Children of Eternity Omnibus

by P. T. Dilloway

  When his glasses cleared, he jumped back at a gruesome sight. A skeleton lay in the center of the chamber, a knife sticking out of its rib cage. He didn’t see any treasure or crystal meth, just a lot of clay pots, some as big as a 55-gallon drum and others no larger than a saltshaker. The smaller jars sat on stone shelves around the room, many of these broken open to stain the walls with dark splotches. Joseph’s nose stung and his eyes watered from an indescribably pungent odor.

  “What the hell is this place?” he wondered aloud.

  He reached up to take one of the little jars off the top shelf. As he stretched, his foot slipped on a shard of pottery. He scrambled to grab onto something to keep from falling onto the body in the center of the room. He thought he grabbed one of the shelves, but it turned out only to be a clay jar.

  Joseph fell back onto the corpse, the clay jar coming down after him. The jar spilled over Joseph’s face, a rancid taste filling his mouth and a black liquid covering his eyes. He tried to spit out the awful liquid, but couldn’t. He passed out wondering if someone would find him years from now decomposed on top of the corpse. At least I’ll see Mom again, he thought.

  Chapter 8: Homecoming

  Mr. Pryde didn’t say much for the rest of the trip up the winding road. Samantha wanted to ask about his last name and any potential relationship to Jonas Pryde, but she didn’t want to risk revealing from where she and the others had come. The last thing the children of Eternity needed was a bunch of strange adults invading the island to ship everyone off to foster homes.

  They passed by a one-story house painted white with pink trim and a front yard swarming with gnomes, flamingos, and deer. A silver box on Samantha’s side of the road identified the house as belonging to the Schulmans. The road now turned to packed snow as the truck climbed up the hill.

  At the top of the hill, Samantha saw a house whose wooden sides might have once been white, but now had turned gray. The black roof added to an ominous feeling surrounding the house. There were no lights in the windows on any of the three floors. “This is where you live?” Samantha asked.

  “This is it. My ancestors built the place back in 1720 when the town was founded,” Mr. Pryde said. He pulled the truck around a curve onto a patch of bare dirt that had been spared from the snow. “It’s a mess, but it’ll keep you warm and dry for the night.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Pryde. I promise we won’t inconvenience you too much,” Samantha said. Even as she said this, she saw Wendell leap from the truck and race over to a rusty car. He swept snow away from the hood to gape at the engine. “I’m sorry about him. He’s never really seen a car before.”

  “If he can get the old girl running he’s welcome to keep it,” Mr. Pryde said. His laugh sounded as though he were choking on a bone. “You might want to help your other friend out.”

  Samantha went around to the side of the pick-up, where Prudence rocked back and forth as if the truck were still moving. “Prudence, we’re here,” Samantha said. “Give me your hand and I’ll help you down.”

  “I don’t want to get down,” Prudence said. “I want to go home. I shouldn’t have come in the first place.”

  Samantha climbed over the side of the pick-up truck and shoved aside crates and netting to sit beside her friend. “It’s not so bad,” Samantha said. “You have to give it a chance.”

  “That’s easy for you to say. You’ve lived here before.”

  Samantha heard a creak and looked over to see Wendell tearing something out of the car’s engine. She didn’t have time to coddle Prudence any longer. She tilted her friend’s chin up to look her in the eye. “Prudence, you’re acting childish. We still have to figure out what to do. I can’t do this alone.”

  Prudence nodded. “I’m sorry, Samantha. This is all so strange. But you can count on me. I won’t let you down.”

  “I know. Now, let’s get Wendell before he hurts himself.” Samantha helped Prudence dismount from the pick-up truck. Then she grabbed the collar of Wendell’s jacket. “You can play with this later. Right now we have more important things to do.”

  “I just wanted to see what’s inside,” he said. “It’s amazing. Not at all like I imagined.”

