The Acolytes of Crane (Theodore Crane, #1)(28)

I decided that there was no reason to worry, everything would be all right. I was here, at my intended destination. I shrugged. Maybe David was just darn good at guessing people’s ages. After all, it is easier to guess the age of a teenager than that of an older adult.

Feeling better, I picked up some rocks and began to skip them across the water. The first couple of stones that I grabbed were oddly shaped and plunked into the river. I then searched for some flat circular rocks. Jason had suggested thin and smooth rocks were the best.

I was wasting time. I knew that soon, my grandparents would be noticing my long absence. With their built-up apprehension, it wouldn’t be long before people would be joining hands around the vicinity, as part of a massive manhunt, looking for me. I took that old familiar path along the St. Croix River. As I recessed within my memories, I recalled laughing and running up those steep hills years before with Jason and Travis. How times had changed.


I had to grab the base of saplings to pull my way past the steeper inclines. I could not remember the rule in avoiding poisonous plants; leaves in groups of three, or was it five? Whatever. I just hoped I wouldn’t encounter any. A branch from a sapling whipped upward as I brushed by it, and its rebound sting lashed my arm, leaving a slight abrasion on my skin.

I completed my advancement to the highest point of the cliffs—the spot where Jason had died. And maybe Travis, too. Tears welled up in my eyes. That large tall oak tree, the tree that could have saved Jason, was precariously perched on the edge of the cliff, alone and forlorn. It saved Travis, but not Jason. My heart pounded.

When I firmly clasped its trunk, and slowly moved my head aside past the tree to glance at the sheer rocky outface below, I knew both of us were clinging for dear life. I rubbed the bark. Careful not to stumble toward my death, I put my back against the tree, and then I slowly, inch by inch, slid my back down until I was sitting at its base.

That day before I left for the cliffs, I had an epiphany. I believed that if I could do no wrong, then I could not hurt myself, with The Intervention on guard. Lincoln and I were certain that The Intervention stepped in when it detected wrongdoing.

I wanted to be with Jason so badly. My mind was tainted with the thought of his death. Naive, I figured if I did something really stupid there, and if The Intervention stood aside passively, I could be with Jason in heaven, On the other hand, if the power intervened, I would simply get soaked.

I stood up and leaned forward, nearing the edge of the cliff. The stiff wind chilled the parts of my body that were exposed. The wind pressed on, uninhibited, through the openings of my sleeves and slightly tickled my elbows.

When the kids jumped from that height for the thrill, they had to climb up the tree and out on the sturdiest branch, the one facing toward the water, before they hurled themselves safely into the deep part of the river. It was necessary to do so in order to avoid the vengeful sides of the cliff, which flexed roughly outward.

The toes of my shoes were hanging over the edge, slightly. I closed my eyes. I felt my heels teetering at the edge of the cliff. My body swayed from the wind’s gentle push. I was now at peace.

Suddenly, the amulet started burning my chest with intense heat. Alarmed, I heard the trampling of earth behind me.

A shrieking voice rang out, ‘I told you to stay out of my business, and you didn’t listen!’

‘Wait, who—’ I asked, but before I could turn around, two palms slammed into my back, decisively shoving my body into the air. The last thing I heard was his answer to my interrupted question.

‘Travis!’ he yelled.

I remember in flashes, seeing the cliff, water, and sky, repeated over and over. I could not scream; my throat was tightly constricted with fear.

I was flailing in the wind, just like when I fell from the oak tree at the Red Bricks. Through my eyes, tiny dots of light speckled my vision. These were blinding and painful. Travis blasted me so hard that my shoes flew off my feet.

Suddenly, I felt the welcome force of The Intervention enveloping my body. Overcome with exultation, I found myself frozen in mid-air. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a tall male stranger on the other side of the river, watching from the docks. My last thoughts were of joy, because someone was there to witness it.

Weightlessness was the state of my body for a moment. It was if I was nowhere, and that I was nothing, all at once.

Indeed, there was nothing but the echo of my thoughts populating a dark, black void.

Then I snapped out of it.

Instantly, I slammed into the cold white floor of a shiny enclosure. Aching with stabbing pain all over, I pushed myself up from the floor, totally shocked that I didn’t fall into a watery grave—or worse, finding myself into dismembered pieces amidst the cruel jutting edges of an unforgiving cliff face.

The floor transitioned from a blindingly luminous white to multi-colored, then slowly faded. Feeling faint, I and hurled myself up to my feet, but I collapsed back to the floor.

I scanned my surroundings. The room was gleaming white all around, and seeing glossy walls, I crawled to one side to touch it, throbbing with curiosity. Up close, the wall seemed transparent, but was as solid as rock. Incredibly, the wall had radiated heat when I touched it, unlike the floor, which was cold. As I looked closer at the mysterious wall, I saw thousands of tiny holes dotted all throughout in a meticulous pattern. I lay upon my back and yelled, ‘Where the hell am I?’

Then a voice, soothing and deep, massaged my mind. The bass of the male voice felt calming and tranquil. He was telling me to be still. I was putting together a retort, but my eyes grew weary and my body still felt weightless.