Chapter One

The two trees stood on a small knoll some hundred yards from Martin's front door. One grew directly behind the other, so close together, the unskilled eye might have thought them one tree. At times they even fooled Martin.

There was nothing strange about the trees during the day, in fact, they seemed quite ordinary. The first, a large oak of moderate age, did the things for which it had been intended. It gave refuge to a tenement of squirrels and perch to an unnumbered flock of birds. It was green-leafed, scaly-barked, and dropped acorns in the autumn of each year.

The elm was so hidden behind it, Martin could not tell what it did, but he assumed it followed the laws of nature. Their proximity to one another once caused him to assume the trees were siamese, growing out of the same base. Logic, however, denounced the theory as being impossible. An oak tree and an elm could not share a common root system. Martin found them most intriguing at sunset, for a number of oddities could be noted in the evening. The single-tree apparition took on substance.

No matter which angle he studied them from, they appeared to be one large tree. In silhouette, the branches circled up in a perfect, spiral. The trees shared a common symmetry which appealed to his mind.

As if to add to this intriguing situation, Martin was forced to consider the stars. In spring and summer, three of them moved across the sky with a million others. These particular diamonds of light were brighter than the others, and they belonged to the vision. At varying hours of the night they outlined the dark shape of the trees, one to the right, one to the left, and one above the single peak.

Of course, they were not perfectly uniform all the time. The arcs of their ascent varied, but Martin's studies indicated that on one specific night of the year, the scene would be perfect.

On mid-summer night's eve, the stars would be foremost in the heavens, forming a perfect triangle around the black outline of the trees. Crowned so brilliantly, the twin trunks rose from a base of wide branches into a sweeping spiral staircase which narrowed into one sharp point at the crest.

The oak and the elm were special to Martin, coming to life after darkness covered the earth. At that time of day the finer characteristics of his mind also came into play. Logic and reason were given aid by fantasy and creative imagination.

At night, the magic of the trees became obvious. The curving stairway of well-leafed limbs announced it, the three stars marked it. Martin called them the Elfin Tree. Oddly enough, he never went near them in the dark.

A warm spring breeze tousled Martin's hair, causing a gentle tickle at the back of his neck. He smiled, pleased to be allowed such a personal communion with nature. It was a companion he could talk to and feel ever present around him. He delighted as it teased him playfully.

Scratching his head, Martin sat back in the lawn chair and stared at the trees. They appeared to be one dark object in the moonlight, silver reflecting off the branches as they circled up from the ground.

The stars on either side were in place, one slightly lower than the other, but the one at the top had not fully risen. He could see its bright twinkling as a breeze fanned the leaves into gentle rustling.

Martin contemplated the scene, smiling to himself. The upper star was moving from behind the branches, but it seemed misaligned, bearing off to the left. When it finally reached the apex of it movement, the other two stars were slightly out of place. The balance of their positioning was imperfect, but there were still five days before midsummer's eve. He thought of Shakespeare and chuckled out loud.

"This play isn't quite as impressive, but its just as entertaining." The thought prodded his mind toward interesting possibilities.

The shape of the trees was distinctive. It drew Martin's imagination like a magnet, and he was not wrong about the illusion they created. The rising of the stars could hardly be a coincidence, the date of their perfect rising was no random chance.

There was more than a symbol in this. The Elfin Tree held a power, certainly magical. Old theories suggested themselves to Martin, and he deliberated over his favorite once again.

'Suppose the trees form a staircase, one I can climb? Stairs go someplace, to upper levels, hallways, and to doors. If there is a door at the top it would have to open into something, into some.....place.' Martin rubbed his chin.

"But to where," he remarked aloud?

"To where, what?"

"AH!"

The female voice startled him into an awkward position. Jerking stiffly, he upset the fragile balance of his seat and started to fall over. Catching himself with an extended arm, Martin pushed the lawn chair upright again.

"Damn it, Rachael, you scared the hell out of me!"

"I'm sorry," she laughed, "but you looked so serious. I guess you didn't hear me coming."

She walked past him, her sneakers silent on the carefully mowed lawn. Claiming a folding chair from the carport, she joined Martin with a relaxed sigh.

