Repairman Jack 05 - Hosts

by F. Paul Wilson

  And she was freed.

  And in her hand, the block of clay-like explosive.

  Kate knelt beside the microwave and sobbed. Not with joy, not with relief, but with an aching terror in her bones. She didn't want to do this.

  Kate allowed herself some self-pity for a moment, then began sliding the microwave back across the floor toward the cabinets. She had work to do.

  She used a steak knife from the utensil drawer to strip the ends of the wires leading from the clock and the detonators. She twisted them back together and wrapped the splices with scotch tape.

  Almost there. One more thing to do, the hardest of all, and then she'd be ready.

  13

  Jack cruised right past Holdstock's house on the first pass. He'd only been here once before, and he missed it in the dark. The pelting rain didn't help. Doubled back and found it, and realized why he'd missed it: not a light, not a sign of life.

  Alarm bells clamored in his brain as he left the car and ran up the walk. Quick look though the front windows—not even a glimmer; around back—same story. A tomb had more activity.

  Returned to his car and sat dripping in the front seat, staring at the dark house.

  Suckered.

  If you want us, you know where to find us.

  Jeanette—or rather the Unity speaking through her—had misdirected him. Why? Just to waste his time? Or—

  Oh, hell. Kate.

  Grabbed his cell phone and dialed. Kept it for emergencies only and was always careful about what he said. This was an emergency.

  Busy signal. Good sign. The Unity didn't seem to need phones to communicate and Kate had said she had calls to make.

  Question was: did the Unity know where he lived? He had to assume that it had acquired most of Kate's knowledge, and Kate did know his address. Somebody from the Unity could be heading for his place now. He or she wouldn't be able to get in, but Jack would feel better being at Kate's side.

  He gunned the car back toward the Bronx River Parkway.

  14

  Ron answered the phone. She could hear irritation battling with relief in his tone as the words poured through the receiver in a rush. "Jesus Christ, Kate, where have you been? Are you all right?"

  "I'm okay," she said.

  His voiced faded as she heard him say, "It's Mom. She's okay." Relieved murmurs from Kevin and Lizzie in the background, then his voice louder again. "We've been worried sick about you. Why didn't you call? It was like you dropped off the face of the earth. When you didn't show up this afternoon I started calling your friend's phone, your cell phone—no answer anywhere. We've been frantic. I was just about to call the New York police!"

  "It's been terrible here, Ron," Kate said. "Jeanette's in a coma. I don't think she's coming out of it."

  She wanted to tell as few lies as possible, but since no one would believe the truth, she'd have to stretch it. Jeanette—the real Jeanette—was in a coma of sorts.

  "Oh," Ron said. "I'm sorry. But you could have called."

  "And then there's my brother Jack."

  "The long lost Jack?"

  "I ran into him here and three or four days later he becomes seriously ill—high fever, delirious. So it's been one thing on top of another."

  "Sounds terrible." His voice descended from anxiety to understanding. That had always been Ron's strong suit: understanding. "And you don't sound so hot yourself."

  "I haven't been feeling quite myself."

  "Still… you could have called. Are you still in New York?"

  Yes.

  "Then there's no way you can make the concert." He lowered his voice. "Lizzie will be heartbroken."

  "I know that, Ron. Don't you think I feel bad enough? Put her on, will you.

  And then her dear sweet daughter came on and Kate pleaded for understanding and Lizzie told her it was all right, there'd be other concerts—she'd do a command performance for her mother when she came home—and Kate burst into tears and promised that as long as she lived she'd never miss another recital.

  "You know I love you more than life itself, Lizzie," she said. "Never forget that, no matter what happens."

  And then she spoke to Kevin.

  "I feel so bad," she told him. "After my big lecture about doing things as a family, I'm the one who's not going make it. But if there was any way I could be there you know I would."

  "Sure, Ma."

  "So be there in my place, okay, Kev? Be my surrogate."

