Then, to Tom’s great surprise, he heard a second voice that he recognized. It was Ed’s voice, talking to someone named Nathaniel. That name stirred a memory; it took a moment for Kajdas to associate it with the test subject he had worked with so long ago. The man Kajdas had hit in the face with a shovel. Tom paused in his climb to listen. Ed was asking about his girlfriend. Kajdas had met Sarah, a long time ago, and had liked her quite a bit. There had been that one unfortunate time when he had taken her hostage at gunpoint, but that was an act of necessity. Tom had nothing against the girl.
The next words that he heard stopped him in his tracks. “Kajdas messed up my head.” The voice was Tom’s, but he was talking about Tom in the third person. “Now I’m in his head. It’s easier to think in here.”
All at once, it started to make sense. The one-eyed man who had thrown Kajdas into the pit had somehow taken over his body. Tom was a prisoner in his own mind. That was why he had not seen another person in this strange, red world. He was the only person in it.
And now the one-eyed man was talking to Ed. They were speaking of a deal they had made. “No,” said Kajdas. “He’s the Devil. Don’t make a deal with him.” But the deal had been made already. “Ed!” Kajdas cried, even though he was sure no one would hear. “Don’t trust him!”
In the excitement of the moment, Tom forgot that he needed to hold on. His left hand slipped off of the rock, and he hung for a moment, hanging by three fingers on his right hand. How far had he climbed? It had to be miles. Kajdas didn’t want to think about what would happen if he fell that far. Then his right hand began to slip, and before he knew what was happening, he was tumbling head over feet into open space.
But he didn’t fall very far. For one sickening moment he felt his fall slowing, and he realized that the river had caught him. Drawn by its current, he began to move upward—slowly at first, and then accelerating to an impossible speed.
* * *
Ed took two steps back from Nathaniel. The man was clearly not well. He trembled and shook; his hair fluffed up wildly; his eyes had diverged and looked in two different directions. Joy was holding the light steady on his face, so Ed couldn’t see Nathaniel’s men, but he sensed that they were even more deeply disturbed by this than he was.
Then, with a violent shudder, Nathaniel gained control of himself. He breathed deeply, smoothed his hair, and the crazy look was replaced by one of calm and control. The red light in his right eye dimmed and went out. “Ed,” he said. “Is that you?”
There was something about him that was very un-Nathaniel-like, and Ed immediately recognized this as the manner of the old Kajdas. He put a hand on Kajdas’ shoulder, leaned closer so the Horsemen wouldn’t hear, and whispered, “Tom, is that you?”
Kajdas nodded. “Ed,” he whispered back, “I don’t know what’s happening. A man with one eye threw me in a hole. I’ve been in there forever.”
Nathaniel’s men were stirring uneasily. “Tom, tell the Horsemen to go away.”
“What?”
“Just say it.”
Kajdas was startled to see that there were other people nearby. Joy directed the light up toward the ceiling so he could see. “Horsemen,” said Kajdas, “go away.”
The man with the hole in his throat stared at Kajdas for a long time, his breath hissing in and out. Then he turned and walked toward the big tunnel. The others followed him. Joy immediately set the light on the floor and began untying Rayfield and Sarah.
“Ed,” said Kajdas, “I know this place.”
Ed nodded.
“There are so many things I need to… We don’t have long. He’s trying to take over.” His hands were twitching. “When he comes back, I don’t think there’ll be any more me.” With that, he let out a strangled cry. His eye lit up again and his hand went to a pouch attached to his belt. “No!” he said, forcing his hand back to his side. The light went dark again.
Rayfield, now free of his bonds, straightened to a menacing height and took a step toward Kajdas. Ed said, “Hold on, Rayfield. Give us a minute.” Rayfield and the others moved a short distance away, still close enough to help if something happened.
“Ed,” Kajdas said, “I’m sorry. For all the things I did to you. It wasn’t right. It was all because of me. Your wife, she died because of what I did. I should have told you.”
“I already know,” said Ed.
