cut to Alice
Meanwhile, in Manhattan, the situation is rapidly deteriorating…
Glaeken stared at the TV screen in dismay, barely aware of the picture. But he was listening intently, hoping for fresh news from Maui. As a geologist came on, spouting his theory of how the hole in the channel between Hawaii and Maui had destabilized the Pacific "hot spot" that had formed the Hawaiian Islands over the ages, Glaeken hit the MUTE button on his remote control.
Apparently the doorman had rung while he'd been intent on the TV—he saw Bill leading Jack into the room.
"Jack! I see you made it through the night. Did you take care of that 'business' you mentioned?"
Jack nodded, a bit glumly, Glaeken thought.
"Yeah. All taken care of."
As Bill returned to the kitchen to finish helping Nick with breakfast, Jack dropped into a chair.
"Anything I can do?" Glaeken said.
Jack shook his head. "I sent some people off into the hinterlands. I'm just hoping they get where they're going without any trouble. The city's already starting to fall apart."
"So I've heard. I understand the National Guard is on alert but that fewer than half of the Guardsmen are reporting in."
"Not surprised. They probably want to stay home and protect their own. Who can blame them?"
"You should have had your people stay here. They're welcome."
"I thought about that after they left, but I think far from the city might be better for them. However, I've got some other friends who could use this place. Good people. You got room?"
"The building's practically empty."
"How come? It looks like a prime spot."
"I'm very choosy about my neighbors."
"Yeah, but—" Jack's eyes widened. "You mean—?"
"Yes. I own the building." As Jack rubbed a hand across his eyes, Glaeken said, "You've heard about Maui, I presume?"
"No.What?"
Glaeken capsulized the news reports for him.
"You think she's still alive?"
Glaeken nodded. There's a good chance. She lives on the northwest slope. If she was home…" He asked the question that was uppermost in his mind. "When can you leave, Jack?"
"Tomorrow."
"No. You must leave today. Every moment counts."
"No way. The bogus necklaces won't be ready till tomorrow morning at the earliest. And I'm not going without them. They're my ace in the hole."
Glaeken considered that a moment. At the rate the situation was deteriorating, tomorrow might be too late. But he didn't see that he had much choice. He had no way of forcing Jack to leave today.
"I promise—I'll catch a flight out there first thing tomorrow—soon as those necklaces are ready."
"That may not be so easy. A number of airlines have grounded all flights."
"Why? Pilots not showing up?"
"Partly that. But a number of flights have disappeared. I should say, a lot of flights have disappeared. They take off but never land."
"Swell. What've we got now—holes in the sky?"
"No. Leviathans in the air, sweeping the planes from the sky. Pulverizing them."
Jack said nothing, simply sat and stared at Glaeken with a skeptical look.
"It's true," Bill said, leading Nick in from the kitchen.
Bill sat him in a chair that caught the last fleeting rays of the morning sun. Nick stared emptily at the wall.
"I've seen them," Bill went on. "Big. Big as towns, gliding through the night."
"At least we've got the days," Jack said. "The daylight time may be shrinking, but maybe this guy Rasalom made a mistake giving us some slack like this."
"Not at all. The days give us time to be at our worst. A constant onslaught might drive us together, bring out the best in us. But the respite offered by the daylight gives the terrors of the night before and the anticipated terrors of the night to come a chance to work on us. It allows fear a chance to demoralize us. Fear is the key to Rasalom's power. Fear is the great divider. From war and racism to the mundane vices of greed and gluttony—they're all rooted in fear. What is religion, after all, but a ritualized response to fear—fear of death, fear of the perversities of luck and happenstance that afflict every life at one time or another?" He pointed out the window. "Fear is rampant out there now. It's dividing us, hurting us, bringing out the worst in too many of us. It will be the end of us." He turned to Jack. "That's why you've got to get to Maui and retrieve those necklaces."
"I'll find a way," Jack said softly. "There's always a way."
Glaeken was sure Jack would find a way, and if he was successful in retrieving the necklaces, then what? Tension rolled out from Glaeken's chest along his limbs. He flexed his arthritic fingers to free it. What indeed? Knowing the source of the metal from which they'd been fashioned, he was almost afraid to be in the same room with those necklaces. What would happen if he touched them? Or even got near? Hopefully, nothing. But he couldn't risk it. He'd have to keep his distance when and if Jack brought them back.
Jack said, "You know, with the way things are going, I think I'm going to need some back-up on the trip."
Bill said, "I could come along if you wish."
At first, Glaeken was startled by Bill's offer. He glanced at the ex-priest and caught a desperate look in his eyes. Desperate for what? And then he understood. Bill felt lost, adrift, already a resident of the land to which most of humanity would soon be emigrating. Poor man. The New York City police records still listed him as a fugitive suspect in a capital crime, he had broken with his church, his family was dead, his last friend was sitting in the kitchen, lapsing in and out of catatonia, and Glaeken suspected that his feelings for Carol Treece ran deeper than he dared admit.
Small wonder he was feeling reckless.
Glaeken hoped Jack had the good sense not to take him up on the offer.
