The Garden of Darkness

“She’s kind of bossy.”


Outside, the sun was setting. The evening air was cool. The moon, almost full, was rising; it looked enormous, as if it were resting on top of the trees. The night scent from the garden filled the air, and Clare noticed a bed of strange white flowers, wide open as if they were soaking up the moonlight.

“I spent a lot of nights like this hiding from the Cured,” said Dante. “I was always afraid they’d find me in the moonlight.”

“Where do you come from?” asked Ramah.

“Half way across the country. I walked here, mostly. The Cured were everywhere in the cities. I didn’t sleep much. Not really.”

“Maybe you should go inside,” said Clare.

“No. I’ll wait. I like you.”

As soon as Clare gave Bear the signal, he galloped through the lush grass, perhaps in pursuit of a rabbit, or following the scent of a pheasant, or, Clare thought, just for the joy of it. Then, out of nowhere, a long wail split open the night. Bear raced to Clare’s side. Then Jem was at her other side with Ramah close behind.

“It’s a Cured,” said Dante. “Master got rid of three of them, but now two more are in the territory. Sometimes, at night, they come right up to the perimeter. We don’t see them during the day.”

“Do they speak to you?” asked Clare. She thought of Dinah.

“They make noises. That’s all.”

When they re-entered the dining hall, all faces turned to them.

“Tell us your story,” said one of the younger girls. And so Jem did, embellishing where it seemed harmless and still leaving out significant pieces of information.

“Tell us about before Pest,” said a small boy with deep brown eyes.

“Don’t you remember?” asked Clare, but he shook his head.

And so Clare talked about her life before Pest. The children were especially excited to learn that Clare had been a cheerleader, and they pulled back the tables so that she could do a cartwheel. Her ankle felt fine, so she did a back flip as well.

“Lordy,” said Jem when she was done. “It’s like being at a pep rally.”

“Did you have pom-poms?” asked a young girl.

Clare assured them that she had had pom-poms.

Jem laughed.

It was late before Britta and Doug sent the children to their rooms. Clare felt a hand on her arm as one of the children passed by on her way to bed.

“I wanted to make sure you’re real,” she said.

Clare, Jem and Ramah went back to the tapestry room and started getting ready for the night. Clare and Ramah would share the big bed.

There was a scratching noise at the door. Jem opened it, and Dante entered the room and stood awkwardly. Jem motioned him to the small bed.

Dante sat and looked profoundly uncomfortable.

“I’ve been holding back,” he said finally.

“Spit it out,” said Clare. Bear padded over to her and sat at her feet.

“Master will want you to stay.” Dante looked unhappy.

“There’s something else too,” said Ramah. “Isn’t there?”

“This place is a sanctuary. It’s the only loving home any of us is ever likely to see. You can’t forget that.”

“You must be leaving out something pretty bad,” observed Ramah.

“It’s just that the way things work here might sound peculiar to a newcomer.”

“Try us,” said Jem.

Dante looked troubled. “Being cured isn’t the main point,” he said. “Master’s cured, of course. And he’ll cure those who are close to Pest. At least,” Dante hesitated, “he promises that. To the new children.”

“Just how many children has he actually cured?” asked Ramah.

“Actually,” said Dante. “None. He has another, bigger project.”

“A project bigger than the cure for Pest?” Clare sounded doubtful.

“I don’t think you three are going to like this.”

“We’re waiting,” said Clare.

Dante stood up and walked to the window. He turned back to them, his face miserable.

“Don’t get mad,” he said.

“No guarantees,” said Ramah.

Dante crossed the room and sat on the little bed again. He looked down at his hands.

“Master’s going to start the world over again,” said Dante. “He’s going to match us up—the special ones, anyway—and then—and then we’ll have babies. And then we’ll fill the gaps that Pest has left.”

Clare looked at Dante, appalled.

“He calls it his ‘brave new world.’ That’s from The Tempest. By William Shakespeare.”

“That’s very edifying,” said Clare. “Thank you.”

“We’re not sure who he’s going to match first,” Dante said. He looked at their expressions. “It’s not weird. Not when you think about it. No weirder than Pest.”

“And what does the Master get out of this?” asked Ramah.