The Oak Hotel - Watty Awards 2013 Finalist

Chapter Eleven - Return to Burnam Tau'roh

Chapter Eleven

Return to Burnam Tau'roh

It was definitely a stay-in-bed kind of morning—one best viewed from beneath a thick, goose-down quilt and through the drawn curtains of misted windows. For Lincoln Torres, however, there would be no snug bedcovers. The twelve year-old sat silent and motionless with his back against the base of the old hotel. Hugging bent knees to his chest, he stared anxiously out at the landscape before him. A sagging mantle of charcoal-grey clouds made the sky appear almost within reach. Rain was more than a simple promise; it was an unyielding guarantee.

The Oak Hotel, perched atop a cliff overlooking eastern Burnam Tau’roh, did not crouch from the miserable heavens above. A massive, multi-storied structure, this grand building was sentinel to everything that happened below. Its strength of presence was material as well, as it seemingly emerged from the solid stone that marked its foundation.

The Sughi River (speaking in a muted, foamy roar from far below) rushed away from the base of the mountain toward the great Eastern Sea. Just south of the river’s distant estuary, Lincoln could make out the white, vertical brushstroke of a lighthouse. Looking directly southward, a sprawling forest waited secretively behind Ticket Station IX. Lincoln recalled how he and Kayleigh had made their way through the woods to the creepy town of Shora Cessyu. The now silent tracks of the Burnam Tau’roh Eastern Rail Line ran like the dry remains of a snake-shed to the southeast. Listening, Lincoln did not hear the sound of BTEL #3, the train that had transported them down the line and had spoken as if alive.

And to think I was born here, he mused. He heard the old librarian’s voice explaining that, as a baby, he had been found alone in a boat on Autumn Harbor Bay. There was but one item with him in the small dinghy, other than the blanket swaddling his small body—a copy of The History of Burnam Tau’roh.

What now? he wondered. Having arrived hours ago in the young pine forest that covered the posterior side of this small mountain, Lincoln was painfully aware of his impossible circumstances. He guessed there was a greater good to serve, but the only thing he saw before him was Kayleigh. He needed to find Kayleigh.

“Lincoln?” a soft, female voice called out.

Heart racing at the thought of being caught so early on, Lincoln scanned the mountaintop and focused on the figure emerging from the cylindrical conveyance known as SkyCarOne. Through the mist, the thin form moved steadily toward him. Stumbling to his feet, he couldn’t believe his luck at finding Kayleigh so quickly. After a few steps toward her, however, he stopped. She wore a dark, grey robe with a hood pulled loosely over her head. Slowly, two pale hands reached up and pushed the hood back. Lincoln beheld a young woman in her early twenties. Her features were soft, but her bright, green eyes demanded his attention.

“You’re not—” he began.

“No,” she said, almost apologetically, “I’m not Kayleigh, but I know where she is and I’m here to help. Quickly, go back to where you were sitting and make yourself still.”

Confused, Lincoln did as he was told. As he set his back against the hotel, the front door burst open and a voice filled with menace bellowed, “Sheenie! You have good news, I hope?”

“Yes, Truman. The Cinema is locked down. Creek is secure on the lower level. He’s not going anywhere.”

“Excellent,” hissed Truman Stitch. Lincoln could almost see his eyes, reflecting not only his own dark soul, but the cancerous glare of Ka Tolerates as well. He could feel the dark energy pulsing outward in heavy, leaden waves.

“Are you still planning to leave at sunset?” Sheenie asked. It was at this point when Lincoln realized that her name sounded familiar. It didn’t take much searching to recall that she was the woman he and Kayleigh had heard outside the closet just before their first journey to Burnam Tah’roh.