  And then she told him how proud she was of him, how she loved him and wanted only the best for him, always and forever.

  Ron came back on, his voice hushed. "Is something wrong, Kate? You sound so strange. You've spooked the kids."

  "I don't mean to upset them," she said. "Maybe it's all the terrible luck Jeanette's been having. It's makes you think of all the good fortune you've had in your life. And the not-so-good things you've done. I'm sorry I messed up your life, Ron."

  "You? No, it was—"

  "Me, Ron. Me all the way. You're a good man and you'd have been better off if we'd never met."

  "But then there wouldn't be Kevin and Lizzie."

  "Yes, there's that. Our crowning achievements." She swallowed. "Are you happy, Ron?"

  "Me?" He seemed surprised. "Not perfectly, but reasonably. Can't expect perfect happiness twice."

  The remark bewildered her. "Twice? When was the first?"

  "Maybe ten years ago when we were still building our practices and the kids were just starting school. I… I thought we were the perfect team, you and I, and the possibilities seemed limitless. I'd never been that happy before in my life. I'd never dreamed I could be that happy. And you were part of that, Kate. You made it possible. So don't ever say I'd have been better off without you."

  Kate felt tears running down her cheeks. She couldn't speak.

  Please don't ask if I've ever been that happy, she thought, because I don't think I've ever been truly, truly happy with my life.

  Snatches of happiness with the children, the hope of it with Jeanette, but true happiness had always remained just around the corner, just over the next hill.

  Finally she found her voice, and it sounded ragged. "You're a good man, Ron. A good father and a better husband than I was a wife. Don't ever forget that."

  "I really don't like the sound of this Kate. You're…" He lowered his voice even further. "You sound depressed. You're not thinking of doing anything rash, are you?"

  She had to end this conversation. Quickly. Before she broke down.

  "Ron," she said in a disapproving tone, "after all these years, don't you know me better than that? It's just that I've never been away from the kids this long and what's happening up here makes you confront the idea of death, and I got to thinking, what if something happened to me on the way home? We never seem to take the time to tell the people we love how much they mean to us, and so I just wanted them to know how important they are to me, and how I'm sorry that I hurt you. That's all, okay? I'll be coming home soon. Oh, someone's at the door. Got to go now. Bye."

  Kate thumbed the OFF button and knelt there on the floor, staring at the phone as she fought back another attack of tears. Lord, she didn't want to do this, but there was no other way. For Kevin, for Lizzie, and yes, for herself, she had to go through with it.

  She froze her emotions as she picked up the alarm clock. Its two detonator caps dangled on their crudely anastomosed wires against her thighs as she set the timer for 10 P.M. The time was a guess, but an educated one. She'd gleaned enough from the Unity to know that its new meeting place was not close by, and that the mutation to an airborne strain would not be a few minutes' work. She assumed—prayed—she'd be in their midst by then.

  She carefully reinserted the detonators into the holes they'd previously occupied, then emptied her shoulder bag and gently settled the assembly into its bottom. A dishcloth from the sink covered the bomb, then the rest of her stuff went back in on top.

  She found a pen and a small pad and wrote
Jack a quick note explaining the pending mutation and how she planned to stop it. She wasn't sure where she was going but if he could follow her and get there in time—before ten o'clock—maybe he could find another solution, one that would leave her alive to see Kevin and Lizzie grow up and eventually make her a mother-in-law, and a grandmother…

  But at the moment this was the only way.

  Now… where to leave the note? She didn't want it where the Unity could see it when it took over—that would abort her whole plan. She looked around and her gaze settled on the microwave, still on the floor.

  Of course.

  Kate lifted it back onto the counter, then slipped the shoulder bag strap over her head so it ran across her chest. She didn't want it to slip off.

  She was ready.

  Then she spotted Jack's little pistol. Might as well take that too. If it related to death and destruction she wanted it handy. She jammed it into the front pocket of her slacks.

