The Marus Manuscripts (24 page)

W
ade was half-dragged, half-carried to a waiting car. There the two men bound and gagged him with a heavy-duty tape. They then threw him into the trunk of the car and slammed the lid down. Enveloped in darkness, Wade woke up and listened as the car pulled away.

A moment later, Wade tried kicking at the trunk as hard as he could. It was solidly shut. He lay still for a minute and tried to think. But there was nothing to think about. He was a stranger in this world, and he had no idea who his kidnappers were or where they were going. So he waited, hoping that someone in Arin’s house had heard the noises or the car and was now in pursuit.

From the few seconds he had seen them, Wade knew his captors were dangerous. They had the look of street thugs. What were they doing at the compound? Were they trying to break into the shelter, or had they come for another reason?

The car hummed beneath him. It wasn’t the normal hum his parents’ Ford made, he realized. This was softer. It lacked the noise of a proper engine. Wade sniffed the air. He didn’t detect the telltale smells of gas or exhaust. Was it possible that this car was powered by the sun like so much else in this world?

Nearly 15 minutes later, the car came to a stop. Wade listened as the two men got out and walked to the rear of the car. He considered kicking at them when they lifted the trunk lid, but he realized he wouldn’t accomplish much with his ankles and wrists
bound the way they were. He’d probably only make them mad, and then they might hurt him.

The lid popped open, and the two men gazed in at Wade. “Hello, boy,” the first man said. He had a face filled with deep lines and a drooping mustache. His brown hair was cut close and thinning on top.

“You behave yourself,” the second man said with a thin smile on his pudgy face, “and you won’t get hurt.”

They reached in, pulled him out of the trunk, and leaned him against the car. “I’ll hold him while you get him ready,” the pudgy one said.

“Right,” the mustached man responded. He leaned down and removed the tape over Wade’s mouth and, with a quick flick of a knife, from around his ankles, leaving his wrists bound.

“Don’t think about running,” the pudgy one advised. “You won’t get far.”

Wade glanced around. They seemed to be in some kind of alley that stretched for blocks between high-rise buildings. A yellow light shone down on them from a nearby door. It reflected off the black sheen of the car. Wade craned his neck to get a better look. The car was like something out of a science-fiction comic book. Long and sleek, it had a delicately curved body, with a low top and narrow windows. “Wow,” Wade said more loudly than he’d intended.

“You like the car?” the mustached man asked.

The pudgy man laughed and said, “Maybe we’ll give you a proper ride in it sometime.”

Just then, a bomb exploded in the distance. It sounded closer now than when Wade was in Arin’s compound. He was still in Sarum, he knew. But why had they brought him here?

“Let’s get him inside,” the pudgy man said.

They led Wade into the building through a door marked Staff Only. The hall was dark, but a safety light ahead allowed Wade to
notice the marble floor and the pillars that reached up on both sides to the arches overhead. The style reminded Wade of movies about ancient Rome. He expected Julius Caesar to appear around a corner.

Once more, the scene didn’t make sense to him. It was as if this world contained a mixture of styles. Arin’s cottage and compound looked as if they had been built in medieval England. His family’s clothes, too, were a reflection of that period and style: tunics and robes and sandals. Wade’s captors, in contrast, dressed as anyone in Wade’s world might have dressed, with worn suitcoats, vests, baggy trousers, and regular-looking black shoes. But against this Roman architecture, they seemed out of place.
What kind of world is this?
Wade wondered as he had before and would again.

“I’m Movan,” the mustached man said for no obvious reason.

The pudgy man said, “I’m Simpson.”

“You ever need any odd jobs done, you think of us,” Movan said.

“That’s what we do,” added Simpson.

Wade hesitated as a man walked into view ahead of them. He was dressed in a long tunic, just like an ancient Roman senator.
Julius Caesar!
Wade thought.

Movan prodded him on. “No need to be afraid,” he said. “It’s only Madalay. He’s Liven’s assistant. Do you know who Liven is?”

Wade shook his head no.

“Only the head of the elders,” Movan replied, clearly impressed.

