Chapter Thirty One

 

Somewhere between self-loathing and mental flagellation, I fell asleep on the bed. I was still wearing the period costume Wat had given me. Depending on one's propensity, it was either early morning or late night when a noise outside the room revived me to semi-consciousness. I stared out the window at the dim figure of someone tearing at the cheesecloth, trying to get in. It took me a moment to realize I was not dreaming and that someone really was outside of the sill.

“Tom, are you awake? I'm stuck in this damn cloth.”

It was Amber. Jumping out of bed, I yanked loose the bottom of the cloth, grabbed her and pulled her into the room. When she was safely on the floor, I released my hold around her waist then stuck my head out the window to see where she had come from.

“How in the world did you manage that?”

Amber grinned impishly and said, “There's a small ledge outside the window. My room's on the other side of the house and I just followed it around.”

“The ledge only six inches wide,” I said.

“I wanted to see you.”

“You're nuts” I said, leading her by the hand to the edge of the bed.

I pulled Amber into my lap and she wrapped her arms around my neck and squeezed.

“I was lonely sleeping by myself.”

“I missed you, too. After what happened, I decided to find a rock to crawl under,” I said.

“I talked with Mary Ann. She is not afraid of snakes. Wat told her what to say to the congregation.”

“I wondered about that. Still, it was my job to face the music and I feel terrible about having put Mary Ann through it.”

“You were on your way. She just pushed ahead of you and took your place.”

“Thanks but I'm not sure I'd have made it if she hadn't.”

“You did better than me. I couldn't move.”

With Amber still in my arms, I reclined until the soft pillow cradled my head. She pressed against my chest as I stared at the ceiling.

“Sorry I'm such a coward,” I said.

“You're no coward. You wouldn't be here if you were.”

“Maybe, but I don't feel like much of a man right now.”

“Everyone has something they fear above all else. You'd have never let us down in a bind.”

“We were in a bind.”

“If you'd had to handle the snake, I'm sure you would have been able to.”

“I'm not so sure,” I said. “Maybe, just maybe, I could have. Anyway, thanks for believing in me.”

“Do you think these people killed Bill?” Amber said, changing the subject.

Amber's body was soft and warm against my chest and I could feel her heart beating to the slow cadence of a trained runner.

“I doubt that Wat and Caleb are capable of murdering anyone but I don't know about the preacher. That was a pretty wild ceremony.”

“You bet it was. I've still got the creeps,” Amber said. “He's the strangest man I've ever seen.”

“Same here.”

“His name is Pastor Gray. Wat told Mary Ann when he was showing her around.”

I drew Amber even closer, kissed her and stroked the back of her neck with my fingers.

“Wat's showing us more of the Valley tomorrow. Maybe we'll scratch up some answers such as where these people came from?”

“Maybe we'll even find out what happened to Bill.”

“And why no one in Brannerville or anywhere else seems to know about this village,” Amber said.

She closed her eyes. Soon her muscles relaxed and her breathing became a gentle timpani. Fatigued by worry, she fell asleep on my chest without saying a word. Rain began to fall outside the window. Wind increased, whipping cheesecloth on the window like a sail but Amber was out for the count, and I rolled her off my chest and covered her with a quilt.

I stared at the ceiling, listening to the quiet sound of Amber's breathing and the pounding of rain against the roof. My first problem would be returning her to her room before the others awoke. I need not have worried. Like a strong sedative, the rain and day's events lulled Amber and me into deep sleep. When I awoke the next morning, the sun was out and I was alone.

Once out of bed I gazed out the window at the bright reflections rising in the eastern sky. When I wiped my hand across the sill, I found it damp with morning dew. My shirt was also damp. For the first time since arriving in the Valley, I realized how excessive the humidity really was. As I gazed across the clearing, I marveled again at the strange lighting produced by morning sun piercing dense cloud cover. This was surely the primary factor the Valley and the people occupying it had remained hidden from the outside world. Discovery would be difficult, even by satellite, and that is assuming someone was looking for it in the first place.

Contemplating the Valley's isolation and remoteness, I went down the hall to the bathroom. There I found my own clothes. They were clean and hanging on a peg. This time when I filled the tub, I took extra precautions with the temperature before soaking until my toes began to shrivel. When I finished I felt better than I had since before the snake ceremony and I even caught myself whistling as I strolled downstairs to the kitchen. I found everyone already at the table.

