The Soulkeepers

by G. P. Ching

  Chapter 14

  The Other Garden

  Jacob never expected his punishment to be so, well, punishing. After their first meeting resulted in tea and a nap, he was disappointed that Dr. Silva was no longer concerned if he looked tired. Nor did she ask him to talk. She simply expected him to work.

  The first two Saturdays, he worked in the greenhouse. He repotted saplings, watered row after row of plants, and moved pots around for no apparent reason but Dr. Silva’s whim. When he was done, his back ached and his fingers were permanently stained. The working conditions were humid and cramped.

  That was child’s play compared to this.

  The pile of compost in front of him was three feet high and smelled like mushrooms. Jacob watched bits of brown crud blow off the top and swirl in the air around him. Although the sun was shining, the wind cut through his gray hoodie and chilled him to the bone. Six o’clock on a Saturday morning and his workday had officially begun.

  “Add another two inches of this to each of the raised beds and rake it in,” Dr. Silva said, handing him a shovel.

  Jacob responded by hoisting the wheelbarrow and heading toward the half acre of sixteen-foot-long cedar rectangles. He wasn’t afraid of the work and the faster he started, the sooner he’d finish.

  “When you’re done, I have something else in the greenhouse for you to do,” she said, leaning casually against a garden bench. Gideon rested atop the back of the bench, flicking his fluffy red tail as Dr. Silva’s long nails compulsively raked the cat’s neck and shoulders.

  Jacob began shoveling. As cool as it was, it didn’t take him long to work up a sweat and by the time he headed back to the pile to refill the wheelbarrow, he was tempted to take off his sweatshirt. He paused when he noticed that Dr. Silva was still watching him.

  “Am I your entertainment, too?” he asked. Since their first meeting, when he’d had tea with her, she didn’t have the same effect on him as before. She was still as beautiful, but his skin didn’t tingle when he saw her and her eyes didn’t cut quite so deep. But it was awkward having someone watch him shovel. If she wasn’t going to help, the least she could do was not stare.

  “Well, looks like you’ve got everything under control here,” she said, an edge to her voice as if his comment had caught her off-guard. She dusted her hands off against the sides of her cargo pants. “I have some things to do in the orchard. I’ll check back with you later about the work in the greenhouse.”

  Jacob was relieved when she finally left. She wandered off into the maple trees, the big red cat following close behind.

  The first hour wasn’t bad. He glanced at his watch only twice and was making good progress. The second hour became increasingly tedious. His hands began to blister. He caught himself checking the time every ten minutes and stopping often to count the remaining beds in the field.

  Refilling the wheelbarrow proved more difficult than he anticipated. If he loaded it up as much as he could, it became so heavy that the handles cut into his hands. But if he filled it only halfway, he would tire himself out making multiple trips. He tried a combination of both approaches, leaving his whole body sore and covered in compost dust.

  At least he had something good to think about while he worked. Malini. Amazingly, she was his girlfriend now. He thought often of their first kiss and those that followed. The memory never got old.

  By the time he hoisted the last shovel into the last bed, the sun was high. He felt dirty, tired, and, more than anything, thirsty. He was supposed to be done in an hour. Jacob wasn’t sure if Dr. Silva would even want him to start the next project, but he decided to track her down to find out.

  As he approached the threshold of the orchard, he noticed the maples were covered in buds. They lined up on the east of the property like a skeleton army. Fog had settled among them, under the shade of the entangled branches, creating a border between light and shadow that he stepped over to follow Dr. Silva’s general direction. Mist slithered in wispy tendrils around his ankles, the ground beneath him squishing under each step. Layer upon layer of fallen leaves decomposed below his feet. A musty smell like dirt and maple syrup lingered in the air.

  Jacob tried not to think about how creepy the orchard was. The trunks of the trees were scarred with knots and hollows. Cobwebs stretched from limb to trunk. He ran into a few and wiped his face repeatedly to make sure it was free of spiders.

  “Dr. Silva?” he called. There was no discernable path, no footprints to follow, but the terrain sloped gradually downward. He wasn’t worried about getting lost. When he needed to find his way out, he could simply walk uphill.

  He was thinking about how thirsty he was when he almost walked into a hedge. It wasn’t so much a traditional hedge as it was a thick garden wall, at least ten feet high, which made it even more embarrassing he hadn’t seen it until his face had practically met greenery. How he couldn’t have noticed it was beyond him, but he felt a strange type of disorientation, like walking into a room and forgetting why he had entered it. Maybe he was dehydrated. Maybe exhausted.

  “Dr. Silva?” he called again and began walking along the wall.

