Ghosts of Eden (21 page)

Garty took a deep breath and began to climb. When he’d reached a point where he’d climbed half of the stairs, he froze. Something creaked. He watched the door slowly revolve inward, leaving an opening from which emanated a sickly yellow glow. He waited, expecting someone (something?) to thrust itself into view to challenge his approach. When nothing did, he glanced over his shoulder at Wrigley, who shrugged and waved him onward. He took the next step, wishing he’d brought a weapon of some kind.

He took the last few steps very slowly, bracing himself on each one, expecting, at any moment, for something to jump out, for something to grab him or terrify him.

On the last step, he paused. He clenched his hands into fists, holding them out in front of his face. He nudged the door open with his shoulder. He tensed.

He stepped up and came fully into the opening.

The laboratory was much as it had been when he’d seen it last. Most everything had been slashed and broken and now lay in a pile at the center of the room. The room’s only window looked out on darkness. Across the room, the other door stood closed.

Wrigley brushed him aside, stepping into the room. “Very good. Very good,” he said. “He must be farther along. A pity he had to go and destroy everything, though. Would you like to save your sister? It may not be too late.”

Garty looked at Wrigley. “What? How?”

Wrigley licked his lips. “Good question. If Xander has done with her what I think he has, she may not have been eaten yet.”

“Eaten? What the fuck are you talking about?”

Wrigley nodded. “Yes. Eaten. Absorbed. Such is the course of the natural world. Larger things eat the smaller ones. There’s no use lamenting. The transference of energy and power, energy and power. But we may as well see what we can do.”

Garty’s head was spinning. The deep unease that had been growing within him surged forward; he could feel it in his chest. “See what? What do we see? Are you talking about Kayla?”

“Kayla. Yes.” Wrigley skipped around the pile of junk and approached the closet door. He waved for Garty to join him. “Come here. I’m curious to see if you are what some of my colleagues seem to think you are. Hurry. Don’t waste my time.”

Garty stepped over a jutting metal table leg and over to Wrigley. Wrigley made a sound in his throat and spat a surprisingly bright greenish glob of phlegm on the closet door. “Now,” he said. “Open it.”

Garty looked at Wrigley, then the door. Last time he’d been up here, that door had led into a maze of stairs and hallways and rooms with strange things in them.

“I can’t do it,” Wrigley said. “I’m no sabbantiac. Open it.”

Garty reached his hand out, trying to control his trembling limbs. He grasped the doorknob, turned it. The door swung away from him and was swallowed in an impenetrable darkness.

“My word,” Wrigley said, gasping near Garty’s ear. “I can’t believe it. We should have found you sooner. My apologies. I never would have given you the jar if I’d known you could use it. Never. Much too dangerous. I’ll take the stairs first next time.”

Garty stared into the churning darkness. “Should I—”

“No! No.” Wrigley pulled him back from the open square of black. “All we can do is open the right door. It’s up to her to find the way out.”

FIVE

“Yeah, yeah. Eight times eight is sixty-four. I get it.”

…keep going…maybe…oh, he’s found us…he’s coming…what do you think of that, Lemm?…what do you?…my daughter?…this way…

Kayla walked carefully. It was impossible to know which way she was going or if she was even walking in a straight line. The only things she could feel were her leg muscles, lifting and bending. She leaned forward for balance, like running through water.

…so long…oh…please…how long do you think, Lemm?…how long…

Something was there with her, behind her, coming toward her. She could feel its presence, large beyond reckoning, looming behind her like a creeping skyscraper; wet sucking-mud sounds; liquid thumping. She could hear its slow and labored breathing.

…eight times eight is sixty-eight…go…he’s coming…four times four is sixty-four…

Despite its slow and ponderous movements, the looming presence was so large it was growing closer and closer. The air was becoming hot and muggy. Things were becoming slippery, then sticky. She clawed onward. “Six times six is thirty-six,” she heard herself groan.

Something was in front of her: a piercing sliver of light. There was an opening! She could escape! She pushed herself to run faster, but the sliver of light grew only slightly larger.

Something heavy fell over her and she stumbled, losing her feet, throwing her arms out to catch her fall.

…No!…

The heavy substance was hot and wet and sticky. She could feel it pinning her legs. She flailed to free herself, but it was very heavy, very sticky. That slow breathing was right over her now, breathing a putrid cloud over her like a fetid net. Another slosh, and it was even closer.

…impossible…

A deep chuckle. Something squelched.

Someone flung herself between Kayla and the monstrosity.

The substance softened and melted from her legs. She lunged to her feet and bolted toward the light.

…it’s been too long…go while you still can…don’t worry for me…daughter?…daughter?

Kayla ran as fast as she could, but still, the light seemed to grow no closer.

SIX

They waited by the square of darkness for several minutes.

After a while, Wrigley shrugged. “Perhaps I was wrong,” he said. “Perhaps it’s already too late.”

Garty stared into the darkness. He felt helpless, numb inside. “But…” he began, but forgot what he was going to say.

“No matter. We must not wait any longer. Xander is surely eager to see us and the longer we wait, the more time he is given to prepare for our arrival.”

“There’s nowhere else to go,” Garty said.

“Close the door and open it again. It’s very simple,” Wrigley said, reaching forward to pull the door closed.

“No!” Garty grabbed Wrigley’s arm to stop him. “What about Kayla?”

Wrigley shrugged and grinned. “We gave her a fair chance. Now we must go.”

“But isn’t she valuable as well?”

“She certainly could be. Your uncle seemed to think so.”

“Then shouldn’t we give her more time?”

Wrigley rolled his eyes. “Dr. Thayer thought she could be the next denotic. Not likely, I’d say.”

“Denotic?”

“Yes. Like her mother. But it doesn’t work that way.”

