by Jeff Altabef
She couldn’t just turn away from the voices, so she crept toward them and quieted her breath to sharpen her hearing. The words became clearer as she drew closer, and she glimpsed into the light.
The High Priest stood with his back to her, but she’d recognize him anywhere. As a large man, his ample flesh waggled when he spoke, and he still wore the purple robes from preaching the Reflections only a few hours earlier. If that wasn’t enough to identify him, she saw the thin braid that fell halfway down his back like a serpent. As a direct descendant of Jacob, he never cut his hair. Everyone else in Eden had short hair. Only the male Blood Relatives were allowed to wear their hair long, and tradition decreed that they must always wear it in a braid.
When she was a child, she dreamed of yanking that braid. Now she wouldn’t mind doing far worse to the High Priest as payback for all the vicious things he had done to Piers.
The High Priest spoke in a hushed baritone voice. “The Creator works in mysterious ways. He has fulfilled the prophesy through the strange boy. We have what we need.”
The large bulk of the High Priest blocked the second speaker from view and muffled his words. She inched the door open to better hear the conversation and perhaps see the identity of the second speaker, but the High Priest stood in the way like a boulder.
“Malachi, are you sure we have the formula?” asked the mysterious voice.
“Yes, I’m certain. It was right there in front of us for hundreds of years, though it took that strange boy to find it. A simple mushroom and a flower, and the cure works instantly. The Red Death will have no power over us. Our blood will remain pure. We have been delivered.”
She inched the door open, desperate to see the face of the other speaker. She wanted to know who this ‘strange boy’ was that he kept mentioning.
“This changes everything. How quickly can we make the cure?” The second voice became clearer and sounded familiar, but she still couldn’t identify it.
The High Priest shifted his weight as if he stood on uncertain ground, and lowered his voice. “Making the cure will not be a problem, but we must be careful. The cure presents us with a unique opportunity. Eden Day is less than three months away. Everyone partakes of the Sacred Drink at the high festival. We could slip the cure into the drink and inoculate the entire community without them knowing.”
She pushed the door open another inch to hear the reply, her heart dancing in her chest. If the High Priest turned, he would spot her, and she would spend a long time underground in the jails. It was possible he’d never release her.
“The Creator speaks through you,” the mystery man said. “If we secretly slip them the cure, then we can claim responsibility for this miracle. Our power would be absolute.”
The High Priest chuckled. “Exactly. We could march two or three Soulless among the people without fear. The prophesy will be fulfilled, and no one will dare question us. Ever.”
She gripped the bread hard, breaking the crust as sweat soaked her back. She glanced at her brother, who still lurked in the hallway as a lookout. Unaware why she had stopped, he waved for her to continue to the staircase, but she could not move. She needed to hear more.
The High Priest turned, and for a heartbeat it seemed as if he would walk out the door and straight into her. Luckily, he stopped halfway and grabbed a cup from a table.
“What about the boy and his family?” asked the stranger. “They will know the truth. They create too large a loose end.”
The world stopped spinning.
The boy and his family? Her mind spun. Are they talking about Wilky and my family?
The High Priest answered, “Do not concern yourself with them. Jacob has shown me the answer in a vision. Now I understand why He told me to assign the boy as a researcher at such a young age. Tonight will be their last. The scarred one is still useful. His devotion is strong, and I can bend him. Also, it would look too suspicious if the entire family vanished. Some remember the unusual circumstances behind the fire and the popularity of their parents.”
The High Priest moved to the side, sliding just enough to reveal the face of the second speaker.
Aaliss’s stomach soared and she tasted bile.
“Agreed.” Her uncle, President Aibel, smiled with a slight lift of his chin, as he raised a pewter cup of the Sacred Drink to toast the High Priest.
A jolt ripped through her, and her knees buckled. The High Priest and her uncle meant to murder them tonight. Rage burned inside her.
Do I have time to save Wilky?
She glanced at the door to the staircase, not sure if she should run or confront them. If she entered the room and shut the door, she could hurt them both badly, and then kill them. They deserved a painful death, and it wouldn’t take long. Yet Wilky’s safety had to come first. The High Priest’s men could already be on their way to the lab, and Wilky would stand no chance against them without her.
Piers’s voice wafted down the hallway. “Father Isaac, what are you doing up at this time?” He shifted his body between Aaliss and the Priest to shield her from view.
Jacob’s Braid!
She cursed the full moon. She had no time to spare for the High Priest and her uncle—she’d have to come back for them.
With her head spinning and chest heaving, she dashed toward the staircase and plunged back into the darkness. No lock barred entry from this side of the door. After all, no one worried about the Priests leaving the comforts of the Parsonage.
The High Priest heard voices in the hallway. He wobbled to the door and looked for the source, but found the corridor empty. Doubting his own ears, he turned back to the President, who poured another cup of the Sacred Drink.
Crumbs on the otherwise spotless floor crunched under his sandal—a few bits of bread on a white tile.
“Curious,” he muttered to himself.
