by Mark Frost
Tonight.
The black tower came into view as their wagons skirted the last cluster of rocks and rounded the turn into the settlement; they could see figures milling like ants around the scaffolding that enveloped its central tower as it rose over two hundred feet above the desert floor. Construction was still a fair way from completion—even from this distance sections of its facade appeared to be little more than a shell.
But for all that, to come upon such a stark, incongruous spectacle thrusting skyward from the heart of a wasteland took their breath away.
"That's what you saw in your dream?" asked Eileen, moving up beside Jacob on the driver's seat.
"Close enough," said Jacob, mouth going dry, heart thumping against his ribs. The sight seemed to paralyze him.
"You too?" asked Eileen.
Peering out from the shelter of the canvas flap, Kanazuchi nodded.
"Okay," said Eileen slowly, trying to center her mind on practical concerns. "What do we do now?"
"I haven't the slightest idea," said Jacob.
"But—But you said you'd know what to do when you saw it."
"Give me a moment, dear, please. It's unnerving enough to come across something like this to begin with. Without even considering the implications of... of what..." He faltered badly. She noticed the reins trembling in his hands.
Good God, I've made a terrible mistake, Eileen realized. I've been assuming the poor man had some sort of plan, that if what they had dreamt about turned out to be true, he would be able to lead us through whatever followed, but he's frightened and fragile and may have no better idea about how to proceed from here than I do.
"Of course, Jacob," she said. "Bit of a stunner, after all. We'll just have to see, won't we?"
He ran a hand nervously over his chin and couldn't seem to tear his eyes off the tower. She handed him a canteen and held the reins for him as he took a long drink.
"I'm so thirsty," he said quietly and drank again.
A groaning of wood from the wagon's interior. Eileen peered back through the flap; Kanazuchi had ripped up one of the planks in the floor bed with his bare hands. Reaching down, he laid his long sword inside the cavity beneath the boards.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
He didn't answer. She noticed he had changed back into his black pajamalike coolie clothes; Jacob's clothes lay folded in a neat bundle. Kanazuchi replaced the plank, concealed his second smaller sword, no more than a long knife, in the waist of his belt, then moved next to them at the opening.
"Jacob," he said quietly.
Jacob turned abruptly to face him, sweat running off his brow, fear lighting his eyes, his breathing rapid and shallow. Their looks engaged. Kanazuchi reached out a hand, and with the tips of his fingers touched Jacob gently on the forehead. Jacob's eyes closed and Kanazuchi's features settled into an expression Eileen had never seen him wear in the short time she had known him; no less feral and alert than before but tempered by a softening of character that suggested deep kindness and a wellspring of compassion.
How completely unexpected, thought Eileen. But then the man claims to be a priest, doesn't he?
Jacob's breathing slowed and settled; the bunched lines on his forehead smoothed. After a minute of this contact, Kanazuchi took his hand away and Jacob opened his eyes.
They were clear again. The fear was gone.
"Remember," said Kanazuchi.
Jacob nodded. Kanazuchi started toward the back; boldly, Eileen reached out and took him by the arm.
"What did you just do?" asked Eileen.
He studied her for a moment; she felt no danger and saw depths in his eyes, realizing how much of himself he kept concealed.
"Sometimes we must remind each other," said Kanazuchi, "of who we really are."
He bowed his head slightly, respectfully. Eileen released her grip. Then, moving like a shadow, Kanazuchi slipped silently out the back of the wagon. Eileen watched him sprint across a stretch of desert and disappear behind a stand of rocks. She looked carefully but did not see him again.
"What did he just do to you?" she asked Jacob.
"If I didn't know any better, and I do, I would say it was something along the lines of... a laying on of hands," he said, climbing into the back.
"Fiddlesticks."
"Now, now; just because a man carries a sword doesn't mean he's a bad person."
"He chops people's heads off."
"My dear lady, we shouldn't impose the values of our culture onto a person from one so completely different from our own, should we?"
