Time dripped away like a well-worn torture device. Each second shouted a reminder of Della’s request for Joel to kiss his children for her. Fear pooled in her eyes and fell down her cheeks as she timidly extended her hand. Their fingers touched and Fillion’s body slumped forward as years of abandonment flowed from his mom to him and back in a complete circuit.
Although he was the one offering the comfort, it felt the other way around. This was a moment he’d longed to know for so long. Maybe she really did care about him? Her crying eased and she gave his fingers a light squeeze. A cold sensation tingled in his hand as she pulled away to touch the chain around her neck. She lifted the silver necklace and kissed the small pendant.
Leaf cleared his throat. “I have seen your and father’s initials on the linden tree.”
A heartbreaking smile touched her red lips. “The linden tree was Joel’s engagement gift to me,” she said, and flit a nervous look at Leaf. “He carved our initials into the trunk after I said ‘yes’. When he announced his acceptance of Hanley’s offer to join New Eden, I hired a company to dig up our tree and plant it inside the Township.”
“We have a tradition, My Lady,” Leaf replied. “When a man pledges his life to a woman, and she honors him by becoming his bride, he carves their initials into the very same linden tree. The trunk bears the marks of many lovers.” A bashful smile touched Leaf’s face and he blinked nervously. “Everyone in New Eden knows the legend of the first initials. My father often shared the story of the two star-crossed lovers, a man of the earth and humble circumstances and a woman of noble bearing and great beauty.”
Leaf smiled shyly once more as he met Della’s eyes. “It is said that when tragedy finally tore their love apart, the tree took pity on the maiden and wept. A small, silver linden leaf fell from the branches and magically formed into a pendant as a token of the young man’s eternal love, which the maiden carried with her the remainder of her days.”
Della touched the necklace once more. In a quivering voice, she said, “A letter from Joel arrived for me the week New Eden sealed its doors. This story you share was enclosed, along with this necklace.” Silent tears slid down her face. Then she shook her head. “This is not possible. The courts verified the deaths of each of Joel’s children.”
Leaf pinched his brows together. “After Mother passed away, Father urged me to memorize several statements to verify my identity, a notion I found rather strange, but never questioned. He was most insistent that I was to relay a message to you, should ever we meet and he was not present for introductions.”
Distressed, Leaf regarded Fillion and Skylar, lowered his eyes, and whispered, “As you know, my full name is Leaf Dylan Watson, Son of Earth, Aether of New Eden Township. Although I am not the son you miscarried after Dylan’s death,” Leaf said, his expression remaining steadfast, “I offer myself as your humble servant.”
Della blanched with his words and let go of the necklace. “How did you... Oh my god.” Her eyes rounded and she placed a hand on her throat. “I was fifteen weeks along, and we didn’t want our families and friends to know before the wedding. We never told anyone. Not even Hanley knows.” Tears gathered and fell down her cheeks as her face altered from expressions of horror to disbelief.
She peered at Fillion and quickly looked away. Della straightened her posture and brushed black strands off of her shoulder. She offered Leaf a worried smile. “The world believes you are dead. If your identity is revealed, it could place New Eden Township in jeopardy.”
“Yes, I understand, and I have considered such consequences.” Leaf raked a hand through his hair. “I am also aware that I am due a large monetary legacy. The scandal goes beyond my resurrection. Are the funds sufficient enough to assist New Eden in the event of contract losses?”
“To be honest, I have not seen the sum. However, I have gathered from my husband that it is a rather large amount of money.” Della paused for a beat. “Are you prepared for medical examinations and court trials? Both would remove you from New Eden Township for a duration.”
Without hesitation, Leaf replied, “I am prepared to do whatever is necessary to ensure the safety of my home and my family.”
“Your family?”
“My sisters, Laurel and Willow Oak, and my wife, Ember Watson, Coal’s twin sister.”
“Strange,” Della said, thoughtful. “Coal has not mentioned your family or even that his sister was married.”
“Not strange.” Fillion narrowed his eyes. “Obvious.”
