The Memory Painter: A Novel Page 23

  The old healer looked questioningly at Bodhidharma. Bodhidharma moved toward the pallet and instructed the healer to rest while he continued the sutra. The healer bowed and left, taking the young monk with him.

  Bodhidharma watched Huike’s restless sleep. As if sensing him, Huike opened his eyes. It was clear he was in great pain. “Will you teach me now?”

  Bodhidharma took his hand. “You never had to ask. I said I could not teach you because I knew you would teach yourself.”

  Huike fell back asleep. Bodhidharma sat beside him until morning, feeling a love for this man as a father would for a son.

  * * *

  In the weeks that followed, Huike regained his strength and left the infirmary to join the other monks in Bodhidharma’s tutelage. Bodhidharma had been horrified to find that no one could hold a simple seated meditation.

  “Meditation is rigorous exercise and requires great stamina. How can you sit if you cannot even stand? Look at yourselves. You look like hunched monkeys.”

  Bodhidharma decided that the next weeks would be devoted to strengthening their bodies. The monks spent every day in the forest, learning exercises derived from Hatha and Raja yoga that Bodhidharma had modified further to enhance their bodies’ energy flow.

  At first, his unorthodox teachings met with resistance. The Shaolin monks were accustomed to sitting at their desks all day, transcribing copies of Buddhist scriptures. Bodhidharma watched their exercises and shook his head, unsatisfied.

  He tried to explain. “Qi is the life force that flows through all living things. Qigong teaches you how to harness this energy and bridge the gap between your body and your mind. But how can you do anything when your thoughts are so noisy? Quiet your mind.” He took off his sandal. “You can start by staring at my shoe.” He left it on the ground and walked away.

  The students looked at each other questioningly. Huike called out, “Master, how long should we stare?”

  Bodhidharma answered without turning back. “Until you find enlightenment.”

  They stared at the sandal for three days. Many gave up, unable to continue without food or water. When Bodhidharma finally retrieved his shoe, only Huike and two others remained.

  The next day, he had the monks stare at a rock wall. The following day, they watched bugs mate. On the third day, they stood like trees from sunrise to sunset.

  Bodhidharma circled his pupils. He was still unsatisfied. “Concentration. Confidence. Will. This is the path to internal strength. Huike, stop. You are no longer a tree. Take this iron rod and hit me on the head with it.”

  Huike’s eyes widened. “But master, I can’t!”

  Bodhidharma ignored him and handed him the rod. “You will not hurt me.” He stood in a perfect stance, his gaze fixed and focused now on his inward state. “Go on. Strike me with all your might.”

  Huike remained frozen. Bodhidharma glared at his best student and commanded him again, “Strike me!”

  Huike raised the rod with his arm and brought it down hard on his master’s head. The rod broke.

  “Qigong,” Bodhidharma said as he picked up the pieces. “By mastering it your mind can become insusceptible to pain. You possess more power than you can imagine.” To drive his point home, he turned and sent his hand straight through a brick wall. “In time, you will be able to accomplish this and more.”

  Day after day, the relentless training continued. Many monks went to the infirmary to set broken bones and bandage wounds. But over time, they became stronger in mind and body than they had ever thought possible. Eventually they could break bricks, pierce tree trunks, and meditate for days on end as their Qi became more powerful.

  At Abbot Fang’s request, Bodhidharma dictated his exercises so there would be a guide for future Shaolin monks, and Huike transcribed his instructions. Bodhidharma knew his stay at the temple was coming to its end. He was an old man now, and India was calling.

  On a beautiful spring day, much like the one when he had first arrived at the temple, Bodhidharma watched the monks performing their exercises in the forest. Huike stood beside him. Bodhidharma did not look at him as he spoke. “I have waited many years to tell you this and many times thought I would remain silent.… I have seen your soul’s karma. It is heavy and keeps you from the Way, but that in itself is an illusion. Anyone can transcend their karma by seeing their true nature.”