"Heaven forbid. And just to show how open-minded I am, maybe I'll take up head shrinking as a hobby."
"I'm sure he could furnish you with a regular supply for practice," he said laughing. "Excuse me, Eileen; before we arrive, I think it best if I changed back into my own clothes. You're supposed to be carrying a sick old rabbi in this rattletrap." He closed the flap and picked up a few wispy scraps of hair from the floor of the wagon. "The beard, I'm afraid, is a total loss."
"If anyone asks, tell them it's a side effect of your disease."
She cracked the reins, urging their mules to catch the other wagons. Moments later, from the back she heard Jacob whistling happily away.
What a remarkable change had come over Jacob since Kanazuchi attended to him, wondered Eileen. But they were both priests and they shared that strange dream; perhaps that meant they had more in common than she could possibly imagine.
"Seems we have company," said Jacob, looking out the back of the wagon. Clouds of dust rose in the far distance on the road behind them; another string of wagons.
Moments later a convincing, albeit beardless, rabbi again, Jacob rejoined Eileen, took the reins, and enjoyed his first look at The New City. The town lay half a mile ahead; twin rows of sturdily constructed clapboard buildings lined either side of a main avenue that terminated at the tower construction site. Only a few of the buildings grouped near its midpoint carried a second story; from there ramshackle houses, little more than shacks, spread out in a disorderly sprawl that extended as far as they could see. The hump of a domed barnlike warehouse, the only other sizeable structure, rose out of their midst to the south.
"My," said Jacob. "These people have been very, very busy."
Directly ahead another guardhouse stood in their way. High barbed wire fences, ran away from it in both directions and encircled the settlement, leaving a broad bare hundred-yard stretch of desert between the fence and the city limits. Armed guards wearing the same white tunics moved out from the gate to meet them as the wagons approached.
"Jacob, I don't mean to be a bother...." She was chewing her lip.
"Yes, dear."
' 'Have you had any more thoughts about my original question?"
"I have, actually; I suggest we smile a great deal and do exactly what is expected of us, while patiently acquiring a sense of the town and who is in charge. You are scheduled to perform here for a week, yes? So we have some time, and as welcome guests this may require less effort than you might suppose. Particularly for someone so effortlessly charming as yourself."
"Okay." Not bad so far.
"Then, very quietly, we should try to find out where they are keeping the books."
"And then?..."
Jacob turned to her and smiled. "Please, my dear, a little forbearance; I'm having to improvise here."
"Sorry," she said, striking a match and lighting a cigarette.
"Part of my training; I like to have all my lines before I walk out on stage."
"Perfectly understandable."
"And him," she said, nodding toward the rocks where Kan-azuchi had disappeared. "What about him?"
"I assume our mysterious friend will proceed along similar lines. We know he's left his weapon here in the wagon; at some point, he'll certainly come back for it."
"We can't very well sit in the wagon all night waiting for him...."
"If he needs us for any reason, he seems more than capable
of finding where we are."
Eileen inhaled deeply, let out a cloud of smoke. The guardhouse less than fifty yards off, white shirts fanning out to meet Bendigo in the lead wagon.
"We could die in there," she said.
"The thought had occurred to me."
"It feels sort of ridiculous under the circumstances. Even more than usual. Putting on a play."
"One could also die in bed tonight or have a horse fall on him, or God forbid be struck by lightning from a clear blue sky," he said gently. "That doesn't mean we shouldn't go on living."
She looked at him, chucked her cigarette away, and put her arms around him, laying her head on his shoulder. He touched her hair tenderly. She liked the way he felt and wanted to cry but fought off the tears, reluctant to appear weak.
"Don't go and die on me just yet, all right?" she said. "We've only just met, but I'm growing rather fond of you, you old bag of bones."
"I will try to cooperate. But only because you insist," he said with a laugh.
The wagons ahead slowed to a stop; Rymer, standing up and waving his hat, had a brief exchange with the guards before the gate was raised and the wagons waved through.
