Mirage Beyond Flames (Coriola) (18 page)

They all went to the kitchen. While the men ate, the women and Daniela kept them company. The latter seemed to have an endless ap
petite, because every time Jean or Gerard handed her a tasty bite, the cat took it delicately, but lustfully.

When
they finished eating, Jean asked, with no preamble:

“So, you still know the way to the Baciu Forest, where you got lost last night?”

Linda and Gerard looked at one another then nodded.

“Let’s all go over there,”
the older man suggested. “What do you say?”

Linda gave him a long look and
said:

“I perfectly agree. In fact, the sooner
, the better, so you can see everything we’ve told you is real.”

Jean didn’t say anything.

“What do you think, baby? Aren’t you too tired?” she asked Gerard.

He shook his head and rose from the table.

“I think we’d better go right now.”

They all climbed into the Jeep, Jean and his wife occupied the back seats.

Unlike the relaxed atmosphere during the meal, now silence had taken over. Not even the ra
dio was on. Both Linda and Gerard gazed straight ahead, guiding themselves after the marks they had noticed the night before. An intersection, a small church somewhere on the right then, further, a sort of neighborhood restaurant. When they got out of the city, Linda tried inwardly to push away any doubts, recalling every detail of their strange experience, whose authenticity was now under question.

After about fifteen
minutes, they ended right on the path where they’d left the car the past night.

It was still deserted. In daylight, the forest didn’t have a sinister look
, but the air itself had a bizarre charge about it.

“This is it,”
said Gerard turning to look at the back seat passengers, just in time to see the look full of odd meaning the couple exchanged.

Linda had
also noticed their gazes. Irritated with the whole thing, she got out of the car, slamming the door harder than it was necessary.

They all stood for a few moments,
studying the surroundings, obviously overwhelmed by contradictory and peculiar feelings.

Now when the li
ght was stronger, Linda noticed aspects she hadn’t distinguished in darkness. The trees’ shapes appeared even more bizarre, the trunks contorted in dozens of ways were forming incredible decors.

When Gerard headed toward
the natural border which delineated the path from the forest itself, Jean stopped him by saying:

“Wait. Let’s do this:
I’ll tell you where the ruins of the cabin I told you about are, the cabin that burned over a hundred and fifty years ago. You tell me if there is the cabin you visited last night.”

Linda noticed
Mariana clung tightly to her husband’s arm and a wave of fear shook her. For a brief moment, she felt she didn’t want to know the truth. She clutched her lover’s hand, getting the feeling he was fighting the same sensation. But he only said:

“All right, Jean.”

Jean took a deep breath, seemingly trying to penetrate with his gaze the very essence of the woods, where a filtered diffuse light hovered.

“From the point where we are now, we should walk approximately seven or eight hundred meters in a more or less straight forward direction. At one point there’s a trunk tree grown horizontally, parallel with the ground. It has more than ten meters. Going around this tree and continuing to walk straight, we’ll reach a clearing. There was the cabin. Now there’s
nothing there, not a trace. In that place grass doesn’t grow, the trees always look like they were freshly burned, although presumably in a hundred and fifty years a lot of young trees should have grown, as well as the grass should have covered the area.”

The young couple listened
unmoving and incredulous how Jean-Paul described in detail the location of the cabin inside which they could have sworn they’d been the past night. A state of panic and confusion had installed in their hearts. Linda knew it was showing all over their faces.

Eventually Gerard said, shaking his head in denial:

“This can’t be. I can’t believe it. It’s true, the place is just as you described it, but… There’s no way last night’s experience wasn’t real. It’s simply not possible, Jean!”

Linda nodded, grasping his
hand even tighter.

“It’s true, Jean-Paul, Mariana, you have to believe us! We were both there
, we talked to that woman, we’ve described everything to you in perfect detail. You can doubt one person’s word, but not two identical statements!”

“No one is putting
your word into question,” the older man told her in a calm, deliberate tone. “Just the veracity of the facts, the reality you think you’ve experienced. Let’s go,” he went on, nodding in the direction of their destination.

In a grave silence
, they made their way through the oddly twisted and bent tree trunks, which seemed immortalized in an eternal waiting.

“The eternal waiting of a statue or the alert waiting of a predator?” Linda asked herself, crossed by an indesc
ribable shiver while they advanced through this setting, where not even the rustle of leaves perturbed the obsessive silence.

They reached
the horizontal tree, which marked – or blocked – the entry in the clearing.

She
and Gerard stopped short when they discovered that indeed, beyond this barrier of nature was nothing but the clearing itself. No trace of the cabin, which gave a diffuse and somewhat comforting light the night before, which seemed to have stood there for centuries.

They almost ran around the horizontal tree trunk
. They stood in the middle of the clearing, looking around disoriented. None of them could believe the cabin really seemed to have vanished.

There was no doubt the place was the same, although now, in daylight, the details were clear. Unlike the rest of the forest, on the area where they remembered seeing the cabin there was no gr
ass, just bare ground, darkened by years, by rain, by nature itself.

The surrounding trees looked scorched, with trunks blackened here and there and curled-like s
hapes, as trying to self-protect from invisible flames.

Linda gently touched one’s bark
. A strange, reddish substance stained her fingers.