“He’s not the head,” Simpson corrected him. “Only the host. He’s like a . . . a . . . mediator for them. Does that make sense to you, boy?”

Wade nodded.

Madalay was directly in front of them now. “You have him,” he said.

“We sure do,” Simpson said. “Just like we promised.”

“He came to us, actually,” Movan said.

“Shut up,” Simpson snapped as he poked Movan in the ribs with his elbow. “Your messenger created a nice diversion while we sneaked in,” he lied to Madalay.

“Good,” Madalay said. “Liven is eager to meet him.” Madalay took a step back to get a better look at Wade in the light. “His hair. It’s astounding. Straight out of a storybook.”

“Never seen anything like it,” Simpson agreed.

“Liven hopes his appearance will have an impact on the elders. Follow me.” Madalay started walking back the way he had come.

“We’re going to the elders themselves?” Movan said. “How’re my clothes? Not too dirty, I hope.”

“Suitably shabby, as usual,” Simpson said.

The hallway deposited them into a large reception area. Here the pillars reached way up to ornate balconies far above. At the top was an enormous stained-glass dome covered with pictures of angels and celestial beings dancing in a blue sky. Wade stumbled as he craned his neck to see it all, though it was darkened and the detail was hard to make out.

Simpson tugged at his sleeve. “This way,” he ordered.

They walked past large wooden doors embellished with patterns of oak leaves and vines. Wade’s mind went to a field trip he’d taken with his class to the Connellsville courthouse. It had looked something like this, but on a more modest scale. They soon reached a smaller but equally ornate door. A hand-painted sign said Chambers.

“Wait here,” Madalay ordered, and he slipped into the room.

In the moment the door was open, Wade could hear men arguing inside. Madalay’s appearance sparked complaints about another interruption. Finally, one man silenced them and instructed Madalay to bring in their guests.

Madalay opened the door wide.

Movan and Simpson stepped forward, blocking Wade from being seen. They smiled proudly to the men in the room.

“Well?” one man droned. “We know these two men. We’ve all employed their services at one time or another.”

Movan and Simpson then moved aside. They obviously wanted Wade to make a dramatic entrance. The group of men—the elders—gasped as if the devil himself had walked into the room.

“He has golden hair!” a man exclaimed as he backed away to the far wall.

Wade felt his face turn red.

“Unbind him,” the man in charge instructed Wade’s captors.

“Are you sure?” the droning man asked.

Another man wrung his hands and inquired, “Does he have powers?”

“I heard he caused quite a commotion today,” one said. “Hundreds of people ran in fear just from the sight of him.”

The man in charge said impatiently, “They fled because they are superstitious fools.” He spoke to Movan. “Did he offer any resistance? Did he strike you blind or give you boils?”

Movan grinned. “Yes, sir, all of the above,” he said sarcastically. “But we recovered.”

“Unbind him, then,” the man in charge snapped.

Movan quickly undid the tape around Wade’s wrists. He was free. But the two men stayed close in case he tried to make a run for it.

“Do you know who we are?” the man in charge asked.

“No, sir.”

“We’re the elders of Sarum,” he said. “I am Liven. That’s Greave of the Kenans, Dedmon of the Mechlites, Krupt of the Shonens, and Acad of the Lahamites.”

Wade wasn’t impressed. “Arin’s going to be really mad about this,” he replied with as much menace as he could muster.

Liven showed mock concern. “Do you think so?” he said. “Will he call down fire from the Unseen One to rescue you? Maybe the holocaust he has been predicting for the past 60 years will finally come true. Sit down, boy.”

Wade sat on a chair next to the wall. All eyes were on him. He didn’t like it.

“Where are you from?” Krupt asked.

“America.”

“Where, exactly, is that?” inquired Dedmon.

“The planet Earth.”

The men laughed.

“As you are a guest, I won’t strike you for your impertinence,” Liven said. “Next time, I’ll forget you’re a guest. Now kindly tell us how it is that you’re with Arin.”