"Uh, nothing personal, Bill," Jack said after a long pause, "but I'm looking for someone with maybe a little experience in hand-to-hand work."
"If I were younger…" Glaeken said wistfully.
He remembered times when he had cursed the ages he'd spent in a body in its mid-thirties. Now, with the burden of eternity off him, there were moments when he would have relished tight muscles, mobile joints, and a supple back.
"Yeah," Jack said, smiling. "We'd have made a helluva pair, I think. But I was wondering about the big Viet guy from yesterday. Think he'd be up for it?"
"Ba? I don't know. I doubt he'd be willing to leave Mrs. Nash unprotected, but it wouldn't hurt to ask. I'll call if you like."
"Might be better if I go in person. Maybe I can sway him with my magnetic charm."
Bill laughed aloud. Jack gave him a sidelong look.
"Something funny, guy?"
Bill grinned. "I didn't know what to make of you at first, but I think you're all right."
"Which says loads about your character judgment. None of it good."
Glaeken gave Jack directions to Toad Hall and said he'd call ahead to let them know he was coming.
When he was gone, Glaeken reached for the TV remote control. Before he could resume the audio, Nick spoke.
"They won't be enough," he said in his monotone.
Bill squatted before him and looked into his eyes.
"What, Nick? What won't be enough?"
"The necklaces. They won't do the job. You'll need more to make it work. Pieces of something else. Pieces of the rest of it."
"What does that mean, Nick? Pieces of what?"
But he was gone again. Bill turned to Glaeken.
"Any idea what he's talking about?"
Glaeken sat numb and cold and sick as he stared at Nick.
"Yes, I'm afraid I do."
WXRK-FM
Well, the news keeps getting worse. Reports from the Midwest and the Plains States say that the nations cattle herds were decimated by the bugs last night. Measures are being taken now to protect them but no one knows how successful they'll be. My advice: Enj
oy your Big Macs and Whoppers today because pretty soon you wont be able to afford them.
And now, continuing with our K-Rock All-Request Weekend, we've got Marvin Gaye asking the question that's on everybody's lips.
Cue: "What's Goin' On?"
"Come on, Carol," Hank said. "We don't have much time!"
"We've got all day, Hank," she said, trying to hide her annoyance.
"But a day isn't what it used to be. Let's go!"
Carol joined him in the hall where he was holding the elevator.
"Where are we going now?" she asked when the doors had closed them in.
"You've got your list?"
"Yes," she sighed, fingering the handwritten sheet in her coat pocket. "I've got my list."
"We're going to split up," Hank said.
"I don't know if that's such a good idea."
"It's necessary," he said. "I've given it a lot of thought and that's the most efficient way to get everything done."
His eyes were feverish. He'd spent most of the night hours compiling lists of necessities they'd have to pick up today. He'd been up and down repeatedly, checking the windows. A few times he'd found one sort of monstrosity or another clinging to the screens, but for the most part it had been a quiet night.
"But there are warnings on the radio and TV—"
The elevator slowed to a stop at the fourth floor. The doors opened to reveal another couple outside in the hall, each weighted with a pair of suitcases. They looked pale, drawn, shaken. Carol recognized the woman—she'd seen her in the lobby a few times.
"Moving out?" she said, stepping aside to make room for them and their luggage.
The woman nodded glumly. "My sister's got a place in the Catskills. We're going to move in with her until this mess gets straightened out."
"What happened?"
"We had an awful night. Most of the lower floors did. They broke through our living-room windows and chased us through the apartment. We had to spend the rest of the night in the hall closet. Those things were right outside the door all night, clawing, chewing, scratching, trying to get in at us."
"How awful!" Carol said.
She realized then how lucky they were to have an apartment on an upper floor. They'd been spared last night. But what about tonight?
"Not as awful as what happened to the Honigs in four-twelve," her husband said. "Jerry lost his left hand and their little girl got carried off."
The woman's brave facade crumbled as she began to sob. "Poor Carrie!"
Carol's heart went out to the Honigs, whoever they were.
"If there's anything we can do for them—I mean, if they need food or—"
Hank nudged her. When she looked at him, he gave her a quick, tiny shake of his head.
"Hank—!"
"I'll explain later," he said under his breath.
The elevator doors opened onto the lobby then. The other couple hefted their luggage and moved out. Carol grabbed Hank's arm.
"Are you telling me we can't share any of our hoard with our neighbors if they need it?"
"Carol, please keep your voice down," he hissed, glancing around the empty lobby. "We can't let anyone know what we've got. Anyone! You tell one, she'll tell two who'll tell a couple more. Before you know it, the whole building—hell, the whole East Side will know what we've got. And then they'll be knocking on our door, begging. And if we give to one we'll have to give to more. And if we try to save some for ourselves they'll want that too. And when we don't give it to them, they'll break our door down and kill us and each other to get at it."
Shocked, Carol stared at him.
"God, Hank. What's wrong with you?"
"What's wrong with me! What's wrong with you? Can't you get it into your head that when things really begin to fall apart, our stock—our 'hoard,' as you like to call it—might be all that stands between us and starvation?"
She stared at him in wonder as a police car roared by outside with its sirens blasting.
