Talisman of El

CHAPTER SIX



What Lies Beneath

ALEX DIDN’T GET ON the bus the following day. Charlie wondered if she had gone back to find Derkein. He thought about bunking off, but the last thing he wanted was Jacob on his case, so, after school, he got off the bus at Brick Lane, a narrow road which led to a white house with many colourful flowers in the front garden.

He rang the doorbell. Seconds later, the door opened, and a tiny woman stood before him. She wore a watermelon apron and held a chocolate-covered spatula in her hand. Black strands of hair drooped through her brown mesh hairnet. Apart from being a tad darker than Alex – attributable to her Colombian heritage – the resemblance between mother and daughter was uncanny.

‘Hello,’ Mrs. Dench said with a smile, her English accented. ‘Hi,’ said Charlie, cautiously eyeing the spatula. ‘I’m Charlie–’

‘Charlie! Well, this is a lovely surprise. I’m Alex’s mum, Maria. Come in.’

He entered into a large foyer with a high ceiling and a wood curved stairway on the left. The peach painted walls gave the house a warm and cosy feel.

‘We meet at last,’ Mrs. Dench said. ‘Alex has told me so much about you.’

Charlie smiled, wondering why he hadn’t heard much about her.

‘Here, let me take this.’ She took his coat and bag, and as she hung them on the coat rack, the spatula fell from her hands and landed on the wooden floor. ‘Oh bollocks!’ she squealed, smacking herself across the head.

Charlie’s eyes widened. After an awkward pause, he picked the spatula up and held onto it, unsure of what to do. Mrs. Dench gave him a sheepish smile. ‘Here.’ She took the spatula from him. ‘You don’t want to get all messy like me – please don’t tell Alex I said a bad word.’

‘Er, o-okay.’

Mrs. Dench beckoned him down the hallway, past the living room on theright, and into a large, modern kitchen fitted with walnut units and steel appliances.

Charlie paused in the doorway, his gaze drifting over what looked like the aftermath of a battle. It was as if a bomb had gone off in the room, but the warm, sweet smell made up for the mess. It reminded him of the way his kitchen used to look after his dad finished cooking.

‘Sorry about the mess,’ Mrs. Dench said. ‘I’m always baking. Do you like chocolate cake?’ Charlie nodded. ‘It’s your lucky day. I don’t know why Alex has taken so long to invite you round. She talks about you all the time. Maybe you can stay for dinner, that way you can meet my husband – he’s a photographer so he travels a lot, but you probably already know that. He should be here soon. You know, you’re the first friend of Alex’s that has come around in a long time.’ Charlie smiled. He remembered the first time he had met Alex. It was obvious from which parent she had inherited her long-windedness.

‘Mum,’ Alex called, as she descended the stairs. ‘Who was at the door …?’ She broke off when she saw Charlie standing in the kitchen doorway. Shock flooded her face.

‘Look who stopped by, dear.’ Mrs. Dench appeared behind Charlie. ‘He came to check on you. Isn’t that sweet?’ She stroked Charlie’s head.

Alex’s eyes widened. ‘Mamá, ¿qué estás haciendo?’ she hissed. ‘Él es no es una mascota.’

It was the first time Charlie had heard her speak Spanish.

He chuckled at her disgruntled tone.

‘Sólo estoy diciendo,’ Mrs. Dench said, as she retreated into the kitchen. ‘Éste es un portero,’ she called out in a singsong voice.

Alex patted down her dishevelled hair as she approached Charlie. ‘Hi.’

‘Hey,’ Charlie said. They stood staring at each other for a moment.

‘You’re … in my house.’

‘Is it okay that I’m here?’

‘Yeah, sure, it’s just … I’m just surprised.’

‘You didn’t come to school, so I thought I’d come see if you were okay.’

‘Oh, yeah. I had the sniffles, so my mum refused to let me out.’ Alex inched closer to him and whispered, ‘Don’t ever sneeze or cough in front of my mother.’

‘Food glorious food,’ Mrs. Dench sang, ‘hot sausage and mustard….’

Glancing over his shoulder, Charlie saw her dancing along to her song.

‘She loves musicals,’ Alex explained. ‘Mum!’ Alex just about screamed at her. ‘We’re going to my room.’