  A break in the privet revealed a wrought-iron gate, similar to the one at the front of the house, as if the iron had grown out of the hedge itself. Ivy interlaced itself among the gate spindles, making it almost impossible to see anything behind it. Across the top, a vine of red roses grew, its thorns reminding him of barbed wire.

  The roses surprised him. In Hawaii plants bloomed all year round, but since he’d come to Paris he was painfully aware that the deciduous plants here died off in the winter and gradually came back in the spring. This plant was bright green and leafy, the crimson roses open and bright. The vine seemed to defy the brown stick branches of the maples. He wondered if Dr. Silva had used some kind of special fertilizer to make these plants come back sooner than the rest.

  “Dr. Silva, are you in there?” he yelled through the overgrown bars.

  Silence.

  He reached down and tested the handle but the gate was padlocked with an antique iron lock. This did not surprise Jacob. It was perfectly matched to the wrought-iron gate. What did surprise him was that someone had left the key in it.

  “Gaaah!” He jumped at the flash of red that moved beyond the gate. Through a gap in the ivy he’d seen Gideon; the red fur was unmistakable. Dr. Silva must be behind the gate after all. Gideon was always with her.

  Jacob was struck suddenly by an urge to go home to the Laudners. The gate was locked, key or no key, and going through without permission was risky. It didn’t seem like he was supposed to be here. Besides, it may have been the dehydration, but his heart was racing and his gut twisted. Something told him to turn back, to give up. If he left, he could just talk to Dr. Silva about it another day or make up the hour next week.

  But when he thought about the Laudners, he remembered his eye and lip, healed now but not forgotten. Uncle John had put himself on the line to shield him from Aunt Carolyn’s fury but it was horrible anyway. As much as he hated staying with the Laudners, he was sorry that his actions had proven Aunt Carolyn right in her eyes. She had feared that he would act out violently, that he was somehow deranged, and he had proven her right. Jacob didn’t want to spend any extra time with her right then.

  Swallowing hard, he reached for the lock and tried to ignore the slight trembling in his hands as he turned the key. There was resistance as the mechanism engaged. He turned harder, stepping closer to the device to take advantage of his center of gravity. The lock finally sprang and he removed it from its metal ring. The gate swung open and he stepped forward, over the threshold, releasing the ivy-covered metal behind him. With a head-splitting clank, the gate slammed shut.

  It was hot, rainforest hot. At least thirty degrees warmer than the other side of the gate. He stripped off his sweatshirt and rolled up his pants before reaching through the ivy and placing the lock back on the gate handle. Dr. Silva must have had a reason for doing this and he thoug
ht it was a good idea to leave things the way he found them.

  Following the overgrown trail, he was amazed at the variety of plants he encountered. John had mentioned Dr. Silva’s rare plant collection and Jacob was beginning to appreciate its significance. There were rubber trees, bamboo, palms, and others he couldn’t name. The plants were huge and thriving in an environment he could hardly believe existed in Illinois.

  When he turned the corner, a sickly sweet smell met him head on, causing him to gag and bury his nose in his elbow. He wished he hadn’t left his sweatshirt by the gate and could tie it around his face. The stench made his knees quiver. He recognized it for what it was. The smell of death.

  In the back of his mind he hoped Dr. Silva didn’t have anything to do with the smell. Was she capable of killing? He wasn’t sure. Jacob had to admit finding a dead body out here wouldn’t have surprised him.

  A row of gigantic flowers, six feet tall, lined the bend in the trail. They were purplish black and covered in beetles. He followed the pebble pathway toward them, searching the ground for the source of the odor. The smell became more intense, almost unbearable. He forced himself to continue down the path and the smell gradually faded.

  The corner of the gate’s iron frame was barely visible now. The ivy seemed to be growing around it as he watched, covering what was left of the gate in thick green leaves. Once he turned the next corner, he would lose sight of it completely.

  Jacob thought again about turning back. There was an odd feeling in his stomach, like he was at the top of a roller coaster, when you can’t see anything but air and you know at any moment the cart is going to fall out from underneath you.

  “Jaaacooob,” a female voice sang from behind the trees. He whipped his head toward the giggle that followed and saw only a flash of flesh color between the green branches, followed by a rush of red fur.

  “Dr. Silva?” he called, but the voice didn’t sound like hers. It was higher, younger.

  “Go back, Jacob,” a deep male voice reverberated around him.

  “Who is that? Who are you?” he said, turning in place.

  Up ahead, farther down the trail, he saw the flash of flesh again, a hip, maybe an arm. Jacob couldn’t tell what part of the body it was through the dense foliage but he knew it was a woman, a naked woman.

  The female voice called to him again from the trees. “Don’t listen to him, Jacob. Come this way. Don’t you want to know?”