  Huike frowned. “I do not understand, Master.”

  “One day you will remember this life, your earnestness, your goodness, and you will meet the malevolence that binds your spirit. On that day, let go of your shame at having fallen, and allow it to let in the light.”

  Huike nodded, his eyes bright with emotion.

  “You hear these words now, but remember them when the time comes.” Bodhidharma clasped Huike’s hand. “We both have a long path ahead of us, my friend. Shine bright again one day.”

  * * *

  Bryan’s consciousness returned to the hospital room with crystal clarity. He was not sure how long he had been under the drug, but he felt every cell in his body react as it tried to force it out of his system.

  Bodhidharma’s knowledge flooded his mind. Bryan stood up, and in one fluid movement pushed his right arm toward his left shoulder, brought it up over his head, unbuckled the sleeve with his teeth, and undid the five remaining buckles on the straitjacket with his hands. He stepped on one sleeve and tugged it away from his body—all in about fifteen seconds.

  Once he was free, he folded the straitjacket and studied the door with a newfound serenity. The rage and fear that Bryan had felt toward Conrad had dissipated.

  For the next hour, Bryan performed Qigong stretches to recharge his energy. His thoughts returned to the woman who had appeared before Bodhidharma during his long meditation. Bodhidharma had called her the Ancient One, but she was the Egyptian goddess.

  Bryan pictured the symbol she had drawn for him on the ground at the Great Pyramid. He knew memories were waiting for him there.… She was trying to show him a life in Egypt. And he had only a few hours to remember it before Conrad came back to inject him with Renovo.

  Bryan felt his initial panic start to return. He lay on the cot and forced his mind to quiet. As his breathing slowed and his body began to relax, he was filled with a new resolve: if he did not find the answers before Conrad returned to begin his experiment, he would use Bodhidharma’s power to leave his body and never come back.

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  CAESAREA, ROMAN EMPIRE

  AD 250

  They threw Juliana into a damp cell blanketed in the stench of rot. A small barred window faced the square below, where the executions were being staged. The screams from outside rang out with chilling clarity over the jeers of the crowd. Juliana found herself drawn to the spectacle in disbelief. Tomorrow her voice would join the cacophony.

  “Why do they hate us so?”

  Juliana turned toward the shadows, squinting as she tried to see. A young woman was huddled in the corner, clutching a three-year-old girl. They looked filthy and starved.

  Instinctively Juliana took a step forward to offer some kind of comfort, but realized she had nothing to give.

  The young woman gaped at her. “I know you. You’re Origenes Adamantius’ lady.”

  “Pupil,” Juliana corrected, quite accustomed to strangers assuming they were lovers. He would not have been the first priest to fall from grace, but Juliana knew that Origenes would never transgress—he couldn’t. As a young man, he had castrated himself in an act of deep piety and sacrifice, to ensure that he would never be swayed by bodily desire. His life would be for God and God alone.

  Juliana was a Christian lady from a wealthy family and well educated. She had met Origenes years ago when he had come to visit the Bishop of Caesarea. She had been a young woman then and was quite dazzled by his brilliance. They had formed a fast bond while studying the biblical texts she had inherited, written by Symmachus—the original author of one of the Greek versions of the Old Testament.
How many nights they talked, until the candles burned low, about how to change Rome. How to spread love. How to bring about a better world. And in her heart of hearts—in words spoken only to God—Juliana had confessed her love for him as a woman. A part of her had always wondered if, had he not castrated himself, Origenes would have been tempted to deepen their bond.

  She knew Origenes sensed how she felt. He would often tell her that there were many kinds of love and that, for her, he had reserved the purist. One night, they had become engaged in a passionate debate after drinking several cups of wine. Origenes had reached out and taken her hand and said that God must have known she would come into his life. Why else would he have guided him to perform such a sacrifice with his body? Otherwise, he might have fallen from grace.

