The people in the middle of the circle seemed agitated. A young man marched to the edge of the garden and confronted a man and a woman Bonnie hadn’t noticed before.
“Elam!” Sapphira said, this time louder than a whisper.
Bonnie pointed a fiery finger. “The one with the strong chin and dark hair?”
“Yes.” Sapphira guided her body in front of Elam. Raising her hand, she wiggled her fingers in front of his face. Although she said nothing, her emotions came through loud and clear. She was homesick, homesick for Elam.
Soon, Billy and a few others joined Elam, and they argued with the man and woman while looking at something inside a small box.
“Can you tell what’s in there?” Bonnie asked.
Sapphira eased closer. “It’s a finger. Is it from a human?”
The woman Elam confronted dropped to her knees. While some men led her away, another man walked into the garden. His face was swollen and marred, as if recently burned.
Sapphira gasped. “It’s Mardon!”
“It is? I didn’t know he had burns on his face.”
“He didn’t. But I worked with him closely for a long time. I would recognize him anywhere. Even the way he walks gives him away.”
The man fell and clawed at the soil. Elam chased after him. The radiance covering the soil suddenly blossomed. The swirling cylinder strengthened and spun faster. The ovulum holding Bonnie’s father lifted higher and faded as it neared the ceiling. Seconds later, it was gone.
The fiery cylinder slowed and quickly fizzled out. From the spot where the ovulum once sat, something broke through the ground in the hologram projection. As it rose, it took on a human-like shape and cast a shadow over Ruth. After a few seconds, it became a man and fell limply to the ground.
Bonnie ran to him and instinctively reached down to help. Elam did the same, but only Elam’s hands could provide support. As he lifted the new arrival, Bonnie backed away. “It’s my Daddy!” she cried. “He made it!”
Suddenly, the wind gusted again. The book blew shut with a thud. The projected scene broke apart, and the pieces scattered into nothingness.
As the breeze died away, Abaddon shuffled to the table and set his pen on top of the book. “This entry has ended.”
Bonnie stepped closer to Makaidos’s ovulum. “Will they ever call for him?”
“Second Eden has the opportunity with every eclipse, but during this resurrection, I sensed a foul wind blowing in that realm—snow in a world that never knew it before, sweetness in the lips of liars, evil intentions disguised in deceptive words. These were never part of Second Eden before. They portend terrible trouble.”
“So what do we do?” Sapphira asked. “When do we leave?”
Abaddon lifted the ovulum from the mount and looked at the miniature dragon within. “Did not Enoch tell you that you would wait for a long time?”
“Yes, but I thought he meant in the mines.”
“I am sure he did. Yet, the only word he received was that the two of you would have to wait in a lower level, and that you would need each other. The precise place was merely his interpretation.” Abaddon looked at Bonnie. “And you have learned that an interpretation of an obscure oracle is not the same as certainty.”
Bonnie let out a sigh. The feelings of heartache and loneliness returned, heavier than ever. “Yes, I remember.”
“So now you will wait.” Abaddon waved a foreleg toward the exit hallway. “There is a room that holds a treasure trove of wisdom, books similar to my journal that will show you story after story in the same lifelike way. Listen. Learn. Live. If the people of Second Eden call you to their realm, you may well need every precious poem you find in those treasures.”
Bonnie looked at her fingers as she pressed them together. Although vague within the flames, she could distinguish their outlines. “What about our bodies? Will we have to eat? Will we age?”
“Your food will be knowledge and wisdom, and these will cause you to age at the same rate as those you love in Second Eden.” Abaddon chuckled. “I am not a heartless fiend. I know that you both long to be with your young men. If God so deems that you unite, your apparent ages will be acceptable to all.”
Bonnie took Sapphira’s hand. As their fingers intertwined, Sapphira’s thoughts streamed into Bonnie’s mind, though she said nothing. We can do this, Bonnie. I’ll show you how to endure.
Bonnie smiled. This felt like the way she communicated with others in the candlestone. Concentrating on the connection between them, she sent back a stream of thoughts. I believe you. Let’s use the time to make ourselves ready to fight alongside our men. From one Oracle of Fire to another, they might need some woman power to back them up.