  They climbed a set of creaky steps up to a porch with worn netting strewn about over the furniture. Mr. Pryde opened the front door for them, waving them into a parlor finer than anything on Eternity. The white couch with its pink flowers was stained with dirt, the white-and-gold wingback chairs torn, and the wooden coffee table lined with dust. A musty smell like a crypt hung in the air. Books, magazines, and newspapers were thrown around the room. Prudence gathered up those on the couch and deposited them on the coffee table before she sat down.

  “You kids want anything to drink? I got water, milk, or soda. There might be some cookies too.”

  Samantha looked over at Prudence, who sat so rigidly Samantha doubted she heard anything, and then at Wendell, who had found a portable cassette player on the floor. “We’re fine,” Samantha said. “Thank you for asking.”

  “If you don’t mind, I got to go upstairs and change. I don’t suppose your friends watch TV. There’s one across the hall,” Mr. Pryde said. He ducked out of the parlor; Samantha heard his boots stomp up the stairs followed by a door shutting.

  “A television?” Wendell asked. “Can we see it?”

  “As long as you promise not to dissect it.” Samantha led Wendell across the room to a living room with a blue-and-gold couch, blue recliner, and a rocking chair surrounding a wooden cabinet with a TV and VCR inside. Wendell began slapping the buttons on the television until the screen flickered to life. Prudence jumped back as an image of a man wearing a gray uniform with ‘Boston’ printed in red and a hat like Mr. Pryde’s appeared on the screen. Samantha took Prudence’s hand and sat her down on the couch. “It’s all right. This is a television program. A baseball game. See, this man throws that little white ball and the other man tries to hit it with his stick.”

  Wendell fiddled with the buttons until the sound became deafening. Samantha found the remote control on the coffee table and turned the volume down. Wendell looked back at her in disbelief. “How did you do that?”

  She gave the remote control to him. “You point this at the television and it tells it what to do.”

  He examined the remote control as if she’d given him a magic wand. He punched a button and the baseball game was replaced by two people with skin nearly the same color as Samantha’s arguing in a language none of them understood. Wendell hit another button and a cartoon appeared. A square, yellow character jabbered with a red blob. “What are those?” Prudence asked. “They’re like pictures, but they’re moving.”

  “That’s right. It’s called animation,” Samantha said.

  Wendell repeated the word with reverence. “How do they create these things?” he asked.

  “I’m not sure,” Samantha said. “It’s complicated.”

  “I don’t like it,” Prudence said.

  “Give it a chance,” Samantha said. “You two keep watching. I’ll be right back.”

  Samantha didn’t want to take advantage of their host, but she needed to find answers. She crept into the parlor to search for any clues about Judah Pryde. On the mantle above the fireplace, she found a color photograph similar to the one of her parents.

  She recognized a younger Judah Pryde despite shorter hair and a smile on his face. He knelt beside a boy with brown hair sticking up in the back and a pair of black-rimmed spectacles. A chubby woman who looked almost exactly like her son—including the glasses—smiled on the boy’s other side. Behind them was a forest of evergreens. “That’s my wife and son about ten years ago,” Mr. Pryde said. Samantha jumped and muttered an apology. Mr. Pryde waved the apology away and picked up the photograph. “That was about three months before she died.”

  “I’m sorry,” Samantha said.

  “A heart attack. Real sudden.”

  “That’s awful.” Samantha looked down at the dusty floor as sh
e composed her next words. “I used to know someone named Jonas Pryde. Is he any relation?”

  Mr. Pryde set the picture back on the mantle. “I had a grandfather named Jonas, but he disappeared probably sixty years ago during the war. Left my grandmother with a baby and this house. I don’t suppose you could have known him.”

  “I suppose not,” Samantha said. “It must be a different Jonas Pryde.” She thought of the trophies Jonas Pryde had kept from his victims, the various eras from which they had originated. He could easily have come ashore and married a woman before heading back to his duties on Eternity.

  “If it is, he ain’t related to me. Joey and I are the last of the family.” Mr. Pryde sighed and then reached into the pocket of a different flannel shirt for another cigarette. “There’s one other of us—my sister—but she disappeared years ago.”