‘Okay, dear, but you two behave,’ Mrs. Dench said in her musical voice.

Alex rolled her eyes, pulling Charlie’s arm as she led him away. ‘I’m sorry you had to see that,’ she said, as they headed upstairs. ‘She didn’t say anything weird, did she?’

‘No. Why?’

‘Well, she’s a little … eccentric.’

‘Is that why you never invite your friends round?’ Alex didn’t respond. They got to the top of the stairs and headed to the left of the landing, entering a large, messy pink room with a double bed and two wardrobes.

Charlie gasped. ‘Oh my god. You’re a girl!’

Alex punched him. ‘Shut up. It’s been like this since forever.

I can’t be asked to paint over it.’ She picked up a pile of clothes off the floor and tossed them into a corner. ‘You’ve probably figured out by now that I don’t have many friends. I used to, it’s just, they always laughed at her. I think you’re my first real friend – not that I have imaginary friends or anything like that – well, apart from that one time when I was five …’

She stopped when she noticed him staring at her, his brow puckered. They went over to the bed and sat down. ‘You thought I’d laugh if I met your mum, didn’t you?’

Charlie asked.

‘No, I know you’re not like that. It’s just … My mum’s bipolar.’

‘What’s that?’

‘It’s a brain disorder. She’s often depressed and has different moods, so you never know what to expect. She’s on medication, but it can get out of hand sometimes.’ She looked down at the floor.

‘Hey.’ He took hold of her hand. ‘I like your mum. She’s nice. You think she’s strange, you should have seen my dad when he ran around the house impersonating animals.’ Alex grinned. ‘Talk about embarrassing.’ Charlie noticed he was still holding her hand and dropped it.

An awkward silence followed, broken only by the sound of banging pots and Mrs. Dench yelling: ‘Everything’s fine.’ They exchanged glances, smiling.

‘What were you laughing at downstairs?’ Alex asked. ‘I wasn’t laughing.’

‘Yes, you were. Was it my Spanish? Did I sound weird or something?’

‘Oh, no, it wasn’t that. I was just laughing at what you said about me not being a pet.’

Alex looked at him in shock. ‘Since when do you speak Spanish?’

‘I don’t speak Spanish. I only know a few words.’ Alex’s eyes widened, and her face flushed. ‘Please tell me you didn’t understand what my mum said.’

Charlie half smiled. ‘No clue,’ he said.

Alex studied him, her eyes narrowing. ‘How do you even know Spanish, anyway?’

He shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I used to watch a lot of international game shows when I was little, at least, that’s what my dad told me, so I guess I picked up a few things.’ ‘That explains how you aced last month’s French test.’ ‘I told you that was a fluke. Someone else’s paper obviously got mixed up with mine.’ No matter how many times Charlie told himself that, the truth was that he had understood every part of that test. ‘Sometimes people just get lucky.’ ‘An A plus,’ Alex mused. ‘Wow. Can I borrow some of your luck?’ She smiled, which Charlie returned. ‘Here’s me thinking Derkein was the weirdo.’

It was then Charlie remembered why he was there. ‘You’ll never guess who I found.’

The inquisitive look on Alex’s face lasted only a fraction of a second before she exclaimed, ‘Shut up!’ She jumped up.

‘You found Thomas Wakeman?’

Charlie nodded.

‘Where?’ Alex enquired.

‘This is going to sound a little strange, but, um … He’s Jacob’s father-in-law.’

Alex’s jaw dropped, and she blinked. ‘What!’

‘I know. What are the odds, right?’

‘What did he say?’

‘He seriously believes Arcadia exists.’

‘You mean …’ Alex pointed at the floor.

Charlie nodded. ‘I’m taking Derkein to see him ...’ His voice trailed off. Alex had a faraway look in her eyes. He got up. ‘Are you even listening?’

‘It’s strange,’ she said, as if he hadn’t spoken. ‘You dreamt about Derkein, and now you’ve found Thomas, who just happens to be Jacob’s father-in-law.’

Charlie wasn’t sure if she was referring to the situation being strange, or him. ‘What’s your point?’ he asked. ‘It’s just … What are the odds?’

Charlie sat on the windowsill watching Tom, who was gawping at Derkein’s face. Tom’s expression was half-intrigued and half-anxious. ‘Remarkable,’ he breathed. ‘And you say it happened after the attack?’

