Eden Two

by Mike Sullivan

  “I’m tired,” said Hornsby, coming back out later. He wore a pair of striped black and white pajamas and a sleeping cap.

  Seabury chuckled. The pajamas resembled early Twentieth Century prison uniforms. “Nice,” Seabury said.

  “What?”

  “Your pajamas.” He was barely able to suppress a playful snicker.

  Hornsby didn’t respond. He went over to his bed and pulled the blanket and sheet down. He slid in sideways with a small, grunting sound expelling from his lungs. He rolled over in the bed next to Seabury’s and was asleep five minutes later.

  Meantime, Seabury prepared for bed. He took a shower and pulled on a pair of boxer shorts and a white T-shirt. Hornsby snored in the bed next to his. Not loud, but more like a soft, kittenish purr. Seabury stared across at Hornsby and knew he liked the old man. He liked his class. He liked the way he’d handled his emotions when Lois lashed out at him inside the restaurant. In a dramatic display of silence, he’d repelled her efforts to get him into a full blown argument over all things…religion. In his mind, there could never be a winner or a loser in such a debate.

  He’d also noticed something else—the man who sat in the car watching them on the way over to the hotel. In the car, it was dark, no light on. Only a wall of blackness leaking out into the lights strung up over the parking lot. The man hunched over, motionless, just sitting there behind the wheel. A concave-shaped head and dark, short-cropped hair. Wicked eyes with a strange, evil light in them stared across at him. He’d seen the same eyes in the small, cramped cells of asylums for the criminally insane.

  Seabury’s watchful eye caught the man sitting there as he strolled past the car. A quick, reflexive glance revealed the man’s body language. It took longer to evaluate its content. Leering eyes and a sharp, rigid jaw. Those eyes, locked on him. They revealed as much pure, unmitigated evil as Seabury had ever seen. The man was out there now, somewhere in the night, watching them…waiting. He had no idea why.

  Seabury slipped into bed and pulled the covers around him. Hornsby snored lightly in the other bed. He closed his eyes. In the darkness, the man’s image stared back at him. Short, muscular, and agile for his size, Seabury thought. In his mind, the ticker tape kept going. Eastern Mediterranean—maybe Greek, maybe Sicilian. The tape kept spinning. A few minutes later, it stopped. Seabury wondered who the man was and what he wanted.

  * * * *

  Gretchen came out of the shower wrapped in a white towel. She sat down in a chair facing a mirror on the wall above a wooden desk. Her hair was still wet, and she dried the short bob of black hair with her hair drier.

  “Listen to this,” Lois said with her Bible open.

  “I don’t want to hear your Bible stuff.”

  Lois arched her left eyebrow. Gretchen looked annoyed, on the verge of being upset. “It’s important,” Lois said. “Hear me out…please. I’ve been thinking about this for a long time.” She stopped and went on. “Everything has a time and place—everything on God’s great earth is done for a reason. As for instance, there’s a reason why we are here in this hotel, at this moment in time, and it’s all written down in Biblical scripture.”

  “I don’t believe it,” said Gretchen, perturbed.

  “You don’t believe?” Lois stammered.

  Gretchen nodded. “All this Biblical stuff you’re laying on me, I don’t believe any of it.”

  Lois became attached to her Bible. Being the older sister, she also knew how to handle Gretchen. She reminded her of why they were here searching for a garden and a buried treasure. According to the Bible, a river ran out of Eden to water a garden. Along the way, the rivers diverted. One of them, the Pishon, spilled out into the land of Havilah where there was gold. Their treasure map pointed to the Mahakam River and its source—a spring located in the Muller Mountains. Their journey to find the spring and a nearby cave would prove the existence of a second garden containing gold and riches.

  “If we can’t find the cave,” said Lois, “ then there’s no second garden.”

  Gretchen nodded. “Okay. I understand now.”

  Lois stared into Gretchen’s eyes. “Please believe me, Gretch., I’m not trying to be heavy-handed here. To me, the Bible is a history book, an early recording of life on Earth; however, it has lost a lot in translation and various versions over the centuries. People like Hornsby will always dispute its authenticity.”

  “I’m confused, a little, that’s all,” said Gretchen. “This is a new adventure for me. We’re here now, about to journey out into the boondocks. Yes, I know I wanted to go, but what if we come up empty?”

