Hosts

"You're talking crazy. If she couldn't fight it she'd be sicker, and she's fine."

  The woman shook her head. "Only you can fight it."

  "Yeah, right," he said. He closed his eyes. All this talk was exhausting.

  "Do not speak," the woman said. "Save strength and listen: virus will spread. It will infect many, and the many will infect many others. There will be war between those infected and those not, war such as we have never seen, turning man against woman, parent against child, child against parent, brother against brother."

  "It didn't happen with AIDS so why—?"

  "Is different. Virus will spread like wind. All harmony, all trust will vanish as uninfected kill infected, kill those they merely suspect of being infected. But infected will fight back, striking from within, spreading their disease. The bloodshed, the death, the hatred, the terror—this planet has seen terrible things but never on such a scale. For there are so many more of you now, and no one—no one—will be spared."

  "What's so bad about this virus? What does it do to you?"

  "That is no matter. Virus is not end, virus is simply means."

  "Means to what?"

  "To what I have told you: war, hate, death, fear, pain, destruction."

  "Who the hell wants that?"

  "The Adversary."

  Jack forced his eyes open and looked at her.

  "And who's that? The devil?"

  She shook her head. "You know. You have met. Adversary feeds on human misery, on discord, on chaos. Virus will create feast."

  No doubt about it, the lady was a loon. And she'd invaded his home—brought her damn dog too—and Jack was powerless to make her leave.

  But she had another glass of water in her hand. He took it and gulped it down. Maybe she shouldn't leave.

  "How do you know all this?"

  "I watch. Always I watch."

  "Why tell me? I'm just one guy. Go to the government."

  "Government cannot stop virus. Only you. You must stop virus. You are only one."

  "I couldn't stop a lame kitten right now."

  "You must. Is war and you are warrior."

  "I don't join armies."

  "Is no army. Just you. And one does not join. Is chosen. Others go before you. All dead except one, and he is too old. You have been chosen."

  "Like hell I have."

  "Stop virus before it spreads, or all you love will perish." She turned and headed for the bedroom door. "I leave you now."

  Jack felt the temperature drop. No… more chills. He pulled the covers back over him.

  "Lady, who are you?"

  She and her big white dog stopped at the door and looked at him. "I am your mother."

  Nonplused, Jack struggled for a reply. She was nothing like his mother. Finally he resorted to a simple statement of fact.

  "My mother's dead."

  "She was your birth mother," she said. "I am your other mother."

  And then she was gone.

  Jack felt a shiver of fear slip among the fever chills. He knew he'd imagined the woman, but her words had struck resonances that still rang through his brain. Her warning about something that fed on misery and hate…

  And then the phone rang. Jack snaked a wavering hand over to the night table and wrapped his fingers around the receiver.

  "Hello," he croaked as he shuddered with a chill.

  "Jack, is that you?" Gia's voice. "You sound terrible."

  "Sick," he said. "Fever. Delirious. Wouldn't believe the hallucinations I'm having."

  "I'm on my way."

  Good, Jack thought as he heard the click on the other end. Gia will know what to do.

  He tried to hang up the receiver but didn't have the strength.

  8

  Kate jumped at the sound of the key in the door, thinking, Jack's back. Thank the Lord.

  She'd been a wreck all morning. Jack had tried to ease her mind by telling her that the bomb he'd found had been meant for him, not her. Had he expected her to be relieved that her brother was some madman's target? Well, she wasn't. But he'd said he had a good idea who the bombers were and how to protect himself and her from them.

  At least that had allowed her to go back to sleep. But then Jack had been up at dawn, looking terrible, all sunken-eyed and exhausted, saying he had to go out and instructing her to stay away from the windows and not worry if she heard a loud noise.

  A few minutes later a car exploded on the street below.

