Forest of the Mind (The Book of Terwilliger 1)

by Michael Stiles

  “Do you think―” Ed began, but Rosenthal interrupted him.

  “Son,” he said, giving Ed a weary look, “I know you mean well, but I couldn’t care less about the man or his politics. I don’t care if his wife was pregnant. Somebody shot him, so I have some work to do. That’s it.” He dismissed the subject with a wave of his forceps.

  “Sorry. It’s just―”

  “Look, whining that this fella shouldn’t have got a skull full of bullets doesn’t change it. It happened. Now you have a job to perform, and you’re expected to perform it.” He gave Ed a stern look. “You could be called on to testify when this goes to trial. Why don’t you go back upstairs and make sure you’ve got all your facts lined up? The more you distract me, the harder it is to keep all these damned things straight.” He frowned at Ed for another moment before returning to his work, leaving Ed to make a quiet departure.

  Two officers were arguing some distance down the corridor. One of them, short and portly, was red in the face and shaking with anger. The other, a tall man with graying hair, appeared to be trying unsuccessfully to calm him down.

  “Who said they could destroy it?” the chubby man was saying.

  “Detective D’Agnenica said they got everything they needed. He’s the one who got the approval. I saw the signatures.”

  “To hell with the signatures! That doorframe was evidence! Where is D’Agnenica now?”

  The taller man shrugged.

  “When you see him, you tell him to get his ass into my office. I want to know―” Noticing that Ed was watching, the short man gave him a dark look and lowered his voice. Ed quickly ducked into the stairway and made his way back upstairs.

  28

  A Bleak Landscape

  Ed was having trouble sleeping. He kept dozing off to strange, tense dreams that he couldn’t quite remember. He awoke once to see the gnome watching him silently from the bathroom doorway, its red eye glinting in the moonlight, but afterwards he couldn’t tell whether it had been real or just another dream.

  In the middle of the night he got up and drank two glasses of water to quench a raging thirst. But no matter how much he drank, the thirst wouldn’t go away. He flipped on the TV and was greeted by a somber anchorman announcing the death of Robert Kennedy. Shutting his eyes tightly, Ed turned it off and went back to bed.

  He lay there a long time, trying to relax, until he decided sleep was just not going to come to him tonight. It wasn’t until he sat up that he discovered he was not in his bed after all.

  He was sitting on a vast, dusty plain. In every direction, far off in the distance, he could see a thin shadow at the horizon that might have been distant woods or mountains. The chilly breeze carried a faint, unpleasant odor like rotting vegetation. Above the plain was the same violet sky he’d seen over the forest in his other dream; there were thousands of brightly-colored stars, some of them appearing almost close enough for him to reach out and touch.

  The Guru was sitting on the ground in front of him. Ed couldn’t recall whether the man had been there a moment ago. He looked haggard; his eyes were dull and he held his mouth tightly shut as though in pain. They sat looking at each other for a long time.

  Finally the Guru spoke. “They look almost like stars, don’t they? But they’re brighter. Much brighter than stars.”

  Ed didn’t answer.

  “Some people can read thoughts just by touching the sparks that come off of them.”

  Ed looked up at the sky. “Guru,” he said, “where are we?”

  “The end of the world. It’s almost over. I wish we had more time. There’s so much that I don’t know yet.”

  Ed kept looking up. “The gnome showed me how to store my memories... out there.”

  “Don’t tell anyone about that. And be careful. You can do a lot of harm if you’re not careful.”

  “I don’t know how to be careful. I have no idea what I’m doing.”

  “Entering someone’s mind is one thing. Reading their thoughts is another. Beyond that...” The Guru shook his head. “Once you figure out how to enter someone’s mind, there’s the possibility of trying to control them. Never try to force them obey you. That’s what Arthur has been trying to do to me. It’s an evil thing. And you must never reach inside with the intent of causing damage or pain.”

  “I can do that?”

  “You must not. It would make you more like them.”

