The Trusted Read online

  Chapter 15

  Ellie pulled on her sloppy t-shirt and stumbled across the marble floor. She swallowed, caught her breath and grimaced. Her throat burned. The lining of it had been scoured by sandpaper. Her membranes were stripped. Or such was her imagining, given the desiccated state of her mouth.

  She hurried to the kitchen to quench her thirst. A bottle from the fridge served her need. Tipping the cool water down her throat quelled the furnace inside her. She gulped the remainder then took a long breath. Why did she have that dream again? Fuzzy thoughts plagued her. She tried to ignore the question. Water was inadequate so early in the morning, and Ellie sought something stronger. The coffee pot: her destination to restore a semblance of order inside her chaotic mind.

  Why again? This time, the question stopped her mid-stride. Someone somewhere once told her a reoccurring dream is a sign that something is wrong with your life. The dream was a wakeup call, a notification for life evaluation. Perhaps they were right.

  Maybe something is wrong with my life, Ellie thought. I work all the time. I’ve got no social life. Sam is always away. That’s a mess for starters. Children: nil. Family: nil. Mum: who knows? Dad: never knew. With all that baggage, no wonder I’m having nightmares.

  But Ellie knew she was kidding herself. She was, in fact, very happy with her life.

  Ok, Sam wasn’t always around, but when he was, it was wonderful. They did everything together. They loved and lived forever in the honeymoon zone, and for her that made their togetherness, however fleeting, complete. True, she didn’t have many friends, but the handful she did have were loyal, lasting and helped her whenever she needed. Granted, she was addicted to work. But unlike so many other addictions, this one was good for her. Her addiction brought her independence and, of course, financial freedom. Not having kids or parents didn’t come into her life equation. It had neither a positive nor negative effect. It was just a constant with which she’d always lived.

  Sam. He was her life. Even when they were apart, they were forever connected. Her favorite times were in bed with him. It wasn’t just the sex, although it was awesome, but she liked to watch Sam as he slept. During the day, staring at him would depict her as a soppy romantic type; that was not her nature, and not the reason Sam had fell in love with her. Ellie was pragmatic, down to earth, and didn’t look for wine and roses. But at night, she was free to indulge in her romanticized staring. Sam couldn’t see her. He couldn’t see the doe-eyed wonder taking over her each time his head sank into the pillow.

  Her gaze took him in. His skin, golden brown, was tanned akin to those who toiled the land, and like those peasant farmers, he had the muscles to match. Strong and well defined were the contours that graced his face. They alluded to a path to stardom, which he had never followed. High cheekbones, a powerful jaw and squared chin combined to give Sam a dramatic, commanding appearance.

  Ellie often ran her fingers along his dark eyebrows. They framed his face and acted as a prelude to the feature Ellie loved most: Sam’s striking eyes. Asleep, they were shut, but she could see their sparkle as if they were open. It had been his eyes that first attracted her, the moment she had stepped into that interview room twenty-eight years ago. She’d entered with apprehension in her step. Around her were grey oppressive walls and non-descript furnishings. Ellie weighed up her panel of tormentors: a strange motley crew from personnel.

  Not daring to hope for anything more than rejection, Ellie sat down.

  Then she saw him. Despite inappropriate circumstances, Sam’s eyes sparkled almost seductively. They demanded attention, pulling her into him. Ellie remembered his cold, arrogant interviewing technique and his demeanor of stoic professionalism. But throughout the interview, his eyes happily undressed her.

  Unnerved and incredibly aroused, Ellie had wanted him. She wanted him at that very moment. Pure self-restraint, the type that keeps one from talking loudly in a library, kept Ellie from leaping out of her chair, grabbing Dr. Noor, as he was known to her then, and devouring his glorious body on the interview room floor.

  The memory brought her back to her happy place, and she sighed. Her hand slipped around the mug of coffee she held in her kitchen. Sipping at the hot beverage, Ellie headed for the breakfast bar to sit down.

  “Listen to me.”

  At first, Ellie thought she was hearing things. She shook her head and could almost feel the thoughts rattling around inside. She’d been thinking too much too early, and now, it seemed, her mind was playing games with her sanity. It was definitely time to go back to bed.