“This is another bizarre fac
t I heard people talking about,” said Jean-Paul, who had come slowly with Mariana, giving the younger couple time to recover. “They say that sometimes, around Easter, trees are covered with a blood-like sap. I’ve never personally seen this phenomena until now.”

He also touched a tree trunk,
studying the liquid covering his fingers.

Gerard took a few steps ov
er the segment where he could’ve sworn that twenty-four hours ago was a real human homestead. Suddenly he bent and reached for something. The others came to inspect the discovery.

It was a hollow in the ground, approximately square-shaped. It
was barely distinguishable, only from a certain distance. It could have just been an illusion, but he whispered, with a strange regret in his voice:

“Madame Maria’s oven.
”

Linda was unexpectedly
shaken by a strong shiver. Without quite realizing, she staggered back. She felt an infernal pressure in her ears and her sight suddenly darkened in dizzying black circles.

Chapter Twenty

She woke up in the car, on the front seat, which had been adjusted back. Gerard was energetically massaging the tips of her middle fingers. Mariana was wiping her face using a damp handkerchief, murmuring words she couldn’t understand. However, the woman’s gentle tone calmed her and she squeezed her lover’s hand with cold fingers.

“What happened?” she asked weakly. She felt her throat dry like after a sand storm.

Gerard stroked her cheek while he was monitoring her pulse.

“You fainted, my love. You just have a low blood pressure but you’ll be fine in no time. Jean, did you find that stuff?”

Jean appeared from behind the car, holding a bottle filled with a liquid that resembled white wine.

“What’s that?” she asked, grimacing
involuntarily.

“The magical cure for every illness,
cherie,
” Jean replied cheerful and uncapped the bottle. “Take a deep breath and gulp some.”

She
rose supporting herself on her elbows, assisted by Gerard. She studied the bottle with a dubious look.

“
Does it matter if I protest?”

“Of course not. You’re here in the company of two physicians. W
ho else could attend you better?” Jean reasoned.

“You’re right on that one,
” she consented and took a sip, then coughed noisily, feeling her entire esophagus on fire.

“What the
hell is this poison?” she exclaimed when she got her breath back, while everyone was laughing. Gerard patted her back.

“Rachiu,”
answered Mariana smiling widely. “Made by me.”

Linda shook her head
, feeling how the drink had reddened even her cheeks and ears.

“It’s very… special,” she blustered
, not managing to make the remark sound like a compliment.

“It’s spectacular,”
said Jean and gulped some down himself. “My Mariana is an excellent housewife,” he praised his wife, enveloping her waist affectionately. “Here, take another swallow,” he urged, handing her the bottle.

She
complied and sipped some, more cautiously, before giving him back the bottle.

“Feel better, baby?” Gerard asked helping her rise.

“Yes,” she replied, then she recalled everything with a clarity which made her shudder. She took a deep breath and, shaking her head in denial, said:

“I still can’t believe nothing that happened here was real… I simply can’t accept it…”

After a long moment of silence, Gerard told her:

“I find it hard to believe everything was an illusion, but t
he proof is irrefutable.”

“I don’t know if
illusion
is necessary the right word, children,” Jean told them in a tone meant to sooth. “Let’s call it a… meeting with paranormal. This is an expression used by somebody who made a documentary about Hoia-Baciu Forest. I find it very inspiring. Console yourselves at the thought you’re not the only ones who had such experiences. There are dozens of witnesses who stated they’ve experienced strange things or sensations, had visions, heard odd noises… There even were some who set off to explore deeper, in the heart of the forest. They were never seen again. In fact, this forest is nicknamed
The Romanian Bermuda Triangle.
It’s best for you to be happy nothing bad happened, that you’re safe and well,” he concluded paternally.

“Right, as Jean says,”
Mariana agreed. “Is important you are well. You will forget this.”

“I could never forget such a thing a
s long as I live,” said Linda. Gerard embraced her, seeming as troubled as her. He kissed her forehead then said:

“Let’s go,
we have nothing to do here. This place is creeping me out!”

They all got into the car and drove away fast, throwing cautious glances in the rear view mirrors, followed by the trees’ shadows, which spread rapidly with twilight.

To dissolve the tension, Jean and Mariana took them to a terrace-bar in the city center, after Linda had reassured everyone she was fine. They cooled with sodas and ice-creams, they browsed through shops
and the young couple bought lots of souvenirs for themselves, family, friends and acquaintances.

Because Transy
lvania – the place where Cluj-Napoca was located – had a worldwide known reputation due to Vlad Tepes legends, most of the souvenirs were more or less sinister representations of the ruler, the Bran Castle, as well as some other artisanal objects, artistically handmade by Romanian crafters.

Loaded with bags, they got back to the Battiste home,
where Daniela greeted them meowing melodiously in her cat-ish dialect, carefully inspecting the bags.

Mariana began making dinner, while Linda and Gerard took a quick shower.

Jean went to the clinic for the evening visit of his patients, but got back right in time, just as his wife was setting the table.

“I’
ve never seen such dedicated and devoted doctors as the two of you,” Linda remarked.

“We’re only doing our jobs,
Cherie,
” replied Jean-Paul, taking a bite of succulent steak. “This is the attitude all doctors should adopt, this is our calling. When devotement and compassion disappear, it’s time you quit. You’re not helping anybody, just doing more harm, which none of us has the right to do. To simply toy with a person’s life is the greatest sin in the universe, in my opinion.”