The Enclave (30 page)

The news hit Zowan hard, all the grief and guilt he’ d suffered during his time in quarantine returning tenfold, his pain no longer blunted by a drug-induced haze or confusing hallucinations of Andros’s voice begging him to find him and free him. One moment he was on the verge of tears, the next boiling with anger over something petty and insignificant. He’ d been snappish and impatient and downright mean to his poor senior assistant in the goat barn, and just trying to be civil and normal at dinner had been a challenge. It was hard to function properly when he felt as if his life had been turned upside down and shaken into a disorganized muddle. Reality had blended with fantasy, and he struggled now to pull them apart.

He’ d told no one of the things he’d experienced during his recovery—not the pink ants, not his exchange with Gaias, not the strange visitation from the one who called himself
I Am
, and especially not his encounter with Neos. Dr. Xavier had cautioned him upon his release against giving credence to anything he might recall of his time there because the toxins had caused him to hallucinate various visitors with whom he’ d spoken. But the truth was he’ d had no visitors.

Perhaps. All Zowan knew was that he’ d first learned of Andros’s death through Gaias. And so far, everything Neos had said would happen had happened. Moreover he’d not been able to get the memory of the one who’d called himself
I Am
out of his mind, nor his command to leave the Enclave. Nor had he forgotten Neos’s promise that if he came to the Star Garden tonight, Neos would set him free. Maybe it really was all hallucination, manufactured by his deepest dreams and desires, but in case it wasn’t, he’d be here. If nothing happened, then he’d know for sure. . . .

The Star Garden’s lights were always kept low to highlight the artificial stars in the night-sky dome overhead. As Zowan arrived, the musicians were unfolding their music stands and setting them before the four chairs clustered to one side of the garden’s central fountain. Chairs and benches had been set out on all the levels for the people to sit on, the first level already completely filled.

Zowan made his way to the top level and around to the side opposite the stairs, where two empty padded benches flanked the golden portrait panel of the ancient Sumerian queen Summat-rama. The same place he’ d sat with Andros the two times they’d engaged in heretical conversation. Had Neos known that somehow?

As he approached he eyed the panel, in case his brother had left a clue or sign to reassure him, but saw nothing. Turning his back on the benches and panel, he braced his forearms on the railing and watched the crowd grow beneath him.

Of course, Neos’s instruction had made more sense when Zowan hadn’t known there’d be a special function going on in the garden at the same time. Tonight would be a difficult time to make contact, with so many people, including Enforcers, packed into the place. And meeting at the highest level, with five flights of spiraling stairs to descend to the exit, didn’t make very much sense, either.

His gaze caught on the tall, lanky form and dark face of his friend and sleepcell mate Parthos, climbing the spiral stair between the second and third levels. He was one of a continuous moving line heading ever upward through all four levels. Erebos, their third cellmate, followed Parthos, and after him came Terra, dressed in a white linen tunic and dark ankle-length skirt, her two red braids tied together at the middle of her back. Two young men followed her, and then, sure enough, little black-haired Helios appeared around the curve.

Zowan watched Parthos reach the third level and step immediately onto the next spiral to the fourth. When the others came right after him without hesitation, Zowan knew they were coming up to join him—despite the fact he’ d been a cranky pain in the neck today, and that he’ d told Parthos he didn’t intend to come at all.

But they were his friends, and they had been Andros’s friends, too, and they were grieving as badly as he was, so how could he drive them away? Parthos reached the fifth level and for the first time made eye contact with him, then led the others around the railing to where Zowan stood. Without a word they took up flanking positions, Terra to his right, Parthos to his left, the other three at the ends of the row. Not one of them said a word.

Well, this would certainly put a new wrinkle in whatever plans Neos had for contacting him. He wanted to tell them all to go away, that he didn’t feel like having company right now. But he couldn’t make himself utter the words. Maybe they would all lose interest and go off to bed before time for his meeting. Maybe his meeting would never happen, and he’ d have driven off his friends for nothing. And the truth was, he welcomed their presence, even if he didn’t want to talk.

