She would not crash. She would not allow the gluttonous floor to consume her as grief and peace battled for dominance over this day. Since The Exchange, Oaklee had pushed hard against moments such as these, refusing to fall deeper and deeper into the dark hole that had become her life. Nevertheless, fatigue from endless battles, such as now, exhausted her resolve, and she eased her body onto the cot, staring absently at the whitewashed mud wall.
Her fingers inched their way beneath her pillow and pulled out the linden leaf she discovered in Ember’s old room last eve. In sullen reverie, Oaklee lowered her head upon the pillow and curled up atop her blankets as she caressed the leaf. Visions of Fillion flitted across the landscape of her mind once more. The geodesic night sky had accentuated the vulnerability and torment etched into his features, lighting his skin with a faint, silvery glow. His aggrieved and despondent tones, spoken in hoarse whispers and gritty shouts, shook the boughs of her heart and the various leaves of emotion tumbled and churned in the mighty wind that gusted from his life’s storm.
She blinked as the heart-shaped leaf fanned her face while her hand meandered back and forth in wave-like motions. Green blurred through the air, holding the attention of her heavy thoughts as they settled onto the rather unexpected presence of the leaf itself. His apologetic gesture was beautiful and heartfelt, and the metaphor far surpassed a handshake or age-old words. It was as if he understood her language and wished to demonstrate his respect as he simultaneously professed his quest for love and truth. To make such a vulnerable declaration, after how she had responded to his angry outpouring, cost him much. And she felt honored by his sacrifice to demonstrate care for her feelings.
Oaklee rolled to her back with closed eyes as a wistful smile warmed her features and her arms lazily draped across the cot in surrender. Her father’s words filled her mind, as his deep voice said, “From our first breath we cry out to be loved. Love is the meaning of life, Oaklee—and without it, life is meaningless.”
Yesterday eve on the stone bridge, her heart shattered as she understood Fillion’s anguished confessions. The Outsider was akin to an injured animal, frightening her, most especially when he touched her body while whispering provocative words in her ear. Coal’s kiss showed desperation for her affection, but Fillion’s touch showed desperation for control. She felt violated, and girlhood vanished that instant as womanhood responded to his advances and then demanded he view her as more than flesh for his pain and pleasure. His only saving grace was that his raw, unloved state pulled her toward him with such force that the experience had irrevocably changed her.
Her father’s words suddenly had depth and seized the numerous threads dangling from the fabric of her life, weaving in a new color of enlightenment. Love’s thread looped, knotted, and intertwined every individual she knew, each soul adding to the beautiful tapestry that depicted her community, highlighting their intrinsic value and worth.
Did Fillion fully realize how he had cheapened her? Could he respect any boundary line she drew?
Any revolution he sparked would be for revenge rather than for the heart of her community, and she refused to see her home and way of life altered for ignoble reasons. He may not wish for his inheritance nor care much for the community. But her family did. And both her mother and father died serving each resident of New Eden. By fighting for Fillion, she also fought for her home—they were entangled truths.
Oaklee rested the linden leaf against her mouth and nose, inhaling its subtle fragrance, much milder than the spring blossoms that perfumed the dome and intoxicated the bees. She sighed. Fillion possessed a beautiful soul despite his guarded, vulgar outward nature. His true affection was quiet, unassuming, and gentle, never bringing attention to himself, but rather to the person to whom he opened up to. She thought of the fingers, soft and kind, which held her hair when she grew sick in the Cave; the wine he poured for her when she could no longer manage Saturday night; the wildflower he offered her in The Orchard near The Rows; and the linden leaf pressed to her throbbing heart.
Another sigh escaped her body just as a loud crack, followed by a crash, echoed throughout the apartment. Oaklee sat up with an involuntary squeak, clutching the leaf tight against her body. The sound of snapping wood and multiple items hitting the floor filled the emptiness of her home once more and the linden leaf fluttered to the floor. Oaklee flattened a hand against her chest as her heart attempted to beat out of her body, forcing her to concentrate on deepening her shallow breaths. She crawled off her bed to pick up the leaf, then hid it beneath her pillow with trembling fingers.