  “Don’t you miss your sister?” Samantha asked. She thought of the night her parents died and the sister or brother who had died in her mother’s stomach.

  “I hardly knew her. My parents died when I was a baby and she’d already taken off by then. I saw her a few times, mostly when she wanted a place to lay low. She wasn’t a good person.”

  “I’m sorry,” Samantha said again.

  “It’s not your fault,” Mr. Pryde said. He looked up at the clock on the mantle and shook his head. “Joey should be here. He’s usually upstairs with his crazy experiments by now.”

  “Should we go look for him?”

  “Nah, he’s probably studying some rocks. Your little cousin would hit it off with him.”

  “I’m sorry for any trouble he’s caused—”

  “He ain’t done nothing wrong.” Mr. Pryde tossed his cigarette into the fireplace. “I ought to show you kids where to sleep.”

  “Thank you. By the way, about how far is town from here?”

  “Not far. Down the hill and to the right about three miles. I can take you kids in tomorrow if you want.”

  “I couldn’t ask you to do that. You’ve been so nice to us already. We can make it on our own.”

  “I’ll take you. We can’t have you kids out on those icy roads getting in the way.” From the tone of his voice, Samantha knew better than to argue. She went to the living room to tell the others only to find Prudence and Wendell both asleep on the couch in the blue glow of the television.

  Chapter 9: Open Doors

  The universe unfolded before Joseph’s eyes. Planets, stars, and galaxies zoomed through his vision, disappearing in a moment. Whole species evolved from single-cell organisms into bipedal creatures more advanced than humans. Stars exploded in bursts of blinding light before collapsing into formless black holes consuming everything.

  A voice whispered into his ears, the words at first undecipherable. Joseph strained to make them out. Soon everything came into focus. The voice whispered theories and equations beyond anything Newton, Einstein, or Hawking had ever conceived. With these, Joseph would be the world’s greatest scientist. He would be rich and famous; he would win every possible Nobel Prize. They would rename the award after him.

  The whispering became fainter until it finally died out. No, there was still so much he could learn! The planets, stars, and galaxies whizzed by in the opposite direction, time reversing until everything contracted into one single point of light. That light grew brighter and brighter until it blinded Joseph.

  His eyes opened to the underground chamber. He snatched the penlight that had fallen next to him, sweeping it around in search of the wonders he’d seen. He found no one in the chamber with him but the corpse. Had he dreamed the whole thing?

  Joseph sat up and looked down at the black stains on his shirt and the stone floor. Of course, the vile-tasting potion he’d swallowed. That must have caused him to hallucinate. No, not a hallucination—a vision. A vision revealing the secrets of the universe. The key to understanding everything.

  He pressed a hand to his forehead as he tried to remember what the voice had whispered. Snippets came to him, but nothing cohesive. He shot to his feet, looking around the chamber again. “Please, you have to tell me. Tell me again so I can remember. Where are you?” he shouted. His voice echoed throughout the chamber, receiving no answer.

  Joseph knelt down to taste the liquid that had spilled on the floor. This time nothing happened. He needed a larger dose. One of these jars must hold more. He would find it and this time retain everything he saw and heard.

  His watch beeped; it was midnight. Pop would skin him alive if he didn’t get home soon. He didn’t have time to look through the jars now, but he couldn’t leave them here. He couldn’t let someone else find them and discover the secrets of the universe. “They’re mine,” he said.

  He carefully took the jars from the shelves to put into his backpack. When he ran out of room, he dumped out his textbooks and notebooks for school. What did he need them for now? No book could teach him as much as the potion. When he finished, the backpack felt as if it weighed a hundred pounds, but he didn’t care. He slung the pack over his shoulders and started up the tunnel, ignoring the cold.

  His skis remained where he’d left them in the snow. He strapped them on and hurried along the dark forest path, no longer stopping to photograph the trees. Mom would understand what he had to do. When he became the world’s most famous and richest scientist he could buy the entire state of Maine and replant every tree ever cut down. She would be proud of him then. Even Pop would be proud.

