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Al, Chartrand and Larsen were waiting for the five at the top of the wall. Al’s jaw dropped open when he saw his brother. “Thomas, when I contacted you I never expected ...”
“I know,” interrupted Thomas. “I’ve hurt our relationship by dropping off the grid for so long. I just had to be in on this rescue.”
Al gave his brother a hug. There were tears in his eyes. Dave could see that for once, Al did not know how to respond.
“Well,” said Al after an awkward silence, wiping his eyes, “come on back into our camp.”
The dell was a flat triangle about twenty meters wide on a side. The sides of the triangle were steep except at the back where the butte could be climbed easily.
Once everyone had moved to the back of the little dell, Al dished out some hot soup he had ready on an alcohol burner. Everyone sat in a circle to eat. Al’s eyes kept straying to Thomas.
“Al, I know you’ve already filled in the others on what happened when you arrived here, but you’ll have to go over it again,” said Dave.
Al took a deep breath. “After I left you the note by the black swamp oak, I climbed into the tree and spent a worried night waiting for the transition to take place. I had my flashlight, so I was reading Psalm 91 and thinking about Pam and Little Thomas. I couldn’t help thinking about how hopeless my situation was. Even if I did my best, and was lucky enough to find them, Bigelow would have had them both for so long that he could have done unspeakable things to them just out of spite. I hardly slept at all that night. I’m not exactly sure when the transition to Abaddon occurred, but I do remember feeling the air grow thicker and the night sounds of the Okefenokee diminishing. I waited until daylight; I didn’t want to risk leaving the tree in the dark.
“At first light, I climbed out of the tree and found myself in the swamp. I tested the water with a stick and found it was very deep. Something large snatched the stick out of my hand almost pulling me in. It was then that I saw a red kerchief hanging down from the platform trees. I examined the kerchief and saw that it was Pam’s. Once I had my starting point, I could see the direction they had gone in. Some of the branches were broken and there were marks on some of the larger limbs where someone had damaged the bark with a rope. For a while there weren’t any more signs, but I knew they’d crossed the final stretch of water at the tree trunk, and had headed across the long grass plain.
“Before I left home, I checked Pam’s closet to see which shoes she was wearing when she was kidnapped. A pair of boots with one-inch heels was missing. She must have had a terrible time crossing those tree limbs in the swamp with those boots. But they helped me a lot in the grasslands. As you know there were several worn paths where the grass was disturbed, leaving the tree trunk bridge. I hunted around until I found her boot print. Their group didn’t head out into the plain like we have, but skirted the edge of the swamp and headed east. I followed them as fast as I could for most of the day until I reached a precipice that dropped about five hundred metres. Below was a flat shelf about three kilometers across. It was covered with trees, meadows, and water courses. Beyond that there was just sky, so the drop could be much bigger and deeper. They skirted the edge of that precipice consistently and headed roughly northwest. Since I had a line on where they were, and I knew you would be here soon, I headed back to meet you guys.
“On the way back, I was thinking about Bigelow’s route. He went east and then northwest along the precipice. Why not head straight across the grasslands? I couldn’t figure it out.
“It was late afternoon. I didn’t retrace my steps but headed a little bit north towards the nearest butte. I needed water and thought the buttes would be the best chance to find some. I saw those huge elephant-like animals. I also wanted to check out those domed structures. But as I approached one dome, I heard this thundering noise. I looked back and saw a group of pachydons lumbering toward me. In my panic, I cut my way into the hoop thorns and stayed inside as they stampeded around the outside. A few times, they tried to reach me with their trunks. They were so persistent that I was afraid I would miss you. But the pachydons left that evening.
“I was very thirsty, so I made my way to the nearest butte and found a stream. I was too far away from the swamp exit, so I kept heading toward the butte that I’d first seen when I crossed the log bridge.
“The pachydons didn’t bother me at night. I reached my destination just when it started to get light. I followed the water course up to this dell and made camp. I climbed up higher to watch the log bridge.
“That’s when I saw the mine in the next butte. I had a quick bite to eat, while staying as far from the pachydon herds as possible, and kept a hoop thorn close at hand. Then I made my way back to the swamp. And that’s how I found Linder, Chartrand, and Larsen.”
Linder took up the story. “When Chartrand, Larsen and I finally came out of the swamp, Al was waiting for us. He led us back by a route that always kept us out of sight of the mine and away from the pachydons. Staying here, we could keep an eye on that mine—in case they sent out patrols—and watch for you to arrive.
