Memory's Door (A Well Spring Novel) (29 page)
“I
NEED ANSWERS
.” M
ARCUS PACED IN FRONT OF
S
IMON AT
Magnuson Park, his untucked shirt ruffled by the breeze coming off Lake Washington. “Why is this happening to me?”
“In case I haven’t been clear enough, let me do so now.” The magician’s gray-streaked hair was pulled back in a ponytail and his usual black coat was replaced by a gray sweatshirt. “There are alternate realities within alternate realities. Layers upon layers upon layers. The deeper you go, the less you know.”
“Know what?”
“What is real.”
“But where I’ve been can’t be real.”
“They can’t?” Simon reached in his pocket and brought out his silver coin. He twirled it around his fingers as he stared at Marcus. “Not true. Those alternate realities cause chemical reactions in the brain where we store memories. And once that memory is planted, how can we know if it’s real or not? Too many memories of too many realities means sifting through too many scenarios, and it’s almost impossible to keep them all straight.”
“They’re dreams, visions.”
“You know they aren’t.”
Simon was right. Marcus did know. Holding Layne the other day wasn’t a dream or his imagination. And it had stirred up a pain so deep it would bury him if he couldn’t contain it again. “It’s a malevolent act to shove me into other worlds without my permission.”
Simon lurched backward as if he’d been struck. “Faugh! I’m not the one doing the shoving.”
“Who is?”
“You’ll figure that out. You need to.”
“Is it God or Satan or something else? And what is your role in it? Are you my enemy?”
Simon spread his arms to his sides and smiled. “I am your friend.”
“As if I can trust your answer to be the truth.”
“I told you the switching would continue till you made the choice.”
“What choice?”
“I bet he’s going to give you lots of options to choose from.” Simon pulled a deck of cards out of his pocket. “He did me. And I chose them all. I answered the call, of the siren’s song that drew me along, into years of living, devoid of giving, my heart to the One who shines like the sun.”
“Who?”
“Who what?” Simon blinked like he’d just woken.
“Who is going to give me myriad options from which to choose?”
Simon squinted and tilted his head back and to the side as if he were a gunman in the Old West about to suggest a duel at fifty paces. “Do you like card tricks?” Simon whipped his hand up. “Wait! Stop! Don’t answer that. I’m going to show you a trick whether you like ’em or not, so your answer doesn’t matter.”
He slid eight or nine cards out of the deck case and spread them out for Marcus on the picnic table Simon sat at. Marcus stopped pacing and stepped up to the table. All of the cards were different.
“Here’s what we’re going to do, Professor. I want you to pick a card.” He brought the pack together and one at a time pulled a card from the top and put it on the bottom. “Not with your hand, just tell me when the card you want comes to the top of the stack.” Simon tapped his head. “But before you choose, let me warn you: I’m going to try to influence your choice. Yes, ladies and professors, there is
one card in particular I want you to choose and I’m going to use everything in my power to make you choose that card. Ready?”
Marcus nodded. What exactly were Simon’s powers? He still didn’t know if the magician was human or demonic or angelic. He was fairly confident he could strike the latter categorization from his list, but the other two were fifty-fifty in his mind.
Simon slowly took each card from the top and placed it on the bottom. When the three of clubs came to the top the second time, Marcus said, “Stop.”
“This one? The three?” Simon flicked the edge of the card with his thumb twice, then pulled out the card that had appeared just before the three: the eight of diamonds. “You’re sure you don’t want the eight? The eight is a wonderful card.”
“Yes.”
“Positive? Not a doubt in your mind?”
It was just a magic trick. So why was there a part of him that wanted to choose the eight? Was Simon pushing him to choose the eight because he wanted him to or because he’d wanted him to choose the three and by pressing the eight it would cause him to stick with the three? Was it that simple for Simon to manipulate his thinking?
“Sure, you’re right. The eight is a great card. Let’s go with that one.”
Simon brought the eight from the bottom of the stack and placed it on top of the three, then brought out the new bottom card—the ace of hearts—and put it on top of the pack. “Are you positive you don’t want the ace?”
“Yes.”
