Part 3 - Hidden Beauty
I stood there, thankful for the darkness concealing my expression as I tried to consciously lower my heart rate by sheer will, failing, of course. With almost every fiber in my being, I wanted to reach for her-- almost every fiber. Something was holding me back. I felt my hand lift almost against my will. I heard her boot come away from the rock wall in front of me. In a fraction of a second, I imagined her heading for the exit.
Her hand brushed my arm, then planted itself. Her other hand, searching, found my ribs and in the next second they were both wrapped around me, her hair tucked under my chin. I held her-- sort of-- more so, I held her backpack, still attached to her. She broke away and flicked the lighter again. I found her eyes fixed on the unlit torch in my hand. I brought it forward so she could ignite it.
Her glance toward me didn't even make it shoulder high. "Let's go," is all she said.
All I had in my head was a theory about what had just happened. I can tell you, in no uncertain terms, that I was dead wrong, but at that moment, I thought that I had scared her. I didn't know her well at all, and I really let that fact sink in. I knew that everything about her screamed 'tough chick,' but I learned, just then, that whether her toughness was a thin veil or a six-inch thick wall of sheer grit, underneath it she was fragile, delicate-- vulnerable. She had shown a side of herself which I would have wagered a hefty sum she had not often revealed. I made myself a private little vow to be extremely careful with her-- never to exploit the access she had granted me, to that part of her.
We'd estimated ten or twelve minutes before the torch wick would burn out, but those few minutes seemed to stretch into hours. We plodded along, never finding a single animal track, no insects, no markings on the walls. There could be no mistaking-- it had been dug purposefully, but the mystery was its purpose. The pathway tunneling through the hillside included an occasional turn to the left or to the right, not much up or down, though most of the time, it seemed like the elevation was increasing slightly, if anything.
I was happy that the notion of danger had all but subsided. Neither of us was claustrophobic, and the possibility of collapse seemed infinitely minuscule. We'd been walking and chatting as if taking a stroll along a lonely path through a forgotten park on an impossibly dark night. For more than one reason, I was dismayed when the first torch flickered its last flick.
"I guess that's the end of it," I said, more than a little disappointed in the lack of-- something-- anything that would justify walking through a pitch black tunnel while daylight was being wasted outside.
"I guess so," she agreed. "I still have a few more leaves if you want to go a little further."
The complete absence of light is always a bizarre thing. I thought I could still see her, though I knew I couldn't. "Actually, I'd kind of like to just sit here for a few minutes if you're not in a hurry to get back. I'm kind of disappointed."
"Yeah, me too. I was really hoping to see where this thing leads."
I heard her unlatch her pack and slip out of it, setting it on the ground. That answered that question. We were staying for a minute. Maybe it was just arrogance, but I felt a pin prick in the back of my mind-- what did she mean by that?
I took a seat on the floor, "Have you ever hiked in Japan?"
"Ugh, yes. Never again."
"So many people, right?"
"Literally five to eight hundred people a day on average, "she said. "I looked it up when I got back."
I had looked it up too. "Gotemba, right?"
"Yeah."
"What about Alaska?" I asked.
"You know what? I have the worst luck with bears."
"You should probably stay away from Alaska."
"I know, right? No, but I still go. I just always carry when I know it's bear country. So, you've been doing this blog thing for a long time, then, huh?"
"Thirteen years."
"Oh, really? Wow. So you got out of school and just disappeared."
"Yeah, pretty much. I'd done a few videos in high school when my dad and I went on hiking trips or kayaking or whatever, and I had to do a paper for my English class, senior year, so I used my videos to write a basic survival guide. My teacher, Mr. Hillstead, thought it was great and suggested sending it in to a couple of publishers. Of course, I didn't send it to anyone because I was a stupid teenager and I was going to make my fortune doing videos, but Mr. Hillstead sent my guide to a few places and one of them, Unseen World, thought my take as a novice, advising other novices on how to get by on 'Nothing but Nature' was a sure-fire way to get the next generation of outdoor survivalists to buy their gear from their advertisers."
"Makes sense."
"It worked too. Within a year, I had multiple sponsors and paid trips basically all around the world if I would use their equipment and review it in my blog. I always said, 'As long as it doesn't matter whether my review is positive or negative, I'll do it,' but the ones that got bad reviews never asked again, so I guess they kind of expected only positive reviews from sponsored travelers."
"Yeah, that also makes sense."
"So within another year, I had no sponsors. Even the best equipment manufacturers still preferred a 'guaranteed' positive review, so they left me hanging. My followers and readers thought it was great, but honesty didn't pay the bills, so instead of getting free equipment, now I just share my experiences, then plug the manufacturers at the end, but only if they agree to my price. UW picked up Half the Fun again in 2018. Then when Covid hit, people were dying to get outside, or trapped inside reading about where they wanted to go next, so things were good. While the other guys were stuck in mandatory two week quarantines every time they got off a plane, I was writing from a backlog of trips I'd made over the past few years. I got pretty lucky."
"Well, you must have some talent, or you wouldn't have all those people reading your stuff."
"I guess. What about you? How did you get into photography?"
"I think everybody's into photography; there just aren't many people who are good at it."
"What do you mean?"
"It's like, people look at good photography, but they think, it's just a picture, so they figure they could've taken that same picture if they'd just been there--the camera does all the work, right?"
"Yeah, I could see that. Today's cell phones have ridiculous camera functions. Anyone can take great quality pictures now," I offered.
"Right, but quality is only a small part of it. You have to have substance. Sometimes people get lucky and capture something rare, but it takes an artist to capture something meaningful. Rare is, you know-- rare, but meaningful events happen all the time. If you can capture rare and meaningful at the same time-- that's the difference."