When Elam and Dr. Conner returned to the field at the garden’s edge, they stopped and looked around. With snow still falling lightly, the people studied the new arrival, some with curious smiles and others with skeptical frowns.
Billy stepped forward. “Dr. Conner?”
“Yes?” Dr. Conner looked at Billy, his eyes narrowing. “Billy Bannister?”
Billy clapped him on the shoulder and shouted to the crowd. “It’s all right, everyone. I know him. He’s Bonnie Silver’s father. He’s a doctor.”
A buzz spread across the field, then cheers. Dr. Conner wrapped Elam’s cloak around himself and shivered. “The last thing I remember is being in my laboratory. The mountain had collapsed, and Devin was shooting bolts of electricity at us. I think I was hit.”
“You were.” Billy waved for Clefspeare to come closer. “Dad, can you and the dragons warm him up?”
“With pleasure.” Clefspeare, Hartanna, and Thigocia aimed their jets at Dr. Conner. Within seconds, he loosened his grip on the cloak and blew out a long breath.
“Thank you,” he said as he marched in place. “I think every joint is in working order.”
Billy looked at Hartanna. The gleam in her eyes spoke volumes. Her husband was now alive, but for some reason, she stayed silent, apparently waiting to see how this new miracle would play out. There was no need to distract him now.
“I’ll get him started right away,” Billy said, nodding at Elam.
“Good. I want to talk to Valiant for a minute. I’ll be there soon.”
Billy pulled Dr. Conner’s arm. “Come on. It’s warm in the triage hut. That’s where we need you to do surgery.”
As they walked briskly toward the forest boundary, Dr. Conner spoke through his chattering teeth. “I have done only simple surgery, removing warts, excising hemorrhoids, and one appendectomy, that sort of thing.”
“Okay.” Billy grimaced. What should he say? Should he warn him what to expect? A spear embedded in a girl’s side that might have punctured her lung was a lot worse than an inflamed appendix. As they hurried through the forest, guided by the lantern lights in the street ahead, he sighed. “Then this is going to be a challenge.”
“What kind of surgery is it?”
“You’ll see.” Billy opened the door to the triage hut and guided Dr. Conner inside. As they shook snow from their clothes and shoes, Billy looked around the room.
As before, Walter lay on his cot, apparently asleep. Ashley stood next to Sir Patrick, both watching Listener as she lay on the elevated cot. Ashley, still in a T-shirt and shorts and her hair now tied up in a bun, swabbed Listener’s side with a wet cotton ball. “I think we’ll have to make an incision here,” she said, pointing. “And another right here.”
Billy whispered to Dr. Conner. “She’s too absorbed to notice, as usual.”
“She looks familiar.” Dr. Conner took a step closer and squinted. “Ashley?”
Ashley looked up. For a moment she just stared, as if caught in a trance. Her lips formed a word, then repeated it, this time adding in a quavering voice. “Doc?”
Dr. Conner echoed his own call. “Ashley!”
She rushed around the cot, slipping for a moment before running into his arms. “Doc!” As they hugged, Ashley chattered at her usual breakn
eck pace. “I heard about the resurrection garden, and I hoped that maybe you might be the doctor who would come, but I didn’t really believe it, because you haven’t practiced medicine in years. I mean, Listener needs a thoracic surgeon, and you’re not really a—” She pulled away, her cheeks flushed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
Dr. Conner set a finger over Ashley’s lips. “Never mind that.” He looked at Listener as she lay motionless on the cot. “Is this our patient?”
Ashley nodded and pulled him closer to Listener. “A spear penetrated her ribcage here,” she said, pointing. “I can’t tell how far it went in, but it might have pierced her right lung. I can’t tell if the point went into her heart, but her loss of blood would indicate that the damage is significant. We’re guessing that the spear itself is plugging the holes and keeping her lung from collapsing and hemorrhaging even worse, so obviously we couldn’t pull it out.”
Dr. Conner’s face turned ashen. As he stared at Listener, his mouth dropped open. “I … I can’t possibly do surgery like this. I removed ingrown toenails. I stitched up playground cuts. I mended a few monkeys.”
