He thought of Sarah and cried aloud. She was in the hands of a monster. It was as simple as that. Perhaps science would never explain such things, perhaps it couldn’t.
And yet Miriam was real, living in the real world, right now. Her life mocked the laws of nature, at least as Tom understood them.
Slowly, the first shaft of sunlight spread across the wall. Tom imagined the earth, a little green mote of dust sailing around the sun, lost in the enormous darkness. The universe seemed a cold place indeed, malignant and secret.
Was that the truth of it?
Something tickled his unwounded cheek. Tears again. He threw back the covers and got out of bed. All at once he froze. This room was the only one with any sunlight in it. The rest of the apartment was still dark.
He was frozen with terror. He could not move from the place where he stood.
It came at him shrieking, tearing with its long knives of fingernails, its jaws snapping —
And was gone.
He shook his head, went to the bathroom, splashed his chest and neck with cold water. He must not let the image of that thing creep into his mind again. It was not outside the realm of possibility to be driven catatonic by fear. That had to be guarded against if there was to be any hope left at all.
He looked like hell. One eye was an angry purple mass of flesh. The other was black. He badly needed a shave but the bandages were going to get in the way.
Suddenly, the sound of the intercom broke into his thoughts. How long had it been buzzing? Turning on lights as he went, he moved to the foyer and answered it.
Three minutes later Geoff and Phyllis stood at the door. They had food and coffee and they didn’t buy any stories about broken windows. They wanted to know what Miriam had done with Sarah.
Miriam stood beside the bed watching Sarah, waiting for her to wake up. The transformation was working well. Miriam touched Sarah’s cheek, feeling the cool dryness of the skin. That was another good sign.
It was a happy moment.
The only barrier left to complete transformation was the emotional one. Loyalty was, as always, the issue. Sarah must be made to realize the truth of her situation. She now belonged to a new species and must leave the values of the old behind.
Miriam turned her thoughts to Tom Haver. She could see a good way to use him to further Sarah’s change of allegiance. He would be the medium.
A slight variation in Sarah’s breathing pattern alerted Miriam to the fact that the Sleep was about to end. Very well. When Sarah awoke, she would find love waiting for her.
An ugly dream receded. Sarah opened her eyes. The thing looming over the bed startled her for an instant. Miriam, of course. Her eyes were glaring, the stare avid. Sarah’s impulse was to run.
She thought of the body under the bed, the dead skin dull and dry.
“Don’t,” Miriam said. “You can’t change the past.”
“You’re a murderer!”
Miriam sat on the edge of the bed. It made Sarah shudder when Miriam stroked her face, but she was afraid to turn away. As a child in Savannah she had captured a baby rabbit. She remembered how it had huddled so quietly in her hand, and she had thought, ‘I’ve tamed it with my touch.’ But it wasn’t tame at all, it was in a rapture of fear. She had cuddled it to her face and, giving it a friendly snuffle, found that it was dead.
Sarah almost wished something similar would happen to her. But it did not. Instead she remembered last night. “Tom —”
“He’s quite well.”
“I’ve got to call him!” Some of her old self was returning, it seemed, as she recalled Tom’s screams. “Where’s the phone?”
Miriam’s expression was hard to read. She seemed at once angry and curiously at peace. “I don’t think you should phone him. Go to him instead.”
Sarah hid her amazement. She had assumed herself a prisoner. “Can I go now?”
“Certainly. You’re no prisoner.”
At once Sarah got out of bed. She could stand up easily. The hunger, the grogginess, were gone. Her body seemed unusually light and healthy. The sense of physical well-being was remarkable.
Then the image of the dead girl swam into memory again. Her own experiences crowded out all happiness. She remembered the blood hot in her throat, the delicate sadness of her victim’s face. She moved away from the bed.
“The room is clean,” Miriam said. “We remove evidence very quickly, you’ll find.”