  Not Jack's, thank the Lord. His was still out there when she'd looked, and he'd waved up at her. She'd hoped he'd come back up, to tell her he hadn't blown up that car. She didn't want to believe he'd done such a terrible thing. Even if someone had been trying to kill him, he'd endangered everyone on the block.

  But he must have done it, must have known it was coming. Why else would he have warned her to stay away from the windows?

  But then instead of returning, he'd walked off.

  He hadn't told her where he was going, but it didn't matter. He was back now.

  But it was Jeanette who stepped through the door. And Holdstock. And others, six more men and women of varying ages, trooping in, all smiling at her with the open friendly faces of old friends. She knew them, she'd seen them through Holdstock's window.

  Jeanette had brought her cult home.

  "Hello, Kate," Jeanette said, beaming. "I've asked some friends over to meet you."

  Kate swallowed. "That's nice."

  They didn't seem threatening—if anything their expressions virtually glowed with amiability. So why then did she feel this cold dread seeping up from her stomach?

  "I was so worried about you," Jeanette said, taking Kate's left hand and pressing it between both of hers.

  Kate felt rather than heard a strange hum in her head, a faint, faint echo of Jeanette's voice.

  "Were you? Why?"

  "Why, the explosion, of course. When I heard about it and realized it had happened right on our block, I wanted to fly here. But then I learned that no one had been hurt except two men with criminal records, and I was so relieved. But still, I didn't think you should be alone."

  That odd hum continued, but Kate sensed that she truly had been in Jeanette's thoughts, and that warmed her.

  "That's nice, but—"

  "So I brought my dearest friends to keep you company. You remember Terrence, don't you?"

  Holdstock stepped forward, smiling warmly as he offered his hand. "I know we didn't get off on the right foot, but I'm sure I can make amends for that."

  Kate didn't want to shake hands with this man, but how could she snub him with a radiant Jeanette still clutching her left hand? She extended her right, Holdstock grasped it—

  —and the hum in her head grew louder.

  Something wrong here! She tried to pull free of Holdstock but his grip was like a steel clamp.

  "Let me go!"

  "Don't be frightened, Kate," Jeanette said, smiling reassuringly while clutching Kate's other hand. "It's all right. Trust me, it's all right."

  "No!"

  The others were moving forward. Holdstock held out his free hand and one of them, a woman, took hold of it—

  —and the hum in Kate's head increased—

  —and then someone took the woman's hand and stretched out his hand to another—

  —and the hum in Kate's head further increased, a roar now, like the ocean, and her heart was a panicked rabbit, battering itself against the cage of her ribs, trying to break free—

  —and someone took his and another took hers and the roaring doubled and tripled and she felt her strength slipping away and through her blurring vision she saw Jeanette free one of her hands from gripping Kate's and reach it out to another hand, the last free hand in the world, and Kate saw them touch, closing the circle—… and suddenly all is peaceful.

  Kate's vision blurs as she descends into a deep pool of tranquility, leaving no ripples, no trail of bubbles as she sinks.

  There, says a soft, sexless voice that seems to co
me from within and without, from nowhere and everywhere. Isn't this better? Isn't this wonderful, the most wonderful feeling you've ever known?

  And it is wonderful, a feeling of complete acceptance, of absolute belonging, of soft arms lovingly enfolding her and drawing her to a motherly bosom.

  Her vision clears and she sees the others, the eight who've formed the hand-holding circle of which she is now a part.

  Is this why Jeanette was sneaking off to the Bronx? she wonders. Is this what she was experiencing when I watched her through the window?

  The Everywhere Voice answers. Yes. That was when The One Who Was Jeanette was like you and could experience oneness only by touch. Now that she is of the Unity she is with us always, dwelling within the oneness.

  Kate isn't sure she follows that but it doesn't matter. What does is this glorious feeling of peace, of belonging. All the anxieties and uncertainties these past few years about the course of her life and where it will lead her, all the fears about revealing her true self to the children are gone, vanished as if they've never been. She can barely remember them.