  A sudden gust of wind filled the air with dust, making Ed cough. He looked at the Guru’s face. There were more wrinkles than before; he’d aged quite a bit since Ed had met him just a few months before. Or maybe it was the strange light in this place.

  “Have you found your Dream City yet?” the Guru asked.

  “Not yet.”

  The teacher gave him a reproachful look. “You need to find it soon. People will die if you don’t.”

  “I know!” said Ed. “I’m doing everything I can. I don’t have much to go on, you know.”

  “Have you meditated on it?”

  “Have I what?”

  “In the same way that you read the thoughts of men, sometimes—when you are given permission—you can also glimpse the thoughts of God. This is what you are doing when you see events in the future or past, or things that are taking place far away.”

  “I don’t know how to do that,” Ed grumbled.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t know either.”

  Ed spat some of the dust out of his mouth. The wind was picking up again.

  “Ed,” the Guru said, “the old enemies are no longer dormant. It’s time for you to figure out what to do, and do it.”

  “But why me? Why not someone who knows how to fight them, like―”

  “Like me?” The teacher smiled at him sadly. “I’m a teacher. It’s not for me to challenge Orc and Urizen.”

  “But you know more than anybody about Arthur.”

  “I can’t help you where I’m going.” The wind picked up again, bringing with it that stink of decomposition. “You have to do it yourself. And remember that Arthur isn’t the only threat, just the more immediate one. He believes himself to be Orc. He could be right about that. If he is, he’ll soon start his revolution to defeat Urizen. Ed, you have to break the cycle. You can’t let Urizen stay in power, but you can’t let Arthur win, either.”

  “What can I do? I can’t stand up to Arthur. He’s―” Ed thought of the demon that had controlled Arthur with its strings. “He’s too strong.”

  “You haven’t been reading your Blake,” said the Guru. “Orc isn’t simply―”

  He was cut off by a loud cracking sound that came from the distance, far away yet loud enough to drown out his voice. They both turned to look, but saw nothing except the same darkness on the horizon that Ed had noticed earlier. “Our time is almost up,” the teacher said softly.

  “What was that?” said Ed. As he watched, he saw a flicker of movement near the distant shadow.

  “Let’s walk.” The Guru stood up—there was something odd about that, but Ed couldn’t put a finger on it—and brushed the dust off of his clothes. Ed walked with him across the barren plain, away from the direction of the noise.

  Only moments later they came to some trees that had been uprooted. The dry and rotted trunks lay on the bare ground, a few dead leaves clinging to their nearly empty branches. “Close to the end,” the Guru said.

  “What?”

  “No time.” The teacher was suddenly out of breath, and barely seemed able to stay on his feet. Ed reached out to take his arm, but the Guru refused his assistance. “You need to find that city. Urizen will be going there. I think that was what you heard in your dream, the beast trying to get in. You have to stop him, whatever he’s trying to do.”

  “I don’t even know who Urizen is!”

  “Arthur already knows that you’re important in all of this. Urizen will figure it out, too. Both will try to trick you, control you, get you on their side. You’ll have to be on your guard so as not to be drawn into th
eir schemes.”

  Another noise came from behind them—this one a deep, sustained rumble, like an earthquake. Ed looked over his shoulder and, seeing nothing, turned to face forward again.

  A man was standing in their path, some fifty yards ahead. He was solidly-built, and his large bald head reflected the violet light of the sky.

  “Arthur,” said Ed.

  As he watched, Arthur disappeared for an instant and was replaced by the shining image of the demon that had stood behind him at the party. The image lasted only an instant, and then it was Arthur again.

  “Ed,” the Guru said quietly, “you need to leave. Now.”

  Arthur began to walk toward them.

  The Guru grabbed Ed’s arm. “Did you hear me? My mind isn’t safe now. Leave!”

  “What’s the matter, old man?” Arthur called as he came closer. “Afraid he’ll find out what you’ve been keeping from him?”

  The Guru set his jaw as he spoke to Ed. “He’ll try to turn you against me. Don’t listen.”

