“This is the Lord’s dwelling-place, and I slept here unawares…how awful this place is!”
-Genesis 28: 16-17
“Ralph!” Helen gasped. “You…you’re alive!”
“Of course!” he boomed. ‘Alive’ was an understatement, thought Hendricks; Ralph looked as though he might be ready to go out for a night on the town; his suit and panama hat were still immaculate.
“I told you I would be alright!” he said cheerily. “And Captain Hogan here is alive as well!”
Their other rescuer was, indeed, Bob Hogan, who looked considerably worse for the wear than Ralph; he was dirt-spattered and there was a nasty cut on his cheek. But he nevertheless smiled broadly as he introduced himself to Helen.
“How…how did you escape?” Hendricks asked.
“I can be quiet when I want to be!” said Ralph, his voice echoing deafeningly in the small enclosure. “It isn’t often, but it does happen! But first we tend to your injuries, Mr. Hendricks!”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out the tube of Goop.
“Oh, great,” Hendricks muttered.
“I must confess, I stole it,” Ralph said, dabbing out a measured amount onto a handkerchief. “Palmed it when Dr. Kipling wasn’t looking. Now, hold still, Mr. Hendricks.”
Hendricks gritted his teeth, shut his eyes, and submitted to the inevitable (including having his hand wrenched open from around what was left of the crowbar and subsequently healed by the Goop).
“So, how did you escape?” Helen asked once Hendricks had been attended to.
“Before we go into it, maybe we ought to find another hiding place,” Hogan said.
“Quite,” said Ralph. “Charles knows we’re here, and it won’t be long before he comes back. Come with me! I know of a place not too far from here that we should be able to take refuge in.”
So saying, he opened the hatch that led back into the building and led them in.
For Helen and Hendricks, who had travelled so long on their own, having two companions – two big, confident companions, one of whom was armed while the other didn’t seem to feel fear at all – was almost relaxing. Hogan with his military eyes constantly scanning for the slightest hint of danger and Ralph striding along as though this were his own home made them feel about as safe as they had felt in recent memory.
Ralph led them through the corridors, down a few flights of stairs, and on through the facility, heading in what Hendricks judged to be a roughly westerly direction. As they went, Ralph and Hogan told them their own story.
When Ulla took Ralph down to the brig until they could decide what to do with him, they had arrived just before the power failed. Ralph used the opportunity to open all the cells and he, Hogan, and the two crewmen had made a break for it. They ran into some guards right outside, but they overpowered and disarmed them, then they fled the facility and spent the night in the woods. Before morning, however, they were attacked by Anansi, whom they caught trying to fence in their little camp (“wanted to make a nice little paddock, he did,” Ralph laughed). Once they had fought him off they all sat down to try to decide what to do. Ralph and Hogan had decided that they really ought to go back and try to find Helen and Hendricks. They had a radio off of one of the guards, so they knew that they were alive. The crewmen had been reluctant, so they agreed to split up and the crewmen could make for the docks once they were inside.
After that, Ralph and Hogan had had a nasty run in with Hank, which ended with his being eaten by a mutant plant (“didn’t work out well for the plant,” Hogan said), and then a narrow escape from Boa, which led to their discovering the secret ledge. They had just been debating whether to stay there and rest a while or keep searching when they saw Andrew Wainwright come toppling out of the window and realized that something was happening just above them. About the time they saw all those papers and pieces of equipment coming out, they guessed who it was, but before they could decide how best to contact them, Helen and Hendricks had fallen out as well.
“And that,” said Ralph with a flourish as he stopped in front of a large, set of double-doors. “Brings us to now, when we arrive at our refuge.”
There was a sign over the door;
BLUE ROOM
NO ADMITTANCE WITHOUT EXPRESS PERMISSION FROM DR. PROSSER
“I believe that attempted murder counts as permission,” said Ralph cheerfully as he pushed the doors open.
The Blue Room, it transpired, was a kind of large lecture hall, almost an amphitheater, with a steep series of steps descending onto a wide, circular stage. There were no tables or chairs on these steps, as you might expect there to be. Indeed, the room was almost empty, save for what looked like some large pieces of scrap-metal piled in a heap at the back of the stage. The ceiling was painted a light, sky blue, much the same color as Helen’s shirt had been when she first put it on (it was a number of colors now). The walls were a deeper blue, and the floor was navy.
