"He said I'd heal.” It was hard for her to speak. She took a breath. “I think he broke my arm.” She breathed again. “And a rib. Maybe two."
"I'll check Gerry. I'll be back. Try to hold on."
"Okay."
He rose. His feet retreated. She tried to ignore the pain, but could not. As she gave in to it, the pain seemed to expand, filling up her mind; she could think of nothing else. She began to count her breaths.
When she reached two hundred and forty-seven, she noticed a pair of booted feet beside her head.
"Sarah.” Gerard knelt next to her. He put out a hand, then withdrew it. “I could kill him for this. I could kill him."
"Don't try."
His hands became fists. “I should have stopped him. I couldn't even do that.” He shook a fist helplessly.
She took a breath. The pain was easing a bit. Gerard sat with her; the old man was standing behind him.
"Are you all right?” she whispered.
"I'm fine."
"He said you had a concussion."
"I'm all right. Just a slight headache. It's going away."
She thought of how Raf had looked as he struck her. How often had he beaten Margaret? No wonder she had tried to escape. But even Margaret had turned to him before she left, asking him to follow her. He must have shown her some kindness. You find out what you really are, he had said. You find out when you live long enough. I don't want to know.
She tried to imagine Raf as he might have been before he was taken from Earth. Perhaps he had been hunting, quietly stalking a beast through thick forests, learning its habits. He had not changed; he still made his forays, then returned to his home.
She was like him; so was everyone else. Thousands of years had made little difference; only the surface had altered, not what was underneath. If Raf, with his long life and his knowledge, could not change, how could Earth? A pain in her side made her moan; she bit her lip.
Margaret had gone from here; so had others. They had, unlike Raf, managed to overcome their fear. But they too, in their own way, had fled from humankind. She thought of the beings Margaret was seeking. They must once have had only one world, yet they had escaped it; they had changed. Were they like Raf, despairing of others? Or were they only waiting until human beings were able to accept what they could offer? Did they still hope?
She breathed. The pain was almost gone. “Check my arm,” she said to Gerard.
He felt it tenderly. “I think it's healed. It's not broken now."
She moved her arm and wiggled her fingers. Her arm ached. As she inhaled, she realized she could take in more air.
She said, “I can't stand pain.” Now that it was almost gone, she felt as though she was going to cry. “You know what a baby I am. I can't even stand a blood test. I can't go through this again. He enjoyed it. I saw him. He said he was sorry, but he enjoyed it."
She lifted her head. Gerard eased her into a sitting position against the wall. Raf had convinced her; if he wanted her to stay, she would stay. She bowed her head. Some of the damage, she knew, would never be healed.
Sarah lay on her cushions. They were not terribly comfortable, and the room lights were still on, yet she had slept soundly. Her insomnia was gone. For a moment, just as she was awakening, she had thought that she was back in her apartment. Then she had remembered.
She rolled over and got to her feet. Mr. Epstein was already awake, and so, surprisingly, was Gerard. She went to them and accepted a cup of coffee from the old man.
They ate their breakfast in silence. Mr. Epstein cleared away the dishes and cups. When he returned, he began to exercise, bending over and touching his toes, experimenting with his non-arthritic limbs.
The door opened, and Raf entered. Gerard stared at the floor and did not look up. Raf came closer to them, stopping a few feet away.
"Well, well. How are we today?"
No one answered.
"I trust you're all feeling better now. I know recent events may have seemed somewhat disorienting, but you'll adjust. There is quite a lot for you to learn here, but then you have plenty of time to learn it in.” He lifted his hands, palms out, then let them fall. “I know I've been a bit harsh, but I did prove my point yesterday. You now must realize that your bodies are not as they were. I don't know how else I could have proved it."
Gerard raised his head, then rose. Sarah did not try to stop him. “You could have settled for a small cut, or a bruise,” he said. “We could have seen how quickly those healed.” He moved toward the corner. “Just keep away from me. I don't want to be anywhere near you. I don't even want to be in the same room with you. If you ever touch Sarah again, I'll kill you."