  “Listen, Ellie.”

  Ellie span round, expecting to see Sam standing in the kitchen, ready to admonish her for waking too early. But no one was there. This is crazy, she thought. I must be imagining it. She lifted the coffee mug to her lips.

  “Listen, Ellie!”

  Ellie froze. She heard that alright.

  “I’m listening,” Ellie responded, half in her mind, half out loud.

  As strange as it seemed, she wasn’t scared. She was curious. The voice had been deep and strong, like Morgan Freeman, only more resonant and powerful. The echo of his words lingered, ringing in her ears. Ellie smiled and waited to hear more, her curiosity growing.

  “Tgonetafaragontootar…ga…bal…ted…sh…sh…ce…al…gof…ar.”

  What is this? Ellie thought. What is he trying to say?

  From beautiful deep sounds of warmth, the booming voice spouted words Ellie couldn’t discern. Screwing up her face, she tried to figure out what was being said by the voice. She looked upward at the ceiling. Instinct told her to look to Heaven. Perhaps, somehow, by the grace of God, she would understand what was happening. But no revelation came. Still, the deep voice droned on. But now, not one word made any sense. They came out elongated in one burst as if spoken on a mobile with a weak signal.

  “Forgatoogonfarg. Ba…nc…ted…shi…la…go…ta…fa…ted…ce…faa.”

  Ellie couldn’t explain it, but his voice brought a sense of comfort. In not understanding him and recognizing a lack of communication, a sadness infested her soul. She listened to the senseless words fade further from comprehension, and their departure left her vacant.

  “Ba go…ted…fa…fa.”

  Chapter 16

  Determined to understand, Ellie locked out all distant sounds around her. Ambient city noises she wouldn’t normally have noticed now seemed loud and interruptive. Gradually, she shut out everything and welcomed isolation.

  Come back to me, she thought.

  But why on Earth she wanted to hear a disembodied voice, she didn’t know. By all accounts, it should have terrified her. But it didn’t. There was a warm resonance about the voice like a mother’s heartbeat; it encapsulated feelings of safety and security.

  The voice, unrelenting, kept on its broadcast. Ellie, as if trying to find a radio station, tuned into the incoherent jumble of words, and tried to get a fix on their meaning.

  “Too…too…far…far…too…”

  It’s working, thought Ellie. With her mind focused, she strained to hear the rest. Her hand was the first affected. It gave a slight shiver. The rest of her body followed. The shiver mutated to a stronger vibration, a tremble on a track to signify a train was coming. But what was coming towards her now?

  “Too far gone!”

  The voice, no longer soft and comforting, came through strong, clear and distinct.

  “Balance shifted!”

  The words burst through with clarity. The bodiless voice vented its open anger at Ellie. The force of its attack was surging, a truck hurtling headlong into her. Louder and louder, the voice grew as he screamed the words over and over.

  “Too far gone. Balance shifted. Too far gone. Balance shifted…”

  Ellie, in desperation and now with great fear, for this was not the fatherly voice she’d heard earlier, screamed, “Tell me what you want!” to the open space in her kitchen.

  “It’s all too far gone…”

  The voice, altho
ugh still angry, was tinged with sadness.

  “What is too far gone?” asked Ellie, detecting the desolation in his voice. But the only answer she received was piercing cold and sudden darkness. The morning sun extinguished. No outline or edge could be seen. For all Ellie knew, her kitchen could be dispersed across the universe. Ellie looked into the solid black nothingness, an existence-eroding ebony that infiltrated her soul.

  She breathed. The sound of air as it slipped through her slightly parted lips was her only familiarity. It was the only indication that she was still there at all. That she was still alive.

  Chapter 17

  When Earth children play, they are spiteful. Aswa-da was well aware of this. He had seen enough evidence through the centuries of watching tiny humans. He often found children to have significant layers of darkness for seemingly innocent beings. They became a source of amusement for Aswa-da when he’d wanted to break away from the High Council and the sanctimonious posturing of all those Elders, especially that prick, Aby-od who, somehow, was Leader of Kudamun.

