Dark Eden (8 page)

“Stupid kids can’t keep their hands off anything. No more syrup.”

She was mopping the metal railing around the opening with a wet rag. From where I lay, it looked as if she was seeing right through me, the silhouette of her bulbous head outlined against the light. A few seconds passed, then she was moving off again, forward toward the library.

It wasn’t until I tried to get up that I realized why Mrs. Goring hadn’t taken notice of a kid on the stairs. I’d thought I’d fallen four or five steps, but this thing was almost as steep as a ladder. I’d fallen ten steps or more, deep into the gloom, and I hadn’t seen any sign of the bottom.

I have to tell Marisa. I have to tell them all.

Just as quickly as I had this thought, I had another.

How could they not know about this ghastly stairway?

It was impossible to imagine Connor Bloom not goading the rest of the guys into trying to climb down. He was the captain of the football team, so it would be his job to push everyone to the limit. He’d have dared Ben and Alex to go deeper and deeper. They knew, and yet they stayed. On top of that, it was stupidly dangerous. What if someone fell into the hole? What then? Something didn’t add up.

I took out my penlight and clicked it on, pointing its meager beam farther down the stairs. A secret part of me had wanted to go deeper, to see how far it went and what was down there. But that feeling passed in an instant as the darkness devoured my little light. A chill enveloped me. Was there no end to the depth of Fort Eden?

I climbed up the stairs just far enough to peer into the room. Mrs. Goring was in the library, where I could hear her mumbling and moving books.
Now’s my chance,
I thought, and climbed the rest of the way out, standing at the edge of the opening. The weight of my pack was pulling me off balance, as if it was part of a plot that involved me tumbling down an endless, winding staircase. I felt as if I was suffocating. I needed air,
real
air, not the dank stuff of a bomb shelter.

Crossing the room, I opened the main door as quietly as I could. Seeing no one, I ran through the clearing and into the trees. The rain had stopped and the sun was up, a warm day rapidly blooming. I knew it would turn bitter cold by nightfall, but for now I was free of Fort Eden and Mrs. Goring’s basement, filling my lungs with mountain air.

It was a short walk to the pond, not more than five minutes, where I heard voices bouncing off the water. Connor, Ben, and Alex were horsing around at the water’s edge, but no one had taken the plunge. The girls sat together on a dock, their feet dangling in the frigid pond. There were long limbs from mossy trees scattered over the pond, which wasn’t very big. I was sure I could throw a rock from one side to the other if I tried.

“He can stay down there a hell of a long time,” Connor said to the girls. They all chose to ignore him. They were looking off to the left; and from my position in the trees, I could see that they were staring at a small shed that sat on stilts over the water’s edge.

A body burst out of the pond, grabbing hold of one of the beams supporting the small structure, gasping for air. In his other hand he held a pipe wrench.

“Seventy-four seconds,” Avery said, looking at her watch, then at Marisa.

“Not bad!” Kate yelled across the pond.

It was Davis who had been underwater, but now he’d climbed onto the small landing in front of the shed. I guessed it was the pump house.

Davis was everything I wasn’t, and I was glad Kate and Avery were fighting for his attention. It left less room for Marisa, and I didn’t stand a chance against this guy. He was tall with dark hair, and muscular in a way I could only dream of. A straight, gladiator nose sat flawlessly beneath dark eyes. He flashed a smile at the girls, then ducked into the pump house and started banging the pipe wrench against something I couldn’t see.

“This guy’s a real player,” I whispered to myself, pushing branches away from my face so I could see more of the pond.

Avery surprised everyone by diving off the dock into the frosty water. She stayed under until she, too, reached the pump house and emerged breathless, reaching up her hand until Davis pulled her free of the water. The two of them laughed, Kate stewed, Marisa peered into the forest. Connor pushed Ben into the water, and it was game on for the guys, which I was very happy not to participate in. Still, the whole thing was like a scene from summer camp. Hanging by the water, flirting, horsing around, laughing. I felt alone as I so often did, the trees pressing in against me as if they were my only friends in the world.

After a time Kate called to Davis.

