Thirst No. 4 (36 page)

Krishna’s lecture was very insightful. That’s why I remember it so well, and that’s why I feel confident when I turn back to the ferryman.

“The answer is love,” I say.

“Wrong,” the ferryman says and raises his hand. Before I can stop him, his bony arm reaches up and his skeleton fingers pass over my eyes. “Forget,” he whispers.

Like before, I stagger back and feel stung by a wave of dizziness. The ferryman’s question and my answer just slip away. The weight of the underworld suddenly descends on me and I feel trapped. The place is too hot, too claustrophobic. Bowing my head, I stumble away from the river.

I wander far from the spooky water, trying to escape the confused throng. At the same time, I’m afraid to go too far in
the dark because I don’t want to get lost. I have yet to replace my torch. The only sources of light I can depend on are the huge torches that burn above the ferryboats.

I finally find a rock and sit down.

Eventually, a beautiful woman approaches, wearing a silk robe and exquisite jewels. Her skin is like copper, her eyes like coal, and when she smiles at me I know she is a friend, even if I can’t remember her name.

“Hello,” she says.

“Hi.”

“May I sit beside you?”

The boulder is hard but at least it’s clean. That’s the reason I chose it. “Sure. I don’t mind,” I say.

The woman sits and stares off into the distance, occasionally playing with her necklace, a gold chain filled with diamonds and rubies. There is something about the sparkling rubies that reminds me of another cavern I once visited but I can’t remember it clearly enough to make the connection. Nor do I know who the woman is. But I suddenly recall the blond girl who spoke to me.

“Hey, are you friends with that blonde I spoke to earlier?”

She stares at me. “We are friends through you.”

“Did I introduce the two of you?” I ask.

“In a manner of speaking.”

“When?”

“You don’t remember?”

“No.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“She told me we’re all supposed to ride across the river together, with the ferryman.”

“That’s true.”

“Have you been to the ferryman?” I ask.

“I went after you did.”

“What did he ask you?”

“That’s not important. All that matters is I gave the right answer.”

“That’s what the other woman said. That’s why I went back and gave it another try. But I must have given the wrong answer because the ferryman brushed my forehead and I forgot everything.”

“That’s his job. He’s doing you a favor, you just can’t see that yet.”

“Will his questions come back to me later on?”

“The questions and answers should return when you need them. So it doesn’t matter how many times you fail. It just means you’re going to leave here with what you need to know.”

“Have you ever left here?”

“What are you asking?”

“Do you know what’s on the other side?” I ask.

The woman takes a long time to answer. “I saw it once in a vision.”

“What did you see?”

“It’s different for everyone. But you’ll see it soon, when you’re ready to leave.”

“I feel ready now. I’m sick of this place. But I don’t want to fail another test.”

“Don’t see the questions as tests. See them as lessons you learned on earth that you want to take with you to the other world.”

“Can’t you give me a hint what this other world is like?”

She smiles at my persistence. “For some it’s wonderful. For others it’s not so nice. It all depends on the sum total of the lives you’ve lived.”

“Lives? I think I’ve lived only one life.”

“You’re like me in that respect. I just lived one long life.” She smiles again and reaches out and squeezes my hand. “You’re going to be all right. You’ll see, everything will be fine.”

With that the woman gets up and walks away.

Yet her words stay with me, and once more I feel the courage to approach the ferryman. This time I find him reclining in his boat, as if he was taking a nap. His robe is bunched up around his legs and I notice he doesn’t have much skin down there. But he quickly stands as I come near, waving his torch close to my face as if he is trying to get a better view of me. He stands and goes very still.

“I’m ready for another riddle,” I say.

“What is the greatest secret in the universe?”

I feel my heart pound, and I’m surprised because I know
I’m dead and I’m pretty sure my heart shouldn’t be beating at all. But it doesn’t matter. Finally, I know the answer to the question. I heard Krishna give it a long time ago.

Yet I caution myself to move carefully. The question isn’t worded the way I would like it to be.

“By secret do you mean mystery?” I ask.

“Yes.”