“Don’t talk like that!” Ashley grabbed his arm. “Remember back in Missoula what you did for Stacey in the alley? That man had a dagger against her throat, and when you kicked him in the head, he sliced her jugular.” She shook him hard. “Don’t you remember? You stitched her up with a sewing kit! You saved her life! And when you heard Karen had a compound leg fracture, you grabbed a first-aid kit and ran into a dark tunnel ready to do whatever you could to rescue her.”
“But this is … this is different. Far worse.”
“I know it’s worse!” Ashley lifted her hands and splayed her fingers. “Look at these. Together you and I built the most advanced mechanical photosynthetic lab in the world, and now these are healing hands. You cut and I’ll cauterize.” Shaking him again, she yelled, “We have to save this little girl’s life!”
He stared at her, as if in a daze. After a few seconds, he laid a hand on her shoulder and nodded. “Show me the tools we have. I’ll do the best I can.”
Ashley clenched her fist. “Yes! That’s the Doc I remember!”
While Ashley showed Dr. Conner the instruments on a nearby table, Walter rose to a sitting position and waved toward Billy. “Come here a second.”
Billy hurried over and sat next to him. “What’s up?”
Walter nodded toward a corner of the room, whispering. “Check it out.”
Turning, Billy found Semiramis sitting on the floor, bound hand and foot and leaning against a wall. She stared back at him, her face melancholy.
“I heard the deal Elam made. Since a doctor showed up, are you going to let her go?”
“I suppose we’ll have to. Why?”
Walter lowered his voice further. “Don’t trust her, not for a second. I saw her at the bridge. She’s as smooth as silk. She could take your wallet, your shoes, and your belt, and you wouldn’t even notice.”
“I don’t think Elam trusts her, but a deal’s a deal. Did they tell you about the finger?”
Walter shivered. “Yeah. That’s twisted.”
“It’s probably Shiloh’s.” Billy felt the blood drain from his head, making him dizzy. “It has to be.”
“Yeah. That makes sense. But just because it’s not Bonnie’s finger, it doesn’t make any difference.”
“No.” Billy shook his head hard. “No, of course not. I was just saying …” He let his voice drift away. He wasn’t sure what he meant.
“Don’t worry about it.” Walter patted him on the back. “I get the picture.”
“Billy!” Ashley called. “Wash up in case we need more hands.” Turning toward Walter, she frowned. “Lie back down. I don’t want to stitch you up again.”
As Billy rose to his feet, he grabbed a blanket and tossed it in Walter’s lap. “Don’t get used to the easy life. I’ll have you back out in the sparring circle by the end of the week.”
“Against you?” Walter waved a hand. “Piece of cake. I expected a real challenge.”
Billy kicked the cot’s leg. “Not me. Listener. She’ll need an easy opponent if she’s going to get her confidence back.”
“That’s cool.” Walter’s smile slowly diminished. After a few seconds, a grim expression took over, and he lay back on his cot. “Give me a blow-by-blow from the surgery table. I’ll be praying for that little warrior.”
Abraham’s hut had become the operating room. With the exception of Walter, who lay on his cot in obedience to Dr. Ashley’s orders, no other patients remained for recovery. Still, the interior was crowded, helping raise the temperature, a benefit on this snowy night. Besides Ashley, Dr. Conner, Sir Patrick, Billy, and Semiramis; Listener’s family—Candle, her brother; Mantika, her stepmother; and Windor, her stepbrother—stood in the close confines, huddled near the door as they watched in silence.
And many who hoped to join them waited outside in the frigid weather, praying for Listener on the coldest night the villagers could remember, the beginning of the season of death, as they had called it.
Billy had listened to some of their prayers, so warm, so thoughtful, and so filled with passion. Valiant had reconstructed the circle of people and lanterns in the middle of the street just outside the hut, and every once in a while his deep voice would drift in, reminding everyone inside that heartfelt appeals were constantly rising to the Father of Lights. With tight lines on every face in the triage hut, and more than a few trembling hands, prayers riding upward on brisk winds outside created a comforting thought indeed.
