Keepers of the Flame

by McFadden III, Edward J.

They waited a few minutes until the strangers’ rearguard passed, then continued on as Larry disappeared over the trees. They walked the rest of that day, and sixty-seven more before they saw Larry again. Milly feared the bird had been lost, but he reappeared one early morning as they crested a tall rise overlooking the vast forest between them and Cheaha Mountain.

  Tester said, “The mountain is a series of rolling hills and valleys that sharpen to a peak at Bald Rock, which is only two thousand feet high. There should be the remains of a road heading up there. The original tourist map said Mount Cheaha was the highest point in Alabama.”

  By Tester’s count it was August 19th, 2075, when they first saw the guidestone. They’d trudged over difficult ground finding only the occasional marked hiking trail leading to the center of the old state park at Cheaha Mountain. Tye spied the large granite monument through the binoculars, and the party jumped and hollered, hugging each other, forgetting for a few minutes what they’d sacrificed for this small victory.

  For Milly, it provided affirmation of what she’d been chasing since she left Respite. Something to believe in. The turtle was real, she knew that now. “We should make camp here, away from the guidestone. We have thirty-four days until the equinox and we can take our time and check things out. From here we can watch from afar. There might be traps. People and virals watching. This way we can take it slow.”

  Tye and Tester nodded and the party made camp.

  The guidestone sat in a bald spot overlooking a blanket of green forest, its gray granite slabs catching the mid-morning sun. It was September 22, 2075, and at noon, the guidestone would give them the final clue. Milly’d seen many strange things since she’d left home, but the guidestone topped the list. Its size, precision, everything about it amazed her.

  Forest surrounded the glade, and the remnants of a stone tower stood to the south. The road leading up Mount Cheaha was gone, but the winding flat path left behind made getting to the guidestone easy. Larry circled above the clearing, but in the thirty-four days they’d been scoping-out the area, they’d seen no people or virals.

  In the center of the clearing, four rectangular slabs of gray granite stood upright and fanned out from a central pillar like spokes from a square wheel hub. A large gray granite capstone sat on top, and a smooth piece of black marble served as the guidestone’s base. Both sides of each vertical slab were covered with writing of various languages, and the top capstone was etched with symbols and pictures. The center column displayed numbers listed in groups of six or seven: 1 11761, 13 13283, 6 99902, 19 11781, 22 38901, and on and on. The numbers filled the column from top to bottom on all sides.

  When Milly asked Tester what the other languages were, he’d said, “Spanish, Swahili, Hindi, Hebrew, Arabic, Chinese, and Russian. The symbols on the top I’m not sure about. One set is most definitely Greek, and another looks like Egyptian hieroglyphs, but I don’t know about the other two.”

  The granite slab before Milly was marked with English, and it read thusly:

  Proclamation of Argartha

  Those wishing to join us must live by these covenants:

  Maintain humanity under 500,000,000 in perpetual balance with nature.

  Guide population expansion wisely — improving fitness and diversity and the reborn.

  Unite humanity with a living new language.

  Rule passion — faith — tradition — and all things with tempered reason.

  Protect people and nations with fair laws and just courts.

  Let all nations rule internally resolving external disputes in a world court.

  Avoid petty laws and useless officials.

  Balance personal rights with social duties.

  Prize truth — beauty — love — the reborn – seeking harmony with the infinite.

  Be not a cancer on the Earth — Live with nature.

  “You’re sure this was placed here in 1980?” Tye said.

  Tester nodded. They’d had this discussion a hundred times.

  “That’s still hard for me to believe,” Robin said.

  “How does this thing work again?” Milly said.

  “Climb the mountain that leads to the top of the world when day and night are equal and the bright noon sun will shine upon the final guidestone’s clue,” Tye recited from memory.

  “See those holes in the capstone?” Tester said. “At noon, sunlight should shine through one of those holes and the ray of light will mark the set of numbers we need.”

  “Then what?” Milly said. They’d debated what the numbers meant and only one credible idea emerged. Each sequence was a number, a space, and then a set of five numbers together. Tye and Tester believed the five number grouping was the key.

