by Elle Scott
‘Xander?’
Xander nods and smiles.
‘Good to see you boy! How are you?’
‘Yeah, umm, okay…’ Xander looks sideways at me.
Ladlow turns to me, his smile reduced to a thin line. ‘Viv, all well?’
I smile so brightly I think I might be blinding everyone by the shine of my toothy grin, ‘Great! Just… great.’
He points towards the hallway, ‘Miles in his office?’
‘Uh, no,’ I look at Xander with wide eyes urging him to read my expression, we know nothing Xander, we know nothing!
Xander drops his bottom lip and shrugs.
‘Well? Where is he? I spoke to him late last night, he's around somewhere.’ Ladlow asks impatiently.
‘I… uh… I'm not sure. I came down here to see to him and he's not in his office, he must still be in bed,’ I'm emphatic, but so obviously nervous.
‘Hmmh,’ Ladlow opens his mouth to say something but stops himself. He motions for a guard and whispers something in their ear.
Xander and I stand here, not knowing whether to walk on by or stay dutifully still.
‘Right, well. I thought I should, you know, check out the place, in the whole three years it's been here I haven't visited once! So go about your business. If you see Miles, send him my way.’ With that he marches towards Miles’ office with his bodyguards in tow.
Once they are all well into the hallway, Xander passes my own note out to me. I stare at him but this time I'm aware to make it a softer study.
Ladlow's voice echoes down the hallway into the foyer. ‘Felix, keep an eye on those two please. Edmonton, find Abner and bring him to me!’
‘You can trust me Viv!’ Xander whispers.
‘I know,’ I say before I take him for a walk outside and tell him everything that I know.
TWENTY
Nora
I'm standing beside a round dining table as I look out a large glass window that takes up half the front wall. Outside showcases an expansive lake. The left edge of the lake is surrounded by boulders that lead up to a cliff face and a mountain covered in pine trees. The right side is flat but has the same trees around its edge. In the front, is a strip of cream-coloured sand. The sky is so clear that stars reflect on the water; ripples from the wind make the lake look like a massive sparkling diamond, a living breathing diamond.
‘I used to come here with Mum and Dad, when Mum was still alive and when Dad hadn't completely lost his mind,’ Miles’ voice lifts and falls with ease, I’m not sure if he’s trying to lighten the mood or if he’s simply saying the first thought that comes to his head.
It's small and homey, the smell of cookie dough mixed with pine nettles and dust lingers. A photo of Miles with his parents hangs above the table, he looks about six years old. I have visions of him laughing and running out the front door and down the path to the secluded sand bank, his mum and him splash about on the beach while his dad looks on and laughs.
‘Why are we here?’
‘So much has changed, but this place is exactly the same.’
Is that his answer?
He steps around the room and begins rolling up dusty sheets that cover all the furniture.
‘How long are we here for?’
He walks past the futon and leans against the mantel of the fireplace right next to a door. ‘As long as we have to, I'll be contacted when… if it's safe to return. I’ll tell you everything soon, when we are both rested.’
His bicep digs into the mantel, he looks tired as he points to the door, ‘It’s early, do you want more sleep? You can take the bedroom.’
My bags pull at my shoulders, burdens I can easily bear in comparison. Miles takes a step towards me, his hand hovers by my side so close I can feel his touch tickle my arm hair. I wait for his grasp—the kind a Doctor gives a patient they need to give bad news to - but his fingers glide down millimetres from my skin. He spins around to pull out the futon. He makes the bed with the sheets and a pillow stuffed inside a wooden chest.
I enter the bedroom and push the door shut with my back, the bag straps slide down my arms and hit the floor. I turn myself away from the bed and fall backwards onto it, I wonder if this is what Alice felt like when she tumbled down the rabbit hole?
~~~
I'm woken by a knock on the bedroom door. The doona folds around my body so tight and protective, I don't want to leave this bed. For a second I feel as though I'm home, my real home—with lived in sheets and soft spring mattresses. The problem is, I don't know where I am and a comfortable bed is no consolation for this.
