Circles of Seven

by Bryan Davis

  “Perhaps we can take you there. I’m certain your parents are beyond merely worried about you.”

  “That’s for sure . . . If they’re still alive.”

  The professor leaned over, lowering his voice. “I am puzzled about your striking resemblance to Bonnie Silver. Who are your parents?”

  “Robert and Sarah Nathanson, but I’m sure they’ve changed names again by now. That was forty years ago, and they were always on the run.”

  Walter’s foot slipped, but he quickly righted himself. “Forty years! But you’re my age!”

  Shiloh shook her head and laughed. “Not exactly. I guess I’m fifty-five now. I left on my fifteenth birthday.”

  The professor pinched his chin. “I know of a Nathanson in Glastonbury, but he is childless. Perhaps he is your father’s relative. If your parents are no longer here, I can take you to him.”

  “Ashley, I must report another anomaly.”

  Ashley lifted the computer. “Let’s hear it, Larry.”

  “Apollo is reporting a fully-charged flash engine.”

  Ashley swung her head and looked up toward the portal. The door of light had vanished, and the moon shone on the hillside . . . the empty hillside. “Apollo’s gone!”

  “Impossible, Ashley. Invisible to you, maybe, but not gone. Its signal is somewhat warped. I conclude that it has moved through the portal.”

  “That big flash must have recharged it!” Walter exclaimed, leaning over the computer. “Can you program it? Can Bonnie use Apollo to get home?”

  “Yes, I have made the proper adjustments. My communications with the unit are now completely in sync. The subject, however, will have to see the rift in the dimensional barrier and know how to use it.”

  Ashley fingered the barrettes in her hair. “A hole in an electric fence? So that’s why she didn’t need a cloak.” She tilted her head upward. “Karen. You listening?”

  “Are you kidding? This is better than Star Trek reruns!”

  “Listen! Fire up the word processor. You’re going to send a note to Bonnie, special delivery!” Ashley jerked the computer up to her mouth. “Barlow! What’s up with Billy?”

  “It’s hard to tell, Miss. I think his shirt has overlapped his belt and has obscured most of the view. I can tell that he’s moving, but I see only rocks on the ground.”

  “Check the circles. Which drawing is he in?”

  “One moment.”

  Shiloh stared at the handheld computer. “This Barlow guy can tell where Billy is?”

  “Yes,” Ashley explained. “There’s a drawing of circles on a floor, and two lights show up in the circles, one for Billy, and one for Bonnie. Bonnie was in what we’re calling the sixth circle. I suppose that’s where you were, too. Anyway, whenever they go somewhere else—”

  Barlow’s voice interrupted. “He is in the southwest circle. The eyes of the child in the picture are glowing. But there is no longer a light in the western circle.”

  Ashley bit her lip. “Bonnie’s not in number six anymore?”

  Shiloh pushed her head between Ashley’s face and the computer. “Are you sure, Mr. Barlow? I just saw her there two minutes ago.”

  Ashley leaned away from Shiloh and pulled the computer closer. “Check all the circles, Barlow. She has to be there somewhere.”

  “Very well, Miss.”

  Shiloh folded her hands behind her back. “I’ve got . . .”—she swallowed, and her voice rose to a trembling pitch—“a sick feeling in my stomach.”

  “Yeah,” Ashley agreed. “Big-time.”

  Barlow’s voice rattled through the speaker. “Miss Stalworth!”

  “I’m here! What is it?”

  “The circle at the north end! The child in the king’s lap! Its eyes are glowing!”

  “Okay, Barlow. Don’t get so excited. At least we found her.”

  The professor gripped Ashley’s shoulder. “Miss Stalworth. The child in the northern drawing is in the lap of the Lord. That circle is a vision of heaven.”

  Ashley’s face turned ghostly white. “Heaven?”

  Billy turned away from the edge of the chasm and gazed out over the endless expanse, a field of black, rippled lava rock, dappled with rolling mounds of cooled flows. A few active, bubbling craters dotted the black plain, like pots of soup waiting for the chef to return.

  His stomach growled. The thought of soup exposed a gnawing void in his belly. He sniffed the air. Was he really smelling food? Beef stew? He sniffed again. Garlic? A loud gurgle sounded. He pressed his hand against his stomach. Quiet! Now’s not the time. Still, he couldn’t ignore the pain. Acid churned in his esophagus—sizzling, burning. How long had it been since he’d eaten?