Kajdas wiped tears from his eyes. “We called it Candlestick. The subject was supposed to kill Senator Yarborough, but he took your Eleanor instead. I couldn’t stop him. It was too late. Then there was Bobby Kennedy and Toronto and… Ed, I’ve done such terrible things. I can’t ask—I shouldn’t ask. But I have to. Will you forgive me?”
Ed didn’t know what to say. He wanted to forgive Kajdas. They had been friends, long ago. Kajdas had helped him through his grief after losing Eleanor… but it had been Kajdas who had caused her to die. “I―” Ed swallowed. He knew he had to say it. Maybe it would become true if he said it. “I―” He couldn’t make the words come out.
Before he knew it, his chance was gone. Kajdas’ right eye lit up with its red light, brighter than before. His hand went to the pouch and took out a folding knife. He quickly opened the blade with shaking hands and made a long cut in his own arm. Blood dripped on the stone floor. He moaned in pain, and then he was himself—he was Tom once again. “It’s all right,” Kajdas said. “Forgiveness is too much to ask.” He looked down at the knife in his hand, at the blood. “He’s coming back. I can’t stay. But maybe I can do something to help.” Gripping the knife with both hands, he turned the blade toward his own throat and attempted to cut himself. The light in his eye came and went, flashing and flickering madly. Kajdas fought Nathaniel for control. The blade barely nicked his throat. Ed thought of grabbing the knife—but what would he do with it? Should he save his friend, or kill him? The question had barely formed in his mind when Kajdas took over one last time and stuck the blade into his own left eye. He wailed in pain as blood and other fluids ran down his face. Then his good eye lit up again, and Ed knew that Kajdas was gone forever.
Someone was tugging on Ed’s arm. He allowed himself to be pulled away, but he couldn’t take his eyes off of Kajdas. Not Kajdas—Nathaniel. He was hunched over, screaming and clawing at the knife handle sticking out of his eye. Several Horsemen ran back into the room and stood near him, looking frightened and helpless. One of them had found a camping lantern. Behind them came Norge, who walked straight up to Nathaniel, seized the handle of the knife, and pulled it out.
Ed did not see what happened next. Rayfield dragged him away, into the tunnel that led up toward the surface. Sarah knew the way; she held the light and led them up through the mineshafts and through concrete corridors. Then they were outside, blinking in the bright morning sunlight beside the little hill in the middle of the grassy field. Of the rest of Nathaniel’s men there was no sign. As soon as they were out, Sarah caught Ed in a hug that caused them both to tumble to the ground. “I missed you,” Sarah said into his ear.
“Holy buckets!” Joy exclaimed.
“I missed you too,” said Ed. “Doris.”
Sarah planted a kiss on him, right in front of Joy and Rayfield. Rayfield looked away, embarrassed. Joy was watching something else entirely. She looked worried. “Bad things coming,” she said. “Very, very bad.”
Ed understood what she meant when he got up, brushing off dirt and grass, and saw two men in black uniforms approaching at a brisk trot. They ran awkwardly because each man was carrying a rifle. Their helmets had dark visors that concealed any human features they may or may not have had. They stopped twenty feet away, trained their guns on Ed and the others, and one of them shouted, “Get down on the ground!” His helmet muffled his voice, making him sound robotic.
“You think they’re Army guys?” Rayfield whispered, raising his hands and dropping to his knees.
“Army guys wear green,” Joy said. She did the same, as did Sarah. Ed was the only one who didn’t m
ove.
“Ed,” said Sarah, “just do what they say. Please.”
Ed started to get down on his knees, but stopped himself and stood up straighter. “You work for Nosgrove, don’t you?” The men didn’t reply. It was likely they had never heard the name before. “Abe Cruller. Are you here for Cruller?”
The men in black were clearly not interested in conversation. “Last chance. Get down or we shoot.”
Ed felt his temper rising. He would be damned if he let Nosgrove win, after all he’d been through. “He’s dead, you know. Cruller’s dead. Go ahead and shoot us. It won’t make a difference.”
“Hold on, now,” Rayfield protested.
“He doesn’t mean it,” Joy told the men.