Finally the Star Garden was filled with listeners, and the string players who had spent about ten minutes tuning up their instruments stopped and waited. Two Elders pressed their way through the crowd below, followed by several Enforcers. The Elders took their reserved seats immediately across the fountain from the quartet. Some of the Enforcers took up positions nearby, while four headed for the spiraling stairway in the corner. Seeing them approach, those on the stairway increased their pace to get out of their way.

“Yup, that’s Gaias, all right,” Terra remarked, her arm pressing against Zowan’s as she leaned toward him. One of the four Enforcers heading for the stairway had stopped to look around. Despite the milling people, he stood in a well of space, the others unwilling to come too close to him.

“You know, they talk about Andros malfunctioning,” Terra said quietly. “I think they should take a look at Gaias. He’s become obsessed with you. Every time I went to the infirmary this weekend to see if they’d let me visit you, he was there. Asked me what I knew about Andros, you, your times in the ravine—all kinds of weird questions.”

Having scanned the main floor, Gaias now lifted his gaze to each successive level, eyes carefully cataloguing each person standing in his view at the rail. Zowan gave thought to stepping back for a moment and taking a seat on one of the benches behind him, just to make things more difficult for his brother—if Gaias didn’t see him, he’ d inspect each floor on foot—but he did not act on it.

“He even asked if you’d ever talked about seeing or talking with Neos.
After
his death, that is. I thought he was trying to make a case for you malfunctioning, too.”

He listened to her with half an ear, eyes upon his brother, who was just about finished with his scan of the fourth level. Now his eyes lifted and . . . sure enough, they fixed almost immediately on Zowan, the third eye gleaming phosphorescently in the low light. With a small smile, Gaias turned abruptly and headed for the spiral stairway. He cut across the open area where the musicians were playing, forcing at least one of them to miss a few notes when he passed a bit too close. Beyond the clear space, he pushed easily through the spectators, who parted before him like water under a boat’s bow.

Terra was leaning even more closely against him now as she murmured, “But then yesterday I heard a rumor that you’d actually seen a
man
out there when you were in the ravine with the goats. Right before the winds came.”

Zowan turned to look at her in surprise. “Who told you that?”

“One of the girls I’m working with.”

“How would she know?”

“
Did
you see someone?”

He shrugged and told her how they’d said he was already being affected by the toxin spike at that point and must have hallucinated. She snorted her disbelief.

Gaias had reached the fifth level and now emerged from the stairway’s shadows on the opposite side, gaze fixed on Zowan. As he started around the level, Zowan dipped his head toward the Enforcer and said to Terra, “Maybe you should ask Gaias, since he was out there, too.”

Stuck out there, in fact, and apparently no worse for it. But then, Xavier said Zowan had hallucinated the Enforcers coming out to warn him, as well.

Zowan turned his gaze back to the performance below as Gaias came round and found a spot against the railing not far from Helios. When Zowan realized he meant to stay there for the duration, he was filled with a powerful dismay. How could Neos ever meet him with Gaias standing right there? He had to make him go away!

But even as he thought it, Zowan knew it would be impossible. Even if there hadn’t been a concert, it wouldn’t have worked, for how would Neos walk through the commons and mall and into the Star Garden without being caught? It made no sense. It had never made any sense. He’ d simply desired so strongly to believe it, sense didn’t enter into the matter.

Neos was undoubtedly dead. Zowan probably overheard someone say that Andros was dead when he was in one of his hallucinatory states in the infirmary, and from that had conjured not only Gaias’s visit, but Andros’s pleading voice. And the voice of I Am
,
as well. Who most likely hadn’t spoken in parallel to words from the
Key Study
because

He was real, but because Zowan had assigned those remembered words to Him in the hallucination. Besides, what kind of name was “I Am,” anyway? He must’ve made it up.

There would be no meeting with Neos, there was no Light, and there would be no freedom for Zowan. He’ d best just accept it and get on with his life in the Enclave before he made so many mistakes they would put him into the Cube.