“The eight, not the ace?”
“The eight.”
“At the risk of insult, I’ll ask once more. You want the eight, not the ace.”
Marcus frowned and nodded.
Simon placed the eight faceup on the table, then showed him
the backs of all the remaining cards in his hands. Each of them was red.
“It’s fascinating to me that you chose the eight. But then again, it happens every time.” Simon reached for the card and flipped it over. It had a blue back. “The only card among all of these with a blue back. Exactly the card I wanted you to choose.”
Marcus had felt nothing in his mind. No manipulation from Simon. The choice was free. Yet there, staring him in the face, was the only card among the stack that didn’t have a red back. His face grew hot.
Simon leaned in and whispered, “You play his game, the only choices are his. No choice is free. No choice with him comes without a significant price tag. I know. I paid. I’m still paying.”
“What if I’d chosen the ace?”
“I’m glad you asked, Marcus, because I really do like you and I really am trying to help.”
Simon placed the ace faceup on the table, then showed the backs of the other cards. All of them were now blue.
“How did you accomplish that?” Marcus stared at the cards. “That’s impossible.”
“It’s a card trick, Marcus. A simple one. One you can find in twenty magic books in hundreds of libraries across America. What’s important is the lesson it teaches: He doesn’t play fair and every choice is his choice no matter how much it seems like it’s yours. Every choice leads to death, okay?” He clapped his hands. “Can I see your phone for a moment?”
Marcus handed his cell phone to Simon who opened a calendar.
“Really! It’s already Tuesday. Time certainly dies, doesn’t it? I have to go.”
“You mean time flies.”
“No, it dies. And the chance for choice in that moment dies right along with the passing of the seconds. As I’ve said before, Marcus, your time for choice is coming. I pray you choose well and you do not allow the moment to die.”
R
EECE’S WATCH BEEPED
,
TELLING HIM HE
’
D BEEN ON THE
climbing machine for an hour. One more to go. He shifted the day pack full of weights and fumbled for the keypad that would increase the speed of the stairs under his feet.
More intensity. Make the lungs burn.
As if taxing his body to its maximum could distract him from the fact that this coming summer—for the first time in twenty-seven years—he wouldn’t be climbing one of the Rockies’ fifty-two tallest peaks. He’d tried hiking with a seeing partner, but within twenty minutes he knew it wouldn’t work. The man had tried.
“Sorry, Reece! I didn’t see that branch.”
“You’ve done this before, right?”
“Not for this kind of hike.”
Reece rose from the ground and rubbed his right knee where he’d taken the brunt of his fall and his fingers came away wet. Blood. “How bad is the cut?”
“Oh, wow, that doesn’t look good. Let me see.”
For the next five minutes the man had cleaned and bandaged the cut on Reece’s knee. Then for the next half hour the man called out obstacles as they trudged along.
“Large rock middle of the path, three feet ahead.”
“Tree branch at six feet high about four yards in front of you.”
It would likely take years of bloody knees and hands to understand what “four yards ahead” really meant. And when they reached
a level, smooth part of the climb, Reece felt like a Ferrari following a Yugo. This guy was supposed to be in great shape? That wasn’t fair. Reece didn’t know many who could keep up with him—which made the dream of finding someone to hike with even more impossible.
Reece turned up the volume on his cell phone and tried to lose himself in the classic rock pulsing through his earbuds, but it was useless. He’d never listened to music in the mountains, why do it here? Because here there was nothing to see and too much to think about. It should be the perfect time to seek the Spirit and hear his counsel.
But it didn’t work that way. Other people said exercise was their thinking time, being with and hearing from God time, the time answers to life’s conundrums would show up in their minds and hearts. It had never been that way for Reece.
Part of the joy of hiking was pushing his body further than it thought it could go. But a tremendous amount of scaling mountain peaks was what he saw. That should have been obvious. Taking thousands of photos every minute with his eyes and reveling in the artistry of the Spirit. But Reece didn’t realize the extent of that part till the enemy had destroyed his eyes and shredded the ability to immerse himself in his greatest passion.
It didn’t matter. This wasn’t about him. Wasn’t about him. Wasn’t about
him
.