“I’m ready now. I need to talk to you first though.”

I thought of how stupid I’d been. What made me think these cures would only occur at night? What if one of the monitors in the bomb shelter turned on and I missed it?

Davis had on one of those diver watches, and, after looking at it, he stood. He said something to Avery I couldn’t hear and she blushed, then he dove back into the pond, resurfacing at the dock twenty or so seconds later.

“I need to be back in the city by three,” he said, wiping a wet hand down his face. “With the path and the bad road, it’s a couple hours.”

“I thought you were staying with us,” Kate complained. It was after noon, which meant Davis would only be around another hour. I got the feeling he hadn’t tried searching for me as he’d said he would. He seemed more interested in Avery and in fixing whatever was wrong with the pump.

“No can do. But I’ll be back tomorrow morning; you can count on it. I’m on the case until the pump is fixed and Will Besting is found.”

Good luck. Ain’t gonna happen.

He climbed out of the water and took a towel from a stack on the dock, then his feet were in a pair of flip-flops and he was walking with Kate. They were coming toward me and I got nervous, ducking farther into the brush and the trees. It was because of this that I only heard bits and pieces of their conversation as they walked past. Something about a job he had in Los Angeles, working in food services for a film crew that made straight-to-video horror flicks. A lot of night shooting and the zombies got hungry, or something like that, followed by laughter. I stayed behind them as they made their way on the path back to the fort. I went deeper in the woods to their left. Their voices grew quieter. When they reached Fort Eden, they sat on the steps and spoke so quietly that I couldn’t hear what they were saying. I moved off into the trees, and snapped a twig, which Kate didn’t seem to notice but Davis did. He got up, stared in my general direction, and spoke.

“Will, if you’re out there, you should come in. We all want you here. And you know it’s going to get cold again tonight.”

I didn’t move a muscle, didn’t even breathe. If Davis came into the woods, he’d surely find me in no time flat.

“Come on, Will. It’s okay.”

Kate pulled on the towel around Davis’s neck, and he sat again. I thought I heard her say something about me being able to take care of myself, but I couldn’t be sure. Everyone else came bounding up the path, the outdoors having put them all in a good mood. A few minutes of small talk at the entryway, then the door opened and Mrs. Goring’s voice filled the clearing.

“Lunch. Now.”

She disappeared inside, and everyone followed. Davis was the last to go in; but before he did, he turned and stared into the trees.

He knew I was there. I could tell. Tomorrow he would come looking for me, but it would be too late. I’d already be gone.

The door to Mrs. Goring’s bunker wasn’t locked, which I’d both hoped for and sort of expected. I never saw her carrying any keys around or locking any doors. It was the middle of nowhere, and it seemed to me that security was pretty well covered by the looming fact of her awfulness. No one, and I mean
no one
, wanted to be on Mrs. Goring’s bad side. I could think of little else that would upset her more than someone breaking into her house.

Davis didn’t stay in the fort for more than ten minutes before he was back out again. I’d only just gotten up the courage to run across the clearing, open Mrs. Goring’s door, and slip inside. I caught sight of him coming out as I was going in and wondered if he’d guessed where I was.

I made my way downstairs, finding the door to the basement open as well, alert for Mrs. Goring’s return from delivering lunch. Davis was in the woods, either searching for me or heading up the path for home, so at least I was safe for the moment.

Pulling the bomb shelter door nearly closed, I settled in and switched the monitor back on. They were at the table, eating and talking, the energy in the room pretty high. I tried to catch a glimpse of Ben Dugan’s T-shirt but couldn’t. A badge of honor, I supposed, some kind of camp T-shirt you got if you let them scare you half to death.

Soon enough Mrs. Goring was back, the door into the basement pulled shut, and I was sealed in once more. I lay on the cot, so tired, and my young brother haunted my half-wakeful dreams.

That Davis dude is trouble. He can have whatever girl he wants. Better get with it.

What do you know? You’re like ten.

I’m thirteen, Will. And I’ve had a lot more dates than you. Trust me.

Shut up, Keith. You’re an idiot.

