Ghosts of Eden (15 page)

“You don’t believe me?”

“Of course not. I think you’re playing with us. Kayla, what do you think? You believe this shit?” He turned to look at her.

Kayla had a strange, intense look in her eyes; she licked her lips as if she tasted something bitter. “I’d like to hear more.” She met Garty’s eyes, blinked. “But no. Not all of it. No way. Uncle Xander was just seeing things. People do that sometimes.”

Garty thought about some of the weirder things he’d seen, especially while intoxicated, like that tall purple dude at that last rave. “I guess.”

Uncle Xander shifted his cloak on his shoulders, puffed deeply at his pipe, and continued.

“The Black Hole was a place I had heard of, but never visited. It was a salvage yard and warehouse on the outskirts of town filled with discarded nuclear test equipment, well-used high pressure vacuum fittings, scientific laboratory equipment, and an endless assortment of puzzling devices. It was started and run by a man who used to work for the National Labs before he was fired for marching in a series of peace rallies in the sixties, and it was made up of an old grocery store and the unused A-frame church next to it, where a lot of the more valuable things were kept, as well as the parking lot, of course, piled with various metallic discarded junk.

“When I arrived, there was no one in sight and it was quiet and cold. I felt exposed, looking around—as if I expected to see small animals lurking in the detritus, peering at me between chunks of scrap metal with reflective eyes. A single nondescript bird roosted atop the “The Black Hole” sign, then flickered away silently. I went inside.

“I was greeted with the musty smell of old things, and something like dried engine grease. An elderly man with a scrappy white beard nodded to me. ‘In the back,’ he said. I passed through an aisle of nuclear instrument modules, then was blocked by an old electric piano with technical books and manuals piled all around it, and turned into a section of shelves and tables filled with glassware. In the back were stacks of oscilloscopes—gray instrument boxes with nobs, and tiny screens, and gauges for measuring frequency and amplitude of alternating current signals—and then a cramped hallway and a door cracked partially open. I pushed on the door and it swung open slowly. Inside the tiny room was more junk, and a large overweight man sitting on an upraised toilet from the 1940s piled high with numerous pillows of various shapes, sizes, and colors. The table was made from a piece of plywood resting on top of spools of half-twisted thermocouple wiring. Behind the man—dark intelligent eyes set in a doughy face—was a smudged green chalkboard with a crudely drawn mushroom cloud adorning it.

“‘Please,” Dr. Matheson said. “Come in. Come in. Take a seat.”

“There was a single wooden chair in the center of the room and I took it. Dr. Matheson wore a white lab coat over his tucked-in and bulging button-up dress shirt. For a moment, the air seemed to sparkle and sway about him.

“‘Welcome, Dr. Xander. My name is Clive Matheson. It was good of you to come and see me.”

“‘I was curious,’ I said. ‘Did you know my colleague—Dr. Gary Thayer?’

“Dr. Matheson smiled through lips tiny between pudgy cheeks. ‘I did. Yes.’

“‘Is he the reason I’m here now?’

“‘Partially. He thought he could join our organization.’

“‘And what organization is that?’

“‘He never told you?’ Dr. Matheson let out a booming laugh that filled the room and shook everything in it. ‘I’m surprised,’ he said between gasping chuckles. ‘He talked so highly of you.’

“‘He was very busy,’ I said in defense of my friend. Already I didn’t like this man.

“‘Oh, I know.’ Dr. Matheson picked something from one of his nails and flicked it away. ‘He wanted to join The Council, of which I am the chairman in this region.’

“‘The Council?’ I said, and I couldn’t quite contain the sneer in my voice. ‘And what does The Council do exactly?’

“Dr. Matheson’s eyes sparkled. ‘Many things. You will see. I will teach you.’

“I stood. I had already had enough. ‘I don’t think so,’ I said, and turned toward the door.

“‘He left journals of his work,’ Dr. Matheson said. ‘Is that correct?’

“I turned back. ‘So that’s what this is about? You think he discovered something?’ It was my turn to laugh. ‘He claimed to have proven string theory, but I never saw the equations. Most of his papers were burned.’

“‘Dr. Matheson frowned. ‘I see. Then you have no idea who I am? You’ve never heard of The Council? And you don’t know what I can do or what we stand to accomplish?’

“I was still standing and I shook my head. ‘Look. His papers are all gone. I can’t help you. I’m sorry, but I have an important business meeting I must attend this afternoon and I need to prepare for it.’ I stepped to the door and opened it.

“‘Then are you not having visions?’

“I stopped, frozen in the doorway.

“‘I can help you to reconcile these glimpses, to understand and manipulate that which is all around but that you cannot see.’

“I didn’t say a word. I didn’t turn, but I didn’t leave then either. I knew I was on the cusp of something, at a fulcrum point in my life, and that the next move I made would determine the course of the rest of my life.

“‘Let me come to your house. Let me show you something, and once you have seen what I have to offer, you may turn me away if you choose, and I’ll not bother you again. It was your friend who wanted to join The Council, but you are the strong one. It is you we sought out, who showed the proper aptitude and talent. Give me a chance to show you.’

“‘Fine,’ I said, and agreed reluctantly that he was to visit me at my house the next day.

“I left The Black Hole, my body trembling.

“The next day, Dr. Matheson arrived and showed me things that changed my life, and my view of the physical universe, forever. My training had begun.”

* * *

Garty stirred in his seat; Kayla was shaking him by the shoulder. “Hey,” she said. “The lesson’s over.”

He looked up and Uncle Xander was standing. “That’s enough for today,” he said. “I have some important work to attend to.”

