The 49th Mystic Page 14

  He’d always known that a day might come when the whole thing came down. That was part of the deal. But the speed of the developments over the last few days had taken him by surprise.

  Worse was the sudden appearance of a man who didn’t fit into the equation. Vlad Smith was either working with the benefactors or against them. There was no way his insertion into Eden was a matter of coincidence.

  Following the girl’s question yesterday whether something was wrong with Eden, Simon had broken protocol and made an attempt to reach the benefactors from his bunker. No answer. This in itself wasn’t necessarily a problem—the scheduled call was always on Saturday, today. But when he’d been unable to establish contact at nine o’clock this morning, his concern gave way to fear. For the first time in almost two decades, Eden was completely out of contact with the outside world.

  He exited the tunnel, eyes on the valley thick with trees beyond Eden. The road rounded a bend and ran through the main control building a hundred yards farther. Anyone entering or leaving the valley had to pass through the large structure and its heavy steel doors, operated by a switch in its control room. Like the rest of Eden, the gatehouse was powered by the hydroelectric plant with two backups at the north end of the valley. Loss of electricity would never be their problem.

  Beyond the gatehouse, the rest of the world. Deep inside the gatehouse, a control room known only to him. A fail-safe with redundant communication lines to the outside world.

  He slid the stick into park, stepped out, and approached the gatehouse. Using a key, he opened the door that led into the control center. Entered and flipped on the overhead lights. Scanned the room.

  At first glance the panel looked in order. It had four lights, red or green, two of which were now green. Open. That would be the tunnel gates he’d just passed through. The third was red—the large steel doors. The last light was for the titanium door to his right, which led into the second control room, which only he had access to.

  Simon crossed to the door and quickly entered his nine-digit code into the panel that operated the locks, expecting the familiar clunk when the internal latch disengaged.

  Only there was no clunk.

  He drew his sleeve over his forehead to clear the sweat, focused, and tried again. Same result. Had the benefactors reset the code? Or had a surge fried it? Couldn’t be a surge, the circuits operated on a protected loop.

  He tried a third time, deliberately entering each number as he spoke them aloud. The lock remained engaged.

  A chill washed down his back. How was this possible? Without access to the chambers behind this door . . . Had they cut him off? The questions boomed through his mind like a cluster bomb. Above them all, one thought.

  Vlad Smith.

  A soft, barely audible chirp from behind him cut through the stillness. He spun. Silence.

  But he’d heard that chirp. Or had he?

  Sweat now coursing down his face, he glanced at his watch again. Five fourteen. He had to get back, collect his thoughts, and lead them as he always had. Far too much depended on the role he played in Eden. Without him, the town would collapse, with or without the grid failure.

  Simon slapped the door, grunting. He was halfway across the room when the chirp came again. He froze. The sound had come from down low. Under the metal tabletop that housed the control panel.

  Two strides and he was there, dropping to one knee and peering under the tabletop.

  One look and he saw the small black box with the tiny red light winking at him. His heart thudded into his gut. A handwritten note on yellow notepad paper was taped to the concrete wall.

  Open the main gate and the whole thing blows.

  Enter the chambers and the whole thing blows bigger.

  Cut or remove any wire and the whole thing blows like a neutron star.

  VS

  Blood drained from Simon’s face. The entrance was booby-trapped. From the inside.

  VS. Vlad Smith.

  But was he working with the benefactors or had he entered the valley on his own? It had to be the former. How else could he know so much? Either way, there was a new player in town, and Simon’s lifeline to the outside had been cut off. A test? Or the result of a failure? Like the grid failure. Problem was, Simon didn’t know whether he should kiss Smith’s feet or blow his head off.

  He stood. Closed his hand to steady his fingers.

  Dear God.

  13

  I STARED at the words Peter had scrawled in the dirt at our feet. What begins as White that man has made Black? With a stick I scratched a circle into the soil surrounding them.

