The workmen halted to watch the weirdness that surrounded them. The last arm was seeping back into the wall, and two of the Eyes followed. The other Eyes hung motionless, something gone out of them—the power and the menace. They shrank, from two feet down to one, and then to eight inches, and they grew dull and off-color. One by one they floated to the wall and slowly, inch by inch, pushed themselves through it, back to their parent horrors, and the sure starvation Linc had planned for them.
The hall was clear and silent.
Iverson, standing beside Linc, was an emaciated caricature of himself, but his face was warm with relief. “You did it,” he said to Linc. “You did it. And there are no words in the world big enough to thank you.”
“There isn’t time for that, anyway. There are people still in the hole who need help, and there’s a little more lead to put up. Let’s not leave them one tiny bit of energy. Let’s count the hours until they’re gone from the face of the earth.”
The workmen went back to the plates as their vote of thanks. Iverson gripped his hand, then set off to make arrangements for the people in the hole.
Linc walked out of the corridor, out into the fresh, cold air of autumn, and the blast of a horn drew him in the direction of the car. Kelly ran to meet him halfway, Ichabod jumping and barking at her heels.
She threw herself into his arms and caught him so tightly that he grunted in protest. “It’s over, isn’t it?” she said. “I can tell by your expression. It’s over, and we can go home.”
“We can.” He pushed her back so he could see all the happiness, relief and promise of her. “I’m transferring my destiny from the monster Zines to Kelly Adams. Do you think it’s a fair exchange?”
“You’ll find out. You’ll have years to find out.”
“Well,” he teased, turning her to walk with him, “at least I’m sure of Ichabod.”
He liked the hard, sure sound of his footsteps on the cement. He was whole again, confident again—more than he had ever been before. He had gone into hell alone, and come out three: a man, a wife and a dog. It was the basis of many a life, and he clasped the goodness of it close.
The Flying Eyes Page 17