Uncle Xander whisked by him and Kayla and he heard the door to the library opening and then closing shut: his uncle was gone.

Garty sat up straight and a huge yawn attacked him, making his jaw pop. He felt achy and a shiver ran down his back. He had to get back to his room.

“Neat story, huh?” Kayla said.

“Yeah. Neat.”

“I didn’t understand it all, but…”

Garty snatched at Kayla’s shoulders, looked directly into her face. “Kayla, listen,” he said. She stared back with wide eyes. “It was all bullshit, okay? He’s fucking with us, and he’s really fucking with you. He’s sick, and twisted, and deluded. We have to be careful, okay? I don’t want you to get hurt. He’s telling bedtime stories and studying us to see what we’ll do. We should probably play along, but I just don’t want you to believe too much of this shit, okay?”

Kayla stared back at him; she looked scared. Garty dropped her shoulders, ashamed; he’d been rougher than he’d meant to be. “I’m sorry. Just…let’s be careful.”

Kayla nodded.

Garty stood on legs that felt heavy and stiff. “I’ll catch up with you later,” he said. “I want to talk more about all this.”

He practically ran from the room.

* * *

Back in his room, Garty shook the last of his pills onto the bathroom counter with trembling fingers, chewed two of them to powder, swallowed. He immediately felt relief at taking the pills, but it would still be another twenty minutes or so before he would begin to feel the warmth in his chest and his muscles would begin to melt.

“That fucker,” he mumbled to himself, staggering toward the bed.

There was something there: a small wooden box and a note. He picked up the box—it was plain and appeared to be hand-carved—and the top swung back by a hinge. Inside, there were pills, pale blue and fat; the box was filled with them. He set the box back on the bed and picked up the note.

I am no stranger to chemical afflictions and wish only that you be comfortable this summer while you are my guest. Use them wisely.

—X.

Garty stared, read the note again. He looked at the pills. He knew what they were. They were powerful painkillers—the good stuff. He picked one up, rolled it between his fingers, tossed it in his mouth, swallowed. He took a book at random from the shelf that looked halfway entertaining, got comfortable on the bed, and began to read.

Before too long, his entire body began to tingle, and then warm as if he were floating in a steaming sea. He continued to read, but his head kept nodding forward, his eyes closing. Eventually, he gave up and slept.

TWO

In the kitchen, eating a sandwich, Kayla stared out the window and wondered how she could convince Garty their uncle might be telling the truth.

In the garden, a squirrel darted from the bushes, stopped on a rock, sitting up on its hind legs, and looked at her. Its cheeks were stuffed and it chewed absently. It was a cute animal. Then she saw the cat at the other end of the garden, creeping through the tomato plants. The cat began to move closer and the squirrel didn’t seem to notice. “No, Eustis, don’t,” she mumbled. She watched, fascinated, as the cat drew silently closer and closer, ready to pounce. The cat broke cover, but still the squirrel didn’t notice, didn’t move. A couple more feet and the cat would be on the squirrel, its pointy little teeth latching on to the squirrel’s neck, claws rending through that bushy brown fur to get at the tender flesh beneath.

The cat stopped, sat, looked up at her. Now there were two pairs of black eyes staring.

In the trees, at the edge of the forest, something pale and pink shuffled just out of sight.

Kayla fought down the last bite of sandwich and hurried away from the window.

* * *

In her dream, she was lying in a cold field and when she lifted herself she could feel the dampness on her back. The sky was a clear black with pin-prick stars of light. The air seemed to thrum and vibrate, coated in a barely perceptible silvery sheen.

In front of her, the only object she could see on the field—flat and expansive and featureless in every direction—was a chair, plain and wooden.

Go ahead. Have a seat,
the cat said.

Kayla whirled about, and the cat—large, white-furred and sleek—was only a few feet behind her; she could smell its pungent, musky odor, hear its powerful, controlled breathing. She shuddered away from the animal, crawling on her back through the grass, eyes fixed on its teeth, protruding down the sides of its jaw, like fangs too large for its mouth.

Don’t worry. I won’t eat you.

Kayla crawled backwards, felt something at her back, knew it was the chair.

Have a seat.

No.

But you’re special. You must.

There were noises filling the field now. Soft shuffling, the sound of a solemn crowd quietly approaching, taking their places: paws, clawed feet, and hooves patting the grass flat. The darkness began to churn with a menagerie of animal faces.

I don’t want to be special. I don’t want the power.

Of course you don’t
, the cat said.

No… I…
She stood. As in many of her dreams, her body acted against her will. She sat in the chair. It creaked beneath her weight.

That’s better
, the cat said. The animals began to make soft braying noises that blended into a chant.

You might die.

No.

Probably will. But repeat after me.
The cat stood on its hind legs and approached, its round intelligent eyes staring into hers.
Reality is like a flowing river.

Reality is like a flowing river
, her mouth said.

It can be diverted; it can nourish; it can flood.

Her mouth spoke the words.

The cat turned to its audience.
We are agreed, then? We must do this? Is she ready? Do we allow this creature to know what we know, what we have always known? Will she honor such knowledge and learn to respect it, as we have always been filled with respect?

A giant red elk came forward into the light; it’s antlers like a regal crown occupying more space than its muscular body, than its neck seemed capable of supporting, stretching up toward the stars.
She does not know what is happening.
She is not ready. The magus will corrupt her
, the elk said.

I don’t want it
, Kayla said.

I’m sorry, but we don’t have a choice,
the elk told her.

She’ll die trying,
the cat said to the elk.