HYPOGEUM
The piece of blue chalk had worn down so that it was barely long enough to hold in his fingers. Gripping it as best he could, he continued drawing on the stone floor inside the bomb shelter, round and round, creating the ancestral spiral, shape by shape, as God had revealed it to him.
As he drew, he said, “Do you s-see them?”
Stephen, who stood in the tunnel just outside the bomb shelter, shook his head. “No, Brother. We are still alone. What makes you think anyone will be coming? I told you, the island has been evacuated. There’s no one left to come for us.”
“You should not have stayed with me.”
“Brother Andrew Paul commanded me to stay with you. He said we had not been exposed to the disease. He was praying God would keep us both safe if we stayed down here. And he wanted you to continue your work.”
Grimacing at the last shape he’d drawn, he used his finger to erase a line, then carefully redrew it. The chalk grated on the stone.
Stephen leaned against the heavy iron door to watch him. “What is that shape, Brother?”
“An—an octahedron. I’m not very good at drawing three-dimensional figures.”
Stephen’s gaze went around the spiral drawn on the floor. “Why does it have to be three-dimensional?”
“The crucibulum. She will understand.”
“Anna, again?”
Thinking about her hurt. When he’d loved her, he had not known she was spying on him for the military. Or maybe he had, but he’d forgotten. After the brain trauma, he’d forgotten so much. That last day in America, when Yacob had told him she was an air force officer, it had been devastating. He’d been certain she had helped the government put him in that psychiatric prison.
Later, he’d reconsidered. Perhaps Yacob had not been real? Perhaps it had just been Satan whispering in his ear? Trying to turn him against the only person he trusted, Anna.
So … the crucibulum. The maze.
Was she one of them? Or his trusted friend? Only his beloved friend, Anna, could unlock it. Only Anna would protect the Marham-i-Isa.
“I need to send a message again,” he said and started to rise to his feet.
“Brother, do you remember that you told me you’ve been sending it out for years? Why do you need to keep sending it?”
“She hasn’t responded. She hasn’t received it.”
Gently, Stephen said, “If she isn’t real, she will never respond. Do you realize…”
Stephen’s voice died as he abruptly turned and peered down the tunnel outside. “I hear footsteps. Lots of them. There’s lantern light down there.”
“Get inside now, and be careful not to step on the shapes! Close the door and bolt it.”
“But what if it’s someone who needs help? Shouldn’t we—?”
“I can’t be captured! I’ve told you over and over. Now, get inside. Hurry!”
Obediently, Stephen swung the door closed and bolted it. When he placed his ear to the door, candlelight reflected in his frightened eyes. “Who are they? I thought the island was empty.”
“There are always people who stay.”
“But the government ordered them—”
“Hey!” a man yelled outside as he slammed a fist into the door. “Open up. I know there’s food and water in there. I helped pack that shelter! We want that food!”
“Brother?” Stephen pleaded. “What should I do?”
He extended a hand to the young monk. “Tiptoe through the shapes and come sit beside me. They’ll be dead soon.”