But walls, floor, and ceiling had all been scarred and damaged; huge scorch-marks ran the length of the room like the spokes of a wheel, and chunks of the steps had been torn away entirely.
The moment Helen entered the room, she nearly yelped with the sense of foreboding, of lingering evil. The feeling was so palpable that entering the room was like sinking into cold water.
“What is it?” Hendricks asked, seeing her start.
“It’s…I don’t know,” she said.
“What happened here?” Hogan asked as he walked down the steps, surveying the damage.
“Apparently something very big,” said Ralph.
“I don’t think we should stay here,” said Helen quietly.
“Why ever not?” asked Ralph.
“There’s something very, very wrong about this room,” she said.
“Well, yes; its completely out of proportion, and the color scheme is a little monotonous, but I imagine it’s safe-enough nonetheless.”
“That’s not what I meant,” she said, a little sharply.
“Yes, I know; I feel it too,” said Ralph more gently. “Something very bad happened here, that much is obvious. But it isn’t happening now, is it? Besides, from what I can gather, Prosser doesn’t use this room anymore; it’s served its purpose, whatever that was. But he doesn’t know that I know about it, and it’s so out of the way that he doesn’t expect us to stumble upon it. So, this would be probably the last place in the world he would expect us to go. That makes it safe!”
“If you say so,” said Helen.
“Come!” said Ralph. “Let us sit down, relax for a few brief hours and enjoy one another’s company!”
Helen reluctantly continued down the steps and they all sat down in a circle on the stage while Helen and Hendricks told their story, which the others listened to in amazement. Helen found that she felt much better talking and listening, so much so that she almost forgot about her misgivings about the Blue Room.
“Say, I’ve been wondering,” said Hogan after they had finished. “All this ‘foretelling the future stuff…’ does that mean that the future is set and we don’t have free will?”
“It shouldn’t,” said Helen. “The Dog said that my dreams won’t necessarily come true.”
“But they usually do, right?” asked Hendricks.
“Yes, but I’m kind of hoping this is an exception,” she said sharply.
“Well, forget about that one dream, then,” said Hogan. “Doesn’t this mean that we’re tools of fate or just caught in a big tide that we can’t control?”
“I shouldn’t think so,” said Ralph. “For one thing, there’re plenty of ways to explain prophecies without resorting to uncontrollable fate.”
“Like what?”
Ralph leaned back and considered.
“Well, I suppose it all depends on how you understand Time. If Time is, by its very nature, is only a fixed line of events that can only be experienced one at a time, then, yes, forecasting the future would require an immoveable fate.
“However, that’s not the case. Time can be experienced that way, of course, and generally is by human beings, but that is not its nature, only a perspective on it. Now, another perspective is that enjoyed from Eternity; it shows Time in its entirety, less like a straight, mathematical line and more like a single line in a picture, and this, among other things, allows the viewer to ‘leap’ to whatever moment he or she desires. It’s something akin to what you can do with your memory; you don’t have to observe every event of your life in reverse if you want to remember something; you can just hop to whatever moment you like and stay there as long as you like.
“Now, what I believe happens with you, Ms. Marshall, is that in your dreams you are privileged to catch a glimpse of this kind of perspective; you ‘hop’ to a future moment just like most people can ‘hop’ to a past moment.”
The others tried to make sense of this for a while.
“But if that’s the case,” Helen said at last. “Wouldn’t that mean that every dream I have is certain to come true? And anyway, sometimes I don’t see the actual events, you know, like I was standing right there, but just a jumble of images that I have to figure out for myself.”
Ralph shrugged.
“Who knows?” he said. “Possibly your brain encodes the information to make it more agreeable, possibly the same power that gave you this gift wants you to exercise restraint using it. It could be a lot of things.”
“That’s not very helpful,” she said.
“And I still don’t see how her seeing me do something in the future doesn’t mean that I’m obligated to do it,” put in Hendricks.
“That’s because, if that is the case, then for Ms. Marshall it would be no different from watching you do something in the present. Obviously, just because she sees you do something doesn’t mean you were obligated to do so. If she foretells that you will do something and you do in fact do it, it still was your choice and nobody made you perform that particular act; Ms. Marshall just saw it before anyone else did.
“I still don’t think I understand.”
“No, I don’t expect you do.” said Ralph. “Put it this way; I’m a doctor. If I tried to explain to you everything that goes on in, say, a broken bone being set and healing, you would be so confused as to render my explanation totally meaningless. So, I would simplify, put it in terms you would understand.