"Come on, tell me what you're looking for and I'll help you find it."

Martin calmed himself, but the reverie was broken. Thinking about it now only made him feel silly.

Rachael knew about the trees. She had been listening to his idea for the better part of six months, but she never humored him. Other friends might have, but their intellectual companionship made it impossible for her to lie, and Rachael was a realist. She took no stock in his theory, although she allowed Martin the right to express his fantastic notions. Now, she guessed the purpose of his evening watch.

"The Elfin Tree?"

"Know of anything more interesting?"

She sighed heavily, working her body into the plastic chair until it creaked.

"You're creating an obsession, Martin. You've even allowed it to change your nocturnal habits. We used to have very intriguing discussions in the evening, but since this thing has become so all consuming with you....."

"It's not so bad," he interrupted. "I do take the time to eat now and then." He laughed with her.

"Ok, let's debate."

Her tone issued the challenge, a game they both loved. For a moment, Martin wondered what it would be like if their relationship were a physical one. He cast the thought aside as awkward.

They had known each other for twenty-five years. Their association, different than most, was one their acquaintances envied. They had managed an intense friendship even when Tom was alive. Five years after his death they were closer, but it was still a bond of intellect and mutual respect.

Their rapport had pulled Rachael through the most difficult of times, and the same could be said for Martin. He lived in his house for thirty years watching his children grow, and finally move out to create new lives of their own. Then his wife moved out to start a new life of her own. Somehow Martin had become boring over the years, and with the change of life upon her she had needed something more than he could offer.

Martin never really understood why she had left, but he did not voice any objection. Love meant being able to let someone else find their own happiness even if it was not with him. Rachael had helped to ease the loneliness.

Both of them felt the gain. Rachael said they were fortunate to have a male and female point of view on very issue, while Martin expressed his gratitude for being able to share with her on an emotional level. They were never condescending to one another, but felt free to debate the unkind blows of fate, along with its blessings.

Martin was falling into a sullen mood. Sensing his unwillingness to begin the conversation, Rachael coaxed him by starting on a positive note of her own.

"Okay, I will admit that the tree.....trees, have an unusual shape. The stars, did you ever find out which ones they are?"

"No," he grumbled. "I don't usually overlook the finer points, but I'm not well schooled in Astronomy. Besides, they exist, so their names aren't important."

"You're being very sloppy about this whole thing. We should know," Rachael insisted. "However, they do rise in a very suggestive manner. As you have pointed out, on midsummer night's eve they will form the points of an exact triangle." She paused.

"Isosceles right?"

"No, equilateral."

"Great, even more symbolic. Aside from these facts, which I concede, there is no proof that the trees have any special quality."

"They're magical," Martin whispered.

"Good," she countered in like tone, "let's see them, do something."

Crickets sounded loud in their ears, and a dog barked nervously somewhere beyond the subdivision. Silence crept in and shrouded the evening shadows while Rachael waited, but the trees stood firm, denying Martin's fondest wish.

"That's stupid, they don't do magical things. They are magical, elfish, if you know what I mean."

"Elves," she murmured. Rachael emitted an anxious sigh before going on.

"Elves suggest gnomes, dwarves, goblins and dragons. Black and white magic, how can you prove your theory if the trees won't cooperate?" Rachael waited for an answer, but Martin's silence told her that some fantastic notion was occupying his mind.

"Okay, out with it."

"The idea came to me tonight, something I dreamt up months ago. I was preoccupied with it when you snuck up on me."

Rachael hadn't startled Martin on purpose, but she knew better than to correct him. Now she respected his silence by not interrupting his train of thought. He was digging through a myriad of suppositions, never stopping until he reached a feasible conclusion. It would not matter if that opinion seemed unreasonable to everyone else.

"Suppose, just suppose, the stairway formed by the trees leads to a door? Not between the trunks, but at the top. The oak forms the steps and the elm gives them substance."

"And the stars mark the way," she added. "God, now you've got me doing it." Chill bumps broke out on her arms, and Rachael shivered. Martin managed a soft chuckle in sympathy with her emotions.