  Aswa-da smirked, thinking about his adversary. By-the-bloody-book Aby-od. He would never change. But Aswa-da was certain that Aby-od’s piety would be his downfall and eventually give Aswa-da his greatest opportunity.

  Inside the Observation Room in Kudamun, a place outside of the universal plane and hidden from the universe by a field called the Reality Gap, Aswa-da looked up at the Observation Screen. He recognized the boy of eleven with the small frame and those darting, weasel eyes and a cruel frown of a mouth. Jonathan Donald Treeborne. The boy sat against a dusty river bank with overhanging willows touching the waters. Around him three children, a girl of eight and two boys the same age as him, played. The girl amused herself with her dolls until one of the other boys snatched them and threw them to the edge of the river where the ground was wet, and then ran away laughing.

  The girl, upset and annoyed, yelled at the boys. They poked their tongues out at her and made silly faces. Then the boys started to run around between the trees that lined the bank and pretended to shoot each other.

  Aswa-da looked at Treeborne still sat alone away from the other children. Aswa-da reached out toward the screen and twirled his finger in a revolving motion. Suddenly, he was standing there on the bank, observing in real Earth time but invisible to all humans around him.

  He looked at Treeborne and felt the energies of the sandstone tablet radiate from the boy’s rucksack. Nervously, as if sensing Aswa-da’s presence, Treeborne pulled the rucksack closer to him and stuck his hand within the folds to touch the artefact. His eyes glinted, revealing a darkness that saturated Aswa-da. The dark god smiled, and then, like starburst from fireworks, his smile faded. Aswa-da saw the same soul of obsidian he’d seen a year before in Treeborne, when the boy had chanced upon the tablet’s special resting place in that ziggurat in Uruk.

  Aswa-da knew he’d made the right choice.

  Treeborne stared across the river, disinterested by the other boys’ shows of bravado. But he turned to take in the actions of the girl. She’d wandered back up the bank after collecting her dolls out of the mud. Her hands were messy and dirt had gotten onto her pink polka dot pinafore. She looked with questioning eyes at young Treeborne.

  “Don’t you wanna join them?”

  Treeborne’s weasel eyes narrowed and he shook his head. “Nah! Their games are pathetic. They are pathetic. I can easily control them. Watch.”

  Treeborne took out the object from his rucksack and slipped it into the deep pocket of his shorts. Aswa-da took in the display, delighted that Treeborne was about to use the tablet for a malicious purpose.

  “Phil, Neal, can I play cops and robbers with you too?”

  Treeborne stood up and maneuvered around the trees to face the two boys. The young girl stood by his side, intrigue on her face, waiting to see what the quiet boy would do.

  “No way, JD. You’re a weird freak. We don’t wanna play with you,” said one of the boys.

  The other boy nodded and started to chant, “JD’s a freaky weirdo. JD’s a freaky weirdo!”

  Treeborne stared, unmoving, but his hand slithered into his pocket and he started to caress the tablet.

  One of the boys noticed his hand movement, and shouted, “Freaky weirdo is playing with himself! Dirty weirdo!”

  Still, Treeborne didn’t move. But his hand inside his pocket rubbed a little more vigorously. The girl stared at Treeborne, wondering what was happening.

  “Phil broke your airplane, Neal,” said Treeborne.

  Neal swung a glance at his pal Phil. Aswa-da realized from the pained look on Neal’s face that the airplane was his treasured toy.

  “He broke it on purpose. He was jealous you had one and he didn’t,” continued the small boy.

  “I didn’t, Neal. He’s lying,” said Phil, looking at Neal and then at Treeborne.

  Neal turned around to face Phil. His eyes were enlarged and glassy, and his lips drew tight into a pout of anger.

  Aswa-da stared at Treeborne, fascinated by his immediate manipulative ability.

  “He’s not your friend. He talks about you behind your back. You know that bike you lost last summer? Phil took it and sold it.”

  Neal advanced on Phil, who stepped back. Neal was a taller boy with bigger bones and deep blue eyes that harbored a coldness within them. Phil had a chubbier frame and a lumbering gait. He couldn’t move at Neal’s speed.

