“Kid. This ricin stuff. No matter where they injected you. It’s spread. If we had tried something right after, maybe there would be a chance. But by now it’s all diffused.”
I clamped my eyes and did some searching of my own. I took inventory of every weird twitch, pang and ache afflicting my body. I homed in on the specific areas being affected. I could feel how things worked, even at the cellular level. My self-awareness went far beyond any normal perceptions of my body functions, but as I had feared, my consciousness failed to gain on purchase on anything tangible. I might as well have been trying to tackle a greased pig with soapy hands.
And so, in desperation, I prayed. To no one and no thing in particular. I didn’t expect an answer, but somehow my outreach found its way to a familiar place that I had come to realize is always within and around me, the countless mingled souls of the Singularity.
It was the first time I had ever made contact with it while awake and without the presence a tapped-in soul to serve as a medium and guide. It understood immediately what I needed, and endeavored in good faith to show me what I sought to learn.
It took no time at all to deliver a response. I tried to understand what it was telling me but the knowledge proved both cryptic and elusive. Like a crucial word hovering just beyond the edge of consciousness, on verge of retrieval, but never reaching my lips.
What Olivier had told me was true. The poison could be neutralized. And the Singularity knew exactly how to get it done. I could sense that it knew. It knew that I knew it knew and it was trying every way it could to convey the information to me. I could sense its frustration alongside my own. As we strained to understand each other, a dark cloud shoved its way into the transaction and I felt myself growing faint, losing touch with the Singularity, life, everything. Even the roots kept their distance.
***
When I woke, we were back on the road, with the lake shore still on our left. We had not gone very far. I had not been unconscious for very long.
“He’s awake again,” said Jess, kneeling in the passenger seat, her chin propped on the head rest.
Wendell looked up into the mirror again. “Hey man. Before you blink out again, I meant to ask you. How’d things go with the raid? Did you all make it ashore … with that … thing?”
“Yeah,” I said, all breathy and subdued, my tone as neutral as if I were describing an episode of taking out the trash. “We took down a city … maybe three.”
“Three? Really? That’s … brilliant!”
“City?” said Jessica, confused.
“We took casualties. One of them … was Urszula.”
Wendell took a deep breath. “Well, that’s a damned shame. That girl never liked me. For good reason. But I liked her. That girl had a lot of spunk. You have to admire that.”
“What are you two talking about?”
Wendell glanced over at Jess. “Don’t you worry about it, sweetie. This is not a place a nice girl like you will ever have to worry about. Though, who knows, you could be Penny material.”
Jessica looked offended.
“I will have nothing whatsoever to do with those so-called Friends.”
“Oh, I’m not talking about the Friends of Penult,” said Wendell. “I’m talking about Penult. The Erelim and their minions. Nobody lives forever, sweetheart. No guarantee you end up where you’re expecting unless you’re one of those who manage to engineer something.”
“From what I hear from James, this afterlife business is sounding awful sketchy to me,” said Jessica. “At this point, if there’s no chance at Heaven, I think I’d rather my soul just vanish into nothingness.”
“Wouldn’t we all,” said Wendell, snickering.
“Do you think there is a Heaven?” she asked.
“Not for souls as imperfect and damaged as ours. Hate to break it to you, sweetheart.”
“Eh. I knew it was a long shot. So where do you think James will end up this time?”
“Depends,” said Wendell. “You’re not up near any glaciers, are you James?”
“No. But … I was flying.”
“Flying?”
“Yeah. On the back of a wasp.”
“How high?”
“Well, we were pretty high at one point. But I made Ubaldo come back down. Below cloud level.”
“And then you faded? While you were up in the air?”
“Yeah.”
“You’re fucked.”
“Excuse me?”
“What do you think’s gonna happen when you go back.”
My head was too foggy to think straight. “I don’t know. What?”
“What’s wrong?” said Jessica.
“He’s got no chance. He’s gonna get sucked into one of the lower realms.”
“Like H-hell?”