“We didn’t expect you for another day. But just in case, I was commissioned to watch for you. Al was catching up on sleep while Chartrand and Larsen climbed up to the lookout and took turns watching the mine on the next butte over.”
At this point Larsen interjected. “There was a steady parade of what looked like Apemen, Halfmen, and a large contingent of slaves moving around the mine. I’m not sure if the slaves were Ancients or regular people.”
“Do they have guards at the mine?” asked Dave.
“There were guards in black armor carrying long spears. They seemed to focus more on keeping the slaves working than watching for danger. There’s a dirt road heading north that has a lot of wagon traffic. A wagon full of ore leaves every hour with a couple of mounted guards.”
Al picked up the conversation. “This makes Bigelow’s behavior even more puzzling. He’s Meglir’s henchman. Why not head straight for the mine, and avail yourself of a ride and an escort? Instead, Bigelow headed east to the edge of the precipice of the canyon and stayed as far from the road as possible. It may be that Bigelow was just avoiding the pachydons, but if we can avoid the pachydons using the hoop thorns, so can he. It’s my best guess that Bigelow was running this operation without Meglir’s approval. I think we should follow Bigelow’s trail. That will give us a chance to avoid detection for a while, if I’m right with my guess.”
“How many people did Bigelow have with him?” asked Dave.
“With only three black swamp oaks, Bigelow came back with one other fellow. It looked to me that the party that ransacked our home was bigger. Bigelow may have contacts in our world who planted the black swamp oaks and helped him out with the transportation, the snatch, and then hung around until Pam transferred.”
“That makes sense,” said Dave, “Pam would have been in a tree by herself. They had to make sure she didn’t make a run for it.”
“She would never leave Little Thomas.” said Arlana. “The sooner we find them the better.
“I have another question, what do you make of all those skulls hanging at the edge of the swamp?”
“No idea, Dave,” said Al. “It seems another strong reason to stay out of the swamp and off the plain.”
Al waited to see if there were any other questions. “I think we should turn in early and then leave in the middle of the night. The moon is well before the first quarter so there’s very little light. With Hanomer, Arlana, and Dave to guide us, we should be able to find our way on the open plains without being seen. Hopefully we’ll be well away from the mine by daybreak. If we need to go to ground, the terrain will get very rough once we get close to the lip of the canyon.”
“Al,” said Arlana, “from your description, your canyon is the lip of what we call Sheol, the Pit. Terrible as Abaddon is, it’s nothing like the evil and terror of Sheol. By your measure, the Infernal Sea of Sheol is another six kilometers down from the Abaddon Plain. There are many huge and terrible creatures living at the bottom. Sheol is the black heart of Abaddon. All the evil of this place emanates from there.”
“Arlana,” said Dave, “you’ve got to lighten up. You’re scaring them. Look Chartrand is shaking in his boots ...”
“I am not,” protested Chartrand. “I’m shivering because the night air is cold.”
Dave looked at Chartrand sceptically. “Like I said, Arlana, you’re scaring the boys. Why should Sheol harbor so many terrible creatures?”
“I don’t know why. I do know we should only cross the lip into Sheol in our most extreme need,” said Arlana, “and then return to the Abaddon Plain as soon as the danger has passed.”
Al was still thinking about Dave’s question. “She may well be right, Dave, about huge and bizarre animals living here and in Sheol. Have you ever wondered why the largest land mammal back home is the elephant, and the largest flying bird is the California Condor?”
“No, I haven’t, but I have a feeling you’re going to tell me.”
“It has to do with air pressure. For warm-blooded animals, energy is generated by all of our cells, while heat is lost by heat exchange at the surface of the animal. Since heat generation scales roughly as the cube of the linear dimension and heat loss as the square, there comes a point where a much larger animal will be cooked by its own metabolism. The only way around it is to change the medium to water or increase the air pressure to enable better heat conduction.”
“So why do we find such large land creatures in the fossil record?” asked Linder.
“I read a paper once that argued that those creatures could only exist when the air pressure was much higher. Air pressure is much higher here and would be even higher in Sheol. So, we’re ten kilometers below sea level here. And Sheol is another six kilometers lower than that. If I assume a constant temperature, I can use the Ideal Gas Law and figure out the pressure on Abaddon Plain and at the bottom of Sheol.”
“Whatever,” said Larsen, “while Al is using his Ideal Gas Law to figure out the pressure, if I’m not on watch, I’m going to catch forty winks.”