‘Yes,’ replied Derkein, who was sitting in the armchair on the opposite side of the bed to Charlie, his back to the room door. ‘I’m sure this change is attributable to the talisman my father gave me.’ He removed the talisman from around his neck and handed it to Tom.

‘The four elements,’ Tom muttered. ‘The root of all existing matter. Many cultures regard these elements as powerful forces, keeping balance in the world. Many people, though, associate them with witchcraft.’ He paused, thinking. ‘If this talisman holds magical qualities, then it must have been what they were after. You said George found it in Brazil?’

‘He and a friend did, yes.’ A sad expression crept across Derkein’s face.

‘I take it that something happened to this friend?’ ‘He died. Doctors said it was a heart attack, but my father thought otherwise.’

‘Hmm … After what happened to you, it’s very likely your friend didn’t die of a heart attack. If whoever attacked him was after the talisman, then they’re still looking for it.’ ‘By they you mean the people of Arcadia.’

‘You don’t believe it exists.’ Tom sounded disappointed. ‘I don’t know what I believe anymore. All I know is that my father spent years searching for this place because he had a crazy idea that he could bring my mother back from the dead. An idea he got from you.’ Charlie detected a hint of accusation in Derkein’s tone.

‘And I suppose you’re wondering how that’s possible?’ Tom leaned back in his bed. ‘My great-grandfather, Arthur Hill, was working in the Mammoth Cave in Kentucky in the 1840’s.

One day, he disappeared while exploring new regions of the cave. Almost two months later, he reappeared inside the cave, having no idea of how he arrived there. He told folks that something had attacked him and had taken him to another world.’ Tom paused, as if waiting for them to say something, but when they didn’t, he went on, ‘He said this other world was called Arcadia, and that it was located at the centre of the earth. The creatures that had taken him he described as wolves, only larger.’

A thought popped into Charlie’s head: werewolves. ‘Are you saying these things aren’t human?’ Derkein asked. ‘Far from it,’ said Tom. ‘They can appear in either human or animal form. I was sceptical at first. These were the accounts of a man who went crazy and committed suicide, mind you. Not only did he claim that mythological creatures had abducted him, he also said that he had only been in Arcadia for three days, but when he resurfaced, he found almost two months had passed.’

‘Are we talking about another dimension here?’

‘So it appears.’

‘How can people not know about a world that exists below us?’ Charlie asked, his tone somewhere between disbelief and curiosity.

Tom replied, ‘People are sceptical about the existence of alternate dimensions let alone one at the centre of our planet.

I didn’t believe it at first. But Arthur, he knew thetruth. He saw it. He went back to the cave, but he never found the entrance. For a time, he travelled the world searching for the gateway to Arcadia, and it drove him insane.’ Tom closed his eyes. When he opened them again, they were watery. ‘My father took a great interest in his story. He was adamant that Arthur was telling the truth, so he went about trying to find an entrance to prove that Arthur wasn’t crazy.’

‘Did your dad find it?’ Charlie asked.

‘I don’t know. He disappeared in 1937, when I was ten years old. I never saw him again. He travelled the world, seeking out places with strange events – people disappearing, multiple deaths in a single town, strange lights appearing in the sky …

My father didn’t believe in coincidences. He was here in West Sussex when he went missing, and at the time this county was experiencing strange happenings.’

‘What do you think happened to him?’ Derkein asked. ‘I think he found an entrance.’

‘But how can you prove it?’ There was that scepticism in Charlie’s voice again.

Tom braced his hands on the sides of his bed and sat forward. Using one hand, he lifted his jumper and shirt halfway up his torso.

Charlie froze.

Across Tom’s stomach were deep, aged slashes. It was a painful sight. The scars were a reminder and a remainder of a traumatic event. Tom covered the scars with his jumper and sat back.

‘Who did that to you?’ Charlie asked.

‘I know you’ve been looking at my face wondering what happened. Forty years ago, I had an encounter with two Arcadians while I was looking into the death of a church congregation in Mongolia. It was by some miracle I survived.

To this day, I’m uncertain why I’m still alive. Perhaps they thought I was dead. These creatures are vicious. They walk among us every day without our knowledge. They could be anyone.’