If I was honest with myself, it's not the comfortable bed that keeps me ridden here. I dread to see his face. The face of a man I once revered like a brother, of someone I would have trusted with my life, a man - who now, has the face of a liar and a murderer. It hurts to think of him that way, I never thought he was that kind of person. I can't believe he is. He can't be, can he?
Last night and this morning was such a blur, a fog of tired emotions and confusion. I was stupid to listen to Miles' pleas and recklessly follow him down the rabbit hole. Now I’m here, in a small remote cabin with no other sign of existing life close by. Before Miles barged into my bedroom and demanded I trust him, all I could think of was the conversation I had with Jennifer. My mind was spinning in constant circular motion. An inner turmoil and argument about who I could trust—Viv or Miles. I guess Miles' overt and urgent visit pushed me over the edge to his side for the split second it took to get here. And now? I'm back at square one, unsure of… everything!
I roll over to the edge of the mattress and dig my hand into the camera bag I threw under the bed a few hours ago. Once I had taken such good care of my camera and lenses, now they hardly seem relevant as I push my 50mm lens aside to reach the smooth orb hidden underneath it.
The knock on my door subsides and is replaced by the hushed tones in Miles voice, ‘Your breakfast is on the table.’
I roll over and hold the orb over the edge of the bed. I watch the smoky blue-green colour as it swirls inside the orb. I'm reminded of how much has changed and how fast I have to adapt in this future present.
I drop the orb back into my camera bag, curl the doona around my neck and close my eyes.
Yes, I need to adapt, but not today.
Today I rest, and wallow, and scrutinise.
~~~
‘Nora?’ I throw my pillow over my head at the sound of his voice. Why can't he leave me here alone? I'm not ready to talk to him yet. He's covered in lies and stinks of hypocrisy.
‘Nora, it's one in the afternoon, you need to eat something!’
I squeeze the pillow tight around my ears, I can't let his sly smooth voice convince me of anything else. I need to work this out on my own but there are too many conflicting conversations echoing through my head.
‘Nora? Can we talk?’
‘Miles, please. Just give me some… time!’ I beg.
‘I'm sorry, there is no time.’
I force myself to sit up, and with my legs curled up under me I wait for him to tell me why. But he never does, so I let my body fall heavily back onto the pillow.
Five minutes pass, or maybe it's five hours—whatever the time is, I haven't slept. I've only gazed up at the ceiling, creating characters out of the wood marks, watching them move and laugh, fight and die. Just like the world around me, carrying on regardless of my actions. I feel useless and benign. I've taken in the room for so long, I could close my eyes and describe every inch to perfection. The window on the left, covered only by cream sheer muslin. The tall vintage style white washed wardrobe opposite the bed, boasting a long mirror between two doors. The silver handles have scalloped edges, one handle with a small splotch of white paint. Beside the wardrobe is the door I don't want to open. Hanging on the door is a satin robe, it's purple and is the only item of clothing that may have belonged to Miles' mum. I wonder how many times he has looked at that robe wishing her body filled it instead of hanging limply a
gainst an unused door.
’Nora?’ he's back. ‘Do you have that orb?’
In one swift movement, I rip the doona off me and stand beside the bed. I feel like my lungs may explode from the rapid breaths I'm making them take. ‘What… what did you say?’ I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My navy blue and white striped pyjama shorts poke below my long old t-shirt with roses printed all over the front. The t-shirt hangs loose over my small frame; the slightest movement always makes the right sleeve drop away from my shoulder. I wear it so much the hem has come away and a few random holes begin to eat at its form. My hair is not brushed, with bed waves and fuzzy ends, one strand sticks to my cheek from saliva.
‘The orb. Did you bring it?’
I pull my hair back off my face, tie it in a careless bun and open the door. The smell of fried tomatoes, egg and bacon greets my nostrils and Miles steps back from the door surprised.