  Now the hardest part: turning off the microwave. Simply opening the door would do that, and it would give her a place to hide the note to Jack. The Unity would never look in there, but Jack would see the open door… at least she hoped he would.

  With the letter in her right hand, she reached her left toward the oven door latch but her hand didn't want to go. It seemed to know the consequences. She forced it forward—just the opposite of fighting the Unity—and let her fingertips rest against the latch.

  Isn't there another way? her mind screamed. There's got to be some alternative to this!

  No. There isn't.

  Kate pulled on the latch. As the door popped open and the microwave generator cycled down, she shoved the letter inside…

  … and almost immediately the sound, the touch, the presence of the Unity floods in.

  Kate! You're back! And you're alone! That means you're going to stay with us! This is wonderful, Kate. We've missed you so.

  And she knows it's true. You can't lie in the Unity. The loving, welcoming acceptance flows through her… so wonderful. Why did she ever resist? She vaguely remembers being sad, being terrified, but about what? Of being alone? She can't imagine. She'll never be alone again.

  She senses the One Who Was Jeanette outside on the steps, waiting by the front door to take her to the gathering. Kate loves her, but no more than she loves every other member of the Unity. Dimly she remembers loving her in a more carnal way, but that is past.

  She unlocks the door to the apartment and walks down the stairs to Jeanette. Tonight is going to be so wonderful. The Great Leap will lead them toward the Great Inevitability and she will be part of it. She feels so safe and secure. This is where she really belongs. Anything less is not truly living…

  15

  The sudden outburst of cheers and applause startled Sandy.

  His attention had been drifting. He'd been to boring parties in his life but this one took the cake and all the candles. Six people hanging out for hours and not one word spoken. And it wasn't that they were mutes or deafies; they didn't use sign language either. They didn't even hum as they had at the meeting he'd peeked in on the other night. Nothing.

  The eeriness had worn off after a while, leaving him antsy for something to happen. And something was going to happen—he'd sensed the anticipation in their body language. And then again, maybe not. A certain tension in the air as well. Maybe something had gone wrong. Whatever was going on, Sandy had hoped he'd find out this century.

  But then the sudden noise—real human voices—called his wandering thoughts back to the front room of the bungalow.

  Grins, laughter, hugs all around—

  What's going on? What did I miss?

  And then they settled down again into that numbing silence. But the tension seemed gone. All Sandy could sense now was the anticipation.

  So weird. Wicked weird.

  Maybe they were planning on sneaking Holdstock out of the country, or moving the whole cult somewhere to avoid prosecution.

  And then he noticed that someone had moved the black-framed photo from its empty chair to a side table. Sandy could see the photo now. He repressed a gasp as he recognized the face: Ellen Blount, the woman who'd tried to knife the Savior in the back.

  With the force of a blow Sandy was reminded that these innocuous-looking people already had killed one man and attempted to kill another. And here he was in the middle of nowhere peeping on them. Was he crazy? He should turn around and get the hell out of here. These people were killers and if they found him spying on them they'd kill him too.

  Go back to the car, watch from a safe distance, and be ready and able to move on an instant's notice. That was the smart thing to do.

  But nobody got ahead by playing it safe.

  And then he remembered what Savior had said: If the cops don't pick up Holdstock, I'll be paying him a visit myself.

  Maybe he should give him a call and let him know about this. A visit from the man they tried to kill might liven up this party.

  Sandy slipped away and headed down to the end of the block to check the name of the street so he could leave the address on the Savior's voicemail.

  If nothing was going to happen on its own, maybe Sandy could make something happen.

  16

  A lead weight plummeted into Jack's stomach when he found his apartment door unlocked.

  On guard, he leaped through and dashed to the kitchen.

  "Kate?"

  Empty. The microwave off, the cracked door ajar—paused with hours left to run. A knife on the counter but no blood.

  "Kate!"