  Arthur walked up to them and smiled a smile that made Ed nauseous. “Tell him, Guru. Tell him about your deal with Nathaniel.” He flashed again, becoming the demon for an instant before returning to normal.

  “What deal?” Ed asked the Guru.

  “I would have told him,” the Guru replied. “When he was ready to hear it.”

  “Even now you’re lying to him. Who are you to decide when he’s ready? You wanted him to learn from Nathaniel so he could beat me. You use people, Teacher. You’ve always used people.”

  Ed was thinking of Doris, who had thrown herself at Ed simply because the Guru had commanded her to. He looked from the Guru to Arthur and back.

  Arthur laughed until the veins stood out on his forehead. “You shouldn’t have come back to his mind,” he said to Ed once his laughter subsided. “This place is all used up.”

  “What deal?” Ed asked again, directing his question to Arthur this time.

  “Ask him,” Arthur replied.

  “I thought you could succeed where Nathaniel had failed,” said the Guru. “I wanted you to learn from his mistakes and kill Arthur for us. Nathaniel said you could do it, if he taught you what you needed to know.”

  “In exchange,” Arthur said, “he wanted you to set Nathaniel free.”

  “I don’t understand,” said Ed. “Why didn’t you just tell me what you wanted?”

  The Guru looked up at him with eyes full of tears.

  “Because,” said Arthur, “there’s something else he didn’t tell you.”

  * * *

  The ringing phone startled him awake; he leapt out of bed and stood there, confused, as he tried to figure out what the noise was. “Damn it,” he muttered. Whatever Arthur had been going to say, it had sounded important. “Damn it, damn it.” He hurried to the phone, picked it up, and mumbled something resembling “hello.”

  “Ed?” said Tom at the other end. “I heard you weren’t at work today. Everything all right?”

  He looked at the clock and realized he was very late. Berry would have his head. “How did you―”

  “The Senator died during the night.”

  “Huh.” Ed had been hoping that had been a dream.

  “I hate to break bad news. Albert and I were just talking about you. He was afraid you might be having regrets about the work you did for us.”

  Ed yawned. “No,” he lied. “No doubts.”

  “I hear you’ve been speaking with Mr. Rosenthal.”

  “I had to talk to somebody.”

  “I know it’s not easy for you. You’re too good a person not to be bothered by it. Say, I don’t really like talking over the phone. Why don’t you come into the office for a bit? Albert’s in town; I’d love for you to meet him. As long as you’re home from work―”

  “I can’t stay home today,” Ed replied. He checked the clock again. With a quick Right Guard Shower, he could be out the door in ten minutes and only be three hours late.

  There was a short pause. “We need to talk in person. It can’t wait.” His tone left no doubt that Ed had little choice in the matter.

  Ed gripped the receiver so hard he thought it might crack in his hand. “Tell me how to get there,” he said through clenched teeth.

  Fifteen minutes later, he was parking his car in the visitor’s lot off Wilshire and walking into the FBI field office. Tom met him downstairs and escorted him to the elevator. Neither of them spoke during the slow ride up to the fifth floor.

  They stepped out into a brightly-lit corridor, and Kajdas led Ed through a set of glass doors. “Cup of coffee?” he asked.

  “No.”

  Tom led the way to his office, where Albert was already waiting for them. Wensel was bald and slightly heavyset, around sixty years old, with a grim face. He looked like the sort of person who would never smile unless he wanted a favor. As Kajdas shut the door behind them, Ed noticed another man in a sharp suit standing in the corner. He blinked at Ed, looking surprised to see him for some reason, but said nothing. Assuming Tom’s boss was fairly high in the food chain, Ed decided this one must be an assistant of some kind.

  Tom cleared his throat, pulling Ed’s attention away from the man in the suit. “This is my supervisor, Mr. Wensel. Albert, this is Mr. Terwilliger.”

  Ed shook the hand that Wensel offered him. Wensel had a firm handshake despite his soft appearance. His small eyes gazed at Ed intensely from beneath a pair of bushy, dandruff-flecked eyebrows as he settled himself on Tom’s chair. Kajdas sat in one of two extra chairs, offering Ed the other one. The office was just small enough to feel cramped with four people in it.