  “Neal, I swear. I didn’t do that. I didn’t do any of it,” Phil pleaded, as Neal came in fast on him.

  “And Maisie” called Treeborne, “you like her, don’t you, Neal? Well Phil likes her too. And he’s going to take her away from you.”

  That last revelation sealed the deal for Neal. He leapt upon Phil, pushing him to the ground, and started to bash in his face with his strong fists.

  “He’s lying,” screamed Phil, as he tried to push Neal off, but the larger boy sat on top, pinning Phil to the dusty ground.

  Treeborne watched like an impassive observer.

  He’d lit the fuse. Now the fires had started to burn.

  Aswa-da crouched down and cocked his head to the side, taking in the hammering Neal was giving to Phil. He looked across at Treeborne and nodded. His experiment was proceeding as planned.

  The girl turned to Treeborne as Neal and Phil started to roll down the river bank, screaming, shouting and hitting each other with the total might of their childlike physiques. They splashed into the water, still belting each other.

  “Did you do that?” she asked.

  “I did,” said Treeborne. His inner pride couldn’t be hidden.

  The girl grinned. From her pleasure, Aswa-da could see she’d been a victim of the boys’ pranks one too many times.

  “What’s your name?” said the girl, sidling closer to Treeborne.

  “I’m Jonathan Donald Treeborne. But you can call me JD.”

  “Hi, JD. I’m Lucy.”

  The girl’s hand sneaked out to grasp Treeborne’s hand, and he closed his fingers over hers. Together, silently, they stood on the bank and watched the two boys smash each other to pieces within the murky waters.

  Aswa-da swirled his fingers and the crystal walls of the Observation Room in Kudamun encased him. Treeborne was on the Observation Screen, holding hands with the young girl. The two boys who’d been fighting now didn’t move. Both faced down in the mud. The river waters rolled over them. Blood trickled down the faces.

  From best of friends to best of enemies in minutes.

  The powers of manipulation, persuasion and trust all housed in a small sandstone tablet. The tablet emitted a resonance. That tiny vibration needed to align with the resonance inside a human cell, but the cell had to be altered to connect with the resonance. After Aswa-da took Treeborne from the ziggurat in Uruk, he’d brought him into Kudamun and made the minutest of changes to his DNA code that enabled the resonance connection.

  Aswa-da was impressed with his handiwork.

  He couldn’t wait to
see the next stage in Treeborne’s development.

  Chapter 18

  The moment the voice screamed, Ellie knew she should’ve gotten the hell out of the kitchen. But with absolute dark surrounding her, she couldn’t even see the door. She strained to peer through the darkness. Her eyes, she hoped, would somehow accustom to their surroundings, but they didn’t. It was as if someone had daubed her kitchen with black paint. She held her hand out in front of her but couldn’t see even the faintest outline. Reason had vanished. Ellie breathed heavy. Panic built fast. She looked around, searching for understanding as to what she was seeing. Or rather, not seeing.

  I must be going mad, she thought. This just can’t be happening.

  Ellie attempted to step forward. She pulled at her foot but it wouldn’t move at all. Frozen to the spot, Ellie stared. The darkness absorbed her desperation. With reluctance, she took in the tricks her mind was turning. Reality, it seemed, like an unwelcome relative, was shut out. It was left hanging on the corner of her consciousness.

  Her skin rippled with goose bumps as her senses heightened.

  “Change it!”

  Through the darkness, the voice came again. It reverberated around and inside her, and took on a cruel insistence, repeating “change it” as if the words were on a loop.

  Ellie shook. Each word whipped into her like lashes from a leather cord and her body spun, caught in a vortex of thrashing pain.

  The darkness that filled her kitchen lifted suddenly and Ellie found herself on a sheer cliff. Below her, the sea churned, ferocious and wild. She looked down and shivered.

  Oh my God.

  She breathed in.

  Shit! That’s a long way down. How on Earth?

  Ellie breathed in staccato bursts.

  I’ve got to focus. All this isn’t real. I’m still in my kitchen. All this, it’s overwork. And the curry last night. Indigestion and stress. That’s all. It’ll pass.