Billy stood next to Ashley, trying to keep his eyes on her and away from Listener’s exposed body. Of course, since Listener was still prepubescent, the sight of her bared torso didn’t bother him at all. It was the open cavity, the split sternum, the beating heart . . . and blood, lots of it. Too much of it.
Fortunately, the lung machine kept her lung from deflating, though it added a network of homemade tubes going into and out of her body, making her look even more pitiful than she had before. Running on a combination of springs and a solar cell, the machine let out a low hum, not unpleasant, but a constant reminder of the life-and-death tightrope Listener was walking.
Her companion floated lazily back and forth in front of her closed eyes. Much dimmer than usual, it seemed sluggish. Every few seconds, it would flash blue light from its core, but it quickly died away. Candle had explained that the companions often reflected the health or vigor of their charges. A brighter light and more active companion signaled a well-rested person, and a dimmer glow and lethargic companion usually reflected exhaustion.
Billy shifted his gaze to the IV stand. A bag of blood hung there, dripping rapidly into a tube. Three more bags lay on a table near Listener’s head, recent donations from villagers. If this kept up, they would run out in a hurry, but they had found six more matches, and the donors were told to be ready at a moment’s notice.
Sir Patrick stood next to the table, leaning toward the cot, his body arched over Listener’s face. With Ashley’s stethoscope draped around his neck and a suction tube in his hand, he extended the tube toward the wound every time Ashley nodded in his direction. It took only a few minutes for him to learn where to whisk blood away and how long to keep the tube in place. The blood pressure gauge lay in his other hand, ready to be pumped and checked, which he did precisely every thirty seconds. From the start of surgery until now, Listener’s pressure had stayed low but fairly steady, a miracle really, considering how much blood she was losing.
Near the door, Mantika, Candle, and Windor fidgeted. Candle held the spyglass and Windor fingered the hilt of his sheathed knife. Candle’s companion perched on top of his head, its blue light strobing. It was his job to watch the lung machine and wind up the springs if the solar cell ran low. So far, that hadn’t been necessary, but Candle kept his ear close to the machine, just in case.
Dangling from ropes, several lanterns hung directly over Listener’s cot. They cast
several competing rays over her body, some brighter than others, but all steady enough to keep the surgical area bright. With a barricade of empty cots in front of the door, no one would come or go and stir up the air, which would surely disturb the burning wicks.
Ashley, her hair tied back and covered with a tight bandana, stood next to the cot, her elbows up and her fingers inside the cavity. Her eyes darted back and forth, riveted for a second at one spot, then at another. “I got this vessel, Doc. Sealing it off.”
Dr. Conner, his sleeves rolled up to his tense biceps, lifted a piece of the spear’s shaft out of the hole and showed it to her. “That’s the last big piece of wood. I’m going after the point.”
“Perfect. Good work.”
He pushed his fingers back in. “The point’s just barely touching the heart, so we’re good there. I’m taking it out.”
“There’s a splintered piece attached,” Ashley said. “Be careful.”
“I see it. If I pull straight out, the barb will get caught on lung tissue on your left.”
“I can’t push the tissue back, Doc. My hands are full.” She looked at Billy. “I need a finger.”
Billy raised one. “Show me what to do.”
She gestured with her eyes. “See where the spear point’s barb touches the lung?”
Billy licked his lips. “Yeah.”
“Push down on the tissue until it’s clear.”
He eased his finger into the cavity. “This pink stuff?”
“That’s it. … Good. Perfect.” Ashley looked up at Dr. Conner. “I think we’re clear, Doc. Take it real easy.”
“Don’t worry.” Using both hands, he eased the point toward himself, then lifted it out of the cavity. “Got it.”
Billy looked at Ashley. “Can I pull out now?”
“Yes. Slowly.”
As Billy eased his hand away, Ashley’s brow knitted tightly. “I’ve got bleeding, Doc! Big time!” She looked at Patrick. “Suction! Now!”
Patrick reached the tube toward her, but Dr. Conner grabbed it. “It’s the heart. Have to be delicate.”