Elizabeth's thick porridge covered with milk was simple but delicious. After breakfast, Caleb brushed his hands together and got up from the table. Stopping at the door, he scratched the side of his nose and winked at me.

“I am glad you passed the test last night,” he said.

“Thanks to Mary Ann.”

He gave my shoulder a fatherly pat and said, “She is a brave girl but you would have done as well.”

“Thanks. I'm glad we didn't have to found out.” Caleb chuckled and leaned against the wall. “Can you tell me now about my brother Bill?”

“You look very much like him,” he said. “He stayed with us a week and listened to our conversations with a strange device. He returned to the mountains and we never saw him again. I am very sorry that he is missing but that is all we know.”

Amber asked, “Will you show us the Valley?”

“Wat will guide you through the Valley and answer your questions. I would go with you but I have business elsewhere.”

Within the hour Amber, Mary Ann and I tagged along behind Wat as he led us on an exploratory trip through the Valley. I lagged behind Wat and Amber to have a word with Mary Ann.

“Mary Ann, you're the bravest person I know.”

Mary Ann blushed and entwined my arm as we continued through the forest. The morning was a hive of activity. Carbonicans were everywhere, tending their gardens, walking along manicured pathways, and generally portraying a semblance of activity. We went the opposite direction from where we had entered the valley and soon arrived at a large building that blended with rocks and trees surrounding it. We found twenty people busily at work inside.

On the far side of the building, a forge blasted as workers removed a cauldron of molten metal. Others worked at benches creating objects from the foundry's product. A smiling little man with a bald head soon joined us. He looked enough like Caleb to have passed as his brother.

“This is John,” Wat said. “He is the head smithy.”

John pumped our hands and led us on a tour of the foundry. He answered all our questions in a clipped version of the Valley dialect.

“We convert ore from the mines into metal. Our artisans craft metal into objects for use in the colony.”

I stood beside a table where a man formed what looked like a door hinge. The artisan acknowledged our curious stares and handed the hinge to me. I hefted it, feeling its weight. Like steel, the metal was smooth but dark black in color. Amber, unaware of the many abandoned mines in the hills, appeared puzzled.

“Where do you find ore to smelt the metal?”

John shook his head and rubbed his carbon-coated hands on his leather apron. “The Lord has provided everything we need right here in the Valley, including many different types of ore and abundant coal for stoking the furnaces.”

“Fascinating,” Amber said.

We exited and immediately entered the front of another large building. This building housed another communal project—a pottery plant. The chief potter escorted us on another quick and interesting tour. The pottery factory employed an equal number of workers as had the foundry. Some worked at a large kiln while others created objects for everyday use or works of art.

After leaving the second building, we continued along the path until we reached a mill by the bank of a roaring river. The operation of the mill was similar to the other two plants we had seen. Twenty or so workers labored to turn out various milled grains. The wonderful aroma from the nearby bakery returned my thoughts to the loaves of Elizabeth's delicious bread.

We visited many similar factories, all manufacturing items of need for the people of the Valley. All were located along the mountain front and hidden among the trees and rocks. We continued on the path until we reached a bridge across the river and I stopped for a moment, puzzled by everything. Here in a giant valley far from civilization, camouflaged by giant trees and shrouded by thick cloud cover, we had found a colony of self-sufficient people apparently lost from mainstream society for many years. Scratching my head in disbelief, I hurried to catch the others.

After a brisk fifteen-minute stroll, we rounded a bend in the trail and approached yet another large building, this one also partially hidden by trees. The giant room was the Valley's version of a modern greenhouse and housed a veritable jungle of plants. Wat led us down the rows of plants, both fruit and vegetable, pointing with pride to a tomato vine with a ripe tomato the size of a grapefruit. Cantilevered partitions encompassed portions of the roof and upper walls. Despite the greenhouse's extreme humidity, a gentle draft of air made the room infinitely bearable and we asked Wat to explain.

“The partitions open and close allowing optimum lighting and air flow. Because of this design we are able to grow fruit and vegetables year round.”

It was then I realized we hadn't seen a single fireplace or even a chimney since arriving in the Valley. We had yet to feel a chill, despite the advancing season.