  Lois shrugged. “Like I said, I’m not sure we’ll find anything—especially a second Garden of Eden. I suppose we’ll just have to wait and see.” Lois yawned. “I’m tired,” she said as she looked at her sister. “Maybe the treasure we’re looking for isn’t a physical presence. Maybe God meant for the treasure to be redemption. The forgiveness of sin–salvation. That’s the treasure we’re apt to find in the cave, if we find one at all. Not gold or riches, but a chance to be once again with Him.”

  Lois walked over and put her Bible in her rucksack. She undressed and took a shower. Gretchen was already asleep by the time Lois lay down in the queen-sized bed across from her. For a while, she stared out into the darkness.

  She closed her eyes finally and prayed. Dear Heavenly Father, I put this journey in your Hands. Please guide and protect us.

  She was asleep in no time.

  Chapter Fourteen

  At 7:00 a.m. the next day, the sun was up. A blue, cloudless sky glowed above the brown, muddy waters of the Mahakam River. Seabury drove over to the East Kalimantan Tour loading dock in Loa Janan and returned the rental. Dressed in jeans, sneakers, and a blue cotton blouse, Lois stood out on the dock, waiting in line to board the boat. She looked bright and cheery. Gretchen stood in back of her, half-asleep. Hornsby waited in front of Seabury. A mixture of curiosity and a stiff, academic reserve settled in his pale blue eyes.

  A double-decked houseboat stood moored to the dock. Seabury looked it over. The boat resembled two wooden boxes stacked together with windows cut out in the center. Looks a little top-heavy, Seabury thought. He wondered how seaworthy the boat was as he climbed the passenger ramp to the gangway, where a uniformed guide took tickets and allowed passengers to come on board. Seabury got in behind a small crowd of sightseers and backpackers, and he came out on deck. He scooted into a seat at the rear of the boat next to Lois, who sat in a chair next to Gretchen. Hornsby sat at the end of the row near the main aisle.

  Hearing the diesel engines turn over, Seabury caught a whiff of the fumes. The sharp, acrid smell wafted back along the lower deck as the boat swung back away from the pier. A glittering gold light spread out over the water. The stern of the boat swung around, churning the brown water into a wake of turbulence. The bow straightened out along the surface, and the boat headed north, up river. Along the shore, bands of sunlight hung up inside the trees, and bird song filled the air. Farther out, skimming low across the water, large predatory birds scavenged for food.

  Almost at once, the land shrank back from the regions of river delta outside Samarinda. Under a clear blue sky, small cities along the waterway began to disappear and became local villages. Small, thatched huts lined the river bank. Farther inland, the sturdy, palm-frond roofs of large bamboo long houses poked above stands of evergreen, banyan, and white pine. Faraway sounds of a timeless tranquility spread across the river. The sounds rang out in a tinkling chime, as soft, quiet, and peaceful as the rhythmic cadence of ancient mantras carried by the voice of an ageless wind.

  Seabury stretched out on deck, his back against the wall of the inboard cabin behind him. Stairs ran up at a steep angle above his head to the deck on top. Lois, Gretchen, and Hornsby were above, talking among the crowd, making friends. He breathed the fresh, clean air blowing in off the river. The smell invigorated him, and for now, he felt awash in a dream-like spell of relaxation and forgetfulness.
A mist lifted off the water to form a halo of white, translucent light.

  To his left, on the opposite shore, fish rose above the water, feeding on a hatch of black bugs skimming along the surface. The water rippled in tiny rings, widened, and then broke and splashed against the dark depths under the trees. A vast, limitless space of tropical forests and shrouds of greening marshland rolled out across the land toward distant mountains. For a moment, the land hushed, and the wind ceased to blow in a breathless space of awe and wonder. The sun rose higher in the sky as they motored along, and the morning quickly passed into early afternoon.

  In villages on shore, old folks sat on front porches and watched the boat. Children played ball in the front yards. Dogs yapped at their heels, and the sound carried back across the water. The old folks turned heads as the boat went by. Their ancient eyes stared out from inside brown, wrinkled faces in limitless wonder. Long after the boat turned a bend in the river, they would stare at the wake still left in the water.