"That is a bit harder to do than you think, my man."
"I'll find a way. I have plenty of time.” Gerard sat down on the floor. “I'll make sure I think of something that'll hurt."
Sarah slouched, looking apprehensively at Raf. She could not stand up to him; she was too afraid. Mr. Epstein moved closer and patted her hand.
"I know you don't believe me,” Raf said, “but you'll forget about that recent unpleasantness. I have the ability to make you forget."
Sarah did not reply.
"Are we to stay here, then?” the old man asked. “I think Gerry and Sarah have mentioned wanting to go back. I'm willing to stay here alone.” Sarah looked at him gratefully.
"Well, they needn't go now. There's nothing for them at home, is there, Sarah?"
She bowed her head.
"Of course there isn't,” Raf went on. “I'm sure you'll be quite content here, in time."
She heard his footsteps, and looked up. He had left the room.
She found herself on her feet, moving toward the doorway; she hurried after Raf. Footsteps trailed her; she turned and saw Gerard enter the hallway. “Sarah?” She shook her head and followed Raf. The tall man stopped by a doorway and looked at her, then glanced toward the spot where Gerard stood. Gerard came closer to Sarah, then waited.
She had to speak. If she did not stand up to him now, she would always be afraid; the fear would never leave her. “Take us back,” she said.
"Oh, Sarah. You can't wish to leave now. You belong here now."
"I don't. Take us back."
"In time, you can return, to observe. But you're really not ready for it now."
"I don't want to observe. I want to live my life, however unimportant it might seem to you. I belong there. Maybe you belong there, too, instead of hiding here."
"I don't hide. I learn and record what I know."
She sighed, and felt a twinge in one rib. “You've buried yourself. You've lived for thousands of years, but you've buried yourself."
The tall man smiled. “Oh, come now, Sarah.” He took a step toward her, and Gerard moved forward. Raf stepped back. “I've returned to Earth several times. I can't say that the experience has been salutary."
"You could have tried to do something.” She rubbed her arm absently.
"Really? Should I have given you tools that would have distorted the course of your evolution? Perhaps I could have started another religion, and given you all yet another reason to love your charnel house.” He raised an eyebrow. “Is your arm bothering you?"
"Just a little. I guess I'm still healing."
Raf shook his head. “Oh, no. You've healed. But there are scars. You'd better think about that. Imagine how many you could accumulate in a thousand years if you didn't protect yourself. You'd better think about that whenever you long for Earth. You would be vulnerable."
She drew closer to Gerard.
"I could take your memories again,” Raf went on. “A long time would pass before you would know what had happened, and maybe you'd be happier.” He raised a hand. “But you'd also forget a lot that it might be better for you to recall."
Gerard straightened his shoulders and stared at the taller man. “You've been up here for a long time, Raf,” he said. “You could have tried to find friends—you could have had a community
here, couldn't you? There's enough space. Margaret came here willingly, so did Richard Epstein, even Sarah and I did at first, but we didn't expect to become prisoners. There might be plenty of people who would have come, who would have helped you, but for some reason, you don't want that. You might get people who would disagree. You might find out they have their own ideas. You'd rather have someone you can push around."
Raf, still smiling, was silent.
"Margaret said you were human,” Sarah said. “But you're not, you've become something else. When you said you were an alien, you were right."
He shrugged. “You flatter me. Human history is not my history. I stand apart from it. It has nothing to do with me."
She walked past Raf and opened the door near him, entering the large chamber. Her shadow wavered, then led her toward the disks at the far end of the room. She heard the light tread of Raf's feet, and thought of Margaret. The air seemed cold near the disks. She stepped back.
Raf said, “You are drawn here. So am I."
"Haven't you ever stepped on one? Haven't you ever seen those other worlds?"