"I'm not sure I follow. What do you mean, they happen all the time?"
"Reid, think about it--we're in one of those moments right now. It would be kind of hard to sell this picture of us in complete darkness, but that's the rare part; the meaningful part is the two outdoor survivalists taking a break and sitting down for a chat in some remote place, talking about how they got into their respective fields."
"Okay, so two people talking is meaningful?"
"Not always. It depends on the visual. Picture two men wearing suits. They're driving in a Lexus, talking about football. Now think, what's in the background of that picture?"
"I don't know-- the back seat of a Lexus?"
Yeah, exactly. There's nothing about the scene that drives the imagination. Now picture the same two men with face paint, in a sports bar, and one's wearing a Jets jersey, and the other's wearing a Niner's jersey, and they're up in each other's faces--that's got a feel to it. What's in the background of that picture?"
"Probably their girlfriends, at the same table, both staring at their cell phones-- there's something meaningful."
"Exactly! See, you get it. It happens all the time. Now, if you take those same people, and they're on the side of the road on some deserted stretch of highway, and the men are still in each other's faces, while their girlfriends are changing the tire--that's something you can sell."
"So you can set those scenes up and sell the pics?"
"You could, but I think people can tell the difference between a setup and the real deal. That's why I prefer nature photography--it's always real, always authentic. Here, I'll show you..."
She fumbled around to find her camera and used its digital display to light her way over to me. She thumbed through what seemed like a hundred pics of Meesha walking through the flurry of moths earlier.
"Look, any of these are obviously rare--a giant wolf surrounded by little butterflies--but these ones..."
Wow. She was right. They were beyond just rare--they were brilliant.
"Nicole, these are amazing. I mean-- I was there and I didn't see any of this the way you've captured it."
"Thanks. And do you know what the difference is between the first ones and these?"
"What?"
"Right here. It's where his left leg has his weight on it. It shifts his muscles and turns his fur to the side, exposing the dark roots, and you see how strong he is. He could tear you apart, but he's so gentle, too. Look, it makes all the difference in the world."
I pulled my cell from its case and showed her the picture I took.
"This was my vantage point," I said. "The giant wolf--mid-stride, the beautiful photographer-- kneeling for the perfect shot, both of you covered with them, the way the photographer actually becomes enveloped by the nature she's observing."
"This is actually really good."
She didn't even flinch at that "beautiful photographer" mention-- I mean, didn't even flinch.
"You think so?"
"I do. I mean, the lighting isn't great, but this is exactly what I'm talking about--it's not just rare, it's got substance. The photographer at work, the dangerous predator, the proximity, how she puts herself in his path just to capitalize on the moment-- if you had submitted this to Mr. Hillstead, you'd probably be freelancing right now."
"Well, I'll have to text it to him when we get out of here."
I closed the gallery app and our world went dark again.
"You definitely should. I'm sure he'd love to hear from you."
She clicked her digital screen again, lighting up our cramped, strange-smelling world again until she tucked it back into her pack. I heard her sit back down. Okay. We still weren't leaving yet.
"I have a question," she began. "Who is 'she'?"
"She, who, she?" I babbled.
"Back out on the trail, you said, 'She said to turn right, not to climb down a friggin' cliff.' Who is 'she' who said that?"
"Ah. Right..."
"No bullshit. Don't stall, just say it or I'll know you're thinking of a lie. Who is she?"
"I'm not sure."
"See, that's a bullshit answer..."
"No, really! I'm actually not sure if it was real or fiction-- the 'turn right' thing was said by someone who I assumed was a mythological being..."
"Reid. Reid, stop. Just-- I would've preferred a bullshit answer," she griped as I heard her stand up.
"What? Why?"
"Nothing. It's just--not what I expected."
I wasn't sure, at that point, if I would have told her the whole truth if she'd let me finish. Still, a part of me was relieved for not having to try. I'd just begun to stand up when...
"So, I have another question," she began again.
It was a big enough question that she'd sat back down. One thing I liked about Nicole, already, was that she's not one for passive-aggressive rhetoric. A lot of people ask a questions as a way of making a statement. Nicole's more of a make-the-damn-statement kind of woman. Still, she'd stood up and sat down so many times, it was almost comical. I took advantage of the dark, grinning freely as she struggled-- either for the words or for the courage to use them. I'm quite sure, if she could have seen me grinning, she would have left me in the dark both figuratively and literally.
"When I pretended something grabbed me, before-- then you saw it was just a stupid prank..."
Oh, dammit. "Yeah?"
"Why... why did you say, 'I'm sorry'?"
I hesitated to answer. It was good, but it was troubling. This was evidence of a real, live, calculating female beneath her resilient, stoic exterior. No man, for instance, in his right mind, would endeavor into this conversation in the middle of a cave with a ten-minute walk in front of him to reach the exit. It had seemed like hours walking in-- if this didn't go well, the walk back out would feel like days-- maybe weeks. Still, for a moment, I actually thought about telling her everything.
"Do you want the whole story, or just the basics?"
"Just the basics. If I'm not satisfied, I'll ask for the whole story."
"Okay. I was scared," I said plainly, "...terrified, actually, that something had grabbed you in the dark. I was blind and helpless and-- I just thought how scared you must have been-- hurt, or otherwise. Then when I saw you were okay, my heart just about exploded with relief; but then I saw-- how okay you were. You weren't hurt or in danger or even scared. You were just looking at me flailing desperately in the dark, with that smirk on your face. I got angry. I stood up angry. I looked-- angry. You were just playing around, but I didn't take it for what it was-- like you said, it was a prank, but I was just pissed. Then I saw that teardrop fall. You were alone in a cave, or whatever this is, in the middle of nowhere, with this enraged guy you just met this morning. You had every right to be scared. I'd become the thing in the dark we were so afraid of finding. What else was there to say but, I'm sorry?"