  Juliana could hear her heart beating like a bird in a cage as he spoke. Then his hand was gone and he went on as if nothing had happened. They never spoke of it again.

  “My brother says Origenes’ school is the finest in the empire and marvels even those in Alexandria,” the young woman said, bringing Juliana out of her thoughts.

  “Yes, it does,” Juliana replied. But their efforts to teach God’s love had brought them here to die horrific deaths. She fought back her panic and tried to focus on the young woman before her.

  “Are you to burn too?” the little girl whispered.

  Juliana gave the woman a questioning look, not wanting to upset the little girl.

  The woman nodded. “Septimus has ordered us both to burn in two days’ time,” she answered.

  Septimus was the government official in charge of the executions, and a soulless man who had allowed the world’s barbarity to eat away at his heart. Juliana couldn’t understand what she had done to earn his hatred. She closed her eyes, and her thumb traced a circle around her index finger. It was something she often did to quiet her mind. She tried to envision where she would go when she left her body … if God would take her and show her heaven, and if she would be born again, as Origenes believed.

  She had once asked him why he thought the soul returned to earth, and he answered that God gives us too much to learn in one life. But then Origenes saw the world on a grander scale than most. Juliana believed it was because his mind soared closer to heaven. It was tragic that men like Septimus cared nothing for his knowledge.

  She did not know where the guards had taken him, and a shiver coursed through her body. Knowing that he would soon die for his beliefs gave her the strength to cling to her own.

  * * *

  After Linz had returned from the cemetery she had taken another dose of Renovo. Juliana’s memories had come minutes later. Bryan’s painting was still hanging on the wall across from her bed, and it became her lifeline as she fought to return to the present.

  Her hands were shaking as she tried to call him, but he didn’t pick up. Her voice sounded foreign to her as she left a message. “Bryan? I’m coming over. Please be there.”

  She gathered her purse and keys and opened the front door at the same time as her neighbors. The young couple gasped when they saw her.

  The man took a step toward her out of concern. “Are you okay?”

  Linz jumped back. “Fine. I’m recovering from…” Being burned at the stake? Destroying my apartment? “A car accident.” She closed the door on them before they could say anything else.

  “Jesus.” What horrid timing. She must look certifiable. Her mind was out of control, spinning with multiple realities. Hysterical laughter bubbled up inside her. She was beginning to get an inkling of how Bryan had felt all his life.

  She heard someone else in the hall and decided she’d better make an attempt to clean herself up. But when she opened the door to her bathroom, she walked right into Diana’s office—the same night she had died.

  MARCH 9, 1982

  Diana put the puzzles she had collected over the years in the pile of things that would be left behind, reminding herself she could only take absolute necessities. They had just a few more hours before people would start to show up for work—hardly enough time to pack up years of research. Her office looked like it had been demolished. A mountain of boxes sat stacked near the door.

  She could hear Finn and Michael in the lab disassembling equipment. They would put everything in Finn’s van and drive it out of the city before dawn. Michael and Diana would follow in their car. All loose ends could be handled by phone or mail. The most essential thing was for them to disappear.

  Diana joined the men. “Okay, I think that’s everything.”

  The lab door closed behind her with a bang, startling them. The new deadbolt that Michael had just installed the previous morning clicked decisively. Someone had locked them in.

  “What the hell?” Diana ran to the door. Michael and Finn were right behind her. Their keys were in the control room.

  Conrad’s voice came in over the mic. “You seriously didn’t think adding a lock would keep me away, did you?”

  They turned toward the glass window to the control room, where Conrad stood in the dark. “This was going to be our great experiment. And now you decide to scrap it all and run away.”

  Michael approached the glass. “Conrad, open the door.”

  Conrad leaned forward until his face became fully visible. “I’m here to offer you a second chance. You want full recall, Mike. I can give you that.”

  Michael hesitated. “What are you talking about?”

