bow, picturing Francesca doing the same when she unlocked this door from above. The notes flowed into his mind, and he played them through in a rapid echo. The lights in the panel, barely visible from below, flashed red. He played the notes again, and then a third time. The lights blinked yellow once and turned off.

He climbed the remaining stairs, pushing his body through the liquid glass, and emerged in the midst of the domes. Glancing all around for any sign of a stalker, he crept toward Scarlet's dome and peered through the transparent barrier. She still appeared to be asleep, sitting cross-legged with her head bowed low. But, with a sudden gasp, she jerked her head up and stared straight at Nathan. For a moment, she seemed ready to smile, but the sadness in her eyes spread to her lips, weighing the corners down.

As she spread her red dress over her legs as far as she could, her voice sounded through the glass loud and clear. “I am lonely, my beloved. Come in and talk with me for a while.”