Sarah couldn’t stand to hear it. She clapped her hands over her ears.
“You took a life. That’s what you feel in you now. Her life. She was a healthy young woman of about twenty-five, about your size and build. She was wearing jeans and a brown sweat shirt when I captured her.”
“Shut up!”
Sarah’s heart had started pounding, her temples throbbing. She longed somehow to expel what was in her. All she could do was escape. She ran from the room, down the hallway toward the stairs.
Miriam’s strong hand grabbed her shoulder, spun her around. “Get dressed,” she snapped. “You can’t go out like that.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Your clothes are in the bedroom closet.”
Sarah hesitated. She didn’t want to go back in that bedroom. Miriam pushed her. “Face it, Sarah. You killed. You.” She pushed again. “And you’ll kill others. You’ll keep killing.” Another hard shove and Sarah stumbled through the door. Miriam rushed past her, strode to the windows and swept back the heavy drapes.
Dawn was spreading up from the east, the red sun gleaming on the East River, sending a spear of light across Miriam’s garden. Such beauty hurt.
“You haven’t got any reason to cry,” Miriam said. “You should be rejoicing.”
“You said I could go.” How small her voice sounded.
In answer Miriam swept her clothes out of the closet. Sarah threw them on, thinking only of Tom and the salvation she would find in his arms.
In a few more minutes she was setting out into a magnificent spring morning. The door of the house swung shut behind her. As Sarah walked down the street she was conscious of Miriam’s face at the window of the library. Only when she was able to turn a corner and get out of that line of sight did she begin to feel free.
Never, as long as she lived, would she return to that house.
She was actually going back home. She felt all the delight of one who escapes from an unjust imprisonment. She was going back to her place as part of humanity. She was resurrected.
Tom shared as much of his tragedy as he dared with Charlie and Phyllis. He could not tell them of the things he had seen. They might have thought he was hallucinating, which would only confuse matters. Phyllis wept a little when Tom told her that he did not know what had happened to Sarah. She was Sarah’s closest associate and a good friend, and she shared some of Tom’s anguish.
Tom didn’t know if he would ever see Sarah again. He suspected she might be dead. This black thought was in his mind when the lock clicked and Sarah came in.
She burst in. Tom was astonished and glad, and yet somehow assaulted. There was something about the total surprise of the arrival and the quickness of her movements that made him want to retreat.
He refused to accept such a feeling. Her poor, small frame was shaking with tearful joy and he was afraid of her. Or was it joy that moved her? What was that look in her eyes?
“Sarah!” Phyllis’ voice rang through the silence.
Sarah glared. Tom had never seen such an expression on her face before. For a moment he was afraid she might strike Phyllis.
“Tom, please hold me!” She came toward him, then paused. He did not understand her hesitation. Her expression became almost desperate.
“You’re home now,” was all he could think to say. “You made it home.” His emotions were beginning to overwhelm him. He wanted to sob. Never again would he let her go. They circled one another, a slow dance.
He recalled their past: lying on a beach in Florida, Sarah holding forth on ag
e vectors in the baking sun. He had laughed aloud at her intensity. Sarah in her lab, her voice strident, the atmosphere charged with her energy. Sarah in bed, loving.
As the shock of her arrival wore off she became more real to Tom. He kissed her. Her mouth was sour and he drew back. Tears appeared in her eyes. “I have a confession —”
“Not yet.”
Her eyes widened. Her fingers came up to his bandages. “She hurt me,” he said.
“Don’t call her ‘she.’ Miriam isn’t a ‘she.’ That’s a human word.”
“What, then? Woman?”
“A female of another species. A woman is a human being. Miriam is a mockery of humanity. Women stand for life, Miriam stands for death.”
“You’re pale,” he said. He didn’t want to pursue any conversations about Miriam right now. Not until they both felt a lot better.
Phyllis and Charlie had drawn close, instinct making them seek the comfort of the group. Tom could not blame them. He felt it too: something black and cold was in this room.