"You're supposed to be sick," she reminded him.
Jacob handed her the reins and took his place in the rear before they reached the gate. Eileen returned the enthusiastic waves of the smiling guards as they passed under a sign that read WELCOME TO THE NEW CITY.
"Hello. Hello," she called to them, then muttered through her dazzling smile, ' 'Nice to see you, too, you right bunch of sods. Keep smiling, that's good, you deranged pack of prairie weasels."
The troupe drove through no-man's-land and down Main Street. Facades of all the buildings flanking them sparkled with fresh coats of whitewash; bright flowers in boxes underlined every window and chintz curtains softened their interiors. Plain well-crafted signs announced each building's purpose: dry goods, dentist, silver- and blacksmith, hotel, variety store. Smiling citizens stood outside each establishment on the scrubbed, planked sidewalks and waved happily to the passing wagons. Their shirts gleamed an immaculate white; they all looked healthy and clean.
Ahead on the left a crowd had gathered under a marquee outside the opera house, where a banner read: welcome penultimate players. A joyful cheer went up as the wagons rolled to a halt next to the theater entrance and the ovation continued as more people ran down the street to join the throng, all wearing wide grins and the same white tunics.
Bendigo Rymer stood up again on his perch, waved his hat all around, and bowed deeply in every direction.
The sot's convinced they're all here to welcome him, thought Eileen. Like he died and went to heaven.
"Thank you! Thank you so much," said Bendigo, unheard above the cheering, his eyes awash in tears. "I can't tell you how much you're being here to meet us means to me: such a wonderful, generous reception."
"I don't believe that I have ever seen a man so desperately starved for affection," said Jacob with quiet wonder.
"Count that as a blessing."
The rest of the players were poking their heads out of the other wagons with similar confusion; so far all they'd done was drive into town; what would this crowd be like when they actually gave a performance?
The cheering died instantly as a huge man in a long gray duster, the only person they'd seen in the city not wearing a white tunic, strode out of the pack and approached Bendigo's wagon, accompanied by a frowsy woman carrying an open notebook.
"Welcome to The New City, my friends," said the big man.
"Thank you, I—" started Bendigo.
"Isn't it a glorious day?"
"Indeed, indeed, sir, the likes of which I have never—"
"Are you Mr. Bendigo Rymer, friend?" asked the big man.
"The same, sir, at your service ..."
"Would you step down and have your people come out of the wagons and get together here for me, please?"
"At once, sir!" Bendigo turned to the other wagons and clapped his hands. "Players! Front and center, double time, all together!"
The actors and stagehands gathered beside Bendigo; utterly silent now, and still smiling, the crowd pressed in surrounding them. Eileen helped Jacob out of the back of their wagon and, making it appear as if he was still quite infirm, helped him walk haltingly to the front.
"May I humbly present, for your employment and delectation, Bendigo Rymer's Penultimate Players," said Bendigo, doffing his stupid green hat with a flourish.
The big man carefully counted heads. No one in the crowd moved or whispered. He looked down at the woman's notebook, then counted heads again, finished, and frowned.
"Supposed to be nineteen of you," he said to Bendigo.
"Pardon me?"
"S'only eighteen people here. You said nineteen at the gate. You got an explanation for that, Mr. Rymer?''
Rymer gulped and looked around, caught Eileen's eye, and briefly registered the sight of Jacob without his beard. Eileen saw the man's puny mind working like a hamster on a wheel. He took a step toward the big man, folding his arms, assuming a completely unauthentic camaraderie.
"Yes, of course, it's quite simple really Mr...."
Bendigo fished for a response; the big man stared at him and smiled.
"Uh, my good sir. You see ... this gentleman here," said Rymer, turning and pointing at Jacob, "joined our company in Phoenix, when he took ill, and I must have neglected to include him in our number."
"Then that ought'a be one more, not one less," said the big man. "Shouldn't it?"