His mom regarded him for a split second and then returned attention to Leaf. “The Moores and Carsons have requested to return to New Eden, despite your Kingship. Did you perchance grant permission? I am assuming this is part of why we are meeting, beyond the obvious.”
Leaf pulled the Scroll from his pocket and brought up the email threads. “I have been in communication with Hanley since the day they left.” He handed the device to Della through the shaft.
Her lips formed a thin line as her eyes moved across the screen. Dark hair fell over her face as she swiped to the next page, covering the distress forming on her features. She looked up and locked eyes with Fillion, the hurt and betrayal showing in her sagging shoulders and mouth. “I will sign the release for the families to return to New Eden tomorrow. I cannot offer any guarantees, though, as Hanley could veto my command.” Della said to Leaf, “If all goes well, you and Jeff both will receive a message of when to arrive at The Door.”
An intense wave of nausea rolled through Fillion and he closed his eyes until it passed. A clammy sensation chilled his skin and he lifted a shaky hand, closed to a fist, and covered his mouth.
“Fillion, you really do not look well,” his mom said with genuine concern on her face. “This has been a stressful...” She stopped and cleared her throat and looked away. “My apologies.”
“I’m fine.” Fillion blinked and let out a slow, measured breath. “Thanks for your help.”
“May I have a word alone with my son?”
“Of course, My Lady.” Leaf started to rise. “On behalf of New Eden Township, thank you. It is truly an honor to meet you.” Leaf remained bent over to see her and dipped his head.
Red lips twitched into an uncertain smile. “Likewise. Although, I wish over better circumstances.” She swallowed back the rising emotions. “My condolences to your family. Joel was the finest man I have ever known. His love changed me.”
“His love changed many people.” Leaf smiled and then rose from his crouched position. “We shall meet you above ground,” he whispered to Fillion.
Fillion watched Leaf and Skylar leave, then turned back to his mom. “We’re alone now. What’s up?”
“Thank you for sharing with me your pain.” Long, slender fingers toyed with the necklace again. “I am grieved...” His mom lifted a hand and wiped away a tear. “I know I have done a poor job showing you over the years, but the day you were born was one of the happiest days of my life.”
Fillion tensed and looked away. He didn’t know how to receive her words. Several festering wounds winced with pain and he swallowed back the rising anger and remained silent.
“I allowed fear over losing you—and Lynden—to mold my motherhood,” she continued. “Fear is a master of shape-shifting and becomes what feeds it. Therefore, I did lose you. And lost myself in the process. But I am waking up.”
His mom released a heavy sigh and wiped away another tear. “I never wanted any of this to happen. I had ideas, theories, and allowed my excitement to carry me away. But I never wanted my friends to suffer, or my family. This was not the plan, nor how I saw my future life play out. I have made decisions that I can never take back, and they will haunt me for the rest of my life.”
He nodded his head and continued to bite his tongue. What could he say?
“You will need time to process that information.” She cleared her throat in that dainty way of hers. “You are right, Fillion. You are not my brother or your father. I am pleasantly stunned by
your courage and your sense of honor, two traits you possess that I am ashamed to have never noticed.” His mom placed her hands onto the edge of the chamber and leaned forward. “Such strengths already reside within a person, but choices and situations showcase their presence. In your pain, you could have chosen to hide. Instead, you chose to protect others who might suffer like you have.”
“I don’t know what else to do,” he said, lifting his shoulders. “I refuse to let Hanley win whatever game he’s playing. He’s brought me into it as a key player, and I’ll be damned if he uses me to hurt others.”
The heartbreaking smile returned, her thumb and forefinger caressing the leaf pendant thoughtfully. “So Willow Oak Watson is alive... How are you handling being in her presence?”
“Peachy.” Fillion bit the inside of his cheek.
“No PTSD hallucinations?”