Aaliss raced forward taking the stone steps two at a time. She automatically switched into her Zone state, senses on high alert, and stopped only when she reached the ground floor and listened for the sounds of pursuit. No shouts, footsteps, or doors slammed—no sign that anyone had noticed her.
With any luck, the High Priest expected them to be sleeping in their residence. That should buy them some time, maybe enough to escape.
She pulled open the door to the Compound and plunged forward into the building’s sprawling ground floor. She sprinted forward until she reached the shiny steel door that led to the Labyrinth, and unlocked the door with a key from a chain around her neck.
As she reached for the doorknob, a deep voice grumbled from behind her, “Hey, you, what’re you doing out so late?”
She had been reckless in her haste and silently chastised herself. Caught, she turned and smiled, her boots squeaking against the tiled floor as she came face to face with two Monks.
Monks patrolled the hallways late at night, looking for unholy behavior. Most people feared them. Their authority stemmed from the High Priest, which made them virtually all-powerful.
She faced two Monks who could not look more opposite from each other.
One cast a big shadow, literally. Big and burly, he towered over her, a red cloak straining tightly around his broad shoulders. He held a whistle in his hand, but upon seeing Aaliss, he pocketed it in the folds of his cloak, and an unfriendly sneer twisted his ugly face.
The second one was short and thin with a long face and scary-looking hollow eyes.
“I’m just headed to the Labyrinth.” Aaliss tried to appear annoyed, rolling her eyes and tapping her foot. “I’ve got work that can’t wait. They treat us like slaves.”
The big Monk stepped toward her. He smelled of that night’s dinner, which, in truth, hadn’t smelled good when it had been served. “What’s that you’re carrying?”
Jacob’s braid!
She’d forgotten the bread. “It’s just something for... for my brother. He missed dinner tonight because he’s working late.” She tried to keep her tone light, as if being caught with food was not
a major infraction of the rules, but it was.
The Monk’s beefy fingers flipped open the linen wrapping. “Priest’s bread.” He smiled at his partner. “Thievery is a major sin, Abner. What should we do with her?”
Abner smirked, his long face turning cruel as he looked Aaliss up and down with nasty, appraising eyes. “She’s cute. I’m sure we can think of some way for her to do her penitence.”
Aaliss acted on instinct and tossed the bread at the big Monk’s face. When he lifted his paws to catch it, she kicked his left knee hard. The blow buckled the brute, dropping him to his knees, and she swung her right elbow into his temple. The Monk groaned and wobbled, and she immediately chopped the edge of her hand against the base of his neck, which sent him to the floor unconscious.
Abner tried to grab her, but she caught his wrist and brought his arm down hard against her knee, dislocating his elbow with a sick popping sound. He groaned, and she grabbed him by the shoulders and rammed his head into the steel door. The Monk staggered back a step, his nose bloody, and she knocked him unconscious with a roundhouse kick to the head. Just to make sure he was out cold, she booted him hard in the ribs, and and grinned slightly at the sound of bone breaking.
You deserved that and worse, you pig!
The Monks would never have approached her if they knew she was a Guardian, but she was young, in plain dress, and didn’t have any weapons, so they had been none the wiser.
She dragged them one at a time to the other side of the steel door, and remembered to grab the bread right before it closed. She bound their hands with the rope they used to cinch their cloaks, and tied their feet with their bootlaces. They’d be unconscious for a while, but eventually they’d wake and bring others.
Time was short, but she’d known that already.
Three stories below ground level, the Labyrinth consisted of a honeycomb of tunnels and labs where a dozen different research teams worked. Wilky was the youngest researcher in Eden’s history and, accordingly, assigned the smallest, least convenient space—farthest from the entrance door and closest to the Zone.
She flew down the concrete steps, praying he would be safe. No one else was working in the Labyrinth at this time of night, so she expertly wove her way past dark labs and through empty hallways. She held her breath when she reached his workspace, used her key, and shoved open the heavy metal door.
He calmly sat on a stool waiting for her, safe.
She exhaled. “I’ve brought food, Wilky, but we’ve got to go.” She pushed the bread toward him, her hands shaking. “Something terrible has happened.”
He casually slid from the stool and took the bread.
“You don’t understand. They’re coming for us. We’ve got to run!”
Wilky strolled past a desk littered with a dozen test tubes, two microscopes, and one computer, and stopped at the holding area. Two-inch thick glass walls separated three holding pens. One contained the three starving Soulless, one held a single girl about the same age as Aaliss, and the third was empty.
Aaliss glowered at him as he opened the food delivery chute and dropped the loaf into the pen that housed the three Guests. It landed softly, and the largest of the three, a boy a few years older than Aaliss, snatched the bread and broke it into pieces to share with the other two.
She started to urge Wilky on, but then noticed some provisions by the door that opened to the tunnel, which led to the Zone—four woolen cloaks, four leather satchels, her small crossbow, a two-foot curved short sword, and her full-body black ostrich-skin jumpsuit. The ostrich skin was extraordinarily soft and warm, and well broken in. It was her most precious possession—her Guardian uniform.