  Joseph started to shiver from the cold breeze, but didn’t dare go back for his coat now. He had to get his load back to his room to find more of the potion. This time he would be prepared with recording devices to document everything. The knowledge would not escape his grasp.

  He met the road near Old Lady Schulman’s house and started up the hill. His house always looked creepy in the moonlight, like a haunted house in an old horror movie. He climbed up the front steps and rummaged through his pockets to find the key. Not that anyone in Seabrooke had the guts to rob the place. A curse was said to exist on the Pryde family, spanning generations to the founding of Seabrooke when the first occupants of the house were found butchered except for the youngest son, Jonah. The curse had killed Joseph’s mother, people around town whispered when they thought he couldn’t hear.

  The house was silent as Joseph crept along the front hall and started up the stairs. Pop must have gone to bed already. He didn’t like to stay up later than nine o’clock so he could get up early to take the boat out. Pop had been on the boat the night Mom died.

  The weight on his shoulders reminded him of his purpose. He had more important things to do than relive a past he couldn’t change. He had the key to unlimited knowledge and power almost within his grasp.

  Joseph paused at the top of the stairs when he heard snoring from down the hall. Pop didn’t usually snore and never that loud. He listened a moment longer before reminding himself he didn’t have time for such petty mysteries. He went down to his bedroom door, turned the knob, and then almost lost his footing in shock when he hit the light switch.

  There was a girl in his bed! She looked about the same age as him, but he couldn’t remember seeing her before. He wouldn’t have forgotten a girl with skin such an exotic bronze and hair such a glossy black. He certainly wouldn’t have forgotten those juicy melons pressing against her T-shirt.

  The girl sat up in bed and blinked in surprise. She looked around the room, her eyes settling on Joseph. A yelp escaped her lips as she rolled off the bed and onto her feet in one smooth motion. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I got up to use the bathroom and I must have gone into the wrong room.”

  “It’s all right,” he said, unable to think of anything else to say. The girl slid along the wall, her cheeks turning red.

  “You must be Joseph. Your father mentioned you earlier. This is a nice room. Much nicer than mine.”

  “You know Pop?”

  “He let me spend the night here. My cousins and I. We’re from out of town and we didn’t have
anywhere else to stay, so he said we could stay here for the night—” her voice finally ran out of steam and with a look of frustration she took a deep breath. “My name is Samantha Young. My cousins and I are spending the night. I’m really sorry about sleeping in your bed. I’ll go back to my room now.”

  “Oh, OK,” Joseph said, hating himself for not coming up with anything more clever. He stepped aside so Samantha could run out of the bedroom and down the hall. He heard a door slam shut. For a moment he stood there, waiting for her to come back, but she didn’t.

  What had he done? A beautiful girl lying in his bed and he couldn’t untie his tongue to say anything. I’m such an idiot, he thought. He should go down the hall to apologize for acting like such a dork, but he’d only end up making things worse. Just like when he tried to ask Stacey Hennigan to the Valentine’s Day dance. He’d gotten within ten feet of her before his bladder loosened and he had to spend the rest of the day in the bathroom, waiting for everyone else to go home so they wouldn’t see or smell the mess he’d made.

  He closed the bedroom door and then set the backpack on his bed. As he unpacked the clay jars taken from the chamber, he thought of the potion he’d taken. If one potion could tell him the history of the universe, maybe another could tell him how to get a girl. Not any girl—Samantha Young. He had to have her.

  Joseph swept away everything on his desk except for his microscope and notepad. He lined up the jars and then sat down to begin his work.

  Chapter 10: Kiss and Tell

  The brave Princess Molly entered the enchanted castle made of sparkling crystal from floor to ceiling. She took Sir Francis’s hand as she approached the throne room. With one kiss, she and Sir Francis would free the kingdom of Dublin from Lord Pryde’s evil spell and at last she and her parents could be together to live happily ever after.

  Sir Francis lifted the visor of his helmet to reveal his handsome face. He bent down to kiss Princess Molly—

  “Molly, where are you?” Mama Becky called out.