Wendell frowned. “Well, not exactly. I mean, there’s no one place that’s Hell per se, but there’s all manner of realms that qualify, from what I hear. Hot ones. Cold ones. Dark ones. Empty ones.”
Jessica buried her face in the headrest. I stretched out my arm and touched her shoulder.
“Hey Jess. It’s cool. I’ve already been to one and come back. I can handle … whatever comes my way.”
“It’s just … such a waste. So unfair. You don’t deserve to die. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I interfered. I got in the way of what the big shots wanted done. It was inevitable.”
“Well, aren’t I an accessory then, too? I mean … I helped you. Why aren’t they coming after me?”
“They don’t care what anyone does on this side. That’s not their business.”
“It’s just … so unfair.”
Her tears began to dribble. I intended to say something reassuring but a wave of nausea rose through my innards and forced me to clam up. But I locked eyes with Jessica and showed her that I wasn’t worried one bit about what was coming. And it worked. Her face firmed up and her tears went dry.
Everything was going to be okay. I really did feel that. It helped knowing from experience that nothing in this universe was permanent, or irreversible.
***
The road Wendell took veered from the Loch, following a river valley into the village of Drumnadrochit. Where the A82 took a sharp right to cross a bridge and resume its traverse of the Loch shore, Wendell went straight, keeping to the river and a wide valley of alternating wood lots and fields.
I could barely keep my eyes open, but I forced myself to stay alert. Everything was so pretty here. So green, all of it. If this was the last place I ever saw of this earth, it was not a bad image to take away. It would have been a wonderful choice, had it been a choice.
We came to an area with plowed fields alternating with meadows framed by strips of forest. Wendell pulled into a dirt track lined with lupines and daisies. He used no GPS but he seemed to know exactly where to turn. How long had he known of Izzie’s whereabouts?
The track took us a little farm house with wide clapboards and outbuildings made of stone, with roofs of cedar shake. The front walk was lined with rose bushes and holly.
Wendell stopped the car behind a weathered and rusted Fiat. A stout, older woman with frizzy white hair tied back in a green bandanna emerged from behind a trellis holding a pair of hedge clippers. She looked puzzled to see us, as if she were not used to receiving visitors riding gleaming vintage Bentley Arnages.
“Can I help you? Are you lost?”
Wendell said nothing. He just sat there with his elbow propped on the open window. He deferred to Jessica, who stepped out of the car and offered her hand to the woman. I remained slumped in the back seat, struggling to stay upright. At this rate, with my head all muddled and the discomfort building in my body, I was almost ready to give up and leave this world.
“Hello,” said Jessica. “How do you do? We are … well some of us, happen to be friends of Isobel’s. We heard she might be staying with you?”
The woman’s quizzical smile disappeared, replaced by a steely glare. Sh
e clutched the shears to her bosom and stepped back. “You’re not from that so-called church? You’re not Sedevacantists, are you?”
“Oh no, ma’am. Not at all. My name is Jessica. Isobel stayed with us for a time in Wales.”
The woman’s eyes popped wide.
“The goat farm! You’re from the goat farm!”
“Jess!” A door slammed and Isobel dashed off the porch and down the flagstones of the walk. She barreled into Jessica, hugging her tightly. When she looked up she spotted me in the back seat.
“James?”
She peeled away from Jessica and came over to the window. I smiled gamely but weakly.
“You look horrible! What happened?”
I opened my mouth but nothing came out. Partly, I didn’t know what to say and partly my throat wouldn’t cooperate.
“He’s having a bad day,” said Wendell. “To put it mildly.”
“Is he okay?”
“Um, no,” said Jessica.
“But … how did you guys find me?”
“I promised not to tell,” said Jessica.
“Gwen. It was her. Had to be. She was the only one I told. Well, it’s so wonderful to see you! I felt so bad about how I left things. I meant to stay in touch, I really did. But I was afraid I’d be followed. Things got weird in Cardiff. I had to leave in a rush. And Mrs. Ambrose, she had taken me in after Karla died. So I went back. I feel so safe here.”