Slowly, as if traveling through water, Oaklee approached her door and opened it the tiniest sliver to peek into the hallway. She did not sense movement and eased out, staring wide-eyed toward the living room. Nothing moved and the eerie silence after such a ruckus made the tiny hairs on the nape of her neck rise. She was not sure what she expected to find, but nothing prepared her for the pile of debris littering the planked floor.
The spinning wheel no longer sat in the corner, but lay smashed on its side, splinters and parts scattered to every corner. The front door remained wide open and she stared in a terrorized trance as a scream traveled through her entire body, yet refused to pass her lips. She knelt in the remains and caressed what was once one of the flyer’s maidens as her shoulders shook. Then, she reached out and scooped up the bobbin, still dressed in black yarn.
Footsteps raced toward the door and she heard Laurel’s shout in excitement, “Oaklee!” Her sister neared the door and said, “Miss Tabitha had her baby last night and...” Her little voice halted with a loud gasp. “Whatever happened?”
Oaklee fingers wrapped around the bobbin and squeezed. “Where is Leaf?”
“He was summoned to the rainforest.”
“By whom?”
“By a gardener. Two ficus trees need trimming and they wished to consult the Earth Element first.”
“Please fetch Leaf.” Oaklee turned and faced her sister as she contorted her face to hold in the forming hurricane. Gale force winds of justice were about to blow mightily and it took all her mental faculties to contain it. “Do not stop for anyone, no matter what they may say or request. Only stop when you find Leaf and then tell him I need his presence at The Forge immediately—it is of utmost importance. Do not share about the spinning wheel with anyone, not even Leaf. I wish to keep this news from the wrong ears. Do you understand?”
“You are scaring me.” Laurel stepped over part of the wheel and its spokes, and placed her small arms around Oaklee’s shoulders. “I am most sorry about your wheel. ’Twas it an accident? Oh, your heart must be filled with such bitter sorrow!” Her sister sniffed.
Oaklee pulled her sister away and held her arms. “We shall grieve later, dear one, but now we need Leaf. When you find him and deliver your message, I wish for you to cross your heart like this.” She demonstrated the movements. “Our brother will know the significance of such a gesture and will act with haste.”
“Yes, Willow,” Laurel said with another sniff. “I shall run like the wind.”
“Thank you, darling. I shall see you at The Forge.”
She kissed Laurel’s cheek and watched as her sister flew out of the apartment. And then Oaklee’s body jerked as she inhaled a sharp, ragged breath, stifling a sob with two fingers pressed against her lips.
From her vantage, she studied the forest and wondered how the trees swayed and bent to the winds of change with faithful acceptance and ease. Predictability was within her grasp, then taken from her like everything else she had loved. Terror gripped her with unrelenting pressure, but she had to make her way to The Forge, and with as much grace and elegance as possible to ensure that if anyone watched her departure, they did not receive satisfaction from her distress.
She inspected the living room once more, squinting her eyes when an object glinted near what remained of her work basket. A small, rectangular card lay atop the upturned basket and she froze. Was this another Death Card? Was s
he marked? Oaklee swallowed back the rising panic. She crawled toward the basket and quailed at the familiar geometric designs.
With trembling fingers, she turned over the card and blinked rapidly, her pulse hammering in her throat. An image of a raven filled the top portion of the card while script filled the lower half. She read the card aloud with a whisper. “You are hereby cursed. A person, place, and thing in your life—objects of love—shall each experience death or damage to redeem your affliction. Only when the person, place, and thing have redeemed you shall the curse be lifted.”
Oaklee flung the card away from her with a small scream and scooted back until she pressed against the wall, pulling her knees up to her chest as she rocked back and forth. “Oh dear Heavenly Father, let it not be so,” she prayed over and over. Her fingers automatically flew to her prayer beads, and she fingered them one by one while whispering prayers under her breath.