“It’s much the same with fate and freedom. To a real expert, the idea that they’re contradictory would be laughable, but a novice can’t see how they aren’t. Unfortunately, every man’s a novice, so mankind hasn’t quite figured it out yet, though some have gotten rather close. My advice? Just accept the fact that you’ll understand them eventually, keep them both, and stop worrying so much about it. Anyway, you should take all of this as guess work.”
“Where did you learn so much about the subject?” Hogan asked.
Ralph shrugged. “I picked it up here and there,” he said. “A man has to read something when trapped on a boat or in the jungle for months on end, don’t you agree?”
“Yeah, but I mostly read mysteries,” Hogan admitted. “They motivated me to stay alive so that I could find out who did it.”
Ralph laughed. Hendricks wasn’t sure whether it was a joke or not.
“Well, you all might as well get some sleep,” said Ralph. “You look half-dead already! I’m not in the least tired, so I’ll take the first watch.”
Hendricks lay tossing and turning on the floor. He knew he ought to sleep, and he thought he was exhausted enough to sleep for days on end, but somehow he just couldn’t drop off. Something was nagging at his mind and wouldn’t let him rest.
It certainly didn’t help that the floor was hard and uncomfortable, but that wasn’t it. He could have slept on a bed of nails tonight if it weren’t for…
“If you can’t sleep,” said Ralph quietly, without turning to look at him. “Then there must be something very wrong, mustn’t there?”
Hendricks sat up, staring.
“How did you…”
“Shhh!” Ralph hissed. “Quiet, please! Let them sleep at least. Come over here if you wish to talk.”
Hendricks got up, tiptoed over, and sat down next to Ralph. Ralph didn’t look the least bit tired as he drummed his fingers on his knee.
“Don’t you ever sleep?” Hendricks asked.
“No,” said Ralph with a wink. “But then, I don’t suppose I have as much on my mind as you do.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re a police-officer, aren’t you? You are responsible for others’ safety as well as your own.”
Hendricks glanced back at Helen, who was sleeping peacefully. Truth be told, he hadn’t quite taken this view of things before.
“I’m not,” he said. “I’m not a cop. I used to be a glorified lifeguard who thought he was a cop, but now I know better. What I am, I don’t know, but I’m not a policeman. I can’t handle it.”
“You seem to be handling it pretty well from where I’m sitting,” said Ralph. “Not many men could have brought Ms. Marshall safe this far through so many dangers.”
“What, that?” Hendricks said. “That was just…luck or desperation or because we happened to have help at the right time. That doesn’t mean anything.”
“Mr. Hendricks,” said Ralph. “I am old. I am much older than I look. But in all my life I have never known any such a thing as ‘luck.’ Weren’t you paying attention when I told you about time and eternity? Your life, my friend, is a picture inside a greater painting; what you call ‘chance’ is nothing more than unexpected glimpses of another part of it. Of course it doesn’t seem to make sense to you; you can’t see the whole. But everything that happens – good and bad – are a part of that painting. So, if you say it doesn’t ‘mean’ anything, I say you are quite wrong; everything means something, you just don’t always have the power to see what.”
Hendricks tried to make sense of this, but before he could make much progress, Ralph unexpectedly changed the subject.
“How long have you been in love with her?”
“Wha…!” Ralph slapped a hand over his mouth just in time.
“Quiet please,” he said. “People are sleeping.”
“What do you…” Hendricks resumed at a whisper. “I’m…I’m not…”
“Aren’t you?”
Hendricks opened his mouth, closed it again, and sighed.
“It’s stupid,” he muttered. “I’ve only known her for a couple days…”
“They have been fairly exciting days, though,” said Ralph.
“Still, I mean, doesn’t it have to take longer to say that it’s real?”
Ralph looked at him steadily.
“You know,” he said. “The thing about love is that it is not a state of being that can be real or imagined. It is a choice; a decision to act in a certain way. You did not ‘fall’ into the state of risking your life to protect hers; you chose to do so. It is not a matter of your present emotional state being confirmed, it’s a matter of whether you continue to choose to act in this way towards her. If you do, and if she does the same towards you, then it doesn’t matter one ounce whether you’ve known her for two days or two years; the choice is the same to love or not to love. You have chosen to love her, and I think you would be wise to continue in that choice.”