  Seabury sat in silence, taking it all in. Occasionally, he caught sight of a gibbon crashing through the brush on shore. Later, he caught sight of a large spotted cat bounding through the underbrush. The distance between Samarinda and Long Iram was approximately 105 miles. They’d now covered over half the distance. Through a network of long valleys, the boat would reach Long Iram at approximately four o’clock that afternoon. Seabury worried less about getting there than what he now saw on the river.

  A speedboat trailed behind them. Seabury felt his heart race inside his chest as he glanced back down river. For the last half hour, he’d noticed the boat, hanging back in the distance. The speedboat sported a powerful Yamaha engine. Other speedboats that zipped past them on the river had the same engine. Strong and powerful, meant to race the craft over the water at high speeds. This boat was unlike the others, Seabury told himself. This one lagged behind, staying out of sight a few miles behind them until now.

  All at once, the boat raced ahead, turned in the water, and headed for them, like a torpedo skimming across the water. Ten yards, five yards out. Gaining speed. At the last second, the boat spun in a half circle. A plume of water crashed against the side of the houseboat as the speedboat raced off.

  Seabury saw the man. He was sitting in the boat. His head turned and his slim, wiry body followed. The silhouetted figure pointed a hand across at him. The hand, shaped like a gun, ripped off a succession of pantomimed gunshots. Rapid-fire, three or four times. Blam. Blam. Blam. Then, his head jerked back as he howled with laughter, and the boat escaped back down river.

  Lois, Gretchen, and a few passengers rushed to the rail where Seabury stood. They stared down river then back at Seabury.

  “What was that all about?” Lois said.

  “Don’t know,” said Seabury. He stood uneasily, a hollow, sinking feeling in his stomach.

  A young German backpacker stepped from the group. “What a crazy driver,” he said. “This guy should be taken off the river. He’s gonna end up killing someone.”

  Others near him voiced shouts of agreement. For a while, Seabury stood in silence as the group dispersed. Lois and Gretchen moved up to the front of the boat with some friends they’d made. This was no coincidence, Seabury thought. He didn’t believe in them. He was convinced the man he’d seen inside the car last night—the Sicilian or the Greek, whomever he was—wanted him dead.

  You want to play games, Seabury thought. I can play them, too.

  * * * *

  The afternoon passed quickly. At four o’clock, the boat turned right on a bend in the river. It leveled out and then coasted into a flat, open area near shore. The houseboat’s engines cut, and the vessel glided up to a pier. Lines went over the side. A tall, muscular native tied them to a davit on the dock. The gangway came over next, and passengers walked down the ramp and onto the pier.

  Nearby open-air shacks and tin sheds dotted the shore. Women stood out on wooden planks floating alongside the pier, washing clothes with hard, square chunks of bar soap. They scrubbed down the fabric. They rinsed the clothes with buckets of river water and pinned the wash to lines strung out between the shacks. Children played nearby. Old men bathed from water buckets hauled up from the river. Fish and boiled rice cooked nearby in the late afternoon shadows.

  Seabury tramped down the boat ramp with Lois, Gretchen, and Hornsby. The tour guide led them into a waiting van. The van sped off in the direction of an overnight guesthouse at the edge of town. Staring out the window, Seabury saw the speedboat pull up to the pier. A man stepped out onto the wooded dock. It was the same man he’d seen last night in the parking lot.

  No doubt about it–Sicilian, Seabury thought. He’d been to Sicily many times. He’d seen the same short, muscular men working on the docks in Palermo.

  The van drove on and reached the guesthouse ten minutes later. People crowded into the lobby to register. Customers at the bar to the left of the front desk drank beer and Happy Hour cocktails. Dinners of rice and fish simmered in heated metal bins. Guests served themselves and sat at tables in a room off the lobby.

  “I’m turning in early,” Lois said to Seabury in the hall after they’d eaten dinner downstairs. “I think I’m catching a cold.” She sniffled. She touched her throat lightly with the tips of her slender fingers. “I think it’s moving up into my head.”

  “Take two aspirin, and call me in the morning,” Seabury joked.

  Gretchen moved away from her. “Don’t give it to me,” she said. “I’m gonna sleep downstairs in the lobby tonight if you start hacking and coughing.”

  “Sisterly love,” Hornsby chimed in. “Thou art absent in the mind of an unruly child.”

