Ancient Echoes

CHAPTER 33



DUSK FELL AS THE university group reached what Sam Black had called “the village.” Upon first hearing the word, Melisse's heart leaped. People and civilization. Electronics. Means of communication. But then, as the group stepped out of the forest, and she caught her first glimpse of it, her excitement died.

The land directly in front of them had been cleared for the distance of a football field before reaching a ten-foot high wooden fence with stakes at the top. Visible above the fence were only a single large building and what looked like a guard tower.

Melisse hoped this wasn’t a trap. Rempart and the other students had immediately trusted Black and Tieg, and treated them like saviors. Melisse wasn’t so sure. Her thoughts turned back to Devlin. Rachel swore he had helped her grab the rope to be pulled to safety, but then she lost sight of him. The rocky creek bank offered no tracks or other solutions. Black and Tieg seemed to think they had pulled him out of the water, and then he purposefully hid. If so, their looks implied, he would be sorry. They had refused to spend more than twenty minutes searching for him for fear of being caught outside the village at night. To do so, they claimed, was a death sentence.

As they entered the village, Melisse saw how small it was. The two-story building and guard tower were in the center. Located around them like numbers on the face of a clock stood six small log huts at the 2, 3, 4 and 8, 9, 10 o’clock points. At 12 o’clock were animal pens and a stable, and at 6 o’clock were a large storage shed and a couple of outhouses. All the structures were made of logs. They had no glass windows, only shuddered openings and doors. The walkways were not paved or cobbled, but what appeared to be hard-packed gravel.

Four men came out of the bleak central building. All had a military bearing, although they had long hair and beards. Their baggy-legged camouflage clothing was clean, but old and patched.

Six huts, six men. Melisse scanned the area. Where were the women? The children? Normally, a village meant mail delivery, telephone lines, and radio reception. But that didn’t seem the case here. Right now, she'd settle for a dirt road to civilization.

A man with an air of authority stepped forward from the others. His brown hair, gray hair at the temples, had tight waves, and his heavy-lidded eyes looked as if they'd seen all the sorrows of the world. “I'm Thaddeus Kohler, the mayor of this village. I bid you welcome.”

“Mayor?” Rempart said, standing straighter. “Then you must be a man of law. These are a group of students and I'm a professor. Please help us get back to civilization—”

“Are we not civilized?” Kohler interrupted, arms out, palms upward.

Rempart gawked.

“Who are you people?” Melisse demanded. “And what is this place?”

Kohler gave her a long, lingering gaze, as if simultaneously surprised, amused, and impressed that she would speak up so boldly. “We are simple villagers. Nothing more.” He asked their names and then introduced his companions, a jaunty, smiling Gus Webber, a youthful and serious Will Durham, and one he called the elder of the group, Ben Olgerbee, although he couldn’t have been much over fifty.

“What village is this?” Rempart asked. “How did it come to be here? Do you have telephones, or other communication with the outside world?”

“As for your last question, I’m afraid not.” Kohler’s face was stern. “As to the first, we found the village empty when we arrived.”

A look of dismay passed between Rempart and Melisse. “We simply want to get home,” Rempart said. “I'm sure there's a huge reward for anyone who helps us return. Can you do that?”

“The only true reward,” Kohler said, his eyes blazing and his voice low and rumbling, “is an eternal one after a life well spent. Now, please join us for supper.”

They called the large central building the “community house.” The inside consisted of two rooms, a gathering room on the first floor and an upstairs sleeping loft. A long wooden table and six chairs stood in the center of the gathering room. Several work tables lined the walls and atop them were a variety of old tools and strange implements. Animal furs were piled in a corner, and pottery bowls and dishes had been stacked on primitive shelves. A large fireplace and hearth held crude pots, and cooking utensils. On a grate, a kettle of stew cooked. Rempart and the students were so hungry, they were nearly brought to tears by its smell.

A ladder led to the loft which had both shuttered windows and a door that currently opened to an eight foot drop, and gave Melisse an idea of how high the snow piled up here in winter.

