155 seriously damaged but my dignity - and set out after the woman who'd so callously whacked me. This woman had an appointment with the dirty pavement, courtesy of a well-placed Saucony Cross Trainer.
I caught up to her about halfway down the block and followed a few feet behind. Waiting for my chance. Her briefcase was big enough to hold a Doberman and built to maim, with steel corners and a big combination lock on the side.
And what was up with that hair? The woman wore a stiff, curly blond wig. Think steel wool pad. Used. Slightly shredded. And yellow.
I saw the perfect spot to exact my revenge.
I skirted the crowd and hid behind a big, concrete column about a yard ahead, just at the corner of the courthouse. When Wig Lady passed - bingo, bango! BAM!
She was going down.
I peeked from around the pillar to see how close she was to meeting my foot. And then I bit my cheek to stop from screaming.
The woman with the awful blond hair and the briefcase . . .
Was my mother!
Visser One!
156
« MEGAMORPHS #3» !
Elfangor's Secret
You mentioned a deal," Marco said.
"Yes," the Drode said. "A deal. And here it is: The six of you will be allowed to follow the Time Matrix. The former Visser Four set off on his journey two days ago. You will be translated back to that point and then the quanta that make up your atoms will be ... tuned. Yes, that's a good word for simple minds to comprehend. You'll be fine-tuned at the subatomic level to resonate with the movements of the Time Matrix as it travels through time. Your own memories and personalities will, of course, be buffered. Protected against changes."
«Resulting in what effect?» Ax demanded.
"Resulting in the effect that, like an echo, you will follow the Time Matrix. It plucks the chords of time and you reverberate." He stopped and shook his head in admiration of his own words. "Brilliantly explained, eh?"
157 "That's the deal?" Jake asked. "That's it?"
"There's something else, isn't there?" I asked the Drode.
The Drode laughed. "Oh, yes. There is something else, little Cassie. Cassie the killer with a conscience. Kill 'em, then cry over 'em. That's our Cassie."
"What's the something else?" I repeated, not letting the evil little creep see that his words had hit home.
"My master Crayak has demanded a price. A payment."
"A payment."
"Uh-huh," the Drode said in a parody of coyness.
"What?"
"One of you," the Drode said. "You can attempt to save your reality, put everything back where it belongs, end slavery, replace tyranny with democracy, millions of lives saved, let freedom ring, glory hallelujah in exchange ... in exchange for one, single life."
"A life?" I asked.
"The life of one of you. That is my master Crayak's price: One of you must die."
The Sickeness Page 9