"Gets to you, doesn't it? To be perfectly correct, the stars don't mark the way as much as the time. I don't believe the door is always open. The stars are the key, a time lock."

Martin rose from the lawn chair with some effort. His middle-aged joints took time to unstick in the cool night air and he acknowledged the fact with a grunt. Moving about slowly, he worked out the kinks.

"Been sitting too long. Anyway, the door might be partially open right now, but I suspect it closes as the stars move past the tree. It won't be fully open until midsummer night's eve. On that one night the stars will form a perfect triangle around the staircase. Specifically, eleven-seventeen."

Hands thrust into his jean pockets, he stared at the Elfin Tree. Damned if he wasn't beginning to be sure of himself. Rachael preferred to continue the conversation from her chair.

"If you don't know the names of the stars, how did you get such exact information?"

"The time? From, Isbel. I've been calculating the degree of nightly ascension for each of the stars and feeding it into the company's computer, that's why I keep a sexton on hand. I don't have to know their names to get the data." This time, Rachael did get up.

"Then tell me, Sir. If the door opens and closes, does the stairway do the same, or is it there all the time?" Martin hesitated.

"I never really thought about it. It must open and close too, the door and the stairs have to be synonymous in their behavior."

"You're worse off than I thought. There's a lot more to this than a passing fancy."

Martin turned to look at her in the dim carport light. Red-brown hair belied a temper he had never witnessed. Rachael was round-faced to go with the few extra pounds she carried, but her body was strong. Beyond the physical, he considered her mind extraordinary in its ability to understand abstract concepts.

"I'm afraid you're right. I've tried to dismiss the whole thing, but the trees are there, and I can't help seeing them."

"Okay!" She sounded determined. "According to your theory the door should still be partially open, it's only ten o'clock."

"Right." He knew what was coming.

"Let's go see it!"

Martin exhaled heavily as Rachael started toward the street, but he hesitated. His deepest fear was in disproving the theory. If he never went, the dream could go on. There would never be any disappointment, but he would never know if he was right either.

"Martin, you've got my curiosity up. I'm not going to be satisfied until I know the truth. It seems to me you'd want to know all you can about this too."

Reluctantly, he followed her across the roadway. Approaching the knoll, Martin watched the trees grow, the peak towering above them as they climbed a slight rise in the ground.

Rachael stopped, allowing Martin to lead the way. Standing above her, he faced the gap between the two trees. Oddly enough, the staircase illusion seemed sharper at close range. He was amazed by its definition, even a little frightened. Rachael moved up beside him.

"I thought the vision would fade as we got closer, darned if it isn't more distinct."

Rachael stared at the lowest branches. The leaves fanned out to a point only a foot or two from the ground. Rising slightly, each limb beyond it circled away from them in a pattern that rose up toward the top of the oak tree.

"I'm going to try it," he muttered.

"Try what?"

"Walking up the stairs."

Fists clenched, Martin fought back a wave of negative emotions and edged toward the first leafy step.

"If you fall and break your neck....." Rachael was having second thoughts. "Martin, I was joking."

"About falling and breaking my neck?"

"No, I mean about climbing up the tree."

"A theory is only a theory until its proven," he growled bravely.

Martin grew bolder as Rachael's challenge began to falter. What was the worst thing that could happen to him?

'I could fall and break my neck.....' he thought.

"Martin, please. There's really no need to try this. Martin?"

She watched him push down on the lowest branch with both hands, then lift his foot onto it. The branch, even the leaves, sagged grudgingly, but they supported his weight. He stood carefully, edged forward, and tested the step. Arms outstretched to balance himself, he grabbed a handful of twigs and went on to the next limb. Martin rose up as though the branches were made of marble.

"The damned thing is holding me up, it's actually working!"

Amazement filled his voice as he climbed away from Rachael, moving out of sight behind the tree trunk. She ran after him, trying to find his figure in the dark.

They feel flat and hard under my feet, certainly not like the branches of a tree."

Martin's voice seemed to come from a great distance.

"Don't get overconfident.....I can't see you!"

"Well, I can see you," Martin shouted. "Go back between the trees, I'm coming around."