“I may look pale but I feel good,” Sarah said. “I wish I didn’t feel like this.” Tom detected more than a little desperation in her voice. He began to wish Phyllis and Charlie would leave. He wanted Sarah alone.
“We didn’t understand how dangerous she was,” Phyllis said.
Sarah turned to her. “I failed, Phyl. You believed in me, but I failed.” She was starting to back away, as if their closeness disturbed her.
“We got a lot of data, Sarah.”
“Not enough. You don’t know the half of it. She didn’t let you have anything of real value.”
Sarah kept backing away. Tom made a gesture to Phyllis and Charlie, nodded toward the door. “Yes,” Sarah said, “it’s best if they leave.”
“Sarah,” Phyllis said, “I don’t want you to think you failed.”
“Please, Phyl.”
“I’ll go, but just don’t think you’ve failed. It isn’t over yet. Remember that. We haven’t even begun to work on that data.”
“Yes, Phyl.”
“I think you’d better cut it short,” Tom said at last. Sarah looked as if she were about to explode. When the door closed behind them at last, Sarah took a ragged breath. She was now on the far side of the room, poised like a cornered animal.
Sarah had known from the moment she entered the apartment what Miriam had done to her. Another trick.
They smelled so good.
She wanted to handle them, to caress their warm, moist skin, to draw them close to her.
How accommodating Miriam had been. And why not, when she knew what this was going to do to Sarah. She wanted to run . . . and then again she didn’t. There was something very pleasing about them, about Tom especially, the slow way he moved and the trust in his eyes. This odd feeling isolated her from them, forced her into a kind of loneliness she had never known before.
When the door closed behind Charlie and Phyllis, Sarah knew that Tom was endangered. He should not be alone with her. Not when she was like this.
She strove for control. “Stay on that side of the room,” she said.
He looked across at her, a question in his eyes. The wall was directly behind her. She could not get farther away from that wonderful scent. If she opened her arms, called to him, he would come. She must not allow herself to do that.
“Darling?”
“Tom, don’t come any closer!”
“You’re joking.”
“I am not.”
“Didn’t you come here to be with me?”
There was such hurt in his tone. She wanted to go to him, but she did not dare. He took a step closer. Her flesh crawled, but her arms came up. Another Sarah, mean and evil, smiled, another voice welcomed him. She could hear his pulse as he approached, hear the whisper of his breath, the faint liquid sound as his lips parted.
“We had good times. Don’t you remember?” She did remember, as he had no doubt intended she should. Sweaty hours banging away at one another. Such innocence and pleasure.
“Tom, stop!”
Thank God it had finally come out. The shout stunned him. He stood still, his smile fading. “Why?”
“Just do it. Don’t come a step nearer. Not one step!”
He bowed his head, remained motionless.
“Go into the bedroom and close the door. I made a major error coming here. I’ve got to get out and I can’t possibly make myself do it unless you leave the room.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Tom, I can’t stand it much longer! Please just do as I say, even if you don’t understand.”
“I think we ought to talk about it.”
“No! Go away!”
He was moving closer again. In a moment she was going to open her arms once more and this time she would not be able to stop.
Miriam called it hunger. A mild word.
“Please!” She cast her eyes down, felt her muscles tensing for the kill. Her body was preparing to spring at him. Hot, anguished tears poured out of her eyes. Very softly, she made a last plea. “Don’t touch me.”
“You’re serious. You’re absolutely serious!”
She looked up at him. He was four feet away. She could not warn him again.
“OK, I get the point. But why, Sarah?”
“Just do as I say. Do it now.”
At last he began to move toward the bedroom. For a horrible moment she thought she was following him, but she managed to go out the front door instead. Her movements were sinuous and quick. She reminded herself of a rat questing through a maze. There was another person in her, powerful and evil, and she was losing control.