  “Know what?” he called back. “Who are you? How do you know my name?”

  There was no answer. A streak of red followed where the flesh color had been.

  The smell of pumpkin pie wafted over him from up ahead and he found himself walking, only half conscious, toward the voice. Whoever she was, he wanted to know her. He wanted to see her. He felt pushed and pulled at the same time, a compulsion that forced one foot in front of the other instinctively.

  The pebbles gave way to a narrow strip of stepping-stones, so grown over Jacob had to push aside branches to work his way through. In a normal garden this might not be a difficult task, but this was anything but a normal garden. Thorns the size of his hand grew from some of the plants. Bright colors and strangely shaped leaves made him tentative to touch others. The thick canopy allowed only pinpoints of light to filter down from above.

  Everything about the place seemed wrong. For one, the size of the plants shouldn’t have been able to fit within the boundaries of the property as he could see it from the street. He wondered if it was an optical illusion, the sloping terrain and winding trail making the garden seem bigger than it was. But that couldn’t explain why it was at least ninety degrees. He tried not to think about it as he pushed a vine out of his way and stepped to the next stone.

  A broad mass of spiky yellow needles, like a cactus but with no green trunk, bordered the trail. Jacob balanced on the far edge of the stone and slithered to the next. From this stone, he could see a vine with what looked like a two-foot cucumber growing from it on his right. It wouldn’t have been as remarkable if it weren’t fuzzy and blue, with a texture like mold and a middle that rippled like a jellyfish. The rippling was hypnotic and, as he continued down the path, he glanced back several times to watch.

  The distraction caused him to trip over a root grown across the trail. The momentary illusion of flight gave way to a painful meeting of hands, knees, and stone.

  “Crap!” he cursed. The fall had gashed his knee and blood ran down his calf.

  “Have a nice trip! See you next fall,” the girl’s voice said with a giggle. He looked around but couldn’t see anyone.

  “Where are you? Who are you?” he called.

  “Keep going and you’ll find out.”

  He removed one of his socks and tied it tightly around the wound. Bending and unbending his knee, he tested if anything was broken. He got to his feet and tried to put some weight on it. Pain shot up his leg. There was no way he could go any farther. He decided to head back to the Laudners and talk with Dr. Silva later.

  “Good, Jacob. Go home.” The man’s voice again.

  As he moved to step over the pool of blood on the stone, Jacob reconsidered. What was the man’s voice trying to keep from him? What was Jacob missing at the end of the path? If he left, he would never know.

  Besides, going back was looking a lot more difficult. On both sides of the path a sprawling mass of flowers waved. Their heads looked like yellow snapdragons but their foliage was exotic like some type of orchid. The heads were slapping the bloody stone. If he continued this way, he would have to push past them. That was a bad idea: first, because they were moving without the benefit of any type of breeze and second, because they were licking the blood from the stone. The flowers were drinking his blood.

  Jacob flinched as one of the flowers reached for the bloody sock around his knee. Its teeth latched onto the blood-soaked cotton. He backed away and a piece of the sock ripped off in the flower’s jaws. “What the hell?” He turned and ran down the path to dodge the remaining swinging heads. What was this place? He leapt over a snapping yellow flower and bounded stone to stone toward a stream of light ahead. The forest opened.

  From the shaded stepping stone path, Jacob emerged onto a delta of sand where the trees and plants ended. Panting and exhausted, he stooped forward with his palms on his knees and the sun on his back. Calling out for Dr. Silva wasn’t an option. His mouth was too dry and, besides, he was sure he’d reach the back of the garden soon anyway. How big could this place be? There was no turning back now. His only hope was to find her.

  Forward he trudged through what seemed like an acre more of meadow before the sandy path ran directly into a dune. The climb to the top left his muscles burning and his mouth dry as a stone. But from the top of the dune he could see the back wall of the garden. The ten-foot privet was a natural blockade to the skeletal forest beyond. In the valley between the dune and the back privet, a labyrinth of spiky cacti went on for miles. At the center, he could make out the twisting branches of a gigantic tree.

  His head hurt. Where was Dr. Silva? Why had he come so far? Had the voices he’d heard before been a figment of his damaged brain? Exhausted and dehydrated, he suspected he was in trouble and was sure that if he sat down, he would never get back up. If he died here, would anyone ever find him?

  He closed his eyes, longing for the Laudners’ sage green recliner.

  When he opened them again, he was surprised to see Gideon sitting in the sand by his feet.

  “Where did you come from?” he croaked.

  The cat gave a low growl.