She didn't respond. It seemed like as good a time as any to ask, "What about you? Why did you say, 'I'm sorry'?"
She hesitated as well. I waited.
"I was scared too," she answered softly, narrowly finding her voice.
"Of what?" I dreaded the answer.
She paused again, "Of what I'd done-- of what I've become." She breathed in and out heavily--a technique I've used a few times to keep it under control when I start to lose it. "I've dated a lot of guys and they never even had a chance. They didn't know. They had no role models; they were raised by single mothers; they were raised by their cell phones and televisions. They think growing a beard makes them a man. They didn't know. After a while, I got cynical. I'd play little pranks on them and watch them melt like butter. Sometimes they'd literally run away. Half of them I could beat at arm wrestling."
She laughed through her sniffles. This wasn't what I was expecting.
"I know the type. They think if they can start a fire with a hand drill, that makes them a survivalist, and I explain to them, it's the opposite--it's knowing how to survive when you can't start a fire."
"Exactly... exactly. But then there's you-- you're like-- when those wolves saw my skinny blonde butt back where I found you this morning..."
"Meesha showed up and chased them away."
"Yeah, but you were the first one there. You knew me five minutes, but you still ran to help instead of running away. Then later, with the tree-- I dropped down behind that root system to make you think I fell, and you reached for me. Then, you actually did save me when I missed that jump. You're just this genuinely-- manly kind of guy; and then, when we got scared the first time we came into the-- whatever this is, I started fabricating this idea for a prank, which was stupid-- and I had it in my mind that when you thought something grabbed me, you were going to go screaming for the door. I was going to be in this super chill position, then light the lighter and say, 'Relax Reid, I'm just messing with you.' I saw it all in my head.
"But you didn't run away. You know-- I realized I just did this horrible thing to this guy, who's already been there for me three times, and just to prove to myself that you're just another man-child with a fake beard trying to show his mommy what a big boy he is.
"You just--you were calling my name and I guess--I guess I felt like you did. I felt what you must have been feeling--terrified and helpless and blind--and you actually felt those things--and I did that to you. All you wanted to do was help me, and here I am, this super chill a-hole standing against the wall after I just put you through that. You were so mad-- and I deserved everything you were about to say, but then I took that away from you too because I started crying like a stupid girl. What else could I do but say, 'I'm sorry'?"
The darkness had made the transition. It had started out our enemy, but it had become our friend, hiding our ugliness so that we could be perfectly honest. We enjoyed it, I think, too much, but we enjoyed it just the same. Minutes passed in silence before I suddenly realized. I couldn't hold back my laughter. She started chuckling along as well, though having no clue why.
"What is so funny?"
"Uugh! My phone!"
"What? What about it?"
"When the-- non-existent thing grabbed you, I was so focused on the fact that the torch in my hand wasn't lit, and that you still had the lighter and the flashlight-- I totally forgot about my phone. That's how awesome I am in a crisis."
A bursting snort gave away her unseen smile, "I wasn't going to say anything," she chuckled.
I couldn't help but picture myself-- what I must have looked like when she flicked that lighter on. I just laughed.
"Come on. Let's get out of here," I said, getting to my feet.
She shuffled to her feet as I grabbed my phone again to give her enough light to find her pack and set the second torch ablaze.
"Here, it's the last of it, so enjoy it," she said, handing me her water bottle. There wasn't much, but it was a refreshing contrast to all the dust. I savored the last drop.
I was about to say a sincere thank you when she threw her hand out to stop me, "Did you see that?"
"No, what?"
"I thought-- up ahead. I thought I saw a light."
"What, like a flashlight?"
"No, like daylight. It was small, but it seemed like it was far away, so it might have been bigger, but now it's gone."
"How far away?"
"I don't know. Close enough that I could see it."
"You said you still have some leaves. Let's go check it out. Grab your flashlight."
She clicked on the flashlight, illuminating her wide-eyed face like a kid telling ghost stories.
Her voice was eerie, "Already got it."
"Nice."
"Not much good these leaves are doing us--this tunnel only goes in one direction anyway."
We ushered onward toward whatever she'd seen. She dropped more bits of leaves as we went, despite her pessimism toward them. Then it happened again--much closer. I saw the light this time, too. It was definitely daylight, blocked by something that moved enough to let it in, and then it moved back, blocking it again.
She warned me, "Don't let your eyes focus on it. Keep your eyes on the ground so we don't walk into a pit or something."
"Okay, I'm watching."
I heard what I thought, for sure, sounded like laughter.
"Are you hearing that?" I asked.
"I don't know. It sounds like giggling... like laughing."
"Yeah."
The thing moved again. I kept my eyes downward to avoid being blinded by the light. We were mere meters away.
"Stop," I said. "We need to let our eyes adjust."
"What is it?"
"It's just like where we came in-- covered with vines or something, and they keep getting pushed away, then they fall back. I'm trying not to look directly at it, but it seems like that's what it is."
"We just have to be patient. It'll take a minute to adjust to the light."
It was an anxious minute, but it was the right move. Our eyes able to process the ground and walls, we moved forward easily. The laughter was louder--definitely laughter--giggling, like Nicole said. We moved closer to the exit. Someone ran past with an arm outstretched, brushing the curtain of leaves like a kid swooshing his hand across a rack of hanging dresses in a department store. More giggling-- more playing. We moved closer and tried to peer through the leaves. It wasn't English, but people were talking loudly and telling stories and laughing at each other's antics. I pictured them in my mind as we eased even closer to the leafy vines. We heard them clearly as we bobbed our heads around peering out through the thick leaves.