“Like I said, I’m fine.” He held onto the lip of the chamber as his head swam under a dizzy spell. His mom arched her eyebrow and studied his face. For some reason he confessed, “I love her.” Maybe it was the nausea and lightheadedness. Maybe just pure stupidity. Or perhaps he had turned into the corniest sap that had ever walked Mars and Earth—it was killing him. But regardless, the words were out before he could take them back.
His mom whispered the word “synchronicity” to herself, a distraught expression tensing her features. That was her only reply, and not even meant for him to hear he realized. Still, it allowed him an opportunity to mull the idea internally. And god, knowing there was a clinical term for his brand of crazy only confirmed his freak status.
She dropped the necklace and leaned forward once again. Worry and sorrow creased her forehead and pulled at the lines around her mouth, as if she wrestled with remorse over his moronic confession. He braced himself. Her mouth opened to speak and then she sat back, an entirely different form of concern flitting across her eyes. “You really do look sick. You should get some sleep.” She offered a troubled smile, looking away. “Call me anytime you wish to talk. OK?”
“OK. Thanks. I promise to think over everything you shared.”
His mom dipped her head and averted her eyes once again. An awkward silence ensued. It was the same feeling he had when leaving Norah’s room. He knew he needed to sever the connection, but didn’t want to at the same time. He’d waited his whole life to feel real in his mom’s eyes. But he also wanted to crawl into bed, his mind quickly slipping away.
“When you shut the door,” he said, in a sturdy voice strange to his ears, “I’ll reconfigure the circuit logic. I’ll clean up the log entries to hide your activity, too.” She nodded her head and smiled her goodbye, and started to close the metal door. “Wait.” His mom paused and met his eyes. “Take care of yourself. Joel would want you to.” After half a second, he whispered, “So do I.” Her eyes welled up with tears and she smiled, the gesture warm and vulnerable.
They both looked away and shut their respective doors in slow, quiet movements. Exhaling loudly, Fillion fell to his back and closed his eyes. He needed to stay focused. He could crash later. At this point, he needed a system restart to refresh his emotional state. New thoughts uploaded at rapid speed. His sluggish brain was unable to keep up with the momentum. Forcing himself to keep moving, he unloaded his fire nest material and, within a couple minutes, lit up a joint. God, that first drag never got old.
As the smoke left his lips in thin wisps, he turned on his Cranium and reset the circuit logic. Then, he hacked into the Guardian Angel mainframe, perusing the log entries for the last twenty-four hours while he waited for his mom to enter the heart of the lab. Gave him time to smoke in peace, too. Biometric scanners recorded her trek across the property and through N.E.T., adding a new line-entry to the top.
While he waited, he searched through the previous entries. The word “air_lock” scrolled past and he halted, pushing the screen back up. Yesterday, the airlock was accessed via the technosphere mid-day. That night, it was accessed by someone in the hatch. His pulse raced with the possibilities, wondering if it was Timothy, Connor, or someone else.
With a groan, he closed his eyes tight. The act was a useless counter-pressure to the headache blurring his vision. And the pain only intensified with each thought his mind attempted to deconstruct and re-engineer into the machine that made up his mental faculties. His eyelids pushed open to a squint, determined to finish the job so he could fall into bed.
Fillion erased the new log entries when he was sure his mom was back in her room, and then closed out all the screens. With a last puff on the nub of his joint, he snuffed it out and swept the ashes to the corner of the room to hide evidence of being here.
Muscles ached with each movement and shook with weakness. Still, he managed to climb up the ladder to the waiting gazes of Leaf and Skylar. Rock back in place, they lifted hoods and began the long walk back to the village. At this point, the way he felt, it was tempting to curl up beneath a large leaf, allow the jungle to claim him, and call it a night. “Mind over matter,” he muttered under his breath, the roar of the waterfall receding behind the thick, draping vines.
***
I believe in everything until it’s disproved. So I believe in fairies, the myths, dragons. It all exists, even if it’s in your mind. Who’s to say that dreams and nightmares aren’t as real as the here and now?
Surrealism had a great effect on me because then I realised that the imagery in my mind wasn’t insanity. Surrealism to me is reality.