Mason’s lessons were still fresh in Ed’s mind. He remembered how to find his way around the human mind: the sensory regions, areas that controlled emotions, motor abilities, involuntary reflexes. When Kajdas had attacked him in Toronto, he had lashed out in a panic, grabbing at anything he could to keep from being shot. This time he knew exactly what he was after. Not so long ago, Ed had decided that he would not use his abilities to kill a person. He had seen enough death for one lifetime. Now, looking down the barrels of two guns for the second time in a week, he changed his mind. Choosing one of the men at random—he picked the one on the left—Ed reached out and found the part of the brain that controlled the heart… and broke it. The soldier went limp and collapsed.
Ed watched with a vague sense of satisfaction as he watched the man fall to the ground. Killing him had been easy. He could kill all of them, if he wanted to. As soon as that thought crossed his mind, Ed forced it away again. He may have to kill these men to save himself, but it would make him too much like Cruller if he enjoyed doing it.
Sarah was watching with an expression of horror. “Ed, did you put him to sleep? What did you do?”
“Oh God,” said Joy. “Oh God.”
The second soldier froze for a moment, his weapon still pointed at Ed’s chest. Then he, too, fell to the ground, killed in an instant by the touch of Ed’s mind.
“Oh God,” Joy said once more.
“Come on,” Ed said gravely. “There’ll be more of them.” Without looking down, he stepped over the bodies and walked toward the razor-wire fence by the road. The others followed in silence.
* * *
The sun was shining when Nathaniel led his six remaining Horsemen out into the open. The pain in his lost eye was intense. He had tied an old rag around his head to slow the bleeding.
Nathaniel was beside himself with fury. He was angry at Tom Kajdas for taking his eye for a second time. He was very angry at Mike Ludd, who had run back into the cave at the last minute to rescue a piece of his machine that could not be easily rebuilt. And he was especially angry at all the men in black uniforms who were swarming around his front door and dragging the rest of his Horsemen into their helicopters. He reached out, not very gently, and prevented them from noticing him and his remaining men as they made their escape.
It was his house, and he should not have had to run away from it. This was all Urizen’s fault. The men were going into the caves to rescue their master from his chains. That was fine with Nathaniel; he had one surprise that he had prepared for exactly this situation.
Croaker Norge now had a big hole in his throat, surrounded by charred flesh. Nathaniel was relieved. He hated Norge’s stutter. But the liquidy hiss of his breath through the hole was not any better than the stuttering.
The others were looking tired and defeated. Franklin Adams and Zeke Halliwell were blinking in the sunlight, disoriented and fearful. Was Adams crying? He looked like he was crying. Adams had once been a member of Arthur’s Society, but the hum had broken him. Now he belonged completely to Nathaniel.
Terrance Chisholm was staring sullenly at the ground. Gray-haired Dick Bunton was watching Nathaniel, desperate for someone to tell him what to do. There was no sign of Tinch, which made Nathaniel sad. Tinch had been cruel but loyal. Nathaniel didn’t know how much he could count on these others without the machine to keep them in line. That could only be fixed by building a new and better machine, as Ludd had promised to do once he retrieved his missing part. In the meantime, Brown Mike thought there would be some residual obedience that would fade over time.
“Ready?” said Larson. He had a big bruise on his face and was not telling how he’d gotten it. Nathaniel had been wondering whether Larson’s loyalty would fade after the hum stopped. If it did, he would have to be disposed of.
“Wait,” Nathaniel said. They waited. Two more of Urizen’s helicopters landed on the grassy plain, and more of the men in black came out and ran into the caves. They waited a while longer, and finally Mike Ludd came out of the front door carrying a small, orange box with several wires trailing from it. Nathaniel nodded to Larson. They all walked over to a big, buzzing metal box next to the fence, where Larson opened a panel. Behind the panel was a switch that had been wired into the box.
“Do you want to say something?” said Larson.
“Like what?” said Nathaniel.
Larson shrugged. “I don’t know. Some words.”
“Just blow it up,” Nathaniel said testily.