She returned to her original position and saw him appear above her as a dark silhouette. Martin went up another step and looked directly across at the elm tree.

"Rachael, is the first branch any higher?"

She studied the limb carefully, noting a breathless shiver amongst the leaves.

"The steps feel wider apart," he went on, "as though they were separating. I think they're moving apart....."

"Right," she yelled. "The first one is at least three feet off the ground. The door must be closing, the stairway sure is."

Rachael listened to the rustle of leaves, branches creaking under an abnormal weight. Breathing heavily, Martin appeared at the first step, thrashing his way through twigs and swaying branches as he descended. With a final rush, he slid off the last limb on the seat of his pants, landing on the ground beneath it with a sharp grunt. The branch swung stiffly into the air and wavered back and forth. The doorway had closed for another night.

Martin sat on the ground shaking his head ruefully. His heart raced, pulse thundering in his head. Too much to eat and no exercise, didn't help him recover quickly. If the truth were known, he was shaking too hard to stand. Rachael knelt beside him, frightened, but refusing to show her fears.

"You all right?"

"Relatively speaking," he grunted. "How high did I get?" Rachael helped him to his feet.

"Twenty-five, thirty feet.....you were only about a third of the way up. It's a good thing you hadn't gone any further."

"I could see you from up there," he mumbled, "clear as day. But you were starting to look a long way off, fading away. Strange, but I had another sensation, though I can't say for sure. I had the oddest feeling that the sky above the tree was getting lighter as I climbed." The words gushed out as excitement replaced his fears.

"The branches, they weren't a tree. Each one felt flat, perfectly smooth. Polished stone steps leading from one right into the other.....they got muddy when the door began to close."

He stared at the dark shape of the trees and shook his head.

"Nothing but a tree now."

Martin studied the first step. The lowest branch was five feet from the ground. The top of the oak tree swayed in an increasing wind and stars winked down at them from above it . They were cold and far away.

With a sigh, Martin began walking toward the house. There was nothing to say. His theory had become reality, and frightening. Nothing about it was natural, and most of it remained a mystery. He had no idea how long the stairway might stay up, probably as long as the door remained open. He was positive its longest duration would occur on midsummer night's eve.

Martin paced in front of the lawn chair, biting his lower lip.

"What next," Rachael asked?

"Why should anything be next?"

Martin stared out across the street, watching the tree tops sway in the cool night wind. A teasing grin touched his lips.

"Come on, you're the original little boy in a tree-house. You're not going to give up until you've played the game to the end. You want to find out what makes this thing tick," she insisted.

"Well then, I guess I'll have to go up and see what's at the top. But," he added quickly, "I want an escape route. It isn't very comfortable when everything starts to give way under you." Rachael's silence said more than words could.

"What do you think is up there?"

She didn't laugh, but her tone gave evidence of unnamed suspicions. Martin sat on the edge of the chair as a dozen thoughts flooded through his mind.

"The tree is only a stairway, there's a door at the top leading to, well, something. I don't know. What's the good of having stairs if they don't go anywhere?"

"Has it occurred to you that once you go through, if there actually is a door, you might not be able to get back out?"

The remark added to unspoken premonitions. Martin shook his head to drive them away.

"If the door is open in one direction, it has to be open the other way too. Besides, I don't want to go through, I just want to look in." This time, Rachael did laugh.

"And I suppose you want my help? God, Martin, nothing about this is right, it's not logical."

"You don't have to go up, just stay on the ground and watch the rope."

"What rope?"

"I'm taking a rope with me in case I don't get all the way down before the stairway closes. I can climb down safely if it becomes necessary."

Silence again. Rachael was also capable of deep thought and she took her time when a problem needed solving. This one did.

"When?"

"Tomorrow night. We'll start at nine, I'd like to start climbing before it's fully open. I need a lot more time to reach the top."

"I'm not bringing the rope," she pouted.

* * * * * * * * * * *

The sky was overcast, but the stars could be seen as yellow smudges. Dim lights, each was hallooed by a weak mist as Martin coiled the rope over his shoulder. The weather did not matter, he knew the stairway would form even if the stars were invisible.