The hallway was empty. That was a small miracle, and Sarah was grateful. She could smell them all around her, behind the doors of their apartments. The moan of need that came out of her mouth was hardly human.
Sarah knew where she had to go, where it was intended she go. There was only one place that did not smell human, only one being who did not tempt the hunger. Miriam had made her point. For Sarah the only thing that now mattered was getting back to that house. Doing it through the crowded Manhattan streets was going to be hell. She clung to the notion that she would not kill another human being.
As the elevator descended, she tried to prepare herself for her ordeal. She had moved in the streets before, after all, and hadn’t eaten at all the last time. She remembered the man on the sidewalk whom she had nearly killed, the apartment balcony she had climbed.
That was with the streets empty. Now they were going to be jam-packed. ‘I am a human being,’ she thought. ‘I will not harm my fellow man.’ Will all the willpower left to her, she resolved to remain a human being. The hunger she felt, after all, was not her own.
It belonged to the creature’s blood. The need to kill was not her need, it was Miriam’s. She resolved to keep telling herself that. Then the elevator doors opened and she saw Alex at his post. ‘Miriam’s hunger,’ she repeated, ‘not mine.’
She managed to slip past him, get through the front door and out onto the sidewalk.
Madness. People everywhere, more even than she had imagined. She made an involuntary lunge at a passing businessman, managed to dash past him into the middle of the street. Brakes squealed, horns blared. A cab swerved, slurred to a stop. The driver was cursing, the passenger staring terrified from the backseat.
There was no time to waste, no opportunity to miss. She got in. “Whassmatter with you? I got a god-damn fare in here!”
“Emergency!”
“Call a cop, lady. You nearly got yourself run over. Now get outa here.”
“Somebody’s about to die. I’m a doctor.”
The driver rolled his eyes. “OK,” he said, “where to?”
Sarah told him Miriam’s address and opened the window. The fumes from the street would perhaps mask some of the smells within the cab. She listened as the driver reassured his passenger that all was well, the detour wouldn’t take long. Many drivers would have refused to budge, sh
e knew that. But she had gotten lucky. This guy had a heart.
As soon as the house appeared Sarah leaped from the cab, raced up the steps and began hammering the knocker, pressing the buzzer, trying the door.
She could feel Miriam standing just the other side of the door. “Please,” she said softly, “please open it.” She did not want to shout. Attracting the attention of the neighbors was dangerous.
After the longest thirty seconds of Sarah’s life the door clicked and swung open. She staggered in and slammed it shut behind her, on all the bustle and beauty, and the hideous temptation, of the world of man.
Miriam knew at once that Sarah’s will had proved stronger than her need. She sighed with displeasure, let the poor thing into the house, waited for the inevitable recriminations.
Sarah’s hunger would eventually break her will, but until it did Miriam would have to endure this annoying independence. She hardly heard Sarah’s wails of anguish, her roaring anger, hardly felt the clawing and the pummeling as she pulled the girl up the stairs and back into their bedroom.
“I’ll return when you’re feeling more reasonable,” she said. “Try to calm yourself.” There was little point in saying more. Sarah was stronger than the others, a lot stronger. Too bad. It was going to make things that much more difficult for her. She had a romantic vision of herself as the great healer. A fool’s vision. The world has forgotten that romance has two aspects, that of love and that of death. Sarah didn’t know it, but she had moved to the side of death.
The walls of the apartment were closing in on Tom. He stood in the foyer, his mind racked with indecision. He should follow Sarah, go back to that house again.
But he could not. That pretty little house held nothing for him but terror. Pink brickwork, window boxes, romantic white shutters, all seemed evil and grotesque, like makeup smeared on some sneering face. The screaming terrors of last night seemed to come close to him. His hand touched the bandages on his face. Had they been demons? Were such things real? His belief in science had evaporated. All the grand procession of knowledge now seemed nothing more than smugness and ignorance.
The Hunger Page 27