Bendigo's smile froze on his face, stricken and fresh out of bright ideas. Eileen walked quickly forward to them.
"I'm sure I can explain," she said calmly. "We did have another gentleman with us when we left the station in Wick-enburg, a doctor who traveled along for a while, to make sure our friend made a proper recovery."
"So where'd he go?" asked the big man.
"He rode back yesterday; he'd brought his horse along, tied to the back of our wagon; the last wagon, you see, trailing quite a ways behind the others—I'm afraid driving a team of mules is somewhat new to me—so Mr. Rymer must have failed to notice when the doctor took his leave."
"That's it, of course," said Rymer, sweat greasing his forehead. "The extra man."
The big man looked back and forth between them, smiling, betraying no reaction. Eileen noticed pistols strapped to the belt under his coat and the handle of a shotgun protruding from a deep inside pocket.
"So this man here," he said, pointing at Jacob. "He's not one of you."
"No, no, not at all," said Rymer hastily.
"He's a friend," said Eileen.
"What's his name?"
"His name is Jacob Stern," said Eileen.
The big man gestured to the woman; she wrote the name down in her notebook. Then she turned the page.
"I need the names of the rest of your people now," said the big man.
"Of course, sir," said Rymer, fumbling out a list.
"What's your name?" asked Eileen.
"What's yours?"
"I asked you first," she said.
Bendigo turned and shot her a dirty glance; Eileen half expected him to kick her in the shin.
"Brother Cornelius, ma'am," said the man with a menacing smile.
"Eileen Temple," she said, extending her hand. The big man looked down at it, slightly off balance, then shook it lightly. "Quite a beautiful town you have here, Brother Cornelius."
"We know," said Cornelius.
"Would you please stop?" whispered Bendigo to her under his smile.
"You'll be staying at the hotel, just down the street," said
Cornelius. "We'll escort you there after you take your stuff into the the-a-ter."
"Marvelous, so looking forward. I'm sure it's an absolutely splendid facility," gushed Bendigo.
"You tell me," said Cornelius. "You'll be the first to use it."
He gestured roughly; the woman handed Rymer a stack of leaflets.<
br />
"These are the rules in The New City," said Cornelius. "Please give one to each of your people. Ask them to obey. Our rules are important to us."
"Of course, Brother Cornelius," said Bendigo.
"Reverend Day would like to invite you to be his guests at dinner tonight," said Cornelius, with a look at Jacob. "All of you." He gave a sharp look at Eileen; she glanced away.
"How absolutely splendid," said Rymer. "Please tell the Reverend we would be most honored to accept his invitation. What time would—"
"Eight."
"And where would—"
"We'll come get you," said Cornelius. "Have a glorious day."
He walked back into the crowd out of sight. Giddy with relief, Rymer handed out the fliers to the company. Cheerful volunteers came forward from the crowd to help the stagehands unload their cargo.
Eileen realized she had never seen so many people of so many different races harmoniously grouped together before.
Something was dreadfully wrong here.
Kanazuchi watched their exchange from rocks above and outside of the fence to the east of town. With the naked eye, he could not make out their words from this distance, but he could read expressions and gestures like printed characters. It told him this:
The white shirts moved as one body, like insects in a hive.
No one of the white shirts realized yet that anyone else had been on board the last wagon; the stupid actor in the loud green hat had nearly given him away until Eileen stepped forward.
The big man, the one who'd asked the questions, was dangerous. Because of this man's attention, Jacob would soon be in trouble; he could not allow anything to happen to the old man. When the moment came, Jacob would be needed; for what exactly, only time would reveal.
Kanazuchi recognized he could do nothing until nightfall, four or five hours away. Regular armed patrols moved below him on either side of the fence; he would observe them for a while to understand their patterns.
After the actors unloaded their cargo, he watched them drive the wagons to a stable on the southern side of town: The Grass Cutter was safe for now and he knew where to find it.
He turned and studied the tower he had seen in the vision. Watched the workers swarming around its base.