  Somehow my reading of the words in Vlad’s Book of History had opened my mind to the meaning of words and letters, not only in that book, but everywhere. I could only guess that I could read in my dream world too.

  Peter had learned from my father where I was and sought me out. I’d decided then that I would share the seals with him and him alone, for now. Why him, why now? Maybe because after my encounter with Vlad, I wanted someone in Eden to believe me.

  We’d spent the last few hours under the large maple tree at the pasture’s south side. The four horses feeding on tufts of grass thirty feet away had no concern other than filling their bellies.

  I, however, did have other concerns. Like filling my mind with the right thoughts. And it wasn’t going so well.

  “Maybe you’re right,” Peter said, leaning back on one elbow, absently chewing on a soft reed.

  “You think the answer is Eden?”

  He shrugged. “That Smith guy said there was something wrong with Eden. My father’s dream has always been a kind of utopia here. That’s white. And now Smith intends to destroy his vision. That’s black.”

  I frowned. “Maybe. I just keep thinking that the image I saw in the Book of History was the seal.”

  He was looking at me with those inquisitive eyes of his, topped by long lashes. His dark brown hair was unkempt, but the daisy I’d slid over his ear was still in place.

  There was a lot about Peter Moses I wouldn’t have guessed. Like the fact that he would believe my stories of dreaming in two worlds. Of course, his judgment might be affected by his interest in me, but I didn’t mind that either. It felt good to be liked.

  “Then you already found it. But nothing happened.”

  “I know, so I obviously didn’t find anything, other than a riddle. Which makes sense. Justin called them Seals of Truth. So then maybe they aren’t physical objects but . . . well . . . truths.”

  “So then what? You solve this riddle and, poof, you have the seal? That doesn’t sound right.”

  “I know.”

  “And you have to find five of them before some random appointed time or you fail?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Actually, the seals kinda sound like the treasure in the field.”

  “The parable?” I said. “The one about the man who sold all he had to buy the field the treasure was in? It cost him everything.” Simon taught that the treasure was both a place like Eden and the truth, which was the law.

  “Exactly.”

  “The kingdom is within you,” I said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “That’s what the Gospels say. Maybe the treasure is in me.”

  “Does finding the seals affect this world, or is that just part of your dream world?” Peter asked. “In Other Earth.” We’d started calling it Other Earth to simplify matters.

  “Both, but maybe not in the same way.” I just couldn’t understand how I, a girl who’d essentially been born blind in a town in Utah, could possibly play any role in vanquishing the shadow of death in Eden, much less the rest of the world. Or in Other Earth.

  He sighed. “Or maybe the riddle really is only about the grid failure, like we said. White is power and black is loss of power.”

  “Maybe.” But I didn’t really believe that either. “Maybe they’re all just symbols or mirrors of the same thing.”

  I dropp
ed to my back and spread my arms, facing the dimming sky. Dark clouds were rolling in from the west, but half of the sky was still blue. A brilliant blue. Bluer than the desert world’s sky. Less atmosphere up here at six thousand feet in elevation. The desert was probably at sea level.

  I hadn’t told Peter about my catching of the apple, or the fighting skills I evidently had in Other Earth. I wanted to. Who wouldn’t want to say they just woke up and discovered they were from another reality and had mad ninja skills?

  But I couldn’t bring myself to tell him, because those skills, like the tattoo on my arm, made me feel distant from him. Like I was an alien and he was a human. Telling him about the five seals had stretched him enough. I hadn’t told him about Talya and his lion either. Or Samuel’s affection for me.

  And how did I feel about Samuel?

  “I’m a Mystic,” I whispered, watching dark clouds beyond the swaying leaves.

  “I can live with that,” Peter said. “The whole world’s wrapped in mystery. Sometimes I think my father’s only goal in life is to strip it all away and become his own god.”

  See, that was an insight I wouldn’t have expected from Peter. I turned my head and saw that, leaning back on one elbow, he was above me now.