“So you could be asking what is the greatest mystery in the universe?”

“Yes.”

“Great. I’ve got it. The greatest mystery is that even though every man and woman know they’re mortal, they wake up every morning and know they’re not going to die that day.”

“Wrong.” The ferryman raises his bony arm and his skeleton fingers are about to brush against my forehead. I know what will happen next. He will tell me to forget and then, a few seconds later, I won’t even remember what he asked, never mind what the answer is supposed to be.

But this time I’ve had enough.

I reach up and block his arm.

“Stop!” I snap. “You’re making a mistake. Krishna himself said this was the answer to that question, and he was supposed to be an avatar, or a divine incarnation. How can you say my answer’s wrong?”

The ferryman struggles with my arm for a few seconds. It’s like he’s surprised at my strength. But when I refuse to let him
touch my forehead he finally lowers his arm and answers me.

“The question was, ‘What is the greatest secret in the universe?’ You came close with your answer. It would have been the correct answer if I had asked, ‘What is the greatest mystery in the world?’”

“But I had you clarify your question. You said ‘secret’ and ‘mystery’ were synonymous in this case.” I pause. “You do know what synonymous means, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Then explain how my answer can be wrong.”

“Your problem was that the question was about the ‘universe,’ not the ‘world.’” The ferryman goes to rub his bony hand across my forehead. “Now for—”

“Wait!” I yell. “I was close, you admitted that.”

“Yes.”

“I deserve another chance at the same question.”

“We don’t give second chances.”

“You have to give me one. I deserve it.”

“Why?”

“Because you tricked me. You asked a question I knew the answer to. But you changed one little word at the end to throw me off. That’s not fair.”

“Who says death is fair?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never been dead before. But you hear what I’m saying and I think you’re afraid to give me another chance because you’re afraid I know the answer.”

“Very few people know the answer to that question.”

“You’ve asked it before?”

“A long time ago. Almost no one got it right.”

“Ask me again, right now.”

“You already gave your answer. It was wrong.”

“I’m telling you, you cheated! I deserve a second chance.”

“No one ever gets a second chance.”

“Well, I want one. I’m sick of this black river and all these zombies wandering around talking to themselves. And I’m tired of you. I mean it. I don’t think you’re playing by the rules.”

“That’s a serious accusation.”

“Well, I’m a serious kind of chick. Now do what I say. Ask the question again, and if I answer it correctly, then you have to take me and my two friends across the river. Deal?”

The ferryman bows his head and considers for a while. Finally he nods. “Deal,” he says.

I rub my hands together. “Ask away.”

“What is the greatest secret in the universe?”

“That the Lord and his secret names, his mantras, are identical. In other words, when I say, ‘Krishna,’ then Krishna is present. Correct?”

“Correct.” The ferryman gestures with his pole. “Get in the boat.”

“Thanks,” I say.

While I’m getting settled, my two friends appear. The young one, the blonde, sits near me at the front, while the wise
one sits in the center, which is smart. Her position helps distribute the weight in the boat. Standing at the other end, the ferryman pushes off the shore with his pole.

“We’re finally on our way,” I say, excited.

My blond friend smiles. She looks glad for me.

The wise one simply nods. She appears more cautious.

T
he boat itself is a curiosity. Except for a heavy pole fastened to the rear, and the oars, the craft appears to have been carved from a single thick tree. The wood’s a deep gray, the texture surprisingly soft. Except for the somber color, it reminds me of balsa wood.

The ferryman uses his pole to get us going then switches over to his oars. The river’s current is sedate. Facing away from the shore, it slowly pulls us to the right. The black water is like a stream of ink. Even with all the boats coming and going, it hardly ripples. For some reason, I can tell it’s deep, and that it would be impossible to swim across.

My mind begins to clear the moment we leave the shore.

I ask the others if they feel the same and they say yes.

“But don’t count on it to last,” the wise one says. “This is a
place of transition. What I think, even what I see, is not necessarily going to be the same as you.”

“Why’s that?” I ask.

“It’s just the way it is.”