"When I get close to the top, I'll tie the line to the trunk of the tree and drop it, so be careful." Rachael buttoned her windbreaker against a slight chill.

"Try to give me some kind of signal? I could barely see you last night. Once you started up it seemed as though the tree had swallowed you."

"That's why I brought the flashlights. We'll be able to see them, and we can keep talking. You could hear me, couldn't you?"

"Not very clearly."

The first branch was four feet above the ground, but it shivered in a lowering arc even as they spoke. Martin dropped the rope and dragged a stepladder out from under the branches.

"Left it this afternoon," he explained.

"Didn't go to work today?"

"Not before the great event, couldn't have kept my mind on anything else."

Martin opened the ladder and set it next to the lowest limb. With the rope coiled over his shoulder, he started up the metal steps, pausing unsteadily as its legs settled into the ground.

"It would be appropriate if I had something dramatic to say." Martin shook his head, at a loss for words.

He could see Rachael standing beside him, her face a shadow of concern. Turning the flashlight on, he aimed it at the limb and stepped out. The branch quivered, and then accepted his weight.

"Okay, I'm off. Give me a signal."

Rachael shined her light on Martin's feet and watched him step off the ladder. The limb held fast as he started to climb.

"You're moving behind the tree and out of sight," she called.

"I can still hear you, just stay between the trees."

His voice sounded far away and the glare of his flashlight dimmed. The beam flashed through the leaves, wavering, darting here and there amongst the limbs. A tremor of anxiety passed through Rachael before the beam lit the ground near her feet. Martin appeared above her, carefully testing the next step.

"The stairway's not quite set in yet," he yelled. "In a few minutes it should be open all the way."

The first step was less than two feet from the ground, slowing as it descended. When Rachael looked up again, Martin was gone. Bright flecks of light appeared through the leaves, flickering in the breeze.

"Martin, can you hear me?"

Night shadows darkened as the stars grew bright above her and the early evening mist drifted away into definite cloud shapes. Martin came around the tree again, much higher this time. He paused to look down at Rachael. Her tiny figure seemed to be far below him, out of proportion to his actual distance from the ground. He was little more than halfway up the oak tree.

"Rachael!"

Martin's voice echoed back to him. He could see her looking up, but if she said anything, he could not hear it.

"Rachael, I can't hear you. If you can hear me, shine your light up this way."

The brightness blinded him as Rachael's light wavered back and forth across his face. Martin shielded his eyes until the powerful beam was lowered. He rose to the next step, finding it solid as granite. Climbing slowly, Martin stared down between the trees and saw Rachael's figure shrink rapidly. In seconds it faded out of sight. He paused to make note of the strange illusion.

"Amazing," he muttered.

As Martin climbed higher the branches diminished in size. He was able to move with one hand on the tree trunk all the time, which became a welcome security. In fact, he became so intrigued with the ease of his ascent, he was surprised to find the top only a few feet above his head. One more circle would bring him to the end of the staircase.

Tying the rope to the trunk, he pulled against it gingerly, testing the line with a satisfied grunt. Reaching back, Martin cast the heavy rope out beyond the branches.

"Rachael," he gasped!

To late he thought of her standing at the base of the tree directly below him. He watched the line disappear into a midnight blackness.

"DAMN!"

Rachael screeched, jumping out of the way as the last few feet of rope slapped the ground next to her.

"Martin! Are you trying to kill me?"

Realizing that he was beyond the sound of her voice she straightened the line and held it steady. For all she knew he might be down right behind it, or she might have a long wait. Resigning herself to the latter, Rachael sat on the ground with the hard wood of the oak tree against her back.

Martin stood one step short of the stairway's end. Night was held back by a thin light glowing around him which lit the area with a sickly radiance. Above the peak of the tree, a layer of gray fog hung unmoving. He climbed the last step on his hands and knees.

Sniffing the air appraisingly, he used an animal sense to test the atmosphere. Martin pulled back as it stung his nostrils. Staring up, he raised his hand slowly, pointing a finger toward the vapor until it made contact. Gaining confidence, Martin pushed his hand forward, and watched it vanish into the cloud. He moved his fingers, clenched his hand into a fist, and found it unimpaired. Whatever lay beyond the fog was warm, just the opposite of the frigid vapor.