Though this was the reasonable conclusion, for a moment his disappointment was so bitter he wanted to weep. Then, in the next moment, he wanted to stride around to his brother and smash a fist into his face, maybe grab him by the throat and strangle him right there in front of everyone.

Why can’t they just leave me alone? Let me leave if I want? Let me
wander off across the poison-filled surface of the Earth and die?

The urge to weep was back, and he swallowed hard against the lump in his throat—mortified, blinking, lest the tears welling in his eyes break free and trail down his cheeks. He would have left right then could he have done so without drawing an inordinate amount of attention.

The quartet had just finished their third selection when the lights went out—stars and wall lamps together—steeping all in sudden and absolute blackness. Since power disruptions occurred frequently in the Enclave’s electrical circuits, blackouts were a common occurrence, and all Edenites were trained from early childhood to freeze wherever they were and wait for the lights to return or instructions to be given. Block leaders all carried portable hand lamps in case the power outage lasted longer than a few minutes.

Thus, when this one occurred, everyone obediently stood or sat where they were and waited patiently for the lights to come back on and the concert to resume.

Instead, the alarm Klaxons went off, and a rough male voice bellowed, “Breach!”

At which point, pandemonium erupted. Zowan immediately reached for Terra, pulling her snug against him as he stepped back from the railing toward the wall and the two benches, lest in the chaos they might be pushed over and fall five levels. His grasp on Terra was broken as they tumbled onto one of the benches. Screams and shouts and a thunder of running footfalls filled the air, and the wood floor trembled underfoot. Where were the hand lamps? Where were the leaders? Why didn’t they act?

If the sealed integrity of the Enclave had truly been breached, precious oxygen and water were not only leaving New Eden, but deadly poisons were entering. Shouldn’t the garden be locking itself down, guarding the precious air it had? Everyone knew the Enclave was equipped with a system of self-closing emergency steel doors that would be automatically activated should the Enclave’s outer walls be breached. Could they still function if there was no power?

A sudden gust of air washed around him, heavy with the odor of unwashed flesh. Probably someone had just raced along the walkway searching for the stairwell. The thought had no sooner flashed through his mind than it was proved wrong as he was seized from behind and pulled off his feet. Another whoosh of air, like a heavy door closing on him, preceded a sudden close thump, and immediately the noise in the Star Garden was reduced to muffled cries and indistinct thumping.

After the absolute darkness of the garden, his pupils had dilated enough to detect the faint light that illumined what was a narrow passage paralleling the curved wall of the Star Garden. He heard someone breathing behind him.
Neos?
He turned, excited. But his hope gave way to panic when he saw a man robed in Enforcer’s black filling the space there. Gaias! But why would Gaias snatch him like this? And why was he suddenly wearing his cowl over his head like that?

Then the stench of old sweat and stale clothing, made worse by a tang of vomit, became so overpowering Zowan could hardly breathe, and he knew it couldn’t be Gaias. No one would be allowed to live in the Enclave with that kind of body odor.

Motioning for Zowan to follow, the other man sidled away through the narrow passage. Zowan gave him a couple of steps headstart to clear the air, then followed, thinking he was nuts to follow a stranger in Enforcer black, especially one who smelled so bad. But hope and curiosity had overruled his common sense, for it seemed Neos’s words were coming true, impossible as it was. Or maybe it was all hallucination again. Dr. Xavier had said he might suffer isolated episodes of delusion for another few weeks.

They crept past the wooden frames and studs that supported the backside of the Star Garden’s finished interior walls, the passage lit by oblong stones aglow with blue-green phosphorescence, sparsely placed along the stone wall near the floor. Though Zowan had never seen the likes of them before, he guessed now was not the time to remark on them, even if pandemonium still raged on the other side of the wall.

As they rounded the curve, Zowan noted several places where makeshift stepladders sat beneath what appeared to be peepholes bored through the facing material. Seeing as the Star Garden was a place where Edenites came for solitude and privacy, Zowan found this both understandable and outrageous. Had someone spied on him and Andros here last week? Heard their heretical conversation? Or worse, the one that had preceded it six months ago?