  His bedroom, the TV room, empty. No sign of a struggle. Back to the door: no sign of a breakin. What the hell? It looked as if Kate had simply turned off the oven and walked out. But she wouldn't do that.

  Obviously she had. Which meant she was wandering around the city somewhere under the influence of the Unity.

  Panic nibbled at Jack. She could be anywhere. Why? Why had she done it? He stood by the silent microwave, staring at its cracked glass. He was about to slam it closed when he spotted the corner of a piece of paper inside. He yanked it open, grabbed the sheet, and read.

  And read again, his tongue turning to parchment.

  The virus… mutating to airborne… the bomb…

  He darted to the secretary and found the drawer ajar and empty. The Semmerling gone too.

  She'd reconstructed the bomb and turned herself into a Trojan Horse.

  Jack's throat constricted at the thought of her sitting alone in his kitchen piecing the bomb together, the depth of desperation that had driven her to such an act.

  Why, Kate? Wanted to scream it. Why couldn't you wait for me?

  We could have fought this together! I could have fixed this if you'd just let me!

  Ten o'clock… the note said if he can do anything, do it before ten o'clock. He glanced at his watch: 8:05. Less than two hours. But even if he had two days—he had no idea where she was.

  "Kate!" he whispered to the note. "Where are you?"

  He spotted the phone. She'd been using it. Maybe…

  He checked his voicemail. One message. Please!

  "Shit!" he hissed as he recognized Palmer's voice.

  "FYl: your friend Holdstock and what's left of his cult have moved their clubhouse to number seven Starfisher Lane in Ocean Beach, New Jersey. You might want to come down and take a peek. It's weirder than you can imagine."

  Jack was on the move as soon as the message ended. Superman's pal, Jimmy Olsen, had come though. Ocean Beach. He knew where it was. No need to pause to arm up. Had enough firepower. What he needed was time.

  The Russian lady had said the Unity would cause war, hate, death, fear, pain, and destruction. If that was what they liked, that was what they were going to get.

  17

  Sandy sat in his car, out of the soggy salt wind at last, and wondered what to do. Almost two hours now since the celebratory outburst in the bungalow, and not another sound since. No movement either, other than to refill
a soft drink or have another cracker or piece of cheese.

  Bored did not even approach how he felt. He wondered if the Savior had picked up his message; and if so, was he on his way down. Sandy didn't want to miss that.

  A flash of light on the neighboring street grabbed his attention. Headlamps, moving toward the cult bungalow. Immediately Sandy was out and heading that way. He arrived in time to see two women stepping up to the front door. It opened as they reached it. He ducked around to his old vantage point and peered through the window.

  Of the two late arrivals, Sandy had seen the brunette before at the cult hum session, but the blonde was a newbie. They greeted her like a prodigal daughter, each taking a turn hugging her—and still not one damn word!

  Finally they settled down, seating themselves in the circle of chairs. When only the blonde newcomer was still standing, everyone suddenly froze and stared at her. And she in turn was staring at something in her hand.

  When Sandy recognized it he damn near jumped through the window. He'd seen that tiny pistol before.

  18

  Where did you get the pistol, Kate?

  I don't know. I've never seen it before.

  Kate stares at the silvery object in her palm. When she bent to place her shoulder bag under her chair she felt something in her pocket dig into her thigh. This is what she pulled out. So small, almost too small to be real, but it's made of steel and too heavy to be a toy.

  Why did you bring it here?

  I didn't even know I had it.

  It must belong to your brother. He's a very dangerous man. But after tonight he will no longer matter. Put the gun down and take your seat.

  She does as instructed, placing the pistol next to a half-empty bowl of potato chips.

  Yes, it must be Jack's. He has so many pistols—she saw them herself. But how on earth did this one find its way into her pocket? She's glad the One Who Was Jeanette took her far away from her brother where he can't find her and break her communion with the Unity again.