"Nothing dangerous here," he muttered aloud.

'But what if someone.....something, is up there?'

Martin's arm jerked down quickly, causing a twinge of pain in his shoulder. He rubbed it soothingly, condemning unused muscles for the brief moment of discomfort.

'Have a look,' he urged.

Fear surged through him and he fought the temptation to reach through once more. The fog hung waiting. There was no consistency to it, nothing threatening about the unseemly cloud except its drab color.

'Just a peek.'

Hesitation.

'What if something is up there, what if nothing is up there?' Doubt rushed through his mind. 'I could hold my breath, no sense in inhaling any of it.'

Martin acted impulsively, pushing through the fleecy cloud without waiting for reason to set in. Strangely enough, it did not drift away but conformed to the shape of his body.

Martin blinked several times. trying to look in every direction at once. The stair felt hard against his knees as he circled, squinting against the harsh light. It wasn't bright, but it burned his eyes. Martin's vision adjusted slowly to the tiring gray texture of the sky, an alien sky above an alien landscape.

The plain extended from him in all directions, flat and unbroken. Gray, like the vapor, it presented no sign of life. The nearest ground lay circled around his waist, granular looking, grainy. He considered the arid scene and then scanned back toward the most distant point he could see.

The sky did not seem lighter or darker in any one place. It remained the same parchment tone wherever he looked. There was no evidence to show where the sun might be hiding, no telltale bright spot gave away its position, yet there were no clouds that he could make out. For all Martin knew, he might be looking into a clear sky, or a ceiling of stone.

The dark shape appeared off to his right like a smudge at the edge of sight. He only sensed its mass after long minutes of staring. Lifting his hand, Martin shielded his eyes and studied the shape of the city in stunned amazement.

The outline appeared normal, almost reassuring. Skyscrapers rose into the grayish-paste of sky, spires fingering up everywhere. The shapes of buildings were obvious even at this great distance. Spreading in every direction, they rose higher toward the center of the great metropolis, one needle-sharp spike towering up from the tallest edifice. Martin guessed the building to be at least two hundred stories high, quickly realizing how absurd his estimate sounded.

All of it seemed out of place, too alone. He shook his head in disbelief, for the entire complex stood in the midst of a desert with no roads leading to or from it. The usual clumps of suburban housing were nowhere to be seen, nor was there any sign of traffic. Martin leaned forward, wrinkling his brow as he searched for signs of the living.

'Maybe I just can't see them from here.'

Martin's concentration was broken as he became aware of a tightening pressure around his waist. He scowled, then noted his own figure sticking out of the thickening ground.

"My God, the door's closing!"

As if to give witness to his panicked discovery the step under his knees began to shiver. Forcing his way back through the congealing vapor, Martin grabbed at the top of the tree, almost falling from its slender branches.

Urging himself to move with greater care he began to descend the spiral stairway in a hurried manner. Each step felt less secure as he moved toward the ground.

Halfway down, he elected to take the escape route. The line was difficult to find in the dark and he made another half-circle on sagging branches before he found it dangling amidst the limbs. Grabbing the rope, he wrapped his legs around it and slithered through the breeze-swayed leaves and twigs. Cold chilled his body, and something in the back of his mind told Martin the doorway opened onto a warmer dimension.

Moving faster than felt safe, Martin almost landed on top of Rachael. Only a deft movement saved her from a collision with his rushing figure. Martin fell to the turf with a thud.

"Damn it, Martin. I thought you were never coming down. You've been gone for more than an hour! Martin? Are you all right?"

He sat on the ground staring dumbly into the night. A foreign scene lingered in his mind, repeating itself over and over again.

"I must have looked strange with half my body sticking out of the ground."

"What?" Rachael was lost.

"Looked strange," he mumbled, "to whom? And how do I know it was ground?" Somehow he knew.

"If I had climbed into that other world, I would have been left standing on solid ground, and the doorway would have closed and locked me in. Maybe it doesn't open back at all, at least not on the same spot. There might be another way for it to open from the other side."