  He shook his head to throw out thoughts of food, but he couldn’t chase away the smell. It was real. It had to come from somewhere, but he couldn’t see a single building—only wasteland and a burning chasm that seemed to travel for miles, biting a deep trench into the never-ending flat terrain. With its sheer walls and superheated floor, nothing could be hiding there.

  In the opposite direction, a range of mountains loomed miles away, one of the peaks boasting a wide, volcanic cone. Billy sniffed the air again. Could there possibly be homes near the source of all this lava? That wouldn’t make sense. But even if there were, could the aroma travel that far? Maybe the portal to the sixth circle was nestled in a pass between the mountains or even beyond the range. Bonnie wasn’t here, so why stick around at a dead end?

  He took a last look at Naamah’s crumpled body. No time to bury her. It would probably take hours to reach the volcano, so he wanted to get started right away. Who could tell how long he had before darkness fell? Although the day was clear and bright, he couldn’t find the sun. He let out a sigh and set off into the basaltic wasteland.

  After a dozen or so paces, he spotted a flash of light from the corner of his eye. He whirled around and snatched out Excalibur. A solitary man sat at a picnic table poised at the edge of the chasm. Tall and slender, he leaned over with his elbows propped on each side of a plate, greedily gnawing on a leg of fried chicken. A black cloth covered the table, with steaming dishes spread from one side to the other—an oval serving dish piled with slices of turkey, grilled chicken legs, and sirloin steaks; thick pepperoni pizza on a stoneware disk; roasted ears of corn stacked in a pyramid; a mountain of mashed potatoes in a wide vat; an oversized gravy boat and ladle; and thick beef stew in a monstrous Dutch oven.

  Billy licked his parched lips. That’s where the smell came from! Why couldn’t I see it before? He stepped slowly toward the table. The man looked up, and without taking his mouth away from the chicken leg, he motioned for Billy to sit next to him.

  Billy swallowed an eruption of burning liquid. “Uh, no thanks.”

  The man dropped the stripped bone on his plate and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. “Come on! I won’t bite!” He grabbed a slice of pizza, and a string of melted cheese stretched over his hand. He stuffed half of it between his chomping teeth and shook his head, talking with his mouth full. “This is the best food you can find anywhere in this God-forsaken land. Of that, you can be sure.”

  Billy took a step closer but stayed out of reach. “Who are you? Why are you here?”

  “I am Francis Peabody, but you can call me PJ.”

  “PJ? That doesn’t fit Francis Peabody. Wouldn’t it be FP?”

  PJ shoved the crust into his mouth and grabbed another slice. “It’s a childhood name that stuck, so to speak. I was called PBJ by my parents and six brothers because of my love for peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Over time it shortened to PJ.”

  “Okay. I’ll buy that.” Billy extended his hand. “My name’s Billy Bannister.”

  PJ kept both hands on the pizza and nodded. “Pleased to meet you BB.”

  Billy withdrew his hand and shifted his weight from foot to foot. “So, what are you doing here?”

  PJ licked a string of cheese from his chin. “I’m a traveler, much like yourself. I entered the c
ircles about forty years ago in search of a lost girl.”

  “A lost girl? Who?”

  “A young lady, really—Shiloh Nathanson. I found her soon after I entered, but I had a bit of a mishap. My mind is fuzzy on the details, but when I tried to lead her home, I hit a wall of electricity and blacked out. After that, all I could remember was being carried by strong arms. I finally woke up in this place.”

  Billy pressed his hand against his gurgling stomach. “I don’t get it. Why didn’t I see you when I got here?”

  PJ tipped up a bottle of dark liquid and downed several gulps. He belched loudly and wiped his mouth with the edge of the tablecloth. “It’s the way of this world. Passing through dimensions doesn’t always happen cleanly. I traveled through six circles, and going from one to the other was never the same.”

  “So you’re stuck in this one now?”

  PJ took another bite of pizza, his voice muffling as he chewed. “Seems that way, but I’m not complaining.” He gestured toward the food with a wide sweep of his arm. “There’s always plenty to eat.”

  “But what else do you do? Don’t you get lonely?”

  “Not really. I pretty much just eat most of the time. I’d watch the sunrise and sunset, but there’s no sun to watch.”