They began to disperse. Linder headed up to the lookout, while others decided to catch up on sleep. Dave saw Al and Thomas sit down together for what looked like the beginning of a long, quiet talk. Dave crawled into his sleeping bag. Within minutes, he could hear Arlana breathing regularly and he knew she was asleep. Yet sleep did not come to him. While back in his home in the Barrier Mountains, he had spent a lot of time reading everything the Ancients had written on the continent of Abaddon. What he had read terrified him as much as it did Arlana. Afraid to be alone with his thoughts, he got up. At the back of the triangular shelf, the cliff walls narrowed to a slot carved by the little stream that flowed into the dell. Dave scrambled up an easy climb for more than a hundred meters. The slot opened into a ragged shelf that formed a notch on the side of the steep butte. Linder turned to him as he heard Dave approach.
“I take it you can’t sleep,” said Linder.
“No,” said Dave. “Since I can’t, you may as well get some rest. There’s no point in both of us staying awake.”
“Alright Dave, wake me when you get sleepy.” Linder left. After about 45 minutes, Al joined Dave.
“I’m glad you brought Thomas, Dave.”
“I didn’t want to, but Hanomer and Arlana made me.”
“Why didn’t you want to bring him? Didn’t you know what it would mean to me?”
“I guess I wanted to spare Thomas. This place really bothers me.”
“Why?
Dave took a deep breath. “I did a lot of reading on Abaddon when I was back home in Gurundar. Everything I read about it reminded me of what I’d heard about hell.”
“Why is that?” asked Al
“Well,” said Dave, “we’re looking at a continent ruled by a group of Bent Ones like Meglir. Under Meglir are the Apemen, which remind me of zombies, and maybe an army of sycophants—like our turncoats—who are as cruel as they are resourceful. The only role we have in this society is one of slaves.” Then Dave began to chuckle.
“What’s so funny?” asked Al, surprise tinging his voice.
“I was just thinking that God sure has a sense of humor. You know Al, the concept of hell, more than anything else, kept me from becoming a Christian. And now that I have an uneasy truce with that subject, I find myself brought here to experience hell-on-earth first hand.”
Dave could see Al’s posture grow more upright in the gloom. “Dave why has the concept of hell been such a problem for you?”
“God is supposed to be a God of love, so why have a place of torment? Why not extinguish people completely if they’re bad and unredeemable? In fact, if God is all-powerful, why not make it so that all people could be redeemed?”
“I think you mean ‘will be redeemed’ rather than ‘could be redeemed.’ I think I’m correct when I say that most Christians, except the staunchest predestinationalists, would say that all men could be saved. But by free will, they have the right and the power to choose not to be saved.”
“But couldn’t God make the terrors of hell so real to people that they would avoid it at all costs?” asked Dave.
“I suppose,” answered Al, “but wouldn’t that be overriding free will another way? Aren’t Christians often accused of using hell to frighten people into the faith? Isn’t that just another form of coercion? A spiritual shotgun wedding?”
“I suppose,” said Dave, “but does that really answer my question? At the end of the day, my question still stands. Can God really love me if he’d let me choose a destiny that involves eternal torment? You love Little Thomas, Al. Wouldn’t you choose to override his free will, to keep him safe?”
“I suppose I would while he’s a child, but if Little Thomas is to grow into an adult, I have to let him make his own choices, even bad ones. To forever take away his right to choose is a terrible pathology. I want him to choose, and to choose the good.
“Dave in the sciences, when one is trying to answer questions in a new area, one often begins with data that don’t seem to fit together, and even that seem contradictory. What I always do is ask myself ‘What am I sure of?’ I begin formulating my hypotheses starting there. It’s like a puzzle where I begin with the corner pieces and edge pieces. I believe all the pieces will eventually fit, but I start assembling the whole puzzle picture using the pieces I’m most sure of.
“For me the same is true of these questions about hell or Gehenna—the Valley of Hinnom—which is the actual term used by Jesus. I begin by believing that Jesus loves all of us enough to die for us. That’s what I’m most sure of. In the end, when full understanding comes, then I believe all the things that Jesus said about hell will prove true, but some of my ideas may have been wrong. I believe the word is true, but that doesn’t guarantee my interpretation of it is correct.”
“Al, your letter to us seemed filled with desperation. Arlana and I were worried.”
“Yes, it was. I’m dreadfully frightened about what’s happening to Pam and Little Thomas. Bringing Thomas and talking to me about things that matter a lot to me have pulled me out of my funk. Thanks, Dave.”
“So, talking about hell has cheered you up? Has anyone ever told you that you’re really weird, Al?”
“Yes, many times,” said Al chuckling.
“I don’t know how Pam puts up with you.”
“Frankly, I don’t either Dave. I’m just grateful she does.”