Dirty Eden (14 page)

Sophia motioned ‘this way’ and led me away from the cell and past a dozen others. The dungeon reeked of urine and feces. Prisoners talked to each other through the walls, and talked to themselves
and
the walls. Some stood pressing their faces between the bars of their tiny door windows.

The old woman led us up a dozen sets of rock stairs and onto a more scenic floor.
The ceilings towered, held by the marble and stone pillar foundation. The residents slithered along past us with proud chins and noses in the air. Cold stares shot through Sophia and me like verbal insults. The people here were clearly unlike those that lived outside the fortress. Their way of dress was rich. The air smelled of expensive musk oils and exotic fruits and sweet foods.

I could feel every disapproving eye upon me and it briefly reminded me of my interview day at the office, the way Mr. Bastardi looked upon me as a rich prick might look upon a factory-worker.

“Where are we going?” I said. I had wanted to ask the question the second we stepped out of the cell.

The short old woman continued to waddle forward, the keys steadily clanking against her thick thigh.

“To see Queen Illian,” answered Sophia, looking back once to catch my eye. “I told you I could get you in.”

Oh, thank God...thank God that one ain’t the queen!

“Yes,” I said aloud, “you did say you could.” I looked around me, watching those watching me.

I was about to see the queen. It suddenly hit me, I was about to stand face to face with a real queen. I was going to...sleep with a woman I had never met, nor seen, nor spoken to beforehand. I couldn’t shut out the disturbing pictures in my mind.

We came to a stop underneath a towering archway where on each side, intricate stone statues of a woman and a tree had been carved. The room just beyond the archway looked more like a foyer, small compared to the hallway.

“Wait here,” grumbled the old woman. She never did look at us when she barked her demands, but I was glad because that damn glass eye of hers was unsettling. It wasn’t right in the socket and looked as though she had been punched and the glass eye shoved back too far and made uneven with the real eye.

She reached up with her pudgy knuckles and knocked three times on the tall oak door.

The door made a clicking sound from the inside and then the old woman went in alone, softly shutting and locking the door behind her.

I stood there with my fingers interlaced in front of me, fidgeting. There was an odd scent in the air, like wet dirt with a smidgen of pine needles. The floor, I noticed when the heel of my sandal felt uneven, was laced with tiny roots grasping the crevices of the tile. I examined the walls and floor closer, seeing that the roots were coming from underneath the door, and some sprouted up from the floor itself, snaking along the ceramic grooves perfect and complexly.

Barely a full five minutes went by before the old woman came back, just when I managed to calm my nerves some.

“Before you can go in,” the old woman began, “you have to answer one question correctly.”

“And what if I get it wrong?”

The old woman grinned wide and her glass eye spun around in its socket. She reached up to steady it. “If you get it wrong, I get to have my way with you before you go back to that cell and await the hanging noose.”

“But Norman’s the real deal,” Sophia said, stepping up, “so he’ll get it right.”

I clearly wasn’t as confident.

“And since you’re not my type,” the old woman added, “I won’t have much use for you, so I’ll likely just harvest a few parts and be on my way.”

I took a deep breath and felt Sophia’s small hand pat me on the back encouragingly.

“Alright, shoot,” I said.

The old woman interlaced her fat fingers and rested them against her even fatter belly. She paused and then said, “Which of the Four Horsemen carries scales?”

Oh no...I know this, but I can’t remember! Shit!

I began to pace, one arm across my stomach, chin in the other hand.

“I know this,” I said, still pacing.

“Well then answer it,” Sophia urged, “Come on.”

“Hush! I need to think.”

“But you said you knew, so what’s there to think about?”

“Please,” I said, stopping to look at her once, “just be quiet.”

The old woman looked even more confident now. Her grin had become a smirk; her glass eye seemed more alert and alive than the real one. Already she let her hands loose as if ready to take hold of me any second and drag me off to her torture chamber.

“Famine,” I answered. “Yeah, it’s Famine. He rides the black horse and carries the scales. I did a paper on the Four Horsemen in Sunday School.”

The old woman’s smirk quickly faded, replaced by disappointment. She stood there for a moment, rubbing her hands on her orange apron. Then she looked up at me and tipped her pointy witch hat with respect.

“I guess you really are the real deal,” said the old woman who was no longer intimidating, but rather appreciative.

“I told you,” said Sophia. “I brought a good one this time, didn’t I?”

Sophia held out her hand.

“I guess you did,” the old woman answered and then reached in her apron pocket and pulled out...I did a double take...the old woman pulled out a
bean
.

“Oooh, what is it this time?” Sophia giggled, taking the little white bean into her hand. “A horse, an elephant? Oh! You know what would be the ultimate reward? A woman! Yes, with big boobs, shapely hips, long silky hair, pouty lips and a nice round butt!”

I stood stunned.

“See for yourself,” said the old woman, more interested in me.

Sophia popped the bean into her mouth and swallowed. In seconds, her body began to change. Thousands of little black hairs sprouted from her face, neck and arms. Her eyes bulged so large and fast that I stepped backward in awe, worried they were going to explode. Sophia dropped to the floor on her hands and knees.