He lowered his head. “Never. My fear is too strong. I have learned about the Pathway, know of the other observers, and some have traveled here, but I have never used the disks myself. Once I sat here, long before Margaret came, so long ago it seems I dreamed it, and I felt the presence of one of those beyond us. I had felt this presence only once before, when I was taken from my people and carried away from the Earth. I knew it was here. I waited for it to speak to me, to tell me my purpose. Those others—they make a few powerful among the backward. It's nothing to them to give some of their power away, once in a while; it may help save a world.” He laughed. “Or destroy it. You see what they've left here. What has it done?” He held out his hands. “I waited for the being to speak. Then it was gone. I scanned the Pathway, but I couldn't find out where the being had come from, nor where it had gone. I thought it would return when I departed from the moon. I remained here while the tools they left me built my new home. This chamber was installed first, and I waited. Margaret believed she had dreamed of the ones beyond, but they never spoke to me."
Sarah said, “Maybe we were supposed to find you."
His eyes widened.
"Maybe you were supposed to stay on the moon, and let us decide what to do with what you have."
He shook his head and pressed a hand against his brow. “No. You could have done nothing with it."
"You think that because you've given up on us."
"You haven't seen what I've seen. I know your nature. Everything here would have been used only to torment and oppress."
"You don't know that. You haven't just observed. You decided things for us."
She was not afraid of him now. She gazed at the Pathway. “I could leave,” she went on. “I could step on one of those disks, and you would never come after me. We could all do that. You would be alone again."
"I could stop you."
"Maybe."
"It would be very unwise of you. The Pathway drifts. A disk could take you to a place where you couldn't breathe the air, or to a space between worlds."
"You know where the Pathways lead. You would know which ones had drifted."
"Of course. I could correct the malfunction. I could tell you which disks lead to the observers most like us. But I won't. You can take your chances. You'll have to learn about the Pathway, and mat will take time."
"I could follow Margaret."
"You don't know how to find her route."
"She told you that you could follow her."
"I can also erase her trail."
She stepped toward the disks. “I could go now."
"You could. But you won't."
Gerard had come into the chamber. Raf glanced at him, then sat down on the floor, facing the wall beyond the disks. Without turning, he waved Sarah away.
She left the room with Gerard. “He's not going to let us go,” she said.
"Did you expect him to?” He took her arm. “Look, there's nothing we can do about it at the moment. There's a lot to learn here. For starters, we ought to get hold of a map or blueprint so we can find our way around, you know, like those maps in shopping malls that have everything labeled and a little arrow saying, ‘You are here.'” He lifted his eyebrows; his lips formed a half smile.
She stopped. “You want to stay."
"Richard's willing to accept it, and we might as well get used to the idea. Otherwise, we'll go crazy."
"I thought you hated Raf."
"He's not my favorite.” His eyes stared past her. “I have a reason to stay, in a way. I have plenty of time to figure out how to get even with him. He thinks he can push me around, but he's wrong."
"And you might become like him. We all might."
"Maybe. Same stock."
She looked at Gerard. For a moment, he seemed as alien as Raf.
Sixteen
Mr. Epstein had figured out how to control the room's lighting. “It's simple enough,” he said, demonstrating for Sarah. He put his hand over a small metal plate near the door, and the ceiling dimmed. He removed his hand, then made an upward motion without touching the plate. The light grew brighter. “See?"
"Great,” she said. “Maybe in another year or so we'll figure out how everything else in this room works."
Gerard was investigating the wall slot which gave them their food. He put in his hand and felt the interior. He withdrew his hand, and the door slid down. “It'd be nice to have a choice of menu,” he said as he turned toward Sarah. “Not that I have any complaints about the cuisine. Living a long time probably makes you a picky eater."