— John Lennon, singer and songwriter, The Beatles, 20th century A.D. *
***
Each step drained Fillion’s strength, and his muscles shook and burned with the effort. In The Rows he stumbled, face planting into the dirt. Gross. Was this a sign? Were the residents not lucky enough to make it to Project Phase Two trying to take him captive? The ashes of a Nichols in New Eden would be an appropriate blood price. Maybe then the dead would rest in peace. Fillion, too. A sound left his mouth when he rolled to his side, becoming louder when Leaf pulled him to his feet.
“Do you fare well?”
“No.” Fillion’s head felt heavy, but he found a spark of strength to lift it. “I think I need help.”
“Of course.” Leaf’s face tensed, and he flashed a quick look to Skylar as he draped Fillion’s arm around his shoulder and moved slowly. “Do you think you can travel to my apartment?”
“Yeah,” Fillion said, catching his breath. He didn’t want to be left alone. The weakness and sensations were starting to freak him out. Same with the direction of his thoughts. When the trio reached the forest, Fillion lifted a hand. “I need to stop. Set me ... down.” Leaf lowered him and crouched by his side, face puckered with fear. Fillion’s lungs pumped hard, even though they had walked at a snail’s pace. “Skylar,” he croaked.
“Yes, My Lord.”
“I have ... a gift for ... Willow. In The Forge. Under ... a large sheet. You’ll know it ... when you see it.”
“You wish for me to fetch it?”
Fillion closed his eyes, then forced them open and found Skylar’s worried gaze. The forest around them shifted and moved, a quick advance and a slow retreat, and Fillion shook his head. That was weird. Was he really so exhausted his mind was playing tricks on him? Remembering Skylar’s question, he answered, “In her ... living room ... by morning. Surprise.”
“It shall be done. Worry not.”
“Thanks.” With another shallow breath, Fillion looked to Leaf. “Let’s go.”
Leaf hefted him to a standing position and Skylar sidled up to Fillion’s other side to help. They continued to edge along the village, Fillion’s head lolling as lethargy set in. His mind began to tingle, like the beginning stages of a high. Occasionally, the ground beneath his feet would disappear and he seemed to walk across an obsidian river. The black, shiny trail was ominous and beautiful, and his feet trod over each rise and dip of the gentle, solidified waves with ease. But then, the image would fade and the leaf-littered path would return. Maybe
he finally had slipped into insanity. How else could he explain it?
At the top of the stairs, Fillion’s legs finally gave out and he nearly crumpled to the floor. Leaf and Skylar caught him and held him up, but his legs refused to move. God, this sucked. What the hell was going on with him? The next thing he knew, hands scooped under his legs and arms, and the nobles carried him into the apartment.
The sound of the door pierced through Fillion’s head and he groaned, grimacing with pain. “Damn it. Did you ... make my head ... explode?” he asked.
“My apologies,” Leaf said softly, but still, Fillion cringed.
“My Lord,” a female intoned from the other side of the room. He thought perhaps Ember. “Is he injured?”
“No, he is sick and plagued by sudden weakness.”
A pause. “Oh, the poor man! Where shall we place him?”
“In my parents’ bedchamber,” Leaf said.
The room tilted, then spun. The walls swirled and disappeared and faces contorted into horrific shapes. Fillion’s stomach lurched and he gagged, sweat breaking out on his forehead. “I’m going ... to puke.”
“Quick, the wooden tumbler on the cabinet,” Leaf boomed, gently placing Fillion into a chair.
Within seconds, a cup was thrust in Fillion’s hands and he retched. Stomach muscles cramped and squeezed with each heave until a slow fire spread across his waist. Weakness finally claimed him and his body folded in on itself, and he felt weightless as he fell from the side of a chair. Hands grabbed him and eased him onto the floor, where he remained. Light flooded the room as multiple lanterns and candles were lit, and Fillion closed his eyes against the brightness.
Elements (The Biodome Chronicles series Book 2) Page 53