A short silence followed.

‘Do you have any idea how to reverse what’s happening to me?’ Derkein asked.

‘I’m afraid I don’t,’ said Tom.

Derkein leaned forward, lowering his head.

‘There was a story Arthur heard while he was in Arcadia,’

Tom went on, ‘about a place called Eden.’ Derkein’s head snapped up. ‘You know of the Garden of Eden? Some believed the Great Flood of Noah had destroyed it. They were wrong. The garden never existed on the surface. It lies within the earth.’

Derkein sat up. ‘Let me get this straight. You’re telling me the Garden of Eden where God placed Adam and Eve is at the centre of the earth?’

‘If the story is true, then yes. It’s where it has always been and where it is today.’

Charlie could tell from the look on Derkein’s face that he was finding what Tom was saying hard to believe.

‘Even if that is the truth,’ Derkein said, ‘what does it have to do with my father suddenly thinking he can raise the dead?’ Tom glanced at Charlie and pointed at the dresser. ‘Can you open the top draw and take out the journal inside.’ Charlie got up and opened the draw, taking out an old, brown leather journal, which he handed to Tom. ‘Mother claimed my father had a hereditary mental illness. She said my grandfather and great-grandfather had the same illness – believing in things that didn’t exist. I found this journal ten years after my father disappeared. It belonged to Arthur, though my father and I added details of our own. Everything I know about Arcadia, I learned from this.’ He held the journal close to his chest. ‘I caught George reading it one night while he was staying with me,’ Tom continued. ‘It seems the section about the Tree of Life intrigued him more than he had let on.’

‘The Tree of Life!’ Charlie almost screamed the words. Tom half smiled at his enthusiasm. ‘Have you ever heard of the word Sephirah?’

‘The name sounds familiar,’ Derkein said. ‘My dad probably mentioned it at one point, but I can’t say I know what it means.’ ‘It’s what the Arcadians call the Tree of Life,’ Tom said.

‘Arthur had overheard his captors talking about it. They claim that whoever finds Sephirah gets their heart’s deepest desire.’ ‘What, you mean like a wish?’ Charlie enquired. ‘Arthur didn’t elaborate. Your guess is as good as mine.’ This news stirred something inside Charlie that made his heart swell. It was a good feeling.

Tom untied the cord around the journal and opened it. ‘Of course, when I read the journal, I considered the possibility that my father had been crazy. That was before I started visiting some of the places he had been to. Back in 1966, my search took me to West Virginia, and it was there I had my first encounter with a monster. Folks had reported sightings of a huge creature with large wings and red eyes. They called it the Mothman. Many disasters happened around the time it appeared and many people died. I would have been one of the causalities had it not been for my steel knife. It seems copper and steel are the only things that can fatally wound Arcadians.’ He looked down at the journal. ‘My father saved my life. I stabbed the creature in the chest, and it burst into dust, leaving no evidence it ever existed.

‘There were many caves and tunnels in the area, but I never found an entrance. That’s when I considered something neither Arthur nor my father had mentioned. The entrance to Arcadia must be some sort of gateway that opens and closes, which would explain why it’s so hard to find. With all the strange happenings around the world, I have cause to believe there is more than one gateway.’

Tom flicked through a few pages in the journal. He stopped and laid it open on his lap. Charlie tried to read what was on the pages but the writing was difficult to decipher. ‘Arthur first disappeared on March 20, 1844,’ Tom said.

‘My mother and I last heard from my father on December 25, 1937.’ He looked at Derkein and Charlie as if the dates should have meant something to them. ‘Don’t you see? The spring equinox was on March 20, and my father disappeared three days after the winter solstice. The gateway opens on equinoxes and solstices.’

‘I don’t understand,’ said Charlie.

‘An equinox occurs twice a year,’ Tom explained, ‘when the sun is exactly over the equator, resulting in both halves of the earth getting roughly the same amount of sunlight. In other words, equal day and night. A solstice also occurs twice a year, when the sun is at the greatest distance from the equator. It’s the days of the year with the longest and shortest periods of light.’