Maybe I’ll give Marisa a try. She’s not half bad, especially that T-shirt. What a come on.

I’m going to hit you now.

I dare you.

The dream dissolved into madness, my fist hitting Keith’s face and the two of us tumbling down a flight of winding stairs into darkness, our limbs hopelessly entangled. When we hit the bottom, Keith was gone; but Dr. Stevens was there, standing in the blue room, holding the helmet.

Sit down. I have something for you.

I won’t.

Are you sure?

I woke in a sweat, looked at my watch, and groaned. 3:13
PM
. Such a vivid dream, almost real. I shook my head awake and tried to calm down. The monitor was lifeless, and I thought with some alarm that the system had died again. I didn’t remember turning it off, but I must have, because when I clicked the
M
button, the main room was there again. I saw the black opening to the stairs and trembled. Everyone was seated at the table, including Rainsford, his back facing the camera. When was I going to see this guy’s face, I thought, and it was as if he’d heard me speak.

He got up, appeared to be talking, then turned in my direction, walking slowly with his hands behind his back.

“Wow, he’s old,” I said. It was the very first thing that came into my mind. Rainsford looked ancient. He walked with a slow gait, as if his knees were failing him. Silver hair, thick eyebrows, a thin face. If he and Mrs. Goring were in a cage match, he’d get his butt handed to him.

It was frustrating not being able to hear his voice. He didn’t look directly into the camera, more to the side; but even seeing him made me want to give up the fight. The way he moved when he spoke was almost hypnotic, a certain cadence that dulled the senses.

He turned, and Kate Hollander got up.

I could almost hear her saying the words as she came alongside him.

“I’m ready.”

The two walked together until they reached the door to the girls’ quarters. He touched her gently on the shoulder and she went inside. No one at the table moved as Rainsford slowly walked past and started down the winding stairs, back to his private chambers. I couldn’t help thinking he’d break his neck on the way down. After Rainsford was gone I felt a tingling in my foot and realized it had fallen asleep. The rest of me seemed to have already awoken from a dream.

What just happened? Did I see him or dream him? It was hard to tell if I’d awoken from a dream within a dream.

I pressed the white
G
-for-girls button, and the screen popped to life with an empty chair and three numbers stenciled in red on the back wall.

2
,
5
,
7

I put in my earbuds as Kate entered the room and sat down to face Dr. Stevens’s monitor. I dialed up one of Kate’s sessions with Dr. Stevens. Watching her was so strange, the words in my head not quite matching up; and yet somehow it all felt orchestrated.

What if you’re really sick; have you thought of that?

That’s just stupid. Look at me. I’m fine.

Looks can be deceiving.

Not in my case. What you see is what you get.

You know, Kate, the doctors won’t hurt you.

Tell that to my mom.

They’re not hurting her. They’re trying to help.

Nineteen surgeries and her head is still a mess. Sounds like a failure from where I’m sitting.

Let’s talk about that, about where you were when the accident happened.

Let’s not.

It’s important, Kate.

No, it’s not. And I don’t want to talk about it.

That was how it went with Kate Hollander. She was terrified of doctors, of anyone who might try to fix her. There were times in those sessions when it sounded as if Kate was in charge and Dr. Stevens was not. But through scores of audio files I had also discovered a many-faceted Kate. She could be calm, lucid. Sometimes she would cry because of her fear or because of a terrible guilt. And in those times she was tender, like a small child. At her most vulnerable, she would say things I didn’t understand.

I like the pain. It’s mine; I can control it.

And in those times I began to understand that her fear wasn’t really about doctors but about something deeper, something I didn’t fully understand. I knew her mother had been in an accident and that the accident had scarred her head and face, robbed her of her beauty and something more. Kate’s mom was never the same after. She was not missing but was not altogether there anymore, either.

Kate Hollander got up, and I took out my earbuds. She had a thick paintbrush in her hand, as Ben Dugan had; and, walking to the wall, she obliterated the number 2 in a crush of purple paint. When she was done, she dropped the brush at her feet without turning around, rubbed the back of her head as if it might be bothering her, and left the room.