Nirvana Effect (22 page)

Edward drew his breath.  He really had no right answer here.  It was a roll of the dice. 

He wished he were in the trance, but instead he’
d have to rely on blind luck.  He
opened the closet door and
made a beeline to the reception area.

Diane
started to say something, but he urgently motioned
for silence
. 
Edward slipped out of the front door and didn’t dare look back.

Podo
’s job was driver.  He hadn’t gotten the hang of it, yet.  He’d told the Messenger this, but Tomy wouldn’t hear it.  Tomy the Messenger simply said that success was foreseen, so
Podo
could drive well enough. 

Podo
had mastered the accelerator
, though
. 
And h
e could hit the brakes.  It was the steering and doing it all at the same time that had him worried.

Cars were such odd things.  It didn’t make sense to him why one would want one car instead of
horses or mules
.  The car only did what it was told.  A horse or any sort of animal was much smarter.  There was no training a car, only its rider.  And animals were much cheaper.

He and his crew were parked on the side of the road in a
beat-
up
white
Toyota truck
.
T
hey’d stolen
it from the other side of town.  The M
essenger had told them to
drive
to the
most eastern
road on the outskirts of the city proper. 

It was wartime, so no one spoke unless it had to do with the battle.  It was quiet.  It gave
Todo
time to practice spinning the steering wheel left and right.  Cars passed occasionally.  The
odd
pedestrian walked by, staring into the truck before turning his
or her head when met with the Onge’s
unified stares.

Finally
, one of P
odo’s
crew tapped him on the shoulder.  “He comes.” 
Podo
jerked his head back.  A strange
ly flat
red car had pulled around a bend
and was now approaching them rapidly. 
Podo
slammed the
gearstick
into drive
.  The truck lurched forward.  He heard a couple of his crew fall backwards into the trailer bed
as he pulled onto the road. 

The
red
car was coming quickly.  It would take a god horse to keep up with
it
. 
Podo
turned his truck sideways and hit the brakes
, effectively blocking the road.

The car jerked to a halt just meters away.  A white man was in the car.  He wasted no time yelling gibberish and shaking his fist.

Podo
nodded to Lew’tec, the Onge seated next to him. 
Lew’tec had a
battle
stick in his hand.  On one end it was blunt like a baton,
but
on the other
end
it
was
sharp, with metal jutting out from the
edge of the wood. 

Lew’tec stepped out of the truck and approached the man in the car
.  The white man stopped shaking his fist and
instead
held out a hand.  He suddenly became peaceful, even obsequious.  He politely sounded out the same gibberish over and over again.  It sounded like
some sort of
a question.

Once
Lew’tec reached the driver’s side door
, he knocked the white man over
the head with the blunt end of the stick.  The white man didn’t go out, even though the collision had made quite a thudding sound. 

The man scampered to the passenger side of his car and tried to climb over the door.  He was clawing to get away.  He hadn’t panicked.

Lew’tec simply walked over to the other side of the car in a business-like manner and hit him over the head again.  This time the white man dropped limp into the leather seats of
his vehicle
.

“Dr. Knowles, there is another matter that I would like to discuss with you.”

“Here is the second examination room.”  Callista Knowles showed it to him.  “And what is that?”

“What was
that
?” asked Fields suddenly.  His plump red face jerked to
the side
.  He stared
wide-eyed
down the hall.   

Callista followed his gaze.  The closet had swung open.

“Someone just came out of the closet.  I just saw it in a flash as I looked up.  Was someone in the closet?”  He was puzzled more than alarmed.

Callista chuckled nervously, filling in the time while her mind caught up to the situation. 
Edward.  The closet.
 

“Probably Diane getting a pen or something,” she said quickly.  “Or perhaps a ghost.”  She laughed.  “I may be needing
your
services, Father.”  He laughed but still kept looking at the closet.  “Still, unlike her to leave the closet open,” she said.  “There are very important medications inside, and it’s vital that they don’t get
stolen or spoiled
.  Excuse me for a minute.” 

She walked up to the reception area, playing the part of indignant doctor.  In a suitable tone, using a dialect she knew Fields would be unable to decipher, she asked, “Did my patient leave?”

“Yes, just a minute ago,” answered Duiyon.  “He told me to stay quiet.  I’m sorry if you didn’t want him to go.”

“It’s fine he went.  He might come back
, though
.  Expect him.  But speak to no one about him.  He’s a secret.” 

Duiyon nodded.  There had been other visitors to the clinic who desired discretion on the part of the staff.  This was nothing new.

Edward.  Edward.  Edward.
  She wanted to end this inspection as soon as possible.  She needed time to digest this sudden shift
in her life
.  At least he was gone for a moment.  That was some respite. 

Eventually he would be back
, though,
for whatever he had wanted to begin with. 
At least, I hope.