Her eyes darted toward the opened door and latticed window. What had she done? She should never have sent Laurel out alone to fetch Leaf. She scrambled to her feet, snatched the card, and raced to the upper deck. Fresh air hit her face, igniting her memory of watchful eyes. She tucked the card into a pocket and smoothed her dress, pulling and wiping at the folds to appear natural. Then, as smoothly as possible, she shut the front door and turned toward the stairs, descending with a straight posture and head held high.
Rather than take the path through the forest, Oaklee trod along the trail that skirted the apartments to remain visible. Black clouds gathered inside her heart, but she wore a small smile as she dipped her head in greeting with various villagers.
“Willow!”
Oaklee shifted her eyes over the apartments, forest, and the smattering of individuals about their business. When she heard her name again, she tarried and nibbled on her bottom lip as Rain ran toward her.
“Willow, I was on my way to your apartment,” the Daughter of Water said through heaving breaths. “Mother has requested your family’s presence.”
Oaklee stiffened as she touched the curse card in her pocket. Withdrawing her hand, she grabbed Rain’s in concern. “Does she fare well?”
“No, she has waned considerably and her breaths are quite shallow.” Tears pooled in Rain’s eyes and she blinked. “Father believes she shall not make it through today.”
“Oh my dear friend, how my heart fills with sorrow for you,” Oaklee said. She gathered Rain in her arms. Thoughts of her spinning wheel and the card were pushed to the back of her mind as she stroked her friend’s hair.
“I am most sorry, Willow. I do not deserve your kindness just now.”
“Nonsense.” Oaklee pulled away and brushed a strand of dark hair from Rain’s face. She offered her friend a comforting smile.
“No, truly. Last week, I was most jealous of the attentions Coal bestowed upon you and resented your position, especially when you insulted him publicly. My comments during your brother’s going-away gathering were ... oh, I am so embarrassed to recall what I said and did.” Rain turned her face to the side as her cheeks pinked. “When I learned Coal left to prove his value to you, I ... I ... and then Corlan arrived and continually looks upon you as if you are the rising sun itself.”
Oaklee widened her eyes and felt heat creep up her neck, but she quickly took hold of Rain’s hands. “I do not carry any grievances toward you,” she whispered. “Please, do not add to your sorrows.”
“You needed my compassion, and instead I set out against you.”
“We were all deranged from grief and fear last week.”
“I feel so lonely,” Rain said as she wiped her eyes. “I love my mother ardently and am thankful for every moment spent caring for her. But in my heart of hearts, I wish for a home of my own as my sister has made with Matthew. She is so happy and quite becoming with child.” The Daughter of Water lowered her head. “Does this not make me the most spiteful of daughters? That I wish to start my own family whilst my mother suffers and lays dying?” Rain gently beat her breast with her fist, as an anguished sob released and she choked out, “So you see, I am most undeserving of your kindness.” She drew in a deep breath and splayed her fingers as if pushing away the air. “I must away. I need to inform Connor that his family’s presence is requested as well.”
“Please allow me. I was heading to The Forge just now. May I do this simple task for you?” Oaklee pleaded with Rain with a quiet look, and Rain reluctantly nodded assent. “Have the Kanes been notified?”
“Yes.”
“Are there any others that your mother wishes to see?”
“Corlan.”
Oaklee’s eyebrows shot up and she could not hide the shock from her face.
“It baffles me, but Mother was most insistent, muttering words of how she owes it to her friend to bless him as well.” Rain shook her head and wiped away more tears. “I do believe she has lost her senses for I cannot imagine what she means.”
“I shall inform him, rest assured.” Oaklee offered another comforting smile, even though the fear swelled quickly inside of her. Did Norah refer to Della as her friend? Did she know Corlan’s true identity? And if so, did any others in the biodome?