"What the..." she stopped herself.
"They must be in the trees," I whispered pseudo-confidently.
"It sounds like they're right outside. It must be the acoustics of the tunnel, picking up their voices," she whispered back.
"Maybe there's a terrace above us."
"Well, everyone seems to be having a good time. It's probably as good a time as any to introduce ourselves."
"Are you sure?" I asked.
"Absolutely."
"Then why are we still whispering?"
"I don't know."
"What language is that?" I asked.
"Sounds like Spanish-- or maybe Portuguese?"
"Should we go in-- or out, in this case? I don't want to surprise them."
"They probably won't be as threatened by me," she suggested, "I can go first and break the ice."
"Not a bad plan. I was going to say, we should... okay, I guess you're going."
As planned, she took a few steps out into the open, then knelt down to show she was not a threat. It only took a few seconds for someone to notice her.
"Nueva mujer!" a woman cried, "Mira! Nueva adulta!"
They sounded reasonably close. I kept an eye on the huts under the oaks. I watched for movement by the boulders to the west. I tried to focus on the shadows between the trees, waiting for someone to appear.
Nicole said something I couldn't make out, then she turned to me as a man's voice spoke loudly, "She talks English!"
I couldn't see who said it, but I could hear the others echoing his information, carrying it through the crowd as they came closer. She also looked around for anyone-- or anything that might be cause for concern.
She let out a long, slow, and worried, "Reid," followed by, "I don't know what's happening. I think you should come out here."
I pushed aside the vines and walked into the strangest world I'd ever heard. In seconds, they had both of us surrounded. Their voices were clear. Moments before, they'd been speaking a Romance language-- Spanish, I thought-- but since Nicole's entrance, they'd all changed to a heavy British accented English. I heard them perfectly, but I couldn't see a single one of them.
"Remember, don't touch 'em yet," a man's voice warned.
"We know," another man said, annoyed.
I thought I'd try communicating with them, "Why shouldn't you touch us?"
"Them's the rules, friend," the first man replied.
A woman joined in, "It's just 'cause people get the willies at first."
Nicole asked, "Question then-- why... why can't we..."
A baritone voice grew impatient, "Why can't we what?"
The woman answered him bitterly, "She wants to know why they can't see us, Davey!"
"Yes," Nicole confirmed, "Why can't we see you? Are you... are you..."
Laughter erupted among them. A commotion of celebration began. "She can't say it!" one voice laughed above the others.
Remarkable as they may have been, they were still unreasonably rude. I was about to suggest an improvement in their degree of hospitality when a metal clanging silenced the crowd. A lone woman stood near one of the huts in the distance with some sort of pipe or metal rod in her hand, banging on a long, wide piece of rusty metal dangling from a tree and anchored to the ground. The voices scattered, protesting in disappointment.
"Aww, we were just getting to know them." a woman's voice despaired.
"Don't worry," another said, "they'll be one of us soon."
"But there are two of them," the baritone man said. "Don't you mean they'll be two of us?"
"Oh shut up, Davey."
Nicole didn't like the sound of it any more than I did. "I think I want to go back to the tunnel," she said.
"Yeah. Look sharp. She might be summoning something."
We started moving slowly back toward the tunnel as we kept our eyes peeled for giant lizards or apes or something coming out from the trees.
Once the voices had faded into the tree line, the lone woman waved at us to join her. It was a short walk to the huts.
"What do you think?" I asked.
"I think this is nuts! Why are we still here?"
"I don't know. I just-- I don't think they want to hurt us."
"Or maybe they do, but they just can't because they don't have freakin' bodies." she argued. "Remember when we were in the cave and it was kind of neat because we couldn't see each other when we were talking?"
"Yeah..."
"Well, when we're in broad daylight, I expect to be able to see who I'm talking to!"
"Well, we can see that woman. Let's just go talk to her for a minute. Don't you kind of want to know what happened to these people? Come on, what do you think?"
"I think we just walked through a long, dark, hidden tunnel and came out in a haunted forest."
"Okay, so let's go find out if you're right."
"You're not going to take 'no' for an answer, are you?"
"No, 'no' is an answer. If you're scared, you can go back to the tunnel. I'll just talk to her for a minute and..."
Nicole was already on her way to the woman. I hurried to catch up to her.
"I guess you changed your mind."
"Yeah, I'm not waiting in some cave while you drag this thing out for two hours. We'll talk for a couple minutes, then we go," she explained, leaving no room for debate.
"Cool. I think we should slow down a little, though. We're walking kind of aggressively."
"Fine," she said as she slowed her pace considerably. She raised two fingers in my direction and looked at me sternly. "Two minutes."
Karma slapped her in the face, or stubbed her toe, I should say. She'd taken her eyes off the ground to issue her stern gaze for effect, then tripped on a rock and fell face-first to the ground, the force amplified by her pack.
"Dammit!" she swore. "Son of a..."
"Are you okay?" I asked, stopping beside her. I looked back to find the culprit that tripped her up, deliberately not looking at her in her moment of dismay.
"Yeah, I'm fine. I just landed on a stupid twig. Are you going to help me up, or do I need to look like that much more of an idiot trying to get up?"
"Yeah, sorry," I said, offering her a hand.
She reached with her left, though I gave her my right. I hoisted her upright and helped straighten her pack.
"How bad is it?" I asked.
"Minor. I tore the skin at the bottom of my palm on that stupid twig."