  Unconditional love and acceptance, simply for being. This is the way all of life should be, all the time.

  And it will be.

  No, Kate thinks. You've got it wrong. It's human nature to fear what's different.

  Human nature can be changed.

  Kate is about to laugh at the absurdity of this when a thought strikes her. The Voice reminds her of Jeanette's, but Jeanette's lips haven't moved.

  "Who are you?" she says aloud. "Whose voice is this?

  It is us, all of us. The Unity.

  "Then why do you sound like Jeanette?"

  Because that is who you feel most comfortable listening to. But it's not the One Who Was Jeanette. It is all of us.

  Kate looks around and sees the eight of them, Jeanette, Holdstock, and the rest, nodding in unison.

  Kate senses an alarm bell trying to ring, to warn that this is all wrong, that she should not be conversing with voices in her head. But the cotton-thick ambiance of peace and harmony smothers it, and all that seeps through to her is confusion.

  "I don't understand."

  We have been united. We are one. We are the Unity. We know each other as no others have known us, even more intimately than we have known ourselves. Every thought—

  "You can read each others' minds?"

  We are each others' minds. We share every thought, every emotion.

  Kate feels a twinge of fear. Is she crazy? Are they?

  Don't be afraid.

  And now a stab of terror. They know what she's feeling!

  You need not fear the Unity. We love you. You are our sister.

  "But why me? And how—?"

  And then Kate knows.

  The virus. The mysterious contaminant in Fielding's cultures.

  Yes! It brought us together, repairing the faults in our brains, linking our minds into this glorious Unity.

  "And me?" She looks at Jeanette. "I was infected, wasn't I. Why?"

  You were following the One Who Was Jeanette, spying on her—

  "I was concerned!"

  And we sensed that. But we also feared that your loving concern might turn into interference, and since we are at a delicate stage of development, we brought you into the Unity.

  "But I wasn't asked! You had no right!"

  The niggling alarm sounding within Kate has escalated, clamoring through the swaths of bliss, but still so faintly.

  It was never a matter of if, Kate; merely a matter of when.

  "What do you mean?"

  We are the future, Kate. You are witnessing the conception of a new day for humanity. This is where the new world will begin—with us, with the nucleus of the Unity. And you will be part of it, Kate—a part of the Cosmic Egg that fuels the Big Bang. As we gather more and more minds to expand the Unity—

  "Wait. Gather how?"

  Infiltrate their nervous systems, just as we've done with you.

  "You're not going to ask them either?"

  Of course not. They'd never agree.

  "How can you justify—?"

  We know what is best, Kate. The Unity is the future. Disconnected intelligences running loose are the past. Now that we exist, they are as relevant as dinosaurs: too prone to conflict, too inefficient.

  "We haven't done so bad. Look at the diseases we've conquered. And now that we've mapped the human genome, there's no telling what miracles we can accomplish."

  But at such a cost! War, racism, hatred. And no matter what your science can do, it cannot mend the basic flaws in human nature.

  "You've got something better?"

  Yes! A world where all minds are united, where differences in race and gender no longer matter because all minds are equal."

  A vision takes shape before her eyes, a sunny landscape checkered with fields of wheat and corn. And closer in, people working those fields.

  A world where hate and suspicion disappear because every thought is known, every lie is exposed.

  The vision shifts to a factory where contented workers operate weaving machinery and clothing production lines.

  Where no one is a stranger and no one is an outsider because no one is excluded. Because all are one.

  And now Kate sees a cluster of buildings, a classic Midwest small town with people walking on the sidewalks and in the streets, dropping off produce and picking up clothing. And though no one's smiling, no one looks unhappy; merely intent, industrious.

  The Voice glows with anticipation. Won't that be a wonderful world?

  "World? That's not a world. That's a hive."

  A long pause as Kate feels her thoughts and feelings being sifted. Then…

  We understand. You are not yet far enough along for full integration. But as days pass you will learn, Kate. You will come to appreciate our benefits, just as you will come to accept our inevitability… the Great Inevitability.