"Martin, for God's sake, are you all right?" Rachael knelt beside him.

"All right.....yes, yes! Rachael, it's there. There is a door!"

His eyes found the end of the rope and followed its length up into the black shape of the tree. It disappeared from sight in the thick oak leaves.

"Incredible! There's a city up there, all alone. Everything else is a flat, endless plain, unbroken earth. The whole thing is crazy."

Giving up her concerned watch, Rachael sat on the ground beside him.

"You almost hit me with the rope....."

"Sorry, I thought about it too late."

"Then you almost hit me with you."

"Sorry again, I'm calmer now." She nodded in the dark.

"Okay, let's start from the beginning. I lost sight of you about halfway up the tree. Even before you got that high your voice sounded like it was coming from a long way off, fading into the distance."

"I couldn't hear you at all," he sighed. "I lost sight of you and your flashlight after the first few turns in the stairway. You seemed to be miles away, and then you were gone. Sight and sound are distorted by the stairs, or the other dimension."

Rachael scowled, unwilling to accept his explanation.

"Another dimension?"

"Listen, I raised up through the fog....."

"What fog? You're leaving things out," she interrupted.

"At the top of the tree there is a thick, gray fog. But, it felt thin, easy to penetrate, so I raised up through it on my knees." Martin stopped long enough to take a deep breath.

"The other side is a void, a desert of incredible size the same color as the fog. There's an enormous city up there, maybe fifteen, twenty miles away. I saw it, right in the middle of nowhere."

"It must have been a reflection from downtown," she argued. "Light reflecting off clouds....."

Martin shook his head and stood up. Wiping his hands on the seat of his jeans, he teased the end of the rope.

"No, it was different, and a heck of a lot bigger. There were no trees, nothing but enormous structures piled up in the middle of nowhere. Whoever designed it sure liked spires, they were on top of every building I could see. The whole thing looked medieval. It was daylight, gray and overcast, but daylight."

Rachael allowed him to help her up, but she refused to comment. Following him around the base of the oak tree, she watched him touch the aged bark cautiously.

"The doorway leads into another dimension, no doubt about it. I was so intent on observing the landscape, I never realized the door was closing until the fog.....cloud, started to thicken. I couldn't stay very long."

"You were up there for over an hour. Here, look at my watch, it's almost ten forty-five." Rachael sounded positive.

"I'll admit I was a little anxious, but time is time, and you can't change it. You couldn't hear me, but I even pulled on the rope.....which was tied to the tree," she suddenly remembered, "so you wouldn't have known." Rachael sighed.

"Again, what did the sky look like?"

"Gray, everything was the same color, even the desert. I had the strangest impression that the sun was about to come out, like it would after burning off an early morning haze. No one spot was brighter than another, so I couldn't tell where the sun was."

"I had to cover my eyes, the light made them water, but it was warm. Nothing seemed to exist but the city. It's as though everything else had been created to frame it. Except for the city, there was nothing to see but desolation."

Rachael remained silent when he stopped talking. The question would come up sooner or later, preferably after she got him started toward the house.

"Did you see any people," she ventured?

"Not a soul. Damnedest thing, there was no vegetation, not so much as a blade of grass. No streets, no houses, just the city and the plain around it. You don't suppose it's lifeless....." Rachael shrugged as they reached his front lawn.

"Who knows. If it really exists, perhaps."

"You still don't believe me, do you?"

He sat heavily against the back of the chair and toppled over onto the wet grass. Unconcerned, Martin lay on his back, hands cupped behind his head. Laughing, Rachael lifted the light canvas stool off his legs and sat on the lawn beside him.

"You manage to handle adverse situations with such a flair. You are insane." Rachael changed the subject tactfully.

"Not having seen what you did, I find it hard to accept. For instance, you said you raised up through the fog, did you breath any of it? For all we know it might have been a hallucinogen." Martin laughed ruefully, but did not bother to reply.

"Let's suppose this place exists. You've been there, seen it, what do you plan to do now?"

The words came out easily in the midst of their conversation. There was nothing hard about asking the question.

"I'm going back," he announced.

"To look through the door again?"

"To go through and see what's there."

Silence.