‘What orb?’ I ask.
His eyes lift up at the edges, smiling at me without using his mouth. My face remains blank as I stare at him trying to find answers without needing to listen to more lies.
‘I know you have it. But did you bring it?’ he asks so kindly that it frustrates me.
‘Why should I trust you?’ I blurt.
Miles smooths his hair with his fingers and takes a long-awaited sigh. ‘I wish it was as easy as looking at me and knowing that I would never lie to you.’
Before I can think, I raise my hand wide beside me and swing it palm first into his face. The impact stings. I feel sorry yet justified. He winces as he moves his head from the blow.
‘You knew what the Corridor was and yet you still let me go in there. What about the fact that your father created the orbs and we were only hired to do the dirty work of collecting them for his own selfish end game?’ I scream. ‘The fact that he didn't need the explorers any more so all the Corridors were destroyed? Tell me you didn't know any of that? You told my father I was dead!’
‘Nora, it's not that straightforward!’
‘What is it then, if it's not that simple? Are you denying it?’
The usually cool and collected demeanour of his, is replaced with a cowering sorry excuse for a human.
‘Look at me!’ I radiate venom from my eyes.
He stares at our feet before meeting my eye line. A lone tear hangs shamelessly off the end of his nose. He lifts the back of his hand to catch the tear of guilt. ‘I would never lie to you. I've held this ache in my heart for five years, knowing how close you were but not being able to see you or touch you or tell you… and now you're here and you're hurting and you won't let me do a damn thing to help you.’
I swallow the rising taste of bitterness and through gritted teeth say, ‘Yes… I brought the orb.’
With the removal of one small droplet, a tear you’d never known he formed, he smiles. Not a proud smile, or an eager smile, or even a happy smile—it’s a reassuring smile that lifts not only his lips but, just slightly, my faith in him.
‘Come with me.’ Miles holds his hand out and I look at it. He wastes no time in waiting for me, so he takes my wrist and drags me out the door, down the path and onto the sand bank. His steps are so fast and wide I have to run three jogs for every two steps he takes.
‘Slow down!’ I demand.
He lets go of my wrist and slows his pace. I follow him in silence for a few minutes.
‘I'd sit out here for hours as a child,’ Miles says as we get closer to the rocky edge of the lake. ‘You wouldn't know it but there are thousands of salmon in there!’
My wide eyes turn into slits as I look at him confused.
‘What does this have to do with the orb?’ I ask annoyed.
He smirks and with one motion he's removed his shirt and is running in leaps over the rocks. Without hesitation he throws himself off the tallest rock and submerges into the chilled lake. His small dive disrupts the peaceful water flow as the ripples from the splash roll out into the lake. A few metres from where he entered, he rises out of the water laughing.
‘Quick Nora, pass me that spear!’ He points behind me.
I turn around and see a spear beside a towel, tackle box, net and fishing rod, leaning against the cliff.
I make my way over the rocks to where he is wading and pass him the spear. He takes it out of my hand and gives me a shivering smile.
‘How do you do that?’ I ask.
‘What?’
‘Leap off a rock cliff and act like I… like I didn't just hit you?’
‘Well it's hardly a rock cliff, and that was hardly a hit…’ he teases. ‘But I don't know. I’m not mad at you. I could never—look, I know you’ve heard some things about me. I just wanted to remind you of the real me; to give you space to decide if you trust me or not.’
He dives down again and air bubbles join the ripples on the surface. I wait with anticipation and curiosity. The bitter knot in my stomach uncurling more with every one of his smiles.
Miles leaps out of the water and throws the spear onto the rocks, as he pulls himself out of the cool lake, water trickles down his curved arms. I can't help but stare.
He shakes his hair and runs his fingers through. ‘What?’
‘Where’s the fish?’ I ask.
‘No fish.’
‘No fish?’ I’m still staring.