"Oh, I hate that!"
"I know! I haven't done that since I was a kid. It's going to swell and have that stupid flap of skin barely hanging on for the next week until it dries up and I gnaw it off like an animal."
"Aw man, that really sucks. What about the rest of you? Your knees okay?"
"I don't know. This friggin' thing stings so much I can't feel anything else anyway."
We walked the last few meters to where the woman had stood, but she'd also disappeared while we were assessing Nicole's nuisance injury.
"Great, so we can't see her now either?" she protested.
"Hello?" I called out.
"Just a minute," a voice called back from inside the hut in, believe it or not, a British accent.
"Two minutes," Nicole repeated under her breath.
"Two minutes from when we start actually talking," I whispered.
"Time is relative, Mrs...?"
"It's just Miss. You can call me Nicole," she said politely.
"Oh, I'm sorry. I just assumed. Welcome. I am Rayla," she said before sitting down on the ground. She wore what looked like an animal skin of some kind--inside out, a slit cut, through which her head protruded, and long enough to drape almost to the ground. A thin twine wrapped around her waist.
Nicole sat with her. "Hi Rayla, I'm Nicole, and this is Graeson. What does that mean, 'Time is relative'?"
She looked at Nicole carefully. It looked as if she were looking through her. "Why have you come here?" she asked pointedly, as she put her hand out, inviting Nicole to give her her hand.
I sat down as well, "We didn't come here for any particular reason. We were just exploring the tunnel.
She turned her gaze in my direction, though somewhat shyly-- never making direct eye contact. Dark brown hair shaded pale blue eyes. I guessed she was probably twenty years old, though the look in her eyes was as timeless as the written word.
"Why-- have you come here?" she repeated.
Her stern delivery demanded a straight answer, so I gave it to her straight, "We were hiking on a trail not far from here, we found a stone staircase, which led to the far end of that tunnel over there, and we walked through it. We didn't 'come here' for any particular reason-- we're just here, and we have no intention of staying. Rayla, you can ask all the questions you want, and we'll answer them for you, but I hope you'll understand, we heard voices of people we couldn't see. The only thing that makes sense is that they're the spirits of dead people. That's the kind of thing that makes people want to go far away and never come back. Can you help us understand what's going on here?"
"They are not spirits," she said confidently. "You brought no one with you? Your daughter, maybe?"
"No. How can you know that?" Nicole asked.
"There is no one with us--just Nicole and me," I reiterated plainly.
"The people you heard are not dead. Only the two of you, then?"
She was just being cautious, but I was losing patience quickly. "Rayla. There is no one else with us. We didn't come here looking for anything or anyone. We walked out to meet the people we heard talking, but we couldn't see anyone, though their voices were clear and very close. We were leaving when you started banging that sheet metal and they all left us alone. We only came to you because you waved us over. We're not going to hurt anyone. We're not hiding anything from you."
"Everyone is hiding something."
Frustrated by the dead-end conversation, I fidgeted in place--my patience had worn thin.
"Reid..."
"What does that mean, 'Everyone is hiding something'? There are a bunch of people out there hiding so well we can't even see them, you're dodging every question, and ignoring me when I answer your question. So, who's hiding something? Not me. Nicole, are you hiding something?"
"Graeson." Nicole scolded me with my own name.
She was right. "I'm sorry, Rayla. We're the invaders here. You don't have to answer anything you don't want to answer. We're just extremely curious about hearing their voices without seeing anyone there. If you know, and you're willing to explain, we'd really like to hear about it; but if you don't know, or don't want to tell us, that's fine too. This is just too much for us to fully comprehend, so we'll probably just go back the way we came and keep this whole thing to ourselves because-- no one would believe us anyway."
This time, I was the one Rayla was looking through. She said nothing, but seemed somehow satisfied. She refocused on Nicole's face, back to me, then to Nicole again. Nicole gave her the hand she'd requested-- a show of trust. The young woman took her hand and gave her a small earthen cup. "Pour slowly over the wound."
Nicole took the cup, smelled it, offered for me to smell it, which I did. It didn't seem to have an odor other than the cup itself. She took a chance and poured something that looked like water over the tear in her palm while looking at Rayla, wincing slightly, then relaxing, never leaving her eyes. Perhaps it was enough to have gained her trust.
"His name is Yun."
"Yun?" Nicole repeated.
"Beside you."
We both looked to where she'd motioned, but no one was there. Nicole took the opportunity to inspect her wound, unsure of what had been administered to it. She rubbed at it with her other hand and looked again. She wiped off the excess fluid on her shirt and looked once more.
"It's gone."
Rayla merely nodded once with a faint smile.
"Reid, it's gone. It's healed. It's completely healed!" she said, thrusting her hand in my face.
I focused on the heel of her palm. The wound was, indeed, healed completely-- not even a scar.
"Yun," Rayla said to the space between us, "Please come sit here, next to me."
We heard footsteps, startling both of us. The hair on my arms stood up. I thought she might have been-- I don't know-- making him up; but we heard him there--we heard something--walking across our little pow-wow and taking a seat as instructed. Rayla held out the earthen cup again, along with her free hand, gesturing for Nicole's hand again, and she freely gave both.
"Wet your fingers with water and gently rub your eyes."
She reached into the cup, alternating hands to dip her forefingers into the cup. She rubbed her eyes for a few seconds--a fact that bothered me more than a little. Rayla called it water, but it obviously included a very powerful healing agent. What effect might it have on one's eyes? Nicole was about to find out.
She dropped her hands away and blinked away the excess, then recoiled suddenly. Her backpack was the only thing that kept her on the ground as she scrambled backward, away from our tiny group.