  “Yeah. I noticed that.” Billy sat at the opposite side of the table. “Are you always hungry?”

  PJ belched again. “Not really, but I never get full or fat. The food’s so good, why stop? It just keeps reappearing, and I’d swear it gets tastier every day.” He slid the pizza toward Billy. “C’mon. Join in.”

  The smell of tomatoes and cheese surged into Billy’s nose, setting off a five-alarm belly fire. The foodless hole in his stomach burned, begging for just a taste of the dripping mozzarella. He slid the plate away. “No. . . . No, I can’t.”

  “Oh. Gas, huh?” PJ grabbed a bowl and scooped a ladle full of beef stew from the pot. “Here,” he said, pouring it into the bowl with a slow swirl, “this’ll settle your stomach.” He stretched out his lanky body and placed the bowl right under Billy’s nose, dropping a spoon into the stew.

  The steamy vapors washed over Billy. Oh, the aroma! A breath from heaven! He tipped up the end of the spoon, revealing chunks of beef and potatoes swimming in luscious broth. Saliva squirted so hard, his glands ached. Pain gripped his stomach, demanding that he fill his fiery chasm and give it something to gnaw on instead of his own flesh.

  Billy pushed the bowl away and tried to stand up, but the pain doubled him over.

  PJ rushed to his side and gripped his arm. “Come, boy. You need nourishment. And this food is to die for.”

  Billy groaned, shoving his fists into his belly. “That’s what I’m afraid of. I was told that no food here is fit to eat.” He pulled free from PJ’s hold and wiped a stream of sweat from his brow. Feeling his ring slide across his skin, he dropped his hand down and checked the rubellite. It no longer pulsed as it had before.

  “Not fit to eat?” PJ nodded with his eyes half closed. “I’ll bet Joseph told you that.”

  The pain eased a bit, allowing Billy to straighten his body. “You’ve met Joseph?”

  “Indeed! He gave me a fine meal in the second circle and warned me not to eat again. But am I supposed to wait forty years to eat? I think not.”

  Billy eyed his ring again, rubbing the gem with his thumb. “How long did you wait?”

  PJ shrugged. “Oh, a day or two.”

  Billy narrowed his eyes. “A day or two? That’s not so long when you know the food’s not fit to eat.”

  “Oh, so now you’re the expert on what’s fit to eat? Who do you think you are, Julia Child?”

  Billy slid his foot across the lava flow. “Uh, no. I don’t even know who that is. It’s just that Joseph said—”

  “Joseph said!” PJ interrupted in a mocking tone. He set his hands on his hips. “But did Joseph ever tell you why it was unfit?”

  “No. I didn’t ask—”

  “Well!” PJ extended his hand. “See there? There is no reason. Unfit, indeed! Bunch of nonsense.” He beat his chest with his fists. “As you can see, I am alive and well.”

  “Yeah, but what’s the good of that? You’re stuck here like a cat in a cage. Don’t you want to try to leave?”

  “Not really. You see, I was once like you—anxious, ambitious, adventurous. Oh! That’s alliterative. Very good!” PJ swiveled his head from side to side. “Now, where was I? Oh, yes. I am embracing my fate, BB, which is really not a bad one, you see.” His eyes brightened. “Oh! That rhymes. Excellent!”

  Billy ground his molars together. Talking to this guy was a waste of time. He wasn’t a prisoner who needed rescue; he was a candidate for a padded cell. Could the food have addled his brain? “But why would you want to live here?” he asked. “It’s just a world of endless lava fields and no one to talk to.”

  “Not so.” PJ pushed his hands into his armpits and flapped his elbows. “A bird comes by every day, a raven, in fact, and I talk to it.”

  “You talk to a bird!? Isn’t that a little bit crazy?”

  PJ shrugged. “Not if the bird speaks first. It would be rude not to answer.”

  “What do you talk about?”

  “Why, food, of course! The raven asks me what I wish to eat, and I tell it. When it leaves, the food appears.”

  Billy nodded slowly. “I see. . . . A raven.” He gazed out over the chasm, lowering his voice to a whisper. “Yet still he foils the raven’s plot . . .Tables turned. . . . Hmmm.” With his stomach pain easing further, he took a deep breath, trying to figure out this odd man in this equally odd world. It didn’t make sense. Food, no matter how good, shouldn’t be enough to make him want to stay. Life here had to be more boring than watching mannequins play chess.

