In Which the Moment of Decision Arrives
Cass gazed at the simple wooden cross, pondering the depths of this sacred mystery. Five smooth stones gathered from a dry streambed changed the course of history; a nation was saved. And that other lad—given a lunch of five small loaves and a couple of dried fish and packed off to hear the wandering rabbi preach. Before the day was half through he would provide the substance for a miracle. He had been asked to give the little he had and, in the hands of the Master, it became a feast for thousands. Did that boy suspect that would happen? No—how could he? All he knew was that he had been asked to choose which side he would serve—just as Cass was being asked now.
“What do you say, Cassandra?” asked Brendan at last. “We have told you about our work and how you can help. It is time to make a decision. Will you join us?”
Despite all the outlandish claims and untethered assumptions, all the convoluted and eccentric propositions she had heard throughout the day, Cass did feel drawn to the quest. Somewhere, in the core of her being, she knew that what she had been told was true. Still, she hesitated. Joining them meant leaving behind everything she had ever known—her life, her work, her place in the world . . . not to mention her father. The thought of her father waiting for her back in Arizona—frantic over her disappearance—pulled her back to reality.
“I can’t,” she sighed at last. “I can’t sign up to anything I don’t fully understand. Besides that, I have commitments elsewhere. My father, for one—he must be beside himself with worry, wondering what happened to me.”
“If I told you that you could return to the place you left within a day or so of the time you left,” offered Brendan, “would that make a difference?” He saw Cass hesitate and pressed her further. “It is true. Travellers have been known to spend years away from home only to return within a few days—or even a few hours—of their departure.”
“Well, I—”
“You could join us and still alleviate your father’s worries. Perhaps, if we—”
“Don’t badger the poor girl,” interrupted Mrs. Peelstick. “She is intelligent, reasonable, and capable of making up her own mind.” To Cass she said, “We will respect your decision, my dear, and consider that it was simply not to be. We will, of course, help you get home again.”
“Thank you,” murmured Cass. “You’ve been more than kind.”
The old woman turned and, closing her eyes, drew in a deep breath of the frankincense-laden air. “It is nice here, isn’t it? So peaceful. It is truly a shelter from the storms that rage across the world.”
The three sat for a while soaking in the serenity of the ancient church, then Brendan stood and made his way out. Mrs. Peelstick followed; stepping into the aisle, she genuflected towards the cross and then paused to wait for Cass. They met Brendan outside, and the three walked slowly back to the convent. The gate was closed, but unlocked. Cass wished them good night and entered the silent courtyard. Halfway across to the dormitory building, she shivered with a sudden chill, paused, and glanced around the courtyard—still and empty as before. Crickets chirped in the far corner, and the scent of jasmine drifted on the night air. All seemed well.
Shaking off the chill, she hurried on, pulled open the door, and shut it firmly behind her. The corridor was dark save for a single candle burning in a red glass jar on the table outside her room. She moved to the door and slipped inside, taking the light with her.
She undressed quickly and climbed into bed, but had difficulty falling asleep; for a long time she thrashed about, unable to make herself comfortable. When sleep finally came, it was troubled with odd, incoherent, and unsettling dreams. Towards morning, Cass experienced a dream that was more lucid than usual; in it, she saw herself as a little girl standing on a ledge of red Sedona sandstone looking out across the desert wasteland. In her dream, she gazed far beyond Earth’s atmosphere and into space, beyond the moon to the very edge of the solar system itself and an endless heaven filled with stars and a multitude of galaxies, all wheeling in harmony with the slow, elegant rhythm of creation. The magnificent extravagance of the display stole her breath away. She sensed that her father was there, and when she turned, she saw him dressed in a black suit with his eye pressed to the lens of an enormous telescope. “I want to see,” she said. In her dream she heard her father reply, “It is not for you.”
She turned away, and this time saw a wall of darkness at the distant edge of the cosmic horizon, far beyond the spiral arm of the Milky Way. Somehow she understood that this was not the darkness of deep space, but was instead an active and invasive darkness, expanding and growing beyond the galactic boundaries. Cass watched as this alien darkness began to seep into the cosmos and swallow the nearer stars and galaxies. Growing, expanding, gathering strength and speed, the darkness surged, and with its increase came an unmistakable feeling of malevolence—as if the darkness were driven not by a mindless force of nature but by a burning hatred as vast and limitless as its galactic reach. On and on it came, devouring everything in its path, growing, expanding with every speck and morsel of light it swallowed.
The childlike sense of wonder Cass had felt only moments before was obliterated by blind, icy panic as the manifold lights of heaven dimmed, faded, and died, annihilated by the insatiable darkness. And still it came, faster and faster, gaining strength and speed as it gathered mass from all the ingested star systems. Now darkness filled her vision, stretching from one end of the solar system to the other. Now the nearer stars blinked out. Now the sun grew cloudy, as if covered by a shroud, its light dimming and dimming until it was gone, leaving only the moon. Then that, too, faded, dimmed, and was gone.
All that was left was darkness made visible.
Cass looked into the gnawing void, and her heart shrank within her breast. She heard a howl—a disembodied shattering shriek of triumph—as the darkness swooped to consume the Earth and all living things. Death, extinction, the annihilation of the entire biosphere and everything in it followed with stunning swiftness. Cass felt an inexhaustible, fathomless cold as the last light of life disappeared into the merciless abyss.
She woke up shivering beneath her blankets and aching with a sadness akin to grief. Her heart, still racing, drummed in her ears. She glanced around the room, terrified, her breath coming in gasps. Never had she been so frightened.
Dragging together the tattered shreds of her courage, Cass rose, threw on her clothes, and dashed across the convent courtyard to the nuns’ chapel. She let herself in and hurried down the aisle to the front of the sanctuary; she lit a candle at the little stand and then sat in the front pew, candle clasped tight in her hands, praying—for peace, protection, she knew not what—until it grew light enough outside to see. Then, leaving the church, she crept out of the convent gate. The empty street soon echoed to the sound of her running feet as she raced back to the Zetetic Society door.
Standing on the step, Cass pressed the doorbell, waited ten seconds, and pressed it again. The sky was showing a rosy hue as the sun lit up the heavens; the streets of the city were quiet yet. From somewhere a rooster crowed. She was on the point of pressing the bell again when she heard muffled footsteps in the vestibule beyond; there was a click, and the door opened to reveal Mrs. Peelstick in a lavender dressing gown. “You must be very keen to get home.”
“I’m not going home,” Cass blurted. “I’m staying.”
The old woman observed her for a moment. “Something has happened to change your mind, hasn’t it, dear?”
As Cass drew breath to answer, Mrs. Peelstick raised her hand. “No, don’t tell me. We’ll have some tea and toast first. And then when Brendan gets here we can all sit down together and talk about it.” She ushered Cass inside, then closed and locked the door behind her. “It will save repeating. Is that all right? Do come along to the kitchen.”
She padded off in her slippers, and Cass, exuding relief from every pore, hurried after her.