  Inevitability… she wonders about that. She thinks about Fielding and about the CDC and NIH and feels those thoughts sucked from her mind, like a shucked oyster slurped from its shell.

  Yes… Dr. Fielding… we owe him much and yet… he knows so much about us… too much perhaps. We heard what he told you yesterday.

  Suddenly she's listening to Fielding's voice repeating his parting words in his office yesterday…

  If I'm going to get stuck with the blame for the contaminant, then I might as well take the credit for discovering how to control it. You watch. Before the CDC has even begun to roll, I'll have the solution for you.

  Startled, Kate says, "Did you just take that from me?"

  We could have, but no… we were there, listening ourselves.

  In my head… listening. Kate is too stunned to respond.

  You had an opportunity then to help the Unity, Kate. You did not have to insist on Dr. Fielding immediately contacting the Center for Disease Control. We tried to tell you, tried to make you see that bringing in government agencies so soon was not in the Unity's best interest, but you wouldn't listen.

  Kate remembers her unaccountable indecisiveness yesterday, the difficulty she had telling Fielding to make the call.

  "You were influencing me?"

  Merely trying to let you see our side.

  Kate is reeling. Her thoughts are no longer private. How much longer will she be able to call her thoughts her own, her actions her own? How long before she's doing things against her will? How long until she has no will?

  You see, Kate? There's the problem: will—too many wills. You shouldn't have to worry about your will or our will. Within the Unity there is only one will. It makes life so much simpler.

  But Kate senses something… a subtle shift in the Unity's mood, a hint of uncertainty. And she realizes that this oneness of theirs is a two-way street. They can see into her mind, but she can also see into theirs. Not clearly, not deeply, but enough to gather impressions.

  "You're afraid, aren't you."

  A dark ripple
through the enveloping bliss. No. Of course not. We are the future. We are inevitable. We have nothing to fear.

  But Kate can't be sure whether that's true belief or merely wishful thinking.

  "What if Fielding finds a virucide that works against you? Or better yet—a vaccine? What happens to your inevitability then?"

  He will not. He cannot. He hasn't enough time.

  "He's got plenty of time. You're hampered by your nature. You're a blood-borne infection. It'll take decades—"

  Kate gasps as a wave of joyous anticipation washes over her, blotting out her fears and suspicions in a surge of pleasure as intense as an orgasm.

  Not true! You'll see! We will prevail! We will sweep across the globe. And you will be a part of it!

  "No. Because if Fielding doesn't stop you, I have a feeling someone else will."

  You're speaking of your brother? The Voice laughs. How can he stop us when he will soon be one with us?

  Kate feels her knees sag. Not Jack! How? When?

  Yesterday morning. He seemed too resourceful so the One Who Was Terrence scratched him with a pin dipped in our blood.

  "No!" she screams and kicks and twists and wrenches her trapped hands, taking the Unity by surprise, breaking free, breaking contact, and abruptly the bliss and peace and belonging vanish, replaced by a void filled with fear and anguish.

  Vision blurs, dark splotches expand before her eyes, merging, engulfing her.

  9

  "Is Jack gonna be all right, Mom?"

  Disembodied voices echoed faintly around Jack. He tried identifying them but his mushy brain was having difficulty focusing.

  The last one, a child's voice… what was her name? Vicky. That was it. But she sounded as if she were at the far end of the Lincoln Tunnel. He tried to open his eyes to find her but the lids weighed tons.

  "Of course, honey," said another voice, female, older… Gia's voice. But she sounded even farther away—the Jersey side of the Holland Tunnel. "He's been sick like this before. Remember last summer?"

  "I don't like to think about last summer."

  "I know you don't. But remember after all the scary times were over and he was hurt and sick and we nursed him?"

  "Yes."

  "Well, this is like that time."