"What the hell?!" she demanded.
"What is it?" I demanded of her, unsure of what to do.
She pointed to-- well, nothing. "Yun! He's-- he's there! You're Yun!"
Rayla waved her hand out to the side, inviting Nicole to look around, across the clearing. She followed Rayla's hand, then turned her whole body, flopping backward with her pack awkwardly hindering her from getting to her feet.
"Hey! Nicole, what is it?! What did you do to her?!"
Rayla said nothing as I scrambled to help Nicole, though I had no idea what I was helping her with, or expecting Rayla to say.
Nicole looked back to her, "Who are they?" she asked excitedly. "What are you?" she asked the empty space beside her. "Wait, what's happening? Don't go. Wait!"
She looked desperately into the clearing again, taking hurried steps to see more space... more nothing. I composed myself enough to guess that she must have been seeing the people we'd heard, but my mind still wasn't fully prepared to accept the idea that there was a man, Yun, standing-- or sitting-- right here, when I couldn't see him at all.
"You see them... the people who were talking?" I asked.
She stammered, "No. Yes. I mean, I did, but now they're gone. What happened? Why are they like that?"
Nicole was beside herself but Rayla answered calmly, "The water is special."
"Yeah, I gathered that from when you healed my hand with it, but that doesn't answer the question."
"It does, actually. People have searched for the water's healing powers for thousands of years, to cure them, heal them-- and those who find it, and drink it, are often affected by it in this way."
"Wait, what?" I interrupted. "You're saying that drinking this water makes people invisible? How long does it last?"
Nicole was about to explode, "I've got literally, like, a million questions right now."
Rayla interrupted before the well of questions began to overflow, "You seem like you are decent people. It will be much simpler if I just tell you what I've learned. If you need more, I'll try to answer your questions thereafter."
"Okay," I said. "What do you know?"
"The water flows from the rocks just through those trees," she said, pointing off to her left. We looked but saw nothing again. "People seek this place for different reasons, but they stay for the same reason--they don't want to die. Some bring their children to heal them from diseases. Sometimes the parents never go back. Some come to correct deformities or, like me, injuries. Some people come for simple, selfish reasons-- because they hear of a blessed spring with the power to preserve life-- to restore and preserve their beauty. The ones we fear, though, are the merchants. They are blinded by their greed. They come with groups of hired men and never heed the warnings. They dive into the water as if it were any ordinary spring. They splash and play about like children, healing their aches and weary feet without even knowing the full extent of the water's abilities.
"In the morning, they realize. They've restored lost years from their bodies, regained strength lost to years, and even regrown hair. They fill every skin and every flask until they can carry no more, then disappear in the mountain where they meet their fate."
"They meet their fate?" I repeated.
She went on, "When someone drinks from the spring, the next morning finds them invisible to those who have not. Only the others-- those who have also drank it-- can see them. They are healed of whatever ailed them, but they find there is a price for their health, and have to decide."
Nicole asked her, "You never drank from the spring? Why did you come here if not for that?"
Rayla smiled, "My father was always a bit of a foozler. Mother always said he could dance like an angel, but hardly walk a proper line. There was an accident when I was very young-- an infant. My father was at fault, and never forgave himself for my injury. Mother never forgave him either. He was desperate to try anything, he talked to anyone who would listen. A hedge-creeper took pity on him and-- and mind you, Father wasn't the kind to run 'round on Mother, he would just talk to anyone at all, even that lowly prostitute, that day. Well, she took him to her home to show him something passed down through her family for generations. She told him of this place, just the way her father had told her, which was the way her father had heard it from his mother, and so on. Her ancestor had been told of it, and had taken his family to seek the healing spring when the plague had ravaged his town."
"The plague. The Black plague?" I asked.
"Yes, there are actually seven here who came because of the plague."
"That was hundreds of years ago," Nicole remarked.
"Yes. Besides myself and Joseph, they are the youngest residents of the valley."
"That's amazing. I'm sorry for the interruption. Please, continue," I said.
"My father traveled here from our home in Leeds, twice--the second time with me, when I was twelve. It took one and one-half months to locate the trail marked on the map, then he and I searched for weeks in pouring rain before we found the tunnel beneath Zen Rock. Father went nearly mad with fear coming through the tunnel, but I lead the way. After months in the wilderness, we were a right dauncy pair of mumbling coves, I'm certain. But, when we came through that tunnel, Yun took us in--he was the Keeper then. He didn't care what we looked like, and Father couldn't see him at all! He explained to my father the first consequence of my healing--we could remain here, healed in a single day, yet I would become invisible to him unless he, too, drank from the spring; or, we could stay as long as the gradual treatment required, with the understanding that it might take the rest of his life to see my injuries healed."
"Is he still here?" Nicole asked.
"He is not," she answered, "I pleaded with him that we should both return to England. I forgave him a hundred times over, but he could not forgive himself, so we stayed. He refused to allow me to become unseen, and he refused to drink from the spring himself. Only rainwater sustained us."
"Can I ask what happened to him?"
"Certainly. The treatments were helping, but weren't holding long. It seemed it would take years to hold long-term effects. I told him to go back home, to Mother, to let her know we'd found the place and that I was being treated, then he would come back again-- but he never returned."
Nicole sunk slightly, "How sad-- I'm so sorry."
"He also met his fate in the mountain?" I asked.
"No. He never drank the water, and carried none with him. The mountain allowed him to pass through."
I wasn't happy hearing that. "The mountain 'allowed him' to go through? How does the mountain know he never drank the water?"
"The water invokes the flames."
"Oh," I nodded, as if that made any sense at all.