“I don’t know,” said Hendricks. “It feels like…like I can’t help it.”
“Of course it does,” said Ralph smiling. “You see so much that is good in her and you naturally want to love her. You surely didn’t think that an overpowering desire only led to evil, did you? And why should you complain when what you desire and what is good coincide for a change? Love her, if you like!”
Hendricks couldn’t help smiling.
“I do,” he whispered, as much to himself as to Ralph. “I do love her.”
He grinned stupidly at Ralph, who chuckled good-naturedly.
“But what if…she doesn’t feel the same way?” Hendricks asked, his face falling.
“As to that, I couldn’t say,” said Ralph. “Though I think that, if you should escape this island, you have as good a prospect of winning her love as any a man has ever had.”
He smiled kindly at Hendricks, and Hendricks smiled back.
“Now,” said Ralph. “I think you should try to get some sleep. We’re going to make the final push in a few hours, and you ought to be as rested as you can.”
Hendricks nodded, thanked Ralph for his advice, and lay back down on the floor, looking over at Helen. He kept his eyes on her as he fell asleep, allowing himself, for the first time, to give free reign to his hope.
The Blue Room looked much different.
It was covered in thick, heavy cables, strange pieces of equipment, and other things Helen couldn’t identify. All of which were leading to a single, enormous object, like a gigantic radio antennae, which rose out of the middle of the stage, high, higher than ceiling itself. She couldn’t understand this, until she saw that the ceiling had been cut away, and the antennae rose straight up towards the stars.
Men were working everywhere she looked. Prosser himself was at the base of the antennae working with a concentration so intense that it almost pained her just to look at it.
He gave a signal. The other men began to throw switches, turning everything on. There was a loud, electric humming sound. The cables began to tremble, and then to spark, and the antennae suddenly glowed with a white light and a thin, very thin beam, like the thread of a spider, shot out of the tip towards the stars.
Suddenly, Helen found that she was watching this from outside the Blue Room, from on top of its ceiling, in fact, looking in through the hole that the antennae stuck out of. And she was watching it with a young man; a soldier, judging by his dark, heavy fatigues. His camouflaged face was strained, as though he had recently been through a terrible experience, but also grim, as though he were determined to carry out his mission nonetheless. He was trying to aim his rifle through the hole, aiming at Prosser…
Before he could take his shot, the beam that the antennae had fired seemed to reverse itself, and the whole scene exploded in a flash of blinding light.
Helen jerked out of the vision and sat up. But, she soon realized, she wasn’t awake. There was Ralph, still on watch, and there was her body, still fast asleep.
And there was the White Dog.
“Helen,” he said fondly. “I’m so glad to find you still here!”
Helen’s face broke into a wide smile and she hugged the Dog tightly. His warm, soft fur seemed to soothe all her bruises and aches away just by touching it.
“Thank you!” she said. “You saved us again in the lab.”
“Yes,” he said. “And not just there, child. But I think you have questions for me?”
“Lots,” she said, letting go of him and looking up into his great, beautiful face. “First of all, before you came…well, you know what I saw.”
“Yes.”
“What…what was happening?”
The Dog hesitated, frowning a little.
“I’m afraid,” he said. “That you can’t know that just yet. You may one day, but not now. It’s very terrible, and you don’t need it on your mind now.”
“Well, I think wondering so much about it is worse than knowing, isn’t it?”
“It is always better to know the truth,” the Dog admitted. “But all truth isn’t helpful at all times. For your own safety, you’d be much better advised to put it out of your mind for now.”
Helen sighed, but nodded.
“And what about the soldier?” she asked. “Who was he?”
The Dog suddenly looked very sad.
“Someone you’ve met,” he said. “But whose face you’ve never seen.”
Helen thought for a moment, and then gasped.
“You mean…that was Hank?”
The Dog nodded.
“Nelson lied to you about him,” he said. “He wasn’t a volunteer. But that’s a lie he has told to everyone; even Dr. Prosser doesn’t know that Hank was the soldier who witnessed his great experiment.”
“Then why does he keep attacking us?”
“Because he does not know what he is doing. His mind is overridden; he retains no memory or trace of the man he once was, save for one.”
“What?”
The Dog shook his head.
“He remembers who killed him.”
Helen was silent in horrified thought.
“Is there any hope for him?” she asked. “I mean, could he be cured? Come back to himself?”
“There is no one in the world who can help him,” said the Dog with a sigh. “Dr. Nelson did his work well.”