There was another part of her that hoped he went elsewhere. 
Please. 
Maybe he could go to the same place she’d buried all those memories from a decade ago.

When Callista returned, Fields was already poking around in the closet.  “Dr. Knowles, you barely have anything in here that you need.”

“I’ve been making do.  I haven’t been able to stock disposables since the last time St. Mary’s gave us a grant.”  There were more basics in the basement, but who was counting?  There was no other clinic on the island and no better use for the funds.

“Hmmm…” mumbled the old priest.  He then turned to her suddenly.  “
Oh yes, the other thing I need
to discuss with you.  It’s not in your province, actually, but maybe you’ve heard something from one of your patients.”

“Yes?” she asked, trying to keep the nerves out of her voice as best she could.

“Do you know anything about the Onge village
that lies some miles
south of here?”

What sort of trouble has Edward gotten himself into? 
“I don’t usually treat Onge.  They don’t trust Westerners.” 

“Treat any traders that deal with them?”

“A couple years ago I treated someone like that.  From what I understand, they don’t have much to trade - live off the land, basically.”

“Basically,” echoed Fields
, walking back toward the reception area.
  “Well, there have been some alarming rumors from a couple of the natives that have dealings with them.”

“What sort of rumors?” she asked.

“That they h
ave a living god in their midst
, a sort of Onge messiah that is leading them to liberation.  There is a new structure in their camp, and all of their motions have changed.  It is all quite peculiar,” he said.

“Are these sources reliable?” she asked.

“Hardly.  There are only two, they give conflicting stories, and they were both taken
through
a splotchy translator.  But those fundamentals I just stated were in common.”

“Tribal superstition
.  Maybe a new war chief amongst
them.  I hear it is commonplace for them to duel and kill each other off.”

“Yes,” acknowledged Fields.  They had stopped walking.  His eyes were on the clean floor of the clinic, but his mind was obviously elsewhere.  “Dr. Knowles,” he finally said.  “I tell you this in strictest confidence, but it may help
you
to help
me
in case you run across any information that could be of assistance.  One of our very own priests is on mission in that Onge camp.  He’s the only Westerner there.  I haven’t heard from him in over a month, which is not uncommon
,
but not common either.  I fear for his safety.”

“Of course, you‘ll be the first person to know if I hear anything,” said Callista. 
In other words
, I guess I won’t tell anyone

Odd looking at
Edward as a priest now,
she thought as she saw
Fields
out.  It
was
bizarre having Edward in the same category as Fields.
  Edward certainly didn’t act priestly when he was dating me back in our teenage years.  And he certainly didn’t act priestly hiding in my closet…

After the priest left, she
couldn’t help but check the streets for Edward.  She saw no signs of him
. 
He’ll be back.
  She hoped so, and she didn’t.

What has Edward gotten himself into?

She didn’t know.  She was not one prone to worry.  She knew she didn’t have any way to determine an answer, so that was that.  She wasn’t going to think about it again until she had more
data
.

She would probably need to do a lot of thinking in the coming months
;
no use wasting all that brainpower.

She walked back
to
the exam room where she’d first seen Edward after a decade, only half an hour ago.  She could almost see him again, sitting in that chair.  It had been so long since she’d seen him.  She hadn’t expected to react like that.

She’d done everything she could think of to
leave the door open for something like this
.  In one way it was a triumph for her.  It was a painful triumph.

The seven years had been kind to him.  He
was
more handsome now than before.  He’d shed his boyish features for a more
chiseled look.

Stop thinking
. 
Think about it later.  Stop thinking. There’s nothing to think about now.  So think of nothing.

Edward.  Edward. 

She closed the door so Duiyon couldn’t hear her cry.  She could blot out everything from her mind but his name.  The name was all it took to make her bonkers.

Sala grew weary.  She looked up from her work to her mother, who scowled and pushed Sala’s hands back to the plants.  There were hundreds of them. 

Funny plants
, the girl thought.  They were thin
,
like brush, with hard trunks like pine.  The trunks were covered in sap.  She couldn’t touch the sap.  It was poisonous.  One of the workers had gotten ill from touching the sap and still wasn’t able to work.  She lay under a tree vomiting all day and night.  Sala wanted to sit under a tree all day and night, but didn’t want to vomit.  She just wanted to rest.

First, they’d transplanted all the plants to the secret garden
.  Now, they had to put them
in special pots of clay.  She’d never seen such pots before.  They’d come from machines with wheels
that sounded like monsters
.  They said the machines came from the city.  She didn’t understand any of it.

Well, she did understand something.  She understood that
her hands hurt from digging.  The work was slow and tedious.  Ten women were working, and they would be working late into the night, every night for many moons.

Once they put the plants into the pots, they took them to another secret garden.  Every day they would move them, until the last day, when they
carried
them to the
ir
final destination, by the sea.

“Mother, why must we work into the night?” asked the young Onge girl.