She kept looking over at me, her eyes growing worried. I wanted to say something to reassure her, but the spasms in my throat prevented me.
“Shouldn’t he be seeing a doctor or something?”
“Oh, don’t trouble your little head,” said Wendell. “We’ve been over this. No worries, hon. We have it covered.”
I stayed in the back seat, unable to roust myself from the car. Isobel looked far more mature than the last time I had seen her. This was no kid anymore. She was a young woman, at least as tall as Karla, if not taller.
“Your sister … she’s … alive,” said Jessica. “I’m not sure if you knew that.”
Isobel looked stunned. “Why would you say such a thing?”
“Because … it’s true. James. He brought her back.”
“That’s impossible. You saw her. She was dead. There was a funeral. They buried her body.”
Wendell grinned. “You should know better for someone who’s been visited by roots. Things involving souls and bodies aren’t as cut and dry as they look.”
Isobel ripped open the car door and stared at me. “James? Is it really true? About Karla?” She still looked more doubtful than hopeful.
“Yeah,” I said. “I had help, but yeah. She’s alive.”
As the truth took hold she grew excited. “Is she okay?”
“She’s fine,” I said, hoarsely. “Far as I can tell. Last time I saw her.”
“But you’re not well. No, not at all. Obviously.”
“No, he is not,” said Jessica. “He’s not long for this world. He’s been poisoned.”
Isobel looked horrified.
“Then why did you bring him here? Get him to a hospital right away!”
“I urged the same,” said Jessica. “These gentlemen assure me that it’s of no use. There’s no antidote for what he’s been given.”
“But why not?” Isobel began to sob.
The tightness in my throat eased a bit, allowing me to speak more freely for the time being.
“It’s just the war, Izzie. The other side, they wanted me gone from here. Though, I don’t know why they think that will stop me. But … your sister’s fine. She was down in Cardiff. Living on the street, I guess. Looking for you.” I paused for breath, and could not seem to fit enough air into my lungs. “She’s in the Lim a lot. I’ll try to get word back to her if I can. You just stay put for now. Be easier for her to find you. At least you have an address.”
“Are you sure you don’t want us to fetch you a doctor?”
“It’s no good, Iz. This is it for me.”
“Well, that’s … terrible.” Her voice cracked.
“Preposterous is what it is,” said Mrs. Ambrose. “What could you have possibly become poisoned with that would not be reversible?”
“Ricin,” said Wendell, flatly.
That momentarily rendered Mrs. Ambrose speechless. She looked stunned, but quickly regathered her senses. “Well, we can’t just leave him lying in the car. Let’s at least get him into a bed.”
“Nah,” I said, panting. “Just sit me down in the grass. You don’t want a strange man dying in your bed.”
“For goodness sakes, why not? Mr. Ambrose certainly didn’t think twice about doing so.”
Jess and Izzie helped me out of the back seat.
“Okay guys, so … uh … I guess I’m gonna get going,” said Wendell. “Gotta catch a flight back to the States. Looks like business might be starting up again.”
“What about our ride?” said Jessica.
“I’ll get you wherever you need to go,” said Mrs. Ambrose. “I suggest we let this gentleman leave.” She muttered under her breath. “The sooner the better.”
“Cool, and … uh … thanks again, James. For your service. Isn’t that what they always say to service folks?”
Wendell winked and put his car back in gear, executing a three point turn, in the process, crushing a rose bush and squashing a bed of mint on the fringe of Mrs. Ambrose’s herb garden.
“Who is that man?” Mrs. Ambrose asked as the Bentley tore away down the packed clay of the drive.
“No one you would ever want to meet again,” said Jessica. “Trust me.”
***
Jessica and Izzie braced me and brought me in the house and tucked me into a soft bed. Mrs. Ambrose came bustling after them with a glass of ginger ale and some biscuits.