Nicole re-centered us, "So you don't know where your father is?"
"This is the second consequence--no contact with the world beyond the valley. I cannot know what became of him."
"What's his name? Maybe we know him," I tried.
Nicole slowly turned her head toward me, as if out of eight billion in the world, the handful of people I knew, couldn't possibly include her father.
"Hey, it doesn't hurt to ask."
"Thank you, Mr. Graeson, his name was Hans Valbecker."
"Sounds like a pretty common German name. How long ago did he leave?" I asked.
"Honestly, I don't know. The years don't matter much here, the others do not age any longer."
"Come again," I said.
"Wait, they don't age-- at all?" Nicole pleaded.
"The water heals everything. They don't even require food to live because their bodies do not require maintenance-- of any kind."
Nicole put it together, "But you still do-- because you never drink the water."
"Correct."
"What do you eat?" she asked.
"There's actually a garden, fed by the spring. All of the plants are capable of bearing fruit all year, regardless of the season. You haven't, perchance, brought any seeds with you?"
I looked at Nicole, who shook her head, "No, we didn't bring any seeds."
"Oh, that's a shame. The others enjoy bringing different things for me to eat. They take pleasure in providing food, since it's a necessity for me. There is a wondrous variety, but in all honesty, something new would be splendid."
Nicole was curious, "So, you look like you're about twenty years old now; how old were you when you came to the valley? Your father couldn't have left that long ago."
"I was twelve years old when we left Leeds. I turned thirteen years on the journey here. That was in fifty-seven."
"Holy..." Nicole half-exclaimed.
I did the math, "So fifty-seven-- that's forty-three years-- plus another twenty-three, that's sixty-six-- and you were already twelve, so-- you're seventy-eight?!"
Nicole burst out, "Damn! Seventy-eight! You could make a fortune with anti-aging cream!"
"Is it 1923 already?" Rayla asked.
"Ie! Soreha dekimasen!"
The invisible Yun had spoken.
Rayla translated, "It is forbidden to take the water beyond the valley."
"Oh! I wasn't serious," Nicole squirmed, "It was just a joke-- because she looks forty years younger than she actually is..."
"Uh... Nicole," I interrupted, "Did you not hear what Rayla asked?"
"What?"
"She asked if it was 1923-- already."
She thought for a moment and was left just short of speechless. "What?"
I informed our hostess, though I wasn't sure how she'd take it, "Rayla-- you said 'fifty-seven,' did you mean eighteen fifty-seven?"
"Yes, I apologize."
Rayla, the year-- this year-- is 2023."
She was shaken by the news. I thought she'd been taken aback by the lapse of sixty years. To suddenly find out it had actually been one hundred sixty-- she was distraught, to say the least. Her face reflected the realization that everyone she'd known outside of the valley was long gone. Not just her father, her mother, siblings, friends--all surely dead and buried decades ago. She would never go back to them.
She stood up on shaky legs, "I'm sorry-- I'm feeling a bit limpsey-- won't you excuse me for a moment? Yun, would you please show our guests to the garden? I'm sure they're hungry." She wobbled into the hut beside us, groping along the wall and into the doorway. We heard the structure creak as it absorbed her duress within.
I called after her, "Take your time. We're not in any hurry."
We simply followed the sound of what I perceived to be footsteps, though in truth, it might just as well have been a slight breeze.
If not for the bizarre day I'd spent with Thessyna the day before, I imagined I'd be feeling a lot like Nicole must have felt at that moment--unprecedented supernatural circumstances abounding--invisible people, magical healing water, and a one-hundred seventy-eight-year-old woman who looks like a sorority pledge. I wouldn't have blamed her if she packed up and took off running.
I wanted to get as much information as I could before that happened. "Yun, how long have you been here, if it's alright to ask." I felt strange addressing someone who may or may not have even been there.
Luckily, he answered, "Like Rayla, I came here with my father, I was stricken with Smallpox when my family traveled to China from Japan. My father was part of an envoy under Emperor Saga."
"I may need to brush up on my Japanese history. I don't know how long ago Emperor Saga was in power."
Nicole helped, "I know a bit about Chinese history. Which dynasty ruled when you traveled to China?"
"Tang," he answered.
"What?! Are you sure?! I want to say that was like, the eighth or ninth century. That's crazy, Yun. You're probably over a thousand years old! You look like you're maybe seventeen."
"That is surprising. I don't feel that old."
I fumbled for my phone to show him the technology and pictures of cities and people. No service. I asked him, "Yun, why can't people leave the valley after they drink the healing water, is that a policy of the community?"
"When you are finished in the garden, I will show you," he responded.
His answer was so cryptic, I wondered if he'd even heard the question correctly.
Nicole was enthralled with the plant life, "I'm getting kind of a Garden-of-Eden feeling about this place. I mean, think about it. Healing water, never-ending supply of food, plus, mankind was expelled from the garden, right? What if-- what if the invisibility is the expulsion? What if the invisibility and isolation are the punishment for having sneaked back into Eden? Do you have any signal on your phone? Mine's totally useless."
"No, mine's out too. That's an interesting perspective," I replied, "but I'm pretty sure the Garden of Eden would have been somewhere in the Middle East, don't you think?"
"Not necessarily--after the flood, things would have been totally different. Try your phone again."
"No, you're right. I'm not trying to discount that theory, but I'm getting more of a Fountain of Youth vibe," I suggested.
"Fountain of Youth?"
"Yeah, the Fountain of Youth. The Fountain of Youth."
"Wait-- oh man, it's almost there," she said excitedly. "Maybe if you say it like, two or three more times, then I'll know what you're talking about."