“Let’s leave it open. Maybe she’ll still come through.”

Wrigley turned. “Fine, sabbantiac. Then use the other door. Show me your skills.”

Garty looked across the room at the door they’d come through. It was still open to the stairway going down which they’d come up through. He crossed the room. Wrigley watched him intently. He swung the door closed. “Alright. Sure. What the fuck.” He hawked, and spat on the closed door.

Wrigley burst into laughter behind him. “Oh, that’s not necessary. But still. Good show.” Wrigley clapped and hollered. “Good show. Good show.”

Garty ignored Wrigley’s taunting and concentrated. He reached his hand out, grasped the doorknob. He had no idea what he was doing. This was really fucking crazy. He flung the door open.

On the other side, the stairs were of the same type, but now they went upwards instead of down.

“Still,” Wrigley said, now right over his shoulder, making Garty jump. “Color me impressed. Shall we go?”

Garty gritted his teeth. “Alright.”

* * *

They climbed the stairs slowly and deliberately. Garty followed right behind Wrigley. As they went, it grew darker. “Stay close,” Wrigley said, the candles in his hat flaring alight. They began to spiral upwards, the stairs becoming narrower, the walls closing in. Garty could see lichen growing on the crumbling bricks that made up the wall by the purple and green light that shone from Wrigley’s hat.

They came out on a small landing. In front of them, there was another door. Ahead of them, the stairs continued upwards, becoming even narrower than the last set. “Let us hope this is it,” Wrigley said. “The next set looks treacherous.” He stepped up to the door. He grinned and Garty suddenly realized how much shorter Wrigley was than himself. “I better open this one. Who knows where you’d put us.”

Wrigley turned the knob and pushed open the door with a casual flourish. He looked inside.

“Oh, how wonderful,” he said. “We better be careful here. I’d rather not end my days like my associate, filleted by an amateur.”

“Your associate?”

“Barlow—yes. He was sent to keep an eye on you. Don’t tell me you never noticed the cat?” And with that, he stepped through the doorway.

The hot and muggy smell of moist and turned earth came through the opening like the expelled breath of a giant beast.

Garty followed his new companion, and stepped into the jungle.

* * *

The trees formed thick and impenetrable walls to either side of them. They followed a narrow path that cut through the foliage. The air was viscous with heat like an open and feverish wound and the trees were large and ancient, their bark having turned and twisted as they grew into leering faces. Everywhere the sound of insects: buzzing and chirping, scraping and wriggling amongst soil and decay. A plump red fruit hung from a branch draped over the path, but when Garty reached for it, Wrigley turned on him sharply, shaking his head.

They moved in silence, their feet plodding through wet and fallen leaves. Garty could hear himself panting, but when he tried to control himself, he found it difficult to breathe properly. He kept pace with Wrigley, who moved steadily, still casually, but tense and ready.

Eventually, the trees began to thin somewhat, becoming greener, less intimidating. Garty began to see more fruit trees and shrubs with buds and berries. He saw, as they passed, a small hill verdant with strawberries, a small purple butterfly flickering about. The twisted vine of a pole bean plant climbed a small cluster of overgrown tomatoes. The path began to widen. “He thinks he can play at being a god,” Wrigley said in hushed tones. “He thinks he can be the simulator. He wants to control everything.” They were coming out into an open area, a rough circle of standing stones that the foliage seemed to shy away from. “Ridiculous ambition. Quite foolish and pointless, if you ask me.”

“It is in the nature of every being to create realities for lesser ones.”

Wrigley froze, putting his hand out for Garty to stop. They were just inside the standing circle of stones. “But it is not within the right of any singular being to rise above the stature that has been appointed him,” Wrigley responded, eyes darting around, looking for the source of the voice.

“Here.” Dr. Xander stepped from the roiling shadows at the other end of the standing circle.

Wrigley nodded, still grinning. Garty stood next to Wrigley, his hands clenched by his sides.

At the center of the standing circle sat the jar, sealed shut, looking tiny and insignificant.

“How do you like my Eden?” Xander asked. He wore his draping lab coat and held his telescopic pointer by his side. His beard had grown significantly, long and white and flowing down over his chest. “It’s nothing, of course, compared with what I plan to achieve, now that I have my own denotic.”

“The denotic is not yours, Xander,” Wrigley said. “She serves by choice and for all, free from moral judgment.”

“Not,” Xander said, “this one.”

Garty stepped forward, couldn’t help himself. “You’re an asshole,” he said. “A real piece of work. What you did to Kayla…”

“Why is he here?” Xander said to Wrigley.

“I thought he might be useful,” Wrigley said. “You underestimate him.”

“He’s dead,” Xander said, raising the telescopic pointer.

“No,” and Wrigley’s mouth opened, impossibly wide, jaw falling well below his shoulders, and a giant tongue unfolded and whipped forward. Xander’s pointer leveled on Garty. Bright electricity shot forward. But, at the last moment, Wrigley’s tongue caught Xander’s wrist and flung the pointer to the ground. The electricity zagged up and over Garty’s head. Garty could feel the hairs on his body and head rising to follow it. The smell of singed hair filled the air.

“Let go of me,” Xander said, flinging Wrigley’s tongue to the side. He held his hand out, sloppy and wet, shaking it in disgust.

Wrigley sucked his tongue back in, but let it flop out the side of his mouth down to his waist; he talked around it. “We know you killed Magus Thayer, Xander. We know you’ve tried to assume his place, even pretended to be him. You’ll never have a place in The Council as he did.”

Xander’s eyes flared. “I don’t need one. Not anymore. I’ve trained my own denotic—banished the old one—she’s mine! Thayer was disgusting—his love of the old woman…forbidden and disgusting!” He hocked, spat on the ground.