My insides were cramping. I had no appetite, only pain, but I managed to sip some of the ginger ale and keep it down. I could move around a bit but got really dizzy if I stood up too fast. And I had a horrible case of the runs that kept forcing me to leave the bed. I refused to soil my clothes. The Pennies might be taking my life but I was determined to die with dignity.
My eyelids were getting heavy but I couldn’t stop staring out the window at the knobby hilltops behind the farms, all heath and granite and wisps of cloud. If this was going to be my last glimpse of the planet of my birth, at least I had been blessed with a divine setting for my demise.
The ladies took turns sitting with me. Izzie could not stop squeezing my hand and crying. There were constant murmurs in the hallway as they argued over how best to handle my situation. Jessica managed to convince Mrs. Ambrose that staying mum and not involving any health professionals or law enforcement was the most prudent course of action. I didn’t really care what they did with me once I was gone. That was their problem.
37 Sraid-Na-Firrin, Drumnadrochit, Scotland. That was the address on a letter to Mrs. Ambrose that I found on the night stand. That was where Karla would find her sister. Now that I had gathered the last bit of information I would ever need from this world, it was time for me to go. The roots wasted no time.
Chapter 69: Falling
I had no death wish. I didn’t want to die. This wasn’t suicide, it was murder. But with no trace of hope left to bind me to the living world, I knew that crossing over to the Liminality was a done deal.
One would think some other realm might claim my soul. But feeling serious enough about killing oneself to earn a visit to Root also seemed to condemn one’s soul to the Lim forever, or at least until some realm one rung lower in the hierarchy came calling. Dying in the Lim, for example, sent your soul straight to the Deeps. The realms were nested that way. And each soul had a unique pathway to damnation or salvation. My road only seemed to lead down.
So it was the Lim for me for now, even though I was not quite dead yet. But for all intents and purposes my living was finished. I had zero hope of recovery. No chance for survival. There was nothing left for me to do bu
t hunker down and die.
The roots needed no coaxing. They were already waiting in the wings, ready to shuttle me along.
I had a hunch that something would be different about this particular transition. I expected revelations. Memories and life scenes flashing by. Bright lights. Flourishes. Something, anything befitting this special occasion. There was nothing like free falling through the clouds to remind me what I should have been worrying about.
I had faded from the saddle of a wasp that was no longer anywhere near the patch of sky it had previously occupied. Creatures of habit, these roots always bring me back to the exact same spot from which I had vanished, even if that location happened to be thousands of feet above the waves.
I knew this wasn’t a good thing. A fall from such a height was not survivable in any realm, no matter how straight I held my back and pointed my toes. Water, contrary to popular belief, was not soft, particularly not at terminal velocity. The Deeps beckoned.
As I clenched my teeth and girded myself for the snap and crush of bone, a whirring sound grew and a hulking figure appeared alongside me, matching its dive to the speed of my fall. Striped wings. Tigger! I could hardly believe my eyes.
I reached out my hand to him, but the airstream grabbed it and made me tumble out of control. Tigger adjusted his dive and caught up with me, nudging his back up against my side. All I had to do was close my hand and I was gripping the inch thick bristles sprouting from his carapace. I reached for the saddle with me free hand and latched onto a loop.
With the waves looming close, Tigger pulled out of his dive. But he was gentle about it. An abrupt change of course would have ripped me away. But he managed to flatten our angle of descent gradually to give me a chance to settle into the saddle. Soon, we were skimming the wave tops and regaining a bit of altitude.
Back in the saddle and strapped in, I finally had a chance to catch my breath and get my bearings. Penult was behind us now. A lone falcon patrolled the beach we had left. There was no sign of Ubaldo and his wasp, no trace of Mikal or Urszula.
My hand! It was almost entirely black now and the blackness was spreading up my arm. It moved slowly, like spilled molasses, but inexorably.
“Tigger, we need to climb!”
As if words could express my will to this bug. I banged my heels against his side and patted the armored plates behind his head. Tigger didn’t respond immediately but I kept on slapping and then suddenly he tilted upward and began rising back towards the clouds.