“What’s happening?” I backed my way against the exit.

The old woman placed her hand on the doorknob and turned. “What are the Four Horsemen, anyway?”

“Huh?”

“The Four Horseman,” she repeated, “I just ask the questions the queen gives me; don’t never know what they’re about.”

“What?” I said, confused and much more focused on Sophia whose face had distorted so horribly by now that I could hardly watch any longer. Something was sprouting from her back, ripping through the fabric of her bloodstained dress. Wings. Clear wings with little black veins.

I had forgotten the old woman’s question quickly. “She’s turning into...a
fly
?”

And then in a strange puff of smoke like a blown-out candlewick, Sophia was the size of a pinky fingernail.

“Bah!” said the old woman. “It’s a magic imp bean. Never know what new form each one contains, but then beggars can’t be choosers.”

She gestured, opening the door to the queen’s chambers, “Come on. It’s rude to keep the queen waiting.”

Sophia buzzed away in the opposite direction.

THE QUEEN’S CHAMBER WAS beautiful, though odd, and vast from stone wall to stone wall and floor to ceiling. There were trees everywhere, rising up like pillars to hold up the scaling ceiling. Birds of all kinds flitted about, singing and squawking and hovering. Tiny red hummingbirds buzzed back and forth as we walked toward the queen’s great golden dais. Roots, marble, and gold made up the floor. This place was old, ancient like the places only read about in history books, or seen in documentaries.

It was a beautiful, wonderful place like a forest, yet not exactly so, with its odd atmosphere. Animals were not supposed to be like this, utterly uncaring of my presence. The birds weren’t supposed to hover a foot in front of me with strange smiling faces.

“No, have not seen one of those in many, many, many years, indeed,” said one red hummingbird just before buzzing off through the trees.

“Nor have I, Master Dishini,” said another.

“This way,” said the old woman, hurrying me along.

Amazed, my steps slowed almost to a stop.

The dais came fully into view. A grand golden stage where a throne made of winding roots glistened with sap sat proud and empty.

“Stand here,” the old woman said, stopping me.

I stood at the foot of the dais, looking up some six or seven massive steps.

The old woman went into an awkward bow and I thought that I probably should too, awkwardness and all.

“Did you bring your seed, Norman, Man of the Earth and son of Adam?”

Where the voice came from, I couldn’t tell. She was there, somewhere, somewhere close, not up above and not behind me, but right there on the dais. I looked to my left at the old woman as I slowly came out of my bow. She ventured back underneath the canopy of trees and stopped many feet away, waiting.

I swallowed hard. “Ummm,” I began nervously, “Yes, ma’am.”

“Walk the steps of the dais so that I may see your face in the light.”

Cautiously, I took the first two steps and then stopped dead. Sitting in a giant pot next to the throne-like tree was a plant that moved and breathed and spoke.

“A fine Man of the Earth you are,” she said with words so graceful and serene. Her deep green leaves moved fluidly as if a gentle breeze brushed them to give them animation. “Come closer, Giver of the Seed.”

I looked all around me before moving further, trying to sort out exactly what I was seeing and what my purpose here was. Before, I thought I knew, but now I wasn’t so sure.

I stepped up onto the dais and waited. A nervous, sickly feeling wrenched my chest.

“It has been too long to count the years anymore,” said the queen with lips of leaves. “Lucifer the Fallen has finally found one that can make it past the chamber door
—
it’s quite a funny thing.”

She paused to let me speak, but for now, it was hardly something I was capable of pulling off.

Another hummingbird buzzed by, followed by a foul-mouthed Blue Jay.

I paid no mind.

“Lilith’s time in Creation nears its end,” the queen began, “and you will help the Great Trees bear fruit once more. With the offering of your seed, I and my kin shall grow and be strong again, to set in motion the End of the Beginning and reverse the fate of the world.”

“...Uhh...okay,” I said.

“Tell me,” the queen said, reaching out a long stemmed arm and touching the side of my unshaven face. “What year is it in the Outside?”

I absently reached up to feel the spot her leaf left tingling. I was much taller than the queen, having to look down upon her in her great pot, but her stems seemed to grow and slither and sway when and where they needed, without difficulty.

“Well, it was 2011 when I left...hopefully it’ll be 2011 when I go back.”

“When you go back?” said the queen.

“Yes...,”

A stem snaked up the back of my neck, tickling me behind the ear.

“Perhaps you will,” she added with reluctance.

“Wait, what do you mean,
perhaps
?”

“I shall answer all of your questions once you do what it is that you came here to do.”

I truly didn’t know
what
to do. Surely, I wasn’t expected to have sex with a plant....

“Plant your seed within my pot and give me life again.”

I looked at her pot, watching the dark, moist soil move as her body moved underneath it and then I covertly glanced at my crotch.

“I-I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”

“Ashes and earth will imprison the frail,” said the queen.

Two more stems grew long and found my face, caressing my dry lips with the soft curve of their aromatic leaves.

Ashes and earth.