  “What has five numbers?” Robin had said.

  “Zip codes,” Tye said.

  “What’s a…” Robin said.

  “A way to mark a location for deliveries,” Tye said. “That’s it, must be.”

  For Milly, that settled it since she had no other ideas.

  The sun arced across the sky, and noon came, and went. The beam of sunlight from the hole in the capstone didn’t point at any of the numbers. It settled close to 7 20003, but not on it.

  The pit of Milly’s stomach turned to ice, and pain crept up her back while fear and doubt burrowed into her like a worm. They’d been wrong. Peter died for nothing. The entire quest was a joke. Tears leaked from her eyes and she wiped them away.

  When the ray of light disappeared, Tester threw his gun down and grunted.

  Ingo laughed.

  The next day found them back at the guidestone, once again waiting for noon. After half a night of grousing, Tester recalled a star chart he’d seen many years prior when he’d been seeking the answers to the path of understanding. The fall equinox fell on September 22nd, but sometimes it was on the 23rd. Seven years had passed since their intended date of arrival at the guidestone, and Tester didn’t recall the chart going out as far as 2058.

  The day was hot and damp, and as the sun arced across the sky the companions of the turtle stood beneath the capstone, waiting for a beam of light to prove they weren’t crazy. Milly’s stomach tossed, her nerves racking her body with pain. Sweat dripped down her back, and she’d never been as anxious. This had to work. She didn’t know what they’d do if it didn’t.

  Helga and Turnip lay in the shade in front of the Chinese slab, but Pepper bounced around, yelping and crying with excitement.

  A ray of sunlight peeked through one of the holes in the capstone, and the beam of light grew in strength and fell on the central pillar. This time the spot was marked clearly: 7 20003.

  Milly erupted, shouting with joy as she embraced Tye. Laughter and joy rang across the forest, and for a brief instant everything made sense. Her old wounds ceased to ache, and a lightness of heart she’d never experienced washed over her. The turtle was real. Argartha was real, and they would find it.

  When they’d settled down, Milly said, “7 20003. What about the…”

  Tester cut her off. “The two hundreds are Washington, DC. I’m certain of it. I used to send mail to the state department all the time.”

  “Makes sense. That was… is the capital,” Tye said.

  “And the 7?” Milly said.

  “Seventh Street or Avenue, Washington, DC,” Tye said.

  “Yes,” Ingo said. “Yes! With that information I can see it now. A man with a beard on a high seat covered in kudzu. A cracked stone with words wreathed in white honeysuckle flowers: Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent, a new nation, conceived in Liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.”

  “You’re certain?” Tye said.

  “Yes,” Ingo said. “I see it now. Washington, DC is where we will stand before the turtle.”

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Year 2075, northern Virginia

  Milly came awake with a start. The night was chilly and leaves rustled in the light breeze. A three-quar
ter moon hung in the sky, filling the forest with pale white light. Pepper stood next to her, nudging Milly with her snout. “What is it, girl?”

  The faint sound of Helga whimpering floated on the wind.

  Milly vaulted to her feet. Pepper ran into the woods, and she followed. Insects buzzed, and an owl hooted. The evergreens were thick and tangled with underbrush, and Milly lost sight of Pepper. The huskie barked, and she moved toward the sound into a thicket of brambles. Milly drew her Glock 19 and gently pressed the safety trigger. It was pitch-black beneath the thick underbrush, but she couldn’t risk any light and mark her position. She moved through the bushes slowly, easing over rocks, through brambles, and around trees.

  Helga lay beside a giant oak, its trunk slick with her urine. Milly sparked a torch. No intruder had hurt Helga. Her entire hindquarter was wet with piss, and the shepherd looked up at her and growled. Milly reached out to pet her, and Helga tried to get up and move away, but her rear legs wouldn’t work. Milly had been afraid of this. She didn’t know Helga’s age, but the dog had struggled on the trail, consuming more water and food each day, yet still losing weight.

