Ancient Shores

At precisely 7:00 P.M. local time, Bill’s exuberant theme music, “‘Tis the Old-Time Religion,” rocked the house, and Bill himself, about thirty bars in, walked out in front of the cameras and welcomed the vast television audience to Fort Moxie. He explained that the Volunteers had come to do battle with the devil, and he led a packed house of eighteen (which, through the wonders of electronic enhancement, sounded like several hundred) in a thundering rendition of “A Mighty Fortress Is Our God.” The choir, whose location in an upstairs bedroom was disguised by drapes and handrails, joined in, and everybody got into the mood very quickly.

“Brothers and sisters,” Bill said, raising his hands, “you may wonder why the Volunteers have come to the Dakota border. Why many of us felt the Lord wanted us here.

“Tonight we are in the shadow of Johnson’s Ridge.” He looked beyond the camera lenses, out into living rooms around the country, where the believers were gathered. People at home always said that they thought he was talking directly to them. “Only a few miles from here, scientists have opened their port to another—” He paused, drawing out the moment. “—place.

“Another place.

“And what kind of place have they found? They speak of trees and pools, of white blossoms and harmless creatures, of beautiful skies and warm sunlight. They speak in terms that are very familiar to anyone who has looked at Genesis.” He smiled. “The scientists, of course, don’t realize this. They don’t recognize the place because they are too much of this world.

“But we know where they are, brothers and sisters.”

“Amen,” chanted his audience.

A reporter from the Wi

They were in his office, upstairs at the back of the converted church. It was spartan by any measure and particularly humble when contrasted against the power and influence of its occupant. He’d brought in a desk and a couple of chairs. Copies of the Bible, Metcalf’s The Divine Will, and the Oxford Theological Studies stood between marble bookends. A picture of Addison’s mother hung on the wall.

“Yes,” he said, “I honestly believe we have. There is no way to know for certain, although I think that if I were to go there, I could give you a definitive answer.”

Alma felt good about this one. He was responsive, and it was going to be a solid story. “Are you pla

“No,” he said. “I will not set foot in the Garden. It is forbidden to mortal man.”

“You say you would know Paradise if you saw it?”

“Oh, yes. Anyone would.”

“But the people who have been there haven’t drawn that conclusion.”

“I mean, any Christian. I’m sorry, I tend to think in terms of believers.”

“How would you know?”

Addison’s eyelids fluttered. “Paradise partakes of the divine essence. Adam and Eve were sent packing early. That was a smart move, if I may say.” He gri

“The angel?”

“Yes. ‘And he set an angel with a flaming sword.’ I can tell you I wouldn’t want to be among those who have trespassed into the things of God.”

Alma left convinced that Addison beleived none of it. But she got her story and scared the devil out of a substantial portion of the countryside.

And she was, by the way, wrong about Bill. He believed every word.

Andrea Hawk gave Max a hand with the travel kit and then stood aside.

The video record of the rings icon had revealed a wall with a long window. The window was dark. The wall was plain. They knew nothing else about the last of the possible destinations tied into the Roundhouse.

Somehow the place had looked chilly, so they were all warmly dressed. “You know,” said Arky, “it’s just a matter of time before we get stuck out there somewhere.”

“That’s right,” said Andrea. “We should devise a test. A way to make sure we can get home.”

“If you can think of a way to do it,” said April, “set something up.” Max knew she had no intention of waiting around. She wanted to look at the last of the places that could be reached from the Roundhouse; and he knew she would go on from there to Eden and begin exploring its co

Andrea stood by the icons while April, Max, and Arky took their places on the grid. “Ready to move out,” said April.

She pressed the rings. “Usual routine,” said Max, waving a spade. “We’ll check the return capability before we do anything.” And to Andrea: “We’ll send the spade back. If it doesn’t work, we’ll post a message.”

Andrea nodded.

Max tried to relax. He closed his eyes against the coming light and took a deep breath. That was probably what saved his life.

He’d discovered there was less vertigo if he closed his eyes. He watched the familiar glow against the inside of his lids, felt the unsettling lack of physical reality, as if he himself no longer quite existed. Then the light died, weight came back, his body came back.

And he couldn’t breathe.

A wall of cold hit him and he went down onto a grid. His ears roared and his heart pounded.

Vacuum. They’d materialized in a vacuum.

April’s fingers clawed at him. She staggered away, off the grid. He went after her.

They were in a long, cylindrical chamber filled with machines. The black panel they’d seen in the video was a window, the night beyond it unbroken by any star.

Several windows along the opposite wall admitted the only illumination: light from an enormous elliptical galaxy. Even in his terror, Max was awestruck by the majesty of the scene.

Arky stumbled through the silver glow to the rear of the transportation device, which was supported by a post like the one in Eden. From his angle, Max could see two columns of icons.

Arky looked at the icons and caught Max’s eye. Max saw reproach in the distorted features. And something else.

Now.

Max read the tortured stare.

Go.

The dark eyes flicked to the grid. Max seized April while Arky pressed the icon display. One of the symbols lit up, but his fingers stuck and would not come loose.

The terrible cold pushed what air Max had left out of his lungs. The world was slipping away, fading, and he just wanted it to be over.

But April’s hand held onto him. Drew him back. He staggered onto the grid, and she collapsed behind him.

Arky was on his knees, watching them.

The chamber began to fade, and Max would have screamed against the coming light if he could.

The tape, played on NBC’s Counterpoint, had caught everything. A nationwide audience watched the eerie column of snow move with purpose across its screens. If any program in the history of television had been designed to terrify its audience, this was it.

“And the child,” asked the moderator gently, “was found in the field when you drove this thing away?”

“I don’t think that’s exactly what happened,” said Stuyvesant.

“What exactly did happen, Jim?”

“It was more like it was trying to show me where the child was.”

The moderator nodded. “Can we run that last portion again, Phil?”

They watched the whirling snow systematically retreat and pause and advance and retreat again. Unfortunately, the audience could not see the co

“Is it true,” asked the moderator, “that Jeri never before did anything like this?”

“That’s what her folks say. If they say it, I’m sure it’s so.”

“Why do you think she wandered off this time?”