Larson flipped the switch. There was a low sound, a sort of whump, and the ground beneath them seemed to drop down about six inches. Nathaniel watched as the explosive charges detonated, one after another, in a huge circle. Each charge coughed up a big cloud of brown dust as it destroyed the structural supports that had kept the caves from collapsing. The last charge obliterated the hill with the front door, in the center of the circle of explosions. A few of the black soldiers were still outside, but most had already gone into Nathaniel’s house before the explosions had begun. They were most likely dead now.
The charges had been designed to seal the Horse Room forever, with Orc and Urizen trapped, alive, deep underground. That part of the plan had failed. But Nathaniel had accomplished his main goal: he had proven that Ludd’s machine, with the right improvements, could produce all the slaves that Nathaniel would need for the next phase of his plan. The fact that he had probably buried a large number of Urizen’s soldiers was the icing on the meat.
“I’ll build a new one,” said Mike Ludd. He had tears streaming down his face. “My next machine will be ten times as powerful. A hundred times.” He held the orange piece of the machine close to his chest.
“Not one,” said Nathaniel. “You’re going to build five machines.”
Ludd brightened when he heard that. “Five? Why five?”
“Because five is all we’ll need.”
* * *
Dalton Whitehead stood on a bare, brown hillside, watching the bombs go off a mile away. Getting the wheelchair up here, with the big, bald man in it, had been a chore, but it was a necessary one. The explosions destroyed three of the helicopters and sent the soldiers scrambling for cover. Four other helicopters had already taken off, probably carrying as many prisoners as they could hold.
“I hope Nathaniel’s one of them,” he muttered.
The bald man grunted. Dalton had sewn him up hastily, and there was a good chance this excursion over rough ground in the wheelchair would kill him. But he seemed very strong—unnaturally strong. Nathaniel had called this man Orc. Dalton wondered if saving him had been a good idea. But letting him die had been out of the question. Whitehead was a doctor, after all.
“At least Urizen was in there,” Whitehead added. “That’ll be the end of him.”
The man in the wheelchair had not said a word since his surgery—in fact, Dalton had never heard him speak. He chose that moment to break his silence. “No.”
* * *
Rayfield drove the Volkswagen down the dusty road as the sun came up behind them. When he saw a group of eight bedraggled hitchhikers some two miles down the road, he announced his intention to pick them up. “Oh, come on, Ed,” Rayfield grumbled in response to Ed’s objection. “If it was you hitchhiking, you’d want somebody to p
ick you up.”
When they discovered that one of the hitchhikers was Perla, Joy began squealing and jumped out of the car before it had stopped moving. There was only one man in the group; he introduced himself as Seymour. The rest were half-starved women they had rescued from the caves. They all piled into the back of the microbus, which soon began to resemble the inside of a clown car.
The six young ladies all cast nervous glances at Ed. They seemed to recognize him. It took him some time to understand why. “You were at Arthur’s house, weren’t you?”
One of the girls said, “You came to the door once. With her.” She pointed at Sarah. “You weren’t respectful to Lord Orc.”
“I’m sure we weren’t,” said Ed. He didn’t seem to want to talk, and they left him alone.
Rayfield hit the gas, and they all tumbled toward the back of the vehicle with many grunts and loud complaints from those who ended up on the bottom of the big pile of people. They all sorted themselves out somehow and managed to sit without jostling each other, but Ed couldn’t help but feel claustrophobic in the tight space.
In spite of his discomfort, he was surprised when the van stopped, waking him up from a sound sleep. Rayfield was checking his hair in the rearview mirror. “It’s all there,” Joy said. “You just imagined it was falling out.” Rayfield looked relieved, but continued checking anyway.
Someone opened the back door and they all got out. Rayfield had taken them to a house in a quiet suburb. He had parked on the street behind a bright red Trans Am that looked like it had just been driven off the lot. Ed took a minute or two to admire the car before joining the others.
It was a sunny but cool October day. He couldn’t remember what day it was; there were kids playing in the front yards, so it had to be the weekend. The girls of the Society all milled around in the driveway until a man opened the front door of the house. From his broad smile and bubbly manner, Ed guessed that he must be Joy’s father.
The Music of the Machine (The Book of Terwilliger 2) Page 62