  “It’s OK,” Milly said. She inched forward and Helga bared her teeth, but when Milly put her arm around the animal, she didn’t bite. “It’ll be OK. Easy.” Helga breathed hard, fighting for air.

  Pepper sat nearby, and Turnip appeared out of the darkness, head bowed. The animals seemed to sense what was happening. Helga whimpered as pain racked her. Milly looked to the sky, wondering if Randy looked at those same stars, but that wasn’t possible. He was half a world away, looking at his own stars. Did he even remember her? She barely remembered his face. He was gone, wiped clean by time, like Curso.

  She held Helga’s snout closed, and the dog hardly struggled as she fought for air, and died. Milly cried then, pulling Helga close. She huddled with the dead animal against the cold, remembering the first time she’d seen the German shepherd when she’d been separated from Tye and the rest. The old girl had licked her face and slept beside her for days.

  At daybreak her friends found Milly covering Helga with stones. Everyone helped search for rocks, and when their friend was interred, Tye hammered a cross made of tree branches into the ground at the grave head. On a large stone on top of the pile, Tye etched RIP Helga.

  They skipped breakfast and walked on in silence, the sun hidden behind clouds fat with rain. How many days they walked after that Milly didn’t know. Her grief consumed her, and she trudged on like a brainless viral, seeing nothing, feeling nothing, and caring for nothing.

  After days of hard hiking the forest broke up, and they entered an ancient parking lot. In places the old blacktop had held, and large black spots marked the land like giant healed wounds of the gone world. Trees, weeds and flowers had retaken the land everywhere else. They came upon a deer path and followed it.

  An old wood facade in the shape of a large hot air balloon rose out of the trees before them. It stood twenty feet high and where the basket would have been a door stood open, the rusted and broken hinges of a gate long gone still affixed to the frame. Most of the paint had worn away, but the balloon had been the color of the rainbow. To the right of the massive balloon cut-out was a sign that was no longer legible. A path of yellow bricks led away from the door into a forest beyond.

  “Follow the yellow brick road,” Tye said.

  “What?” Milly said.

  “Nothing. An old story my mom used to read me,” he said.

  The yellow brick pathway looked new, and no weeds or dirt marred its bright surface. “Looks like a trap,” Tester said.

  “Milly, this remind you of anything?” Tye said.

  “Hansa and her church,” Milly said. “Except…” She couldn’t put it into words. This place was more powerful somehow. More intoxicating.

  “Turnip,” Tye said.

  The cat trotted past them and disappeared down the yellow brick path. After ten minutes the cat returned and stared at them, but gave no sign.

  “All right. You guys want to wait here while Tester and I check this out?” Tye said.

  Milly harrumphed and strode past him with Pepper in tow. Where the hell was Larry when you needed him? Robin and Ingo trailed after her.

  The yellow brick path wound through the forest, revealing an abandoned amusement park. A rusted coaster track dipped and curled in the forest beside the trail, vines and undergrowth making the metal almost indistinguishable from the woods. A bent tree arched over the walkway and Milly jumped when she saw the face carved therein. Above a mouth knothole painted red was a broken limb that served as a nose and above that two painted eyes.

  The path widened and dilapidated buildings appeared on both sides of the road: a candy store, bakery, and magic shop. Most of the signs were timeworn and illegible, but some had enough left to make out what they said. They came upon a broken carousel, the ornate horses laying cracked and broken around the giant drive wheel. Vines and weeds poked through the carousel’s platform, and every piece of metal was rusted.

  The path twisted upward after they passed through the town and came upon a viewing area that overlooked a small valley. Castle ramparts jutted from the tree canopy, as did several structures: a collapsed Ferris wheel, a huge green witch head, and a giant pair of red shoes. A light shone from the window of the castle’s highest tower.

  “You see that?” Tye said, pointing.

  “Yeah,” Tester said. “You think it’s a good idea we all go?”

  “Look at this,” Robin said.

  Milly screamed. Tacked to a tree was a black and white drawing of Curso. The likeness was unmistakable. She traced the lines of his face with her finger. She’d forgotten what he looked like.