  “Huh?” Gretchen glared at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It sounds straight out of Shakespeare.” Seabury nodded his head in approval. “I like that, Harlan.” Hornsby puffed a little, taking the remark as a compliment. Seabury glanced back at Gretchen and voiced his opinion. “He means you should be more sensitive to the needs of your sister.”

  Gretchen shrugged as if being reprimanded. “Well, all I meant was I don’t want to catch her cold. What’s wrong with that?”

  Seabury said nothing. He stared away briefly, feeling Gretchen’s eyes on him, waiting for a response. He kept quiet. Hornsby and Lois stared across the narrow space at him.

  With a look of concern on his face, Seabury said to Lois, “I hope you’re feeling okay. Get some rest. You’ll feel better in the morning.”

  She smiled faintly, then turned and went into her room.

  “You don’t understand, Seabury,” Gretchen said to him. “I really do love her. She’s my sister, but sometimes, she’s hard to get to know. It’s like talking to a blank wall when she gets like that. Stuck in her ways and always quoting the Bible. She was different before my real mom died. Easier to get along with. Now, she’s stuck inside herself. You don’t know, because you’re not around her all the time…not like I am.”

  “Okay, Gretchen.” Seabury spoke in a gentle voice that eased the troubled look on her face. Gretchen exhaled a stream of air, and she began to relax.

  “We have a big day ahead of us tomorrow,” said Seabury. “Harlan and I have to study the map, again.”

  “I understand,” she said and went back to her room. Seabury heard the door click behind her.

  “Oh, boy,” said Hornsby, rubbing his goatee. “Those two.”

  “Ah, they’ll be okay,” Seabury shrugged, grinning, “as long as we keep a wide, picket fence between them.”

  Hornsby’s brow wrinkled. “I don’t want to jeopardize the expedition.”

  “That won’t happen,” Seabury said.

  He opened the door, and they entered their room. It wasn’t long before Hornsby had the map out in front of Seabury. They sat down at a writing desk. Their wooden chairs faced a mirror on the wall in front of them.

  Hornsby stared at Seabury with a look of frustration. “The landscape keeps changing,” he said.

  Seabury
twisted in the chair. The chair creaked and moaned under the weight of his big body as he stared across at the elderly man.

  Hornsby’s finger pointed to a spot on the map. “According to the map, the spring flows out of the garden, but the temple, the bloody location of the temple is what baffles me. It’s supposed to be there in the garden. I see the spot with my own eyes, right on the map.” He jabbed his finger on the spot. “But I know the landscape up there. The lowland foothills cover a vast area. It’s miles of barren wasteland. I know there are temple ruins in the area. I’ve seen them, so that’s not the problem. Finding the entrance to the cave, that’s the problem. Without it, we’re never going to find the temple garden hidden inside the mountain.”

  “So, what are you saying?” Seabury’s voice rose. “It’s hopeless. We shouldn’t be here. We shouldn’t have even started.”

  Hornsby pressed his lips together. He stared at the map with a look of defeat entering his eyes. “All I’m saying is this bloody map and the territory don’t match.” He stared across at Seabury. “We could spend months up there looking in the wrong place.”

  “We don’t have months to spend up there,” said Seabury. “We don’t have more than a week or two. We need to get in and find the place quickly.”

  “I know…I know,” said Hornsby shaking his head. His tired eyes stared back at Seabury with a look of disappointment. “I need time alone right now, to sort out my thoughts.”

  Sensing Hornsby’s distress, Seabury stood up. He leaned over the desk and looked into Hornsby’s bloodshot eyes. He saw the weary look on his face. “Sure, Harlan. Fine. Are you okay?”

  “I’m okay,” he said in a worn-out voice. His eyes stared vacantly at the mirror on the wall as his body sagged lower into the chair.

  “Don’t worry.” Seabury tried to perk up the old man’s spirits. “We’ll find it. Meantime, I’m going downstairs for a while. Maybe take a walk, have a beer…I don’t know. I’ll be back later.”

  Seabury disappeared into the hall and went downstairs. In the shadows of the front door, a short, dark, and muscular man took a step into the light and stared across at him. Voices rose from the bar off the lobby. An elderly Korean couple watched a sitcom on a television in a far corner of the room.