Everything was rustic and ill-formed, which was a surprise given that each man wore an expensive, modern firearm on his hip. It seemed as if the university group had fallen into a well-armed Dark Ages.

The men brought extra chairs and stools with them. The university group sat on one side of the table, and five of the village men on the opposite side. Ben Olgerbee kept watch in the tower while the others ate. Melisse could see the villagers truly believed that something dangerous was out there. Not only, as Sam Black and Arnie Tieg had said, did dangers lie outside the village at night, apparently the inside was also unsafe if unguarded.

Thaddeus Kohler stood. His companions bowed their heads as he muttered in low, sonorous tones, “May Almighty God grant us blessings for that which we are about to receive, and we give Him thanks for bringing these people to us.”

Something about the prayer caused a chill along Melisse’s shoulders. The feeling passed quickly, however, as Will Durham dished out the rabbit stew, and Rachel carried a bowl to each of the diners. They served a flat, hard bread with it. The stew tasted delicious. Even Brandi ate without complaining.

No one spoke until the meal ended.

“Want something to help wash down your supper?” Gus Webber asked with a grin, holding a jug toward Rempart. He explained that they distilled wild tubers to make the liquor. Melisse watched Rempart take a sip and gag, much to the amusement of the villagers. When the jug came to her, she found it as potent and raw as pure alcohol. The village men’s reaction to the moonshine made it clear that drinking a good quantity was part of their evening ritual.

The villagers attempted to be friendly, but Melisse saw something cold and calculating in them, especially in the way they looked at her, Rachel and Brandi. Clearly, they hadn’t been around women in quite a while.

The only one who didn’t make her uneasy was Will Durham. His gentle brown eyes regarded the university group with a compassion that seemed genuine, but also sad. She wondered why.

“Maybe you can tell us now, Mr. Kohler,” she began as the jug took a second trip around the table, “how you and your men came to be here, and why you have made this your home instead of leaving?”

Kohler glanced at his men, one by one, as if to gain their agreement before he spoke. Several nodded. “We arrived here over a dozen years ago. No matter how hard we tried, we were unable to return to our land, to our own people. This is a strange place with unnatural creatures the likes of which we have never before witnessed. We watch the pillars in hopes that one day, someone will come through them who understands them, and will be able to lead us back.”

“My, God,” Brandi blurted out in distress, then clasped her hands to her mouth.

“Surely,” Rempart said, “you aren’t suggesting we’re trapped here.”

“We’ve tried everything, but the pillars do not change. They are unmoved by our plight.”

“You make them sound as if they’re alive,” Rempart said with a nervous chuckle.

“Aren’t they?” Kohler stood. “It is time to retire for the night. Durham, take the two men to the stable and make up bedding for them. The women will sleep here, alone and undisturbed. Tieg, tell your cousin he must guard more alertly than usual tonight, for we have precious newcomers to protect.” He glanced at the women. “I leave it to you to clean up after Mr. Olgerbee, who is now in the guard tower, has completed his supper. All must work here.”

With that, he and the other men left the community house.

o0o

This was a strange land, filled with strange noises, Michael thought, as he and the others made camp after another day of wandering.

A guttural sound caused him to stop setting up his tent, every nerve alert. A banshee-like shriek made his blood run cold. What was out there? Whatever it was had been following them. At times he noticed a musty smell. At other times, a sharp, acrid stink. The air would turn thick, as if it were humid, but without moisture.

And beyond all that was Lady Hsieh. Was she real, or was he going mad? He couldn’t tell anyone about her. Not Charlotte, who was the most sympathetic but the most realistic. Certainly not Jake, who would definitely want to send him to a looney bin. Not even Quade, who had the most understanding of this unnatural state, but seemed strangely devoid of human understanding or empathy.

Quade bothered him more and more as time went on. The man watched and thought. He explained theory, but offered little explanation of what was happening here. Quade knew a lot more than he said.

Michael didn’t trust him.