  “While you were all away having your nervous breakdowns, I resynthesized the formula to make it even more powerful. With one dose you can retrieve everything. Including the lifetime that’s eluding you—the one in Egypt.”

  Michael took another step closer. “What do you know about Egypt?”

  “I know you feel the memory eating away at you, like an itch you can’t scratch. Every night you go to sleep wondering, what’s this life for? What’s my purpose? Knowing that something more awaits you. I can help you find it.” Conrad smiled, dangling the carrot in front of him.

  Diana put her hand on her husband’s arm. “He’s lying.”

  Michael didn’t take his eyes off Conrad. “You really reformulated it?”

  Conrad nodded to the vial sitting innocently on an empty desk in the lab.

  “What about last night?” Michael reminded him. “Eight hours ago you had your hands around my throat.”

  “When you came I wasn’t myself. I had just remembered … something.” He gave them a placating smile. “Simple bad timing. I’m here to offer you an olive branch and proof of what a real scientist can do. Take it or leave it.”

  Finn stepped in front of Michael and whispered, “He’s completely lost it. You can’t tell me you’re considering this.”

  “If he has changed the formula, then I want to know what it does.”

  Diana shook his arm. “But you don’t have to take it. That’s crazy.”

  Michael remained silent.

  Finn nodded in agreement and started to fidget. He was barely functioning himself. “This is a bad call, chief.”

  Conrad leaned into the microphone. “Is your little powwow over? Mike, you need to remember Egypt. It’s imperative.”

  “Okay, is it just me or has Yankee Doodle officially gone off his rocker?” Finn erupted. “Mike, you can’t be buying this load of crap. He’s locked us in!”

  “Honey, for Christ’s sake, please listen to Finn.”

  Michael had not taken his eyes off Conrad. “I need to do this.”

  Diana kept pleading with him. “But don’t you see? He was here before us and left that vial there. He was sure that he could get you to do it.” She could tell she still wasn’t convincing him and tried another tactic. “Is this worth risking your life over?”

  “There’s something I have to remember—a life. Please try to understand.”

  Diana spoke to him in Russian as Natalia, Pushkin’s wife. “Just like you had to challenge D’Anthès to a duel? Are you so ready to die again?”

  Michael brushed her h
air away from her face and said, “Forgive me.”

  She turned away from him, unwilling to help. She heard him climb onto the table and administer the injection himself.

  Michael instructed Finn to hook him up to the EEG. He lay back on the table, and his body immediately went slack.

  Finn did as Michael requested and then glared at Conrad through the glass window. “You got what you wanted. Now unlock the door. Let Diana monitor him from the control room.”

  Conrad looked undecided, but he left the control room. Moments later, Diana and Finn heard the lab door unlock.

  Finn turned to Diana. “Go. I’ll join you in a minute.”

  Diana nodded. She did want to monitor Michael from the control room. When she stepped out into the hallway and saw Conrad, she felt sick. Without a word, she hurried away from him, but at the sound of the lab door being locked again she whirled around.

  Conrad pocketed the keys.

  “What are you doing?” she demanded.

  “Making sure there are no interruptions.” He saluted her and headed to the elevator.

  Fear rose up inside her. “Conrad, open the door or I’m calling the police.”

  Conrad got into the elevator and gave her a sad smile. “I’m sorry, Diana. This needs to happen.”

  * * *

  Diana sprinted to the control room. Through the glass, she saw Finn bent over, checking equipment at the back wall. Michael was lying on the table, but he wasn’t moving. She checked the monitors. His pulse rate had skyrocketed and the EEG was going ballistic.

  Diana turned on the microphone. “Something’s seriously wrong. We need to get him to the hospital.”

  Michael remained deathly still, his eyes closed.

  Finn was still busy with the equipment. He looked tense.

  “Finn? What’s going on?”

  Finn didn’t look up. His fingers were fumbling with something. It was the first time Diana had ever seen him in a complete state of panic.