He smiles and my heart skips a beat. I scurry to grab him the towel, desperate to mask the look I gave him. I'm supposed to still be mad at him. After I pass him the towel I step down the rocks and collect his shirt.
‘Thanks.’ He puts his shirt back on and sits down on a rock. His shirt clings to his toned torso as he reaches behind him to grab his spear and places it back where it was previously resting.
I look out towards the lake, overhead the sun peers its way through overcast clouds. The light shimmers on the water surface, and it actually looks inviting to swim in. I realise that it's not as cold as it was back at the Fort, the air is crisp and fresh but I'm comfortable.
‘Are we still in Canada?’ I ask.
‘Oregon,’ as he breathes the word out a drop of water flies from his lips. He wipes his mouth before digging his hand deep into his short’s pocket and pulls out a small chest with a padlock on it. ‘The key is in the cabin, open it when you're ready to know about your orb.’
He places the chest into my hands and walks away drying his hair with the towel.
Your orb?
~~~
Miles is in the shower when I get back to the cabin. Good, I think, at least then I can't get buried under more confusing conversations—I need to work out if I can trust him all on my own. Will whatever is in this chest help me or will it add to the confusing mess of lies that circle in my head?
I notice the dining table is covered with food. Two plates; one with the morning’s toast covered in eggs and tomatoes with bacon on the side; and one with a ham sandwich. I hear the shower turn off so I grab the ham sandwich, the bread feels a little crusty and dry but it will do. I force a whole triangle into my mouth and instantly regret it, my cheeks puff out from the volume of bread as I try to chew through it without gagging. I rush into the bedroom and close the door shut. I place the small chest onto the bed and stare at it. I realise I don't have the key and I really don't want to talk to Miles again today. So I sit beside the chest on the bed and take bird sized portions from the remaining sandwich triangle.
Three new thoughts circle my mind: Can I trust Miles? Why was I given that orb? And what can I do to make things right? The last thought surprises me. Half of me wants to huddle up and hide from the world; but the other half holds this spark, something igniting inside of me—I need to do something to help. To help The Uprising, or to help Palladium? I don’t know, but the more I think of it the stronger and brighter it burns. I think of these three things on loop until day becomes night, my eyelids become heavy, and my stomach becomes a fire pit. I drift off to sleep knowing that when I wake I have no choice but to be ready, like a flaming arrow resting
against a bow, ready for its Archer’s instructions.
TWENTY-ONE
Nora
I open my eyes to the sound of a kettle whistling. I deserve answers, I need to know why we are here—as much as I would like to hide for as long as possible, I can't stay in this room forever. Knowing Miles has no problems with demanding attention it's not like I can avoid him by staying in here anyway. I catch myself smiling with the memory of him taking me to bed at the safe house and not realising it was him. Why am I smiling? He is still a liar and a murderer, right? Right?
The kettle continues to whistle and I hear the alarming sounds of water sizzling on a hot stove. Like a Band-Aid, I tear the sheets off myself, wrap myself in a long grey cardigan, shove the orb in a pocket and leave the confines of the bedroom with my head high.
Noticing I'm the only one in the cabin, I walk straight to the stove, turn the gas off and remove the kettle pot from the heat. Sitting isolated on the bench is a mug with a tea bag hanging over the side. I look around through the expansive front window and spot Miles running out along the sand bank. So cheeky, using the kettle as my alarm.
I smile again as I pour the boiled water into the mug. Why am I doing that? I appreciate the gesture but I'm forgetting too easily what kind of a person he is. I can't let him fool me.
I blow the steam away from the top of the mug as I look around the cabin. I move around the table to get a better look at the family photo I spotted early yesterday morning. Professor Ladlow holds his face against his wife’s cheek, she has deep set eyes and a kind smile. In between them, a young grinning Miles. That same floppy hair falls nonchalantly over his ears. His eyes light up from the tickled embrace he seems to be in. I sigh and run my finger across the dusty frame but all it does is make the grime more visible. A beautiful memory, tainted by time and dirt.