  “I don’t suppose you know where Dr. Silva is?” he said to the cat. The animal stared at him for a long time. If Jacob didn’t know better he would swear that Gideon was thinking something through. After some time, the cat blinked slowly, then started down the dune toward the maze. Jacob followed to the mouth of the labyrinth but the cat was too fast and by the time he entered under the thorny arch, Gideon was nowhere to be seen.

  Instinctiv
ely, Jacob knew which way to go. It was the pulling feeling again, like he was navigating each bend on autopilot, trusting his gut with the labyrinth’s twists and turns. He was disappointed not to hear the girl’s voice again, but she had probably been a hallucination to begin with. It didn’t matter. The important thing was finding Dr. Silva and then getting out of there before he collapsed.

  When he reached the center of the maze, he was disappointed that Dr. Silva was not there, just the tree he’d seen from the dune. The gnarly, twisted trunk gave way to corkscrew branches that reached in all directions. The trunk was as wide as he was tall with layers that looked like multiple trees had grown together. The leaves of the tree started near the ends of the branches, allowing the sun to shine through the small green clusters. A thick layer of moss grew over the bark.

  He’d never seen a tree like this before. But then, he was sure there’d never been a garden like this before. Just then, Gideon entered the center of the maze and sat down between the tree and Jacob.

  “Where’d you come from?” he said to the cat, but then returned his attention to the tree. The moss on the bark looked soft and inviting. He took a step forward. It wasn’t a conscious choice, more like riding on a conveyor belt.

  Gideon leapt from his seat and knocked him to the sand.

  “What’s wrong with you?” Jacob yelled, pushing the cat off his stomach and standing back up. Gideon repositioned himself, growling. The animal looked absolutely deadly, all teeth and claws. But Jacob only cared about the tree. The twisting bark was so alluring. He wanted to run his hand along the moss and climb the twisting branches. He reached out and took another step toward the trunk.

  Gideon leapt again, sinking his teeth into his wrist.

  “Ouch! What the hell?” Jacob yelled, flinging the cat aside. It took more muscle than he expected. The cat had to weigh thirty pounds or more. Gideon rolled and moved to take another swipe, but this time Jacob didn’t hesitate. He reached out.

  His fingers connected with the roughness of the tree and everything slowed down. The bark climbed up his arm, as if the tree were swallowing him. Like he was changing from a liquid into a solid, every cell in his body hardened from animal to plant. Inside the tree looking out, he became the tree. A butterfly fluttered by as quickly as a jet plane. The air buzzed around him in a dance of gravitational pulls.

  Looking up through the branches, he saw the clear blue sky above and slid up those corkscrew arms into the air. Then he was the sky. He was an ageless power in connection with something infinite.

  Too soon, he was falling, sliding down through a new branch, turning inside out like his stomach was lurching through his belly button. Only, his stomach wasn’t a stomach but layers of wood growing one on top of the other. Until, the last layer hit the air and his bark became skin. And then he was only touching the bark.

  Jacob was human again but he was not in the cactus maze.

  In front of the tree that was not the tree in Dr. Silva’s garden but a tree on the edge of a wild jungle, he finally collapsed. His body could take no more and his knees buckled underneath him until his butt was firmly planted at the base of the tree. Propped against the trunk, he stared across a large open plain. A purple, white-capped mountain rose up beyond a sprawling savannah.

  It looked a lot like Africa.

  He shook his head in disbelief but watched the heads of a pod of giraffes bob as they ran across the plain, a spotted machine. He licked his lips. Hallucinating. He was hallucinating. But the more he attempted to free himself from the delirium, the more real it seemed.

  The grasses parted unevenly a hundred yards ahead, no more noticeable than a gentle breeze. A lioness crept forward from the greenish brown savannah, yellow eyes locked onto him. She was hunting Jacob and he was easy prey. His legs felt like rubber bands. Whatever magic had brought him there had drained every ounce of energy he’d had left. All he could do was watch in fear as the predator inched closer, and hope that she was a figment of his dehydrated brain.

  The lioness pounced, teeth flashing.

  Claws sank into his back, but they were not the claws of the lioness. A hand grabbed him by the shirt, pulling him backward, plunging him into the tree’s slowing sensation. As he was absorbed into the bark, he saw the lioness fall to the earth in fast-forward before experiencing the funny inside out feeling again, but backward. Then he was sliding down a branch and folding into a tree trunk. Until, finally, he was Jacob again, lying on a patch of sand looking up into the sky.

  No … he was looking up into two sky-blue eyes.

  Dr. Silva’s face hovered above him, her frown stern and resolute. She glanced at the tree, which now appeared normal in its cactus habitat, and then back at him on the sandy mound.

  “Well,” she said with a sigh, “I see that you’ve found Oswald. Jacob, it is time we had a serious talk.”