  “There’s more,” Ingo said.

  All along the yellow brick path, pictures were displayed on trees. One of the Womb, and Citi. Peter, Vera, Salt, Helga, Kat—they all looked down on the party with accusing stares as they walked by.

  “Let’s see what that light is,” Ingo said.

  “No images?” Tye said.

  “Nothing. It’s almost like I’m being blocked,” Ingo said.

  The yellow path ended at a large blue gate with the letters OZ painted on it in bright yellow. The double gate was set in a ten-foot yellow stone wall. Everything looked freshly cleaned and maintained, as if little kids had just come to the park to enjoy their day.

  Tye pushed on the doors and they swung inward, and the party passed through. The yellow brick path changed to red, and the forest grew thicker, the underbrush denser. Ahead, a decaying concrete castle with six pointed towers towered over all.

  “OK. Tester and I will check this out. I want the rest of you to wait here,” Tye said.

  “I’m not…” Milly said.

  “You’re not anything. I just spent over six years of my life in a cage because I wasn’t careful enough. I’m not making that mistake again. Wait here and we’ll come get you. No discussion. You fight me, and I’m heading back to Respite. No bullshit, Milly,” Tye said.

  She hadn’t seen him that worked up in a long time. “Fine,” she said.

  Tester checked his gun and Tye loosened his knife in its sheath. They crept down the red brick path and disappeared around a turn. Milly’s heart raced. She looked around, and all the trees seemed to have eyes. They stared forward at the castle.

  “Yo,” Tye said. “Where the hell did you come from?” Tye and Tester had appeared behind them on the path.

  “What happened?” Ingo said.

  “I’m not sure,” Tester said. “We were walking, came around a turn, and there you were.”

  Silence.

  Tester and Tye headed off down the path again. This time they were only gone a few moments.

  “This is crazy,” Tester said. They’d come up behind them again.

  “I guess whoever’s in there wants you to come with us,” Tye said.

  The company walked on and stone figures appeared in the woods, and Milly thought she saw one
move. Elves, gnomes with pointed hats, and an assortment of squirrels, bunnies and cats decorated the forest. They were white and clean, as if the years of rain and snow and wind had done nothing to wear them away. “Hey,” she yelled when a stone figure slid behind a tree. She shook her head, but when she looked back, the statue hadn’t moved.

  A brown rusted robot straddled the path, and beneath it were stone statues of a lion and a scarecrow. “The tin man,” Tye said.

  “What? You know this place?” Milly said.

  “Whatever it was had something to do with the Wizard of Oz, a classic story told by the old ones. There were books. Movies. It was a cultural phenomenon,” Tye said.

  “How is it no one ever told me of it?” Robin said.

  “Because your father didn’t have a copy of the book on the top shelf of the bookcase in his office on the Oceanic Eco,” Tye said. Everybody laughed but her.

  The woods thinned out, and the castle rose before them. The iron gates stood open, and they passed under the portcullis. Birds, small animals, and wolves manned the castle’s ramparts, and Milly felt their eyes on her as she made her way across the entrance hall.

  The castle was unadorned; no furniture, no paintings or tapestries on the walls, no rugs on the floors. A grand staircase led to the upper towers, and Turnip and Pepper scouted ahead. Minutes ticked by and after fifteen minutes, Milly was concerned.

  “Where are they?” Robin said.

  “You see anything, Ingo?” Tester said.

  He shook his head no.

  “Tye and I’ll take the lead. Stay back,” Tester said.

  They climbed the steps, thin open windows drenching the stairwell in sunlight. Up they went, and Milly counted fifty steps before they reached the upper chamber. The air smelt of smoke and charred meat. A young man sat next to a brazier reading a large leather tome. The boy’s face was smooth and free of blemishes, his jet black hair streaked with gray. He wore a white robe and slippers of boiled leather. He looked twenty-five, but the streaks of gray made him look older.

  “Welcome, I’m Ozzie,” the young man said.