  “A Mystic is someone who believes that God is infinite,” I said.

  “Really? Doesn’t everyone believe that?”

  “Evidently not.”

  My stomach was in knots. The dread I’d felt this morning had eased a bit when Peter found me, then returned after hours of talking through seals and Roush and Shataiki and Vlad Smith without making any more sense of it.

  I didn’t want to be anyone special. I certainly didn’t want anyone’s future to depend on me. I just wanted to be a normal girl who could see like everyone else and could now discover the beauty of a whole new world in a whole new way.

  I shifted my head to a more natural position. “Tell me about your father. Not the Judge, but who he is as a dad.”

  He stared off at the cliffs. “My father’s always been sure of himself. Never seen anyone more focused or, in some ways, so demanding. But he’s also fair. Never laid a finger on me, ’cept when I deserved it.”

  “He’s beaten you?”

  “Sure. But I learned long ago not to cross the line. I haven’t seen that side of him for a while. You just follow his rules and all is smooth. There’s the law, and he’s the Judge. I can’t even remember the last time I broke his rules.”

  I gazed into his bright eyes. “What about now?”

  Looking into someone’s eyes was the most breathtaking part of being able to see, I thought. Like staring into another galaxy. Part of me wanted to crawl inside of them.

  “Being here with you?” He was blushing. “I’m not exactly courting you, am I? Now, if I did this”—he traced my palm with his finger—“an argument could be made that I was.” Lifted his finger. “But I’m not.”

  “Well, maybe you should,” I said, then immediately regretted opening my mouth. Before he could respond I withdrew my hand and rested my head on it, eyes turned back to the sky. “Or maybe you shouldn’t.”

  “I guess I would need approval from the council. But I’m not sure my father would—”

  “The council meeting!” I cried, sitting up. “What time is it?”

  He straightened. Grabbed the iPhone from his pocket. Pushed the home button. “Crap . . .” He was all arms and legs, struggling to his feet. “Crap, crap, crap, he’s gonna kill me!”

  Enough said. We were both on our feet and running down the path.

  “I’m sorry, this is my fault,” I said.

  “No . . . No, it’s mine. I just . . . Don’t worry about it, just run.”

  We ran. I knew that the meeting was mandatory. I also knew that failing to meet any mandatory requirement could not go unpunished. At the very least, isolation for twenty-four hours for some soul searching. Worst case, corporal punishment, but that was rare. I was aware of only three instances of public beatings. What happened behind closed doors was another matter.

  Peter had gone from sweet, flirting teenager to terrified child in the space of three breaths. My fault.

  It took us less than ten minutes at a fast jog to reach the center of town. No people in the square. Not even a dog or cat. Only cars and trucks, lots of them, lining the streets. Dusk had settled quickly, graying the sky with each passing minute as we ran.

  “What time is it?” I asked, panting hard.

  “Six twenty.” His voice was thin and his face was pale. We were twenty minutes late.

  Thoughts of seals and Smith and Talya and Justin had been pushed clean out of my mind by the time we hurried up the steps and slipped into the foyer of the church.

  There were three doors leading into the back of the auditorium, one that opened to the center aisle, two that opened to either side. Peter veered to his right and motioned for me to split to the far side. Of course. We couldn’t be seen entering together.

  I watched him run up to the door and, quiet as a feather, slip into the sanctuary. But I held back. Entering through two doors at the same time would look as bad as walking in the same one together. Worse, like we were trying to hide the fact we’d been together.

  So I hung back and paced, listening to the muted sounds of Simon’s booming voice over the PA inside.

  “It’s the only way to protect what we’ve built here,” Simon was saying. There was a desperate edge to his tone. “I know this may sound extreme to some of you, but Jesus was very clear when he told us to take up the sword. He came to divide, not unite, and we are that division, my friends, separated from the world. He said run to the hills, we ran to the hills. He said to prepare for the worst, we’ve done that and more. And now we heed his call to take up arms and protect ourselves.”