“How did you know we needed to leave?” She placed her hands at her hips. “Did you overhear something and not tell me?”
He ignored her question and asked one of his own. “Piers?”
She shook her head. “I couldn’t get him, but he’ll be fine. They won’t harm him. I heard the High Priest and our uncle talking. They need him for appearances. You and I, on the other hand, they’d rather not have around.”
His eyes became suddenly wet, and tears trickled down his cheeks.
She hadn’t seen him cry since the fire, and her heart twisted. “He’ll be okay, Wilky. Don’t worry about Piers. Our brother knows how to take care of himself.”
He nodded, but she thought he didn’t really believe her, so she added, “We don’t have much time. I’ll come back for him later. We’ll figure something out.”
He pointed at the girl who sat alone in one of the holding pens. “Need,” was all he said.
She sighed and shook her head. “We can’t bring her. We have to move quickly, and she’ll just get in our way. All we need is each other.”
He stood firm by the door to the holding pen, and said, “Need!”—with more conviction this time.
She knew that look on his face; no one could argue with him when he got that look. One time he went four days without washing because he didn’t like the texture of his soap, of all things. She had to whittle off an inch and practically sand it to make it smooth enough for him.
She could drag him along by the ear, but they would get caught that way. He needed to move and move quickly, which would only happen on his terms.
“You know the alarm will ring when I open the door to the tunnel. All the Monks will know something is wrong!”
He folded his arms against his chest.
She sighed. “Do we need the other three or just this one?”
He shook his head. “Only the girl.”
“Okay, we’ll take her, but we have to go now!” She stomped her foot in frustration, retrieved two gas masks from the table, and checked to make sure they had a full two-week charge. That’s the maximum amount of time they would have together, as they could not risk being in contact with the Soulless girl unprotected.
The Red Death was easily transmitted through air, so just being near a Soulless would cause infection. Those contaminated died young, never lasting beyond the early twenties. If an older person encountered the disease, death came almost instantly. No known symptoms foretold the disease except what showed in the eyes. The children all knew the rhyme: ...eyes turn red, you’ll soon be dead.
Aaliss watched Wilky as she changed into her jumpsuit.
He held two beakers in his left hand and a dropper in his right. He squeezed fluid from each beaker into the steel door’s lock. Smoke spiraled upward and an acidic odor filled the room, as the metal fused together and melted the lock.
“Nice work, Wilky.” Fully dressed, she approached the holding pen with her key in hand, and looked back at her brother. “Are you sure we have to take her? This is crazy. She’s going to slow us down.”
“Need!” He grabbed his cloak and glared at her.
She regarded the girl again, whom she’d gathered two days earlier. The girl had been odd and constantly talked to herself in a language Aaliss did not understand, but she’d taken direction and seemed harmless.
Aaliss donned a gas mask and made sure Wilky had his on securely, and then she opened the glass door and waved for the girl to follow her.
The girl tentatively stepped forward.
Wilky gave the girl a cloak and a satchel, and motioned for her to follow him.
Aaliss unlocked the door to the tunnel into the Zone. Dread filled her as she peered back at the lab.
A large framed picture of Jacob hung by the door. Underneath the photograph was the Guardians’ sacred motto: The Soulless are Not Human. To Kill in Jacob’s Name is Just.
Red lights flashed.
An alarm blared.
She grabbed her supplies and turned to push them forward, but Wilky and the girl had already started to run—straight toward the Zone and the full moon.
---END OF SNEAK PREVIEW---
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interest to you, including the Special Sneak Preview of FRACTURE POINT by Jeff Altabef, the first book in the award-winning “A Point Thriller” series.
Many people helped create Devil’s Den. Too many to list here, but I appreciate every single one of them. I’d like to highlight Dave Lane (aka Lane Diamond) and Evolved Publishing. Thanks for the confidence and the unwavering support. I’m proud to be associated with such a high-quality publisher and team.
My editors, Kimberly Goebel and Robb Grindstaff, both did wonderful jobs saving me from myself. I really could not ask for two better editors. They tamed my worst impulses and really helped make the final project special. My trusty beta readers, as always, deserve a shout out. Their encouragement and sound advice always see me through the abyss I sometimes dwell in. Finally, my family is my cornerstone. Without them, I’d be nothing.
Jeff Altabef lives in New York with his wife, two daughters, and Charlie the dog. He spends time volunteering at the Writing Center in the local community college. After years of being accused of “telling stories,” he thought he would make it official. He writes in both the thriller and young adult genres. As an avid Knicks fan, he is prone to long periods of melancholy during hoops season.
Jeff has a column on The Examiner focused on writing and a blog on The Patch designed to encourage writing for those that like telling stories.
You can find Jeff online at:
Website at www.Jeffreyaltabef.com
Goodreads at https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7055582.Jeff_Altabef
Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/pages/Jeff-Altabef-Author/479282732198216
Twitter at https://twitter.com/JeffAltabef
Via Email at [email protected]
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