  He kicked at a black ripple on the stony ground. Turning back, he edged close to the bench and pinched the corner of the tablecloth.

  PJ’s brow furrowed, and his square chin grew tight. Billy knew he had to make this quick. Leaning over, he grabbed the edge of the table and lifted, pushing it, food and all, into the chasm. After watching it bang against the wall and splash into the lava, he turned back, brushing his hands against each other.

  PJ’s face blazed scarlet. He lunged toward Billy and pinned his arms to his sides. “Idiot! That food was mine!” PJ lifted Billy off his feet and walked him toward the chasm’s edge. “Now you’ll pay, you fool!”

  Billy tried to spew fire in PJ’s face, but no flames came out. He strained his arms against the pressure and grabbed two fistfuls of PJ’s shirt, hoping the crazed glutton wouldn’t throw him in if he hung on.

  With Billy clamped to him, PJ threw his own body into the gorge. They plummeted, PJ releasing Billy as they tumbled through the scalding air. Billy let out a blood-curdling shout, tensing every muscle as he plunged toward the river of lava.

  Rolling his body into a ball, Billy tucked his face between his arms. He hit the river seat first and splashed into the thick, red lava, throwing his head back and opening his eyes. PJ, his face frozen in terror, splashed right next to him, and his body burst into flames on impact.

  Billy felt nothing—neither the sizzling torment he expected, nor the viscous, molten rock that surrounded his body. He floated near the edge of the river, and the lava next to his body began changing color, from red to purple to black. The thick liquid hardened into crusty soot, giving him a solid foundation underneath. He stood up, and his feet sank into gritty, black dust until he was knee deep in volcanic ash. He waded to the edge of the river and shook the powder from his shoes. Drawing in a deep breath, he suddenly felt strong, invigorated, almost wild with energy. His insides boiled, and with a giant heave, he spewed an enormous stream of fire from his mouth, blasting it out in one long breath.

  When the fire ceased, he crossed his arms and grasped his biceps, flexing them to test his bursting strength. He felt ready to conquer the world.

  Tightening his muscles, he drew out Excalibur, his fingers strangling th
e hilt. The laser beam shot out brighter than ever before. The beam curved back toward him and twisted around his body like a spider spinning a net around its prey. The web of light grew into a radiant cocoon, and the flaming river seemed to melt away.

  He felt like he was floating in nothingness—brilliant white nothingness. Except for a gentle breeze wafting across his face, he sensed no movement. His vision slowly cleared, the white light dissolving into gray, then sharpening into fuzzy objects—a cobblestone street, dilapidated buildings, and a muscular man dressed in black standing in the distance.

  Billy rubbed his eyes, then shook his head. Okay, what now? I hope it’s not another crazy glutton.

  He marched forward, the scene taking shape with each step. The man in black straddled a curled-up body, his feet set as though he had conquered a foe.

  Billy quickened his pace, trying to focus on the body. It looked strange, like it had . . . It does! It has wings!

  Billy regripped Excalibur’s hilt and ran, screaming, “Bonnie!” But just before he came within striking distance, the man drew his own sword and shouted, “Halt, foul dragon!”

  The force of the voice rattled Billy’s brain. He screeched to a stop, his legs suddenly feeling like two Slinky springs. His arms drooped, but he managed to hang on to Excalibur. He recognized that voice, the voice that haunted and hunted him through months of sweat-filled nightmares. His eyes cleared. Glaring back at him was the evil face of Palin!

  I’m ready,” Karen said. “What do you want me to type?”

  “Let’s see . . .” Ashley latched onto a handful of hair at the back of her head and spoke slowly. “Bonnie, this device is called Apollo. Hold it in the spot you found it. When you’re ready to leave the circles, slide the metal flap on the base, and press the button. A shining door should appear, and you should be able to walk through the interdimensional passageway. That’s all for now.” She released her hair and raised a finger. “Wait! Add this. . . . Too much information can make your brain choke.”

  “Hold it. How do you spell ‘interdimensional’? It’s not in my spell checker.”

  Ashley spelled it out in rapid-fire fashion: “I-N-T-E-R-D-I-M-E-N-S-I-O-N-A-L.”