“How do you know so much about this place?”

“I told you, I’ve seen it before in visions.”

“You’re lucky. I feel like I’m lost in a weird Bardo realm.”

“That’s one way of looking at it,” she says.

The blonde speaks up. “But we passed the riddles. We’re on our way.”

“I wish I knew where we were going,” I say, as I stare out over the bow of the boat. The black is like a thick cloud, sprinkled with burning lanterns. It makes me wonder if the river even has another shore. Still, a part of me is relieved. It’s good to be away from that haunted beach.

I can only hope Lieutenant Gregory Holden of the Fifth Army finally figures out his riddle. I have an affinity for men who fought in World War II. I was in Europe at the time and helped kick the Nazis’ butts. Plus Gregory seemed like a nice guy, and he died fighting for his country. You’d figure the ferryman would give him a break and ask him something easy. Like who General George Patton was.

Eventually, after an hour or so, we catch sight of a massive mound dotted with thousands of red lights. As we come closer, I see that each light is a torch, burning darkly and hanging at the end of an endless number of tunnels that burrow deep
into the hill, or whatever the hell it is. Most of the tunnels are located at water level, but a few are up high, definitely out of reach, at least from the river.

I can’t see any stairs or paths on the side of the mound. More than anything, it looks like a gigantic stone that somehow thrust its way up from the bowels of the earth. Assuming, of course, that the earth is still a factor in this crazy twilight zone.

The ferryman steers us to a tunnel that’s only two feet above the water and beckons the wise woman to climb out. I try to follow—I want to stick with her—but the ferryman stops me. It’s only then I realize he’s going to drop each of us at our own tunnel and break up our happy family.

Naturally, I protest, but at that instant the ferryman lifts his head and his hood falls back and I see that his eyes are . . . well, the guy doesn’t have any eyes, just black holes in his head. I decide to sit back down.

The ferryman spends a long time locating the next tunnel, where he deposits the blonde. I’m not surprised that he leaves me until last. I’m having that kind of day. By now I’m anxious to get away from the guy. Besides creaking when he moves and having no eyes, he starts to make a weird clicking sound with his teeth. It’s probably his version of singing along with the car radio. I’m relieved when he finally finds my tunnel. It’s five feet above the water line but I don’t care, I jump into it, and don’t bother to wave good-bye to the ferryman.

The tunnel, although narrow, is an improvement from the
original cave I found myself in, the one where I said good-bye to Teri. It appears to have been constructed. The curved walls and flat floor are made of tightly fitted stones, each engraved with runes and symbols that I don’t recognize.

Like at the start of the first cave, I see a burning torch and grab it, not sure what kind of light I’m going to find along the path. The flames give off a bloody hue; they’re more red than orange.

I talk to myself as I hike through the tunnel, just a bunch of nonsense, but the sound of my voice hardly carries beyond the reach of my arms. The stone appears to have a dampening effect and it freaks me out enough that I soon shut up. The place is so silent all I can hear is my heartbeat.

Except I no longer seem to have a heart.

I stop to check my wrist but can’t find a pulse.

“Great,” I whisper.

There’s nothing to do, I have to keep going. Once again, like on the shore of the river, I feel a palpable heaviness that might be signaling an approaching storm if only there were sky. I walk for what feels like hours before I come to the end of the tunnel.

But it’s an end that brings no relief because the tunnel terminates in a precipice, a cliff, nothing. Yet a hundred yards away, across the abyss, I see that my tunnel does in fact continue. Unfortunately, there’s no bridge, not even a piece of rope, to help me to the other side. It makes me wonder if I
pissed off the ferryman by demanding a second chance. Or maybe the bony dude was able to read my mind and he heard exactly what I thought of his clicking teeth routine. Whatever, the ferryman has chosen a rotten tunnel to dump me at.

Above and below is black.

I have absolutely no idea what to do next.

I mean, if I was alive, and feeling my usual vampire self, I’d take a running start and leap across the chasm and probably make it to the other side. But since I don’t have a beating heart, I figure I’m nowhere near strong enough for such heroics.