What Happened In Paradise?

First Visit: Under the Moon

“Get up!”

Maxwell blinks, takes in the room. How long has he been asleep? Has Sarah been watching him this whole time? He rebukes himself for not having the will to stay awake, to fight.

“I said get up!”

Maxwell has roused; this seems to be insufficient for Sarah. Maxwell’s fate - whatever it will be - is clearly Harry’s cause. Still, Sarah prioritizes her involvement. This is what it means to have a sibling. If Maxwell had a brother or sister, he wonders if they would prioritize finding him when he didn’t return from his vacation. As it stands, he has no one to look for him, no one to mourn him.

“Get up! I will not tell you again!”

Maxwell is no longer bound. He should make a run for it. He moves an inch, falls back into the chair. He doesn’t have the energy to run; he can barely move. Sarah rushes over to him, pulls her balled fist back, and launches at Maxwell’s face. Maxwell braces himself; the fist stops just shy of his nose.

“Why…What? This will not work, not even under the moon. There is magic around you.” Sarah paces back and forth. “Harry will not like this. I should tell father before-”

“Are we ready?” Harry asks. He has entered through the false door. Maxwell thinks…Harry HAS entered through the false door. “We should leave now,” Harry says. “I encouraged father to check the books at the station.”

“How…” Sarah steals a glance at Maxwell. “How did you manage that?”

“Played into his need for control.” Harry steps closer to Maxwell. “Told him it was best that he keep a tighter watch on everything because of what happened here.”

“So,” Sarah begins, “your idea of distracting him from your ritual was to remind him of the botched ritual.”

Harry nods. “There may be other foreigners here reporting crimes. Would not want any of our siblings getting the wrong idea. Would not want them to seize the opportunity to exploit the situation.”

“The way you are?”

“Father does not need to know that.”

“He will know that when you start using doors instead of walls.”

“We will cross that bridge when we get there.” Harry extends a hand towards Maxwell. “Help him up.”

“I cannot…”

“What do you mean you cannot?”

“I cannot…I cannot touch him.”

“Sarah!” Harry stomps, a large step in Sarah’s direction; Sarah shrinks away. “Try again.”

“Why…can’t you bring him?”

“And what will the others think? How will I explain to them that I have exposed the foreigner to things father has not given me permission to?”

“Harry, you are trying to reap him. Or have you forgotten?”

“They do not need to know that.”

“Everyone will soon learn the truth, Harry. This is not something you can hide.”

“Enough, Sarah. I sense you are trying to change my mind and I will not be deterred.”

“I am trying to do no such thing. But you are not making much sense.”

“Help him up. I will meet you on the outside.”

Sarah huffs at Harry’s back as he departs again through the false door. She takes slow, steady steps towards Maxwell. She raises her hand tentatively. First, she touches his chair, testing its texture. Next, she touches his arm. Maxwell flinches. She grabs his hand; well, tries to. Her palm bounces off his as if he’s made of rubber.

“Well,” Sarah says, “this is interesting.” She takes Maxwell’s hand in hers. “It appears we can touch you, but we cannot hurt you. Harry is going to turn red over this.”

Maxwell is ushered from the room by Sarah, through the false door that Harry keeps disappearing through. The other soldiers seem to be held up somewhere. They only pass the soldier stationed at the front desk.

“Where are you two off to?” he asks.

“Once around the house. He is looking a little pale. I do not want anything bad happening to him…not while father is still deciding what to do with him.”

“Well…hurry along then.”

***

Sarah shoulders Maxwell to the back of the plantation house. When they get there, Harry is waiting for them. He is standing beside someone who is motionless on the ground.

“How did you get it down?” Sarah asks.

Harry points towards the house. “Through a window. Less questions.”

Adam, Jessica, Brian, and Stephanie; Maxwell sees all of them in the place where the body is. His mind swirls; his stomach contracts; he wretches on Sarah, all over himself. He is depleted, empty; as empty as the body in front of him..

“This is just great,” Sarah says.

“It’s not that serious,” Harry says. “Just lay him down.”

Maxwell lets himself be lowered to the ground. He has a sense of what will come next, but why should he fight it? What does he have left?

“Go on,” Harry shoos Sarah towards the drums. “You can drum to your merriment.”

“Wait,” Sarah says. “What about the others? It is not a full moon, not a night for drums. They will hear and come running.”

“If you do this right, we will be done before any of them is the wiser.”

“You should wait, Harry. Just until the full moon.”

“No! I will do this now. Try to remember some chant that muffles the sound.”

“I…I cannot do that.”

“You will do something because we are doing this now.”

“I will whisper something to the drums…I hope I remember all the words. It will delay the sound by a minute. Hopefully, that gives us enough time.”

Sarah starts to sing. The words are simultaneously foreign and known to Maxwell. It’s a repeated refrain, not English, and not Water Island dialect. The drumming gets louder; Sarah’s song gets louder. Harry moves closer to Maxwell, reaches towards his face.

“Why is it still not working?” Harry asks. “You said it would work if we came outside.”

“I told you to wait until the full moon. The others will be here soon. They have started to hear the drums.”

“You said…” Harry stops hovering over Maxwell; Sarah screams. “You said this would work.”

“I told you to wait.” Sarah coughs. “For the magic to be more potent.” She coughs again. “You are cutting corners with the ritual.”

“You said this would work.”

Feet are shuffling about Maxwell’s head; Sarah falls to the ground. Harry screams, a loud and hollow sound that reaches Maxwell’s bones.

“Remember,” Sarah says, climbing to her feet, “I paid attention to the magic; you did not. I can injure you. I am not the only one that is vulnerable.” Sarah walks over to Maxwell, helps him to his feet. “The ritual will only work when the magic is most potent. Though I doubt it will work at all because there is magic around him.”

“What? What?” Harry asks. Maxwell’s brain is foggy with the revelation.

“Yes, Harry. That is why you cannot harm him. We cannot harm him because he is protected by magic like our own.”

“Father is on his way back.” The soldier from the front desk has come to meet them. “He would like to see you both as soon as he returns. He wants to know why you both insist on defying him.”

“You sent for him,” Sarah accuses. “You swine.”

“Do you really think I was stupid enough to believe you were taking him for a walk? I simply wanted you to sink yourself real deep before I reported it.”

“Swine.” Sarah mumbles words in the language Maxwell knows…but doesn’t know. The soldier that has just arrived mutters his own.

“I paid attention to the magic as well,” he says. “Take the foreigner inside and prepare to meet father.” He moves closer to Sarah. “Despite your new circumstances, you are still one of us. You are still just like us. You are not special. You have never been special. It is time that father reminds you of that.”

Sarah spits on the ground in front of him before edging past him, towing Maxwell along in her wake.