“Thank you,” Rain whispered.
“Of course.” Oaklee reached out and held Rain’s hands once more, gently squeezing before letting go. A sad smile graced Rain’s features as she turned and disappeared down the trail.
A slow breath left Oaklee in a shaky sigh, and she resumed her mission to reach The Forge, the hurricane gaining strength, pulsating with fury for release. Another she loved was being taken from her. Although she knew the cancer would claim Norah eventually, the grief she had known this past week renewed with a fierce ache.
A babe was born last night, its cries infusing the atmosphere with its sweet innocence. And a good woman would breathe her last this day, the atmosphere carrying her blessed words of love as she left this world for another. Between them was another who exhaled angry breaths amid the violent wreckage of her spinning wheel.
Oaklee filled her lungs with the air of her community’s life, adding to the gale force winds that would blow.
***
Nichols: You ask an interesting question, one I’ll admit my team has considered greatly. So, first off, yes, I am very familiar with Zimbardo’s prison study. That was the 1970s. Our thinking has evolved since then. Is New Eden Township a similar social experiment? Only in that role-playing is used to reach the game objective: building a sustainable community that spans twenty-five years and withstands the symptoms of isolation, confinement, and extreme environment syndrome. Although there is a social class system, the nobility only possesses certain rights of respect out of their managerial positions. But all must work, all must contribute, and all must care for the community. To eradicate any sense of wealth, currency will not exist in the biodome. There will not be a have and have-not system. Each job and function is considered equally as important. It is a ‘commune’ mentality, the best approach when building an isolated system. In the prison study, the positions of guard and prisoners were role-played to such extremes that violent and aggressive behaviors naturally developed and the experiment was shut down within six days as a result. There are no social factors within my experiment that should naturally foster violent and aggressive tendencies. Rather, we hope to obtain the exact opposite.
— Hanley Nichols, Atoms to Adams Daily Show, August 15, 2030
***
The orange flames of The Forge came into view. Fillion slowed his steps along the path and searched for the Herbalist’s shop. His eyes skimmed over the doors on the first level, locating the wrought iron herb garden design. To think, Fillion practically lived next door to the shop, and Leaf only told him over breakfast today.
The village, the main square housing all the merchant shops, teemed with residents busy socializing and working. People openly stared at him. The dark, mysterious stranger had come to town. What a joke. It almost made him laugh. He guessed no one ever taught them it w
as rude to stare at strangers. Why would they need that social courtesy? But he was used to being on display and a pro at ignoring the human race. Annoying.
Fillion angled around a small crowd of girls carrying baskets of laundry. He reached the shop and gave a light knock. A crowd of eyes bored into his back and he studied his shoes while he waited. The door opened with a low creak and revealed a middle-aged woman with long brown hair, pulled back in a braid and draping down her back. Fillion didn’t mean to start. But he had pictured an old crone, bartering with a witch for New Eden’s version of cigarettes. A pungent savory smell wafted from inside and his nose itched, feeling a sneeze form as the potpourri gained strength. The Herbalist wiped her hands on an apron and then gestured for him to follow her inside.
“Corlan is it?” She walked toward a wooden counter. “My name is Joannah.”
Fillion walked in, ducking his head through the entry. His eyes squinted as they adjusted to the dimness of her humble shop. Bunches of herbs hung from the rafters, and neatly labeled clay pots lined floor-to-ceiling shelves behind the counter.
“I am honored by your visit.” Joannah dipped into a curtsy and graced him with a kind smile.
“Thanks.” He blinked. “Leaf mentioned that you have more rolling papers and herbs for smoking?”
“Yes. Do you suffer from withdrawals?”
Fillion nodded his head and peered out the window. He didn’t want to admit a weakness, especially to a stranger. And he felt weird knowing that he was conversing with someone who knew the real world, but pretended it didn’t exist.
Elements (The Biodome Chronicles series Book 2) Page 16