A rap on the door of his recently constructed workout room spiked Reece’s pulse and his Polar heart monitor beeped. Over the top range of where his heart rate should be. No matter how many times Doug or anyone else knocked on a door, Reece didn’t think he’d get used to it.
“Come in.” Reece pulled his earbuds out.
The door gave a slight creak as it opened and a moment later the sound of Doug’s shoes padded across the workout room and stopped three feet to his right.
“How are your workouts progressing?”
“Progressing?”
“Yes.” Doug sighed. “I’ve never known you to exercise without a goal in mind—most often which mountain you were going to climb next. I’m curious what object of motivation you have in mind currently.”
Reece continued to pump away, his legs like pistons. The climber was now on the maximum resistance and still his breathing and heart rate weren’t as high as he’d like them to be.
“My workouts are fine.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
Reece’s watch went off a second time. Good. He was done.
“I know.” He stepped off, fumbled for the towel hung on the back of the machine, and turned toward the sound of Doug’s voice. “My goal is for God to give me my eyes back. Being able to see inside the spiritual realm was a start. The first part. I expected too much, that the second part of the healing would come at the same time. The second part will be in this world. It’s coming.”
“And what if he doesn’t heal you?”
“He will. I believe the prophecy. Don’t you?”
Doug didn’t answer.
“Fine, next subject. Have you been reading any of the e-mails that have been coming in from the website?”
“You mean the ones where people are threatening to find Well Spring and burn down the ranch if we don’t stop the training sessions? Yes. A pristine example of the religious spirit at work. Carson is doing his job.”
“He’s replayed the interview with Brandon at least twelve times.” Reece rubbed the sweat off his forehead.
“I think it will be played many more times before this is over.”
“So do we shut him down?”
“How would you propose doing that?”
“I have no idea.”
“Nor do I, but I have a sense Jesus is saying a way is coming that will surprise even you.”
“I can’t wait.” Reece threw his towel over his shoulder and felt his way to the door. “I gotta take a shower.”
“Did you say you were going to a place tomorrow night where you can see?”
“Yes. It’ll be good for them. And good for me.”
“Be careful, Reece.”
“I’m always careful.”
He climbed the stairs and latched onto the belief he would be healed. It would happen. He would see again. And in the meantime he would go to where his eyes still worked. The Warriors could use another jolt of refreshment before they went after the Wolf, and Reece sensed the time was approaching quickly when Jesus would tell them to go in and do battle. So tomorrow night he would take the Warriors into one of his favorite realms.
“T
ELL ME THIS ISN
’
T ONE OF THE MOST SPECTACULAR
views you’ve ever beheld?”
Dana smiled as she looked from Reece to the mountain ranges buried in snow for as far as she could see. If she was guessing she’d say every one of the peaks would dwarf Everest by miles. And breathing up here was like drinking water. Every breath filled her with life and peace. She studied Marcus off to her left and Brandon to her right. From their posture it was apparent the air was doing the same for them.
After what felt like another ten minutes, she turned to Reece. “How long have we been inside this realm?”
“Not nearly long enough,” Reece said, a grin on his face.
“I’m serious. Aren’t we getting close to the edge of needing to get back out?” Dana jammed her hands into the pockets of her coat. “You know it’s time, Reece.”
He gazed down on the vast ranges below them, then slowly turned his head ninety degrees, the blue light in his eyes blazing. “You’re right. Absolutely right.” But Reece didn’t move except for his head, which continued to turn back and forth, a brilliant sunset lighting up his face like gold.
“Just a few more minutes. Take this in, Dana. It is a feast for the eyes from the true Artist. You and I can’t take a photo of this, but
we can remain long enough to burn the image into our memories. I need this. We all do.”
Reece motioned toward Marcus who stood forty yards to their left staring at the deepening red and orange clouds. “Look at the professor. I imagine he’s doing the same as we are. Whatever is going on with him and these alternate realities, it’s drained him. Let’s not deprive him of rejuvenation and of obtaining a memory he’ll hold forever, much as we are doing. A few more minutes is all I’m asking.”