"Funny. Yeah, I've still got no bars, no service. So, this explorer, Ponce de Leon, explored the Florida coast looking for the fabled Fountain of Youth, where anyone who drinks the water would have their youth restored. It would heal them of ailments, and in theory, you could live forever."
"The Fountain of Youth," she clarified.
"Yes, the Fountain of Youth."
She paused in thought. "Never heard of it."
"Never heard of the Fountain of Youth-- can you believe these kids today, Yun?"
"I have never heard of it either," he said straightly.
"You both are killing me. Yun, you've been living here for all this time, don't you ever think about what's going on in the rest of the world?"
"No."
I waited for more. "Okay, so, you don't care to ask us anything about-- anything?"
"The last time I left home to find out about the rest of the world, my mother and two brothers died from Smallpox."
"Wait, how do you know it was Smallpox?" Nicole asked. "They wouldn't have called it Smallpox in China or Japan when you were there."
"No, it had no name then-- only the disease of Onryu-- who inflicted his revenge on the living by spreading the disease. It was Hans who told us the English name. He taught all of us English before he returned to the other world. I needed only to describe the blisters, and he knew it immediately. Most of us do not understand the sciences. Rayla and Joseph are far more familiar with such things. Hans was older. He had far more knowledge of technologies."
"Wow, and he lived in the nineteenth century. How did you communicate with him when he and Rayla first arrived? That must have been difficult."
"He spoke German. Joseph spoke German and Dutch and had taught us. If you stay, we will learn more English from you. It is different from that which Hans and Rayla taught. A lot of what you say is gibberish to me," he said, earning a snort from Nicole, "but I am learning. The garden is here."
Sometime mid-day, we reached the boundaries of our destination, and long before Yun could answer our myriad of questions. The oaks grew taller as we neared the garden--as many as twenty meters in height. Fed by the preternatural spring water, everything flourished magnificently. Rayla had called it a garden, but it was more of a grove-- as far as I could see, nut and fruit-bearing trees and bushes, and as Nicole would soon demonstrate, roots and tubers as well.
"This isn't right," Nicole insisted, "these trees shouldn't be planted anywhere near each other. They shouldn't be flourishing like this-- they should be competing for nutrients and killing each other in the process. Is that a Walnut? Look at this-- that's a-- this is a cauliflower!"
Her brain must have been on overload. She knew a lot more about botany than she'd let on. She rushed between plants, astonished by each of them-- a few seconds investigating a patch of this or that, then on to the next.
"Yun, where are you? Are these radishes? I bet these are radishes-- and carrots, and... Oh! Strawberries! These need to be harvested-- they're going to rot on the stems." She plucked a massive, bright red strawberry and lightly brushed it off before taking a bite of it. She practically melted before turning to me. "You have to try this!" she insisted, hurrying back and shoving the huge berry in my face.
"Are you going to be okay?"
"Reid! You don't understand-- half of these fruits aren't even in season right now, and some of them shouldn't even be on this continent! Try it! This is impossible!"
"Nic, there's a thousand-year-old, invisible, Japanese man talking to us, and you're bothered about these bushes and trees producing fruit--out of season?"
She put out a palm as if to explain something, but didn't. The palm turned into a pointing finger. "Did you just call me, Nic?"
"I guess so, yeah."
She thought for a few seconds. She drew back her finger. "Huh."
"So, you're good?"
"The only problem I have is you asking me if I'm okay every two minutes."
"Alright, if that's true, I'll stop asking," I replied. "Hey Yun, are you still here, buddy? RĂ©pondre pas?! Helloooo?"
He said nothing.
Nicole was listening intently for motion while looking around at the ground for movement. "I guess he went back?"
"I guess so. We didn't really ask him to show us around, did we?"
"So, what is this place?" she asked, as if I knew anything more than she did. "I'm starting to think it's all just some weird elaborate dream."
"Why's that?"
"Uh... because that would explain all the bizarre, impossible things going on here."
"Oh, you meant that, literally. Okay. How would you know, for sure, if it was a dream?"
"I don't know. If I'm dreaming, then everything that's happening is coming out of my head anyway."
I walked up to her and looked at her dead in the eyes and said, "Nicole, I've loved you since the moment I laid eyes on you."
I did a decent job of keeping a straight face. She burst into laughter and that was the end of my composure.
She snorted, "Nope, not a dream. Definitely not something that would come out of my head. Now I'm pretty sure you're the one who's dreaming."
I brought the conversation back down to Earth, "Well, I'm a pretty big believer in the supernatural and hidden wonders of the world, so I'm not feeling like I'm dreaming. I'm actually starting to like your Garden of Eden theory. I mean, all the pieces fit, and it'd make a helluva news story if you came back with pictures of the actual Garden of Eden."
"That's true, but I'm not a journalist. Besides, we'd never be able to prove it, and even if we could, the last thing I'd want is to start a massive religious migration to come destroy this paradise. I'd still like to get some pics of this place though-- whatever it is. It's absolutely amazing!"
Paradise-- there's that word again.
She looked around for her next edible discovery. "I'm going to go check out-- probably everything," she laughed, "so don't be surprised if I'm fat when I get back."
She wandered off toward-- everything, plucking fruit from some kind of citrus tree and peeling it with her Gerber Strongarm fixed-blade knife. More proof she's the real deal.
Once she'd wandered out of earshot, Yun asked quietly, "Why did you want me to remain silent?"
"I thought, if she believed you were gone, she might feel free to suggest her true intentions."
"I see. And what of your true intentions?"
"I just want to make it out of here alive."
"Mmm... you and all the others."
Part One : theprose.com/post/705387