  It was Tom who began the discussion. “Ed, Albert flew in from Washington last night to take care of some business out here. I wanted you to meet him while he’s in town.”

  Ed smiled nervously at Wensel. Wensel continued to regard him with those small, unblinking eyes.

  Kajdas cleared his throat again. “First of all, Ed, I have to ask you something. I already know the answer, but I have to ask. Other than Mr. Rosenthal, have you said anything to anyone about the work you did for us yesterday?”

  “What? No, Tom. You asked me to keep it quiet, and I have.”

  Wensel continued to stare at him for a long moment, then nodded slightly. He seemed to believe what Ed was saying, though he still didn’t look very happy.

  “Good,” Tom said. “I know I can trust you, but I had to ask. Lots of people have put their careers—their lives—on the line for this. You did good work, by the way. But that’s not why I asked you here.” He paused. “Ed, you’ve been paying visits to a person, if I’m not mistaken, a man named Rodney Dwayne Evans. Are you still in contact with him?”

  “Who? I don’t know any Rodneys.”

  Kajdas and Wensel both frowned. “Rodney Evans,” said Tom. “He lives on Waverly Drive. You’ve been to his residence. Several times.”

  “Oh,” Ed said, “the Guru.” How do they know? he wondered. They must have had someone following me. “No, not lately. I met him at a party, back in February or so.” He chose his words carefully; it wouldn’t do to tell them he’d just seen the Guru barely thirty minutes earlier. “I haven’t been over there in a few weeks.”

  Wensel crossed his arms on the desktop. Looking from Albert back to Ed, Tom went on. “That’s just as well. I assume you weren’t aware he used to be a small-time criminal back in the fifties—robbed gas stations, mugged little old ladies, that sort of thing. Rodney was in and out of jail for years.”

  “I didn’t know,” said Ed.

  “Well, eventually a judge got wise to him and told him it was time to change his ways. This judge thought it might set him straight if he had to do some honest work for a while. Told him he ought to join the military. And that’s what Rodney did.

  “Rodney served in the Army for most of a tour in Korea. Got his legs blown off. By the time he came back to the States, he was so messed up from malaria and God-knows-what, he went over the edge. Completely
crazy. Nobody heard a peep out of him after he checked out of the VA hospital, not until a couple years later when he started recruiting young people as followers in some kind of religious cult.

  “So you can see why I was a little concerned when I found out you were associating with his group.”

  “I told you, I haven’t seen him in a while.”

  Tom pursed his lips thoughtfully. “I’m glad to hear it. I have to say, I’ve been worried about you. Some of the people you hang around with―”

  “I’m fine, Tom.”

  “—are not the kind of people you need in your life. Like that girl you’ve been seeing, the one who was hanging around your apartment when you—when you had your trouble.”

  “I haven’t been seeing anybody, Tom. That girl needed a safe place to stay, that’s all. I was trying to look out for her.”

  Tom held up his hands in a placating gesture. “Easy, pal, nobody’s judging you here. I just want to make sure you understand the kinds of people you’ve been dealing with. The girl—what was her name? Doris?” Ed nodded, knowing that he must look pretty sullen at the moment. “Her real name is Sarah Greenbaum. She’s a runaway from Beverly Hills, the daughter of a wealthy Jewish businessman who died last year. Seventeen years old when she disappeared, so she’d be eighteen now. I thought I recognized her when I saw her at your place, but I had to do some checking around to make sure. She’s been living with Rodney’s cult. You can bet he’s been giving her drugs. These cult leaders always work the same way. They find pretty young girls, runaways, get them high on booze and drugs, mess with their minds, and eventually the girls turn into zombies. A young thing like Sarah probably worships the ground Rodney walks on by now. She’d do anything for him.” Kajdas grimaced. “They pass these girls around like prostitutes, Ed. I’ve seen what they do. It’s sickening.”

  Ed didn’t know how to respond. He stared at the blotter on Tom’s desk.