I had heard that before.
Oh yeah! Back in the alley, it was part of a riddle told by the twins.

“Blood of love?” I said, recalling the rest of the riddle.

The queen’s budding head nodded once, softly.

I thought about the riddle for a rather long and anxious time, but still I did not understand.
Ashes and earth will imprison the frail, blood of love will lift the veil.

“I am allowed to tell you anything that I know, but I cannot tell you how to give me life.” She added, “It is forbidden.”

“Why doesn’t
that
surprise me?” I mumbled under my breath.

The queen retracted her slithering limbs slowly.

“When Man Fell, his eyes were opened, and to see then was to die,” she began. “The Garden of Eden and all within it, we too began to see and we withered and died until the great sun caught what was left of us aflame and then our ashes were covered by the earth. Over time, offerings from man have allowed me to grow again, but only the offering of a man’s seed will allow me to
Be
again.”

I was getting frustrated with myself.

I knelt and then sat at the queen’s level, knees bent underneath me. I could feel dead, crunchy leaves and grains of dirt underneath my palms.

“But I don’t understand what you need from me,” I said desperately. “Is it my blood?”

The queen’s leafy makeshift mouth smiled.

Ashes and earth will imprison the frail, blood of love will lift the veil.

I ripped through my thoughts, cursing myself quietly.
What does it mean?

“The answer will take the breath right out of you,” the queen said.

Instantly, I thought of the anomalies in the Field of Yesterday.

Take the breath out of me? Blood of...

“...blood of love,” I continued aloud, “blood of the heart. That’s it; the seed is my heart....”

I paused, suddenly not excited about figuring out the riddle all on my own. “No, that can’t be right...
right
?”

“It is with the heart of a man, a true son of Adam, that the Tree of Life can live and Be again.”

I went to leave the dais, but the fat old woman stepped up to the end of the last stair. She looked at me with that scolding glass eye, thick cauliflower arms crossed tight over her large breasts.

The queen, voice still as soft as ever said, “You do not wish to offer your seed?”

“It’s, uhhh, not that. It’s just that
—
”

I dashed off the dais, knocking the old woman down on my way toward the chamber doors. Birds scattered. I ran as fast as I could, the heel of one floppy sandal bending under my foot, almost causing me to trip. I ran until I came to the door, bracing my hands upon it and pushing with all my strength.

The door did not budge.

I scrambled to find the way to unlock it, but it was a useless and embarrassing attempt.

A hand touched my shoulder from behind.

I turned and felt an eye-watering sting. I never actually saw the old woman’s fist soaring at me.

“You ever knock me over like that again,” said the fat old woman, “and I’ll make sure you go back to the Outside with the hands of a child molester and the tongue of a cannibal.”

I blinked through the burning behind my nostrils.

“Please, Norman,” said the queen from her pot upon the dais, “you need not fear anything here. I am the Tree of Life, and I can give life for I
am
the Hand of God.”

The old woman took me by the back of my tunic.

“No,” demanded the queen, “he must be willing.”

“I’m not willing to rip out my heart and put it in a pot of dirt!”

That doesn’t even make any fucking sense!

“You fear death?” said the queen.

“Yes, as a matter of fact I
do
!”

“Why?”

“Why not?” I said with a corrosive laugh. “Maybe if I was like you I wouldn’t be afraid, but I’m not and I have every right to be scared shitless, especially considering...” There was a bitter twinge of mockery in those words.

“But why fear it if I can reverse it? I am the
—
”

“Yeah, yeah,” I said, “You’re the Tree of Life and blah, blah, blah. Still doesn’t mean I’m gonna put my heart in your...
pot-of-dirt
.”

I threw my hands above me. “I’m really disappointed to be honest. I thought I was going to get to bang a queen, and as much as that thought terrified me because I worried you’d look like...well, like
her
,” I looked over at the fat, old woman who snarled back at me, “I still would’ve done it. But this
—
nope, this isn’t exactly what I had in mind.”

“You are not dead,” said the queen, green limbs swaying back and forth, stretching across the dais for no particular reason. “And it is not painful, is it?”

Confusion took over and then something told me to look down. There was a hole in my chest, just as it was in the Field of Yesterday when the anomaly held my heart in its hand. Only this time the old woman held it in hers. I gasped and fell to the floor, eyes rolling in the back of my head.

The punch to my face must have been the distraction she needed to reach out and rip it from my chest.

“Give it back to him,” the queen instructed. “You have done well to demonstrate, now give it back before he fades.”

The old woman grumbled something behind closed lips, hesitated and then bent over, placing my bloody, beating heart next to me on the floor. I reached out and grabbed it, but it slipped through my thumb and index finger and plopped back onto the floor. The old woman chortled standing over me.

I ignored her and scrambled for my heart, which seemed like the slipperiest thing I’d ever touched. By the time I had a good grip on it, I began to wonder how it was even that I was still alive, how I was able to scramble for anything at all. I sat up before finally going back into a stand, heart tightly in both hands, beating and constricting and very much alive.

I looked across the chamber at the queen up on the dais in her big pot.