‘So the gateway opens four times a year,’ Derkein said. ‘Exactly. The elements constitute different phases of the sun’s cyclic activity. When these four phases – the equinoxes and solstices – are activated, the gateway opens.’ Tom flicked through the journal again. Attached to some of the pages were newspaper cuttings detailing tragic events all over the globe. ‘People disappearing three days in a row, storms hitting a few cities in one state, murder, traffic accidents … They all occur over a period of time then suddenly stop.’ He stopped on a page with a tally chart. There were four columns, but only three had headings: event, first report, last report. In the last column, the one without a heading, Charlie saw Full Moon written for almost every event on the page.

‘Many of these events ended around the time of a full moon,’ said Tom. ‘I think that’s when the gateways close.’ He glanced at the calendar on the wall opposite the window. ‘It’s March 22.’ He locked eyes with Derkein, who Charlie noticed was wearing the same unnerved expression as Tom. ‘The spring equinox was on March 20.’

Charlie now understood. ‘Wait, doesn’t that mean –?’ ‘Yes,’ Tom cut in. ‘The gateways are open.’

Monday, March 25, three days since Charlie and Derkein visited Thomas, and since then, the gang had been on panic alert. The gateways had been open for six days, and they had no clue where the entrances were. It was nearing six in the evening when they returned to the shack.

‘How are we supposed to find it when the compass needle spins everywhere we go?’ Richmond asked, frustrated. They were sitting on the cardboard bed, a pizza box open in front of them. ‘How do we know we haven’t passed it?’

‘We don’t,’ Derkein said. ‘We have to accept that we may never find it.’

‘But we have to –’

‘I know.’ Derkein’s voice sounded strained. He took a deep breath, and in a calmer voice repeated, ‘I know.’

‘We still have two days before the full moon,’ Alex said. ‘The compass acting up is a good sign. Thomas said it did the same thing when he was in those places where strange events occurred, so it has to be because of the gateway.’

Charlie opened his bag and pulled out a map of the village of Woolpit, laying it on his lap. ‘There are twelve caves in the Woolpit Gorge. We’ve searched five and found nothing. We have to get into the rest of them, and we have to do it now.’

‘But they don’t allow visitors inside the other caves,’ Richmond reminded him.

‘That’s why we have to go at night,’ Charlie said.

‘What about tonight?’ Alex suggested.

‘No,’ Derkein said. ‘I’m not taking you into the caves at night. It’s too dangerous.’

Charlie closed the map, placed it back inside his bag, and took out a pocket-sized golden compass. ‘It’s not as if we have any other option.’

‘You guys have already missed a day of school. It’s not that I don’t appreciate what you’re doing, but –’

‘School can wait,’ Alex interjected. ‘This is a time sensitive matter. If we don’t find the entrance, we’ll have to wait until the summer solstice for the gateways to open again. That’s three months from now. You don’t have three months.’

Charlie wasn’t paying attention to their dispute. He was looking at the compass, the needle spinning clockwise making one rotation in five seconds. ‘It’s spinning faster,’ he muttered under his breath.

‘What was that?’ Derkein asked.

‘The needle’s spinning faster than when we were inside the caves.’

‘Okay, so what does that mean?’ Richmond asked.

‘It either means we have a broken compass and have to start over again,’ Derkein said, ‘or Tom’s theory was just that– a theory.’

Charlie said, ‘Or maybe the entrance is closer than we think. As in Capeton.’

‘There are no caves in Capeton,’ Alex said.

Charlie paused, thinking. ‘None that we know of.’ The others regarded him with curiosity. ‘Think about it. Arcadia is inside the earth, hidden where no one can see it. What if there are hidden caves in Capeton.’

‘If there are, how are we supposed to find them?’ Alex asked.

Charlie looked down at the compass. ‘If the needle spins faster the closer we get to the gateway, I say we follow it.’ His gaze flickered to Derkein. He didn’t want to be the decision maker, especially if he turned out to be wrong. ‘What do you think?’

Derkein was silent for a moment, his hands fidgeting – a direct conflict to his poker face. He looked up at the ceiling, as if he could see right through the roof. There was a twinkle in his eyes when he looked back at the trio. ‘My dad used to say that life was all about taking chances. If it wasn’t for you’– he locked eyes with Charlie – ‘I wouldn’t be where I am now. At this point, we have nothing to lose. So let’s do it. Let’s see where the compass leads us.’