Survival? Mere survival? At what cost? She couldn't see herself trading all her humane instincts and values for a full belly. And then an unsettling question wheedled its way into her thoughts: Would hunger—real hunger—put a whole new slant on her perspective?
She hoped the time never came when she had to deal with that question. But now, here, in the present, she had to deal with this strange new Hank. Maybe a more logical approach would work.
"But Hank, even with all we've put away, the time's going to come when that's going to run out too."
"No, no!" he said, a panicked look twisting his features for an instant. "A new order will be established after a while, and then we can begin trading for other things we need. We'll be in the catbird seat."
"Great, Hank. But we'll have had to pick our way through the starved corpses of our friends and neighbors to get there. Will that make you happy?"
"Dammit, Carol, I'm not talking about happiness—I'm talking about survival!"
Like talking to a wall, she thought dispiritedly.
"Fine, Hank. Keep on talking about survival. I need some fresh air."
She strode across the lobby and out to the street. Behind her she heard Hank call out.
"Don't forget your list! We need all that stuff by tonight!"
Carol wished she could have slammed the lobby door behind her.
CNN:
The Weekend Report continues with this just in from the White House. The President has declared a national state of emergency. Repeat: a national state of emergency. Reserve units of the Army are being activated. Congress has called an emergency session.
Monroe, Long Island
Sylvia recognized the old man's voice immediately. A wave of resentment surged through her.
"I hope this isn't about moving in with you in the city," she said, controlling her voice. "Pressure tactics won't work, Mr. Veilleur. I don't wear down very easily."
"I'm quite well aware of that, Mrs. Nash. And please call me Glaeken. That's my real name."
Sylvia didn't want to call him that. It was like a first name, and she didn't wish to be on a first-name basis with this man. So she said nothing.
"I didn't call to pressure you into anything," he said after a pause. "I merely wished to inquire as to how you and your household fared last night."
"We did just fine, thank you." No thanks to you.
She repressed the urge to tell him that the strange attraction Jeffy had developed for him had nearly cost the boy his life—and Ba's and her own as well; that if Jeffy hadn't become so fixated on Glaeken he wouldn't have wandered off last night. But in the back of her mind she knew Glaeken could crush her with the simple admonishment that a good mother should know the whereabouts of her child. She'd spent most of the night telling herself the same thing, berating herself for letting Jeffy wander off. If only she'd kept an eye on him, Rudy would still be alive and Ba wouldn't have dozens of healing wounds on the back of his neck.
"This is a tough old house," she said. "And with the metal storm shutters we installed yesterday, it's like a fortress."
The racket last night had been horrendous. Those things from the hole had pounded against the shutters incessantly until sunrise. Sealed in as they were, the silence from outside had been their only clue that daylight had arrived. She'd greeted the dawn with relief and exhaustion.
"Good," Glaeken said. "I'm very glad to hear that. I hope your defenses remain as effective against future assaults. But I called for two reasons. The other is to let you know that Jack, the fellow who let you in yesterday, will be stopping by later for a visit."
"I warned you about pressuring me."
"Have no fear, Mrs Nash. He's not coming to see you. He wishes to speak to Ba."
"Ba? What does he want with Ba?"
She vaguely remembered the wiry, dark-haired, dark-eyed man Glaeken had mentioned—a rather ordinary-looking sort. She had an impression of him and Ba standing at the back of the living room, speaking together in low tones. It was so unusual for
Ba to speak at all to a stranger, she remembered wondering if they'd met before.
"Perhaps I'd better let Jack explain that himself," Glaeken said. "Good day, Mrs. Nash."
What on earth could those two have in common? she wondered. She fought the temptation to tip-toe to one of the windows and eavesdrop. She'd know soon enough.
And sure enough, a few minutes later Ba was leading Jack into the house through the back door. Alan rolled in behind them and Jeffy brought up the rear, flipping his football from hand to hand.
"Hi, Mrs. Nash," Jack said, extending his hand. "We met yesterday."
She shook his hand briefly. "I remember."
"Can we all talk?" Jack said.
Alan looked at Sylvia and gave her a puzzled shrug. "Why don't we go into the den," he said.
Sylvia sent Jeffy upstairs to wash his hands and seated herself where she had a view of the stairs. If Jeffy came down, she'd see him. There'd be no wandering off this time. She was determined to know his whereabouts every minute of the day.
Jack seated himself across from her. Ba remained standing near Alan. She sensed tightly coiled tension in the tall Oriental and tried to read his expression, but as usual he was letting nothing show.
Jack said, "Do you remember Glaeken talking about a certain pair of necklaces yesterday?"
Sylvia nodded. "The ones supposedly made from the second focus."
"Right. Well, he's located them on Maui, and I'm going to head out there tomorrow to see if I can get them back."
"I see," Sylvia said, keeping her tone noncommittal. "What does that have to do with Ba?"
"I'd like him to come along."
"And what did Ba say?" She suspected the answer but wanted to hear it for herself.
"He refused. Said he couldn't leave you here unprotected."
Sylvia turned to the Oriental. "Thank you, Ba."
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