Wade took a deep breath, which caused him to cough.
The smoke in the room
, he thought. When he recovered, he explained to them everything that had happened since he woke up in his bed that morning.
It feels like years ago
, he told himself.

The elders listened to him thoughtfully as he spoke. After he finished, they glanced at one another.

Greave shrugged as if to say, “Well, what do we think?”

“It’s more nonsense,” Krupt said.

“Everything is nonsense to you,” Dedmon complained.

Acad droned, “He’s a peasant boy who’s been put up to this by Arin. He always said that a golden-haired child would come, and now he’s pulled this trick to make us believe him.”

“It’s probably not the real color of his hair,” Greave suggested. “We could arrest him for gross physical alteration.”

“I’m telling you the truth,” Wade said through clenched teeth.

“To make us believe you’re from a different world or time or dimension, you’ll have to be a bit more persuasive,” Liven stated. “Tell us how your world is different from ours.”

“I haven’t seen much of your world,” Wade responded. “Only Arin’s compound.”

“Didn’t you see our city on the way here?”

“Your goons put me in the trunk of their car.”

“I’m sorry,” Liven said without meaning it. “Now, what differences have you noticed?”

Wade thought for a moment, then said, “Their car didn’t smell.”

“Smell like what?”

“Like exhaust, like gas fumes.”

“Automobiles in your world do?” inquired Acad.

“Yes.”

“My word, are you saying your world uses
petrol-burning
engines?” Krupt asked with an undisguised air of disdain.

“Internal combustion engines, yes, sir.”

“Next you’ll be telling us you still use electricity!” Greave said with a laugh.

Wade swallowed hard. “Yes, we do.”

“You’ve not harnessed the energy of the provider of our very lives, the source of our very existence—the
sun
?” asked Dedmon.

It was Wade’s turn to ask, “Do you use the sun for everything?”

“Of course we do!” Dedmon replied. “It drives our autos, our aeroplanes, our ships. It provides energy to our homes and buildings, gives us light by night, coolness for hot days, warmth for cold ones. It is . . . everything.”

“Even your weapons?”

Liven said quickly, “We’re still developing our weapons. War was fairly unknown to us until the last hundred years. We were too busy developing our arts, sciences, and medicines.”

“What kind of weapons do you have in
your
world?” Krupt asked Wade.

Wade thought about it for a moment. “Rifles, machine guns, hand grenades, torpedoes, artillery cannons, bombs—”

Liven gestured wearily. “That’s more than enough,” he said.

“What kind of bombs?” Acad asked.

“The kind that explode.”

Acad was not amused but said sarcastically, “What sorts of bombs do you use:
gas
-powered bombs? Electric bombs, perhaps?”

Wade was tired of being made fun of, so he said to impress them, “We have atomic bombs.”

The elders looked puzzled. “What kind of bombs?” Liven asked.

“Atomic,” Wade repeated.

“You’re going to have to explain that to us,” Liven said.

Wade feigned boredom, like a teacher with silly schoolchildren. “It’s based on nuclear fission,” he explained. “You see, the bomb is made of plutonium or uranium, and neutrons are shot into it, which causes a chain reaction, and then
boom
, the explosion. It could destroy your entire city in just a few seconds.”

The men sat silently, assessing what Wade had said.

“Your world has obviously spent a lot of time developing its warfare,” Liven observed.

“Or your imagination has!” Krupt snorted. “I don’t believe a word of this drivel. This boy is making it all up. Uranium, plutonium, chain reactions . . . it’s nonsense!”

Krupt’s statement triggered a chain reaction of its own as the elders began to argue among themselves. They were divided over whether or not to believe Wade. This then spun into a debate about what to do with Wade now that they had him in custody.

“You have to take me back to Arin!” Wade insisted.

Liven shook his head. “Arin will wait,” he said. “If you are who
you say you are, a boy from another world, we dare not let you loose. If you aren’t, we dare not allow Arin to wreak havoc among the people by using you as a means to frighten them. Morale is low enough right now. We can’t have Arin’s message of doom and gloom taking it any lower.”