“I feel so sorry for him,” Helen said, shaking her head. “That I’m almost not afraid of him anymore.”
But her feelings of pity had reminded her of something else she wanted to know.
“I have to ask,” she said. “Ulla mentioned something about Prosser’s children…”
“I can’t tell you anything about them either,” said the Dog. “That’s, forgive me, none of your business.”
“But it’s been eating me up!” she said. “Please, at least tell me; are they…still alive?”
The Dog looked at her with warm respect flowing from his golden eyes.
“Yes,” he said. “I can tell you that much. The boys are alive, but they are not on this island. Anything further about their fate, you cannot know; not yet. But I will say that, if you do manage to escape this island, you may meet one of them someday, and he will learn of your compassion. Until then, try to put them out of your mind. You have troubles enough without adding theirs to your own. But there’s another question on your mind, isn’t there?”
“Yes. Just before I went to sleep, we were talking about my dreams…” she began.
“I know,” said the Dog. “But I can’t explain them to you, I’m afraid.”
“Why not?” she said. “If anyone can, it’s you.”
“Oh, it’s not so bad as that,” he said with a laugh. “There are many who could tell you anything and everything you wished to know. But only when the time is right, and never before. I’m afraid you’ll have to be content with the mystery for now. Treat them as you would your sight or hearing; trust them, but not absolutely, and don’t fear what they show you, but accept it and ponder it with a grateful heart.”
Helen felt extremely disappointed and a little annoyed. Why didn’t he ever answer her questions? Why couldn’t he just tell her now if he was going to as some point? She considered trying to make this argument, but one look at the Dog’s steady blue eyes convinced her it would be futile.
“I know it’s hard,” he said. “But just trust me; the answers will be given in their time, so try to put the questions out of your mind for the moment. You have much more pressing problems right now. And incidentally,” he added with a hint of a growl. “I do answer your questions, if it’s important that you know the answers.”
Helen felt suddenly sheepish and embarrassed.
“Helen,” he said, in a firm, but gentle tone. “I am not here to satisfy your curiosity, but to save your life if possible. I know what is necessary to accomplish that much better than you do. So please, try to trust me.”
“I…I do trust you,” she said meekly.
He smiled and kissed her forehead, and she felt all her nervousness and embarrassment vanish like smoke.
“Now, Helen,” he said. “Listen carefully. The next time we meet, you will either be safe, or you will be dead. I am afraid that the worst is about to come.”
“Worst?” she repeated. “Worse than all we’ve been through so far?”
“Yes,” he said. “You may come to a point where your last hope will have gone. When that happens, remember your first.”
“My first?” she repeated.
“Your first hope,” he said.
Helen was silent for a moment, contemplating that. She wasn’t sure what it meant, but the Dog didn’t seem about to tell her anymore, so she trusted it would make sense at some point.
“It’s all going to be over soon, then?” she said.
“Yes,” he said. “Ralph will be waking you up before long to make a run for the docks.”
“I don’t want to wake up,” she said, childishly.
He smiled.
“Yes, you do,” he said. “You want to wake up, and keep waking up for a long time yet. That’s why you’re afraid.”
“What I mean is,” she said. “I wish…I wish you could stay with me when I wake up.”
“Who says I don’t?” said the Dog. “Haven’t I told you many times that I’m always watching over you? I’m much closer to you when you can’t see me than when you can.”
Helen didn’t really know what to say to this. She didn’t doubt that it was true, but it wasn’t very comforting. Whatever he said, being about to talk to the Dog, to feel his warm body and smell his sweet fur, that seemed so much more solid and real than just knowing he was there.
The Dog smiled kindly and kissed her again.
“Helen,” he said. “That is the nature of the world; you can’t see or feel everything that is there. You were born blind and deaf to all that is most real and comforting. One day, though, you will regain your sight and hearing, and then you’ll be able to see and touch and talk to me all you like. Until then, all you have to do is trust me.”
Helen nodded, feeling hot tears stinging her eyes. But they were happy tears, because at the moment he had kissed her she had felt all her fears and doubts vanish into a sea of courage and hope. But she still couldn’t help hugging him tightly and trying to savor the wonderful feel of his warm, soft fur.
“Remember what I’ve told you tonight,” he whispered in her ear. “And I will see you again when it is over.”
Next Week:
Chapter Twenty: In the Docks
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