  I could imagine them now, a hundred and fifty faithful seated with rapt attention, trusting the one who’d created their secure world here in Eden. The council would be seated on the platform—Linda Loving, Maxwell Emerson, and Barth Caldwell. Their families, along with Simon’s, would be on the front row, nodding respectfully. Then the other founding residents, and behind them, those who’d come into the valley after it was established. Like my father, who always sat with Miranda on the last row, for my sake more than his own.

  Peter would have had to walk all the way to the front. Visions of him being beaten flashed through my mind. Surely Simon wouldn’t go that far with his own son.

  I paced and wiped the sweat from my brow as someone, Cindy Jarvis by the sound of her faint voice, expressed some concern. “Forgive me for asking and I’m sure it’s just me, but do you really see them coming over the cliffs? I mean . . . we really need snipers?”

  A short pause and then Simon’s response, dripping with condescension. “Why yes, Cindy, I do, or I wouldn’t have said as much. Do you not understand what an EMP can do to a society?” I could hear him walking on the platform, imagine him drilling her with a stare.

  “Today’s attacks over Los Angeles, Phoenix, and Salt Lake City are only the beginning. Whoever’s behind this began with limited attacks in the Northeast—just enough to compromise our government’s emergency responders. Then they deployed EMPs over several strategic western cities. Suffice it to say, the United States is crippled in a way few could have imagined. Even if there are no more attacks, life as all Americans have known it is now officially finished. It’ll take them years to recover. But not us. God has given us all a valley of refuge.”

  Silence gripped his audience.

  “Tell me, wouldn’t you protect what God has given you with the same ferocity he would?”

  No answer was required.

  The Judge continued. “They will come! In one day, one week, or one month, they will come. And when they do, we will be ready. The first leg over the lip of those cliffs gets a bullet in it. By Utah law, and I do abide by that law, we are fully in our rights to defend against any trespasser.”

  After a short pause, someone asked about c
ell phones, but Simon shut him down quickly. The cell tower that serviced the valley was offline. All communications in and out of the valley were offline, including all satellite transmissions. Eden was completely and, until further notice, irrevocably cut off from the outside world. Which was our only saving grace.

  “Think of yourselves as in the world but not of it,” he said. “Any attempt to leave or communicate with that world will be met with the harshest consequence.”

  It was worse than I’d realized. The whole country was falling apart around this little paradise of ours. But something was wrong in this paradise, and I was sure that Simon knew it. He was speaking boldly, but his tone was soaked in insecurity.

  Slowly, my hard breathing settled. There was no way to get in without being seen. No way to pretend my tardiness and Peter’s weren’t somehow connected. No way I would lie if they questioned me. Better to just slip in beside my father and be done with it.

  I grasped the handle, took one last deep breath, and opened the door to the center aisle. I’d intended to keep my head down and walk straight to my father, who was seated in the last pew. But I looked up as I entered, and what I saw stopped me.

  It was the first time I’d actually seen the sanctuary with my eyes. I knew every nook and cranny through echolocation sight, yes, but actually seeing the platform from this viewpoint and in full color took my breath away.

  Simon, dressed in a black judge’s robe trimmed in gold, stood at the podium built into a judge’s bench. The other three council members were seated behind him in high-backed chairs upholstered with deep red fabric.

  On either side of the long judge’s bench, two sculpted marble pillars reached to a domed ceiling. The sides of the platform were framed by long purple velvet drapes. Simplicity and plain living were things Eden prided itself on, but not in this sanctuary. It was both beautiful and intimidating.

  But that’s not what stopped me.

  It was the large, round, backlit image of God etched into stained glass on the wall behind them. A stern, bearded man held the scales of justice. He wasn’t wearing a blindfold, like the lady in the traditional images, and he was staring directly at me. Justice might be blind, but God was not.