Sarah crossed the room and sat down on the floor. She had carried in a few books and manuscripts from the outside hallway, and was going through them, trying to find something that looked familiar. She picked up a small leather-bound volume which seemed well-thumbed, and opened it. "Meditationes," she read aloud.
"What is it?” Gerard said as he sat down next to her.
"A book of Raf's. It looks like he's read it a few times. These are the meditations of Guigo, a Carthusian prior of the twelfth century. I studied this stuff when I took history.” She glanced at Gerard, who seemed puzzled. “The Carthusians were hermits, extreme ascetics. They rejected anything which interfered with their contemplation of God. Even loving another person was wrong as far as they were concerned—you were supposed to love everyone as God does, without loving one person more than others.” She put the book on the floor, letting it fall open to a page.
"Can you translate it?"
She shrugged. “I don't know. My Latin's kind of rusty. I didn't exactly need it at Warwick and Baum's.” Peering at the page, she noticed marks beside a couple of phrases. “'The soul in itself,'” she translated tentatively, then paused. “'The soul in itself is tortured as long as it can be tortured—'” She skipped to another marked phrase. “'A long temptation—'” Sarah shook her head. “'Who seeks a long'—no, wait a minute. ‘He who seeks a long life seeks a long temptation.’”
Gerard was silent. She closed the volume. “Well, I have lots of time to brush up on my Latin, don't I.” She folded her hands in her lap. For a long time, she had feared dying alone and neglected; she had, during her bouts of insomnia, suddenly imagined herself old and helpless. Now she would be forgotten, but she would not die.
The room was growing cold. She shivered, looking around for her coat. She said, “We'd better learn how to fix the heat.” Icy air bathed her face. She looked at Gerard; he arched his eyebrows. Mr. Epstein came toward them, his arms out, his face turned up.
"It's here,” the old man said. “What I felt before.” His voice was muffled. The coldness embraced Sarah. She was afraid to move. She felt herself being lifted, and found herself on her feet. Reaching out with her hands, she touched an arm. Gerard was standing now. Clinging to him, she tried to breathe, and thought she heard a distant sigh.
A mist shimmered near the door, then vanishe
d. She looked at the two men. “The Pathway,” she said, and then: “Raf."
They went to the door and hurried down the hall. The door to the large chamber was open. When they came to it, Sarah hesitated, then entered the large room.
Raf was sitting on the floor, legs folded. “It's here,” he cried, turning his head. “You felt it, too. It's here, one of those beyond us!” He flung out his arms. “Why?” He threw his head back, pleading with the air. “Why? Give me an answer. Has Margaret found you? Did she send you?"
The chamber swelled around them. As the walls receded, the ceiling rose until Sarah could no longer see it. Iciness touched her face and fingers, burning her. A shimmering form drew nearer to Raf.
"Why?” he asked again, and she felt the question. His body was blurred by a sea of air; his arms fluttered jointlessly. He disappeared. The form became a light, shining so brightly that Sarah had to cover her eyes, peering out through her fingers.
The light filled her field of vision, swallowing everything. Then it moved forward, shrank, and was gone. The chamber reappeared. Raf lay on the floor, arms out, eyes staring up at the ceiling.
Sarah went to him and leaned down. “Raf.” He still breathed; his chest rose and fell. He did not answer.
The old man had gone back for their coats, and had covered Raf with them. They sat with him. His eyes were closed now; his face was very pale.
Gerard said, “He might die."
"He can't,” Sarah replied. “He'll get well. He said he can heal himself."
"But we don't know what was done to him."
"That light,” the old man murmured. “Perhaps Margaret found the ones she was looking for, and sent one here."
Sarah reached under the coat for one of Raf's hands. The hand was very cold. She rubbed, trying to warm it. Mr. Epstein worked on his other hand. The tall man did not move.
She realized she was not frightened of him now, and would not be again. She continued to rub his hand, then glanced at Gerard. His head was bowed.
Raf moaned and stirred, shifting the coats. “Raf,” she said softly.
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