You can’t see it now but there are reports of a giant whirlpool situated off Maui, north of where the Big Island used to be. The whirlpool is believed to be the result of a hole similar to the one in our own Central Park, opening in the ocean bottom some nineteen thousand feet below the surface. Whether this has any relationship to the Big Island disaster is still a matter of conjecture at this time.
Those flames you see now on the left of your screen are from another volcano. It’s been confirmed that Haleakala, a formerly extinct volcano just seven miles away on the island of Maui, is active again. Although most of its lava flow has been down its eastern flank, away from the heavily populated areas, we’ve been told that the lovely town of Hana is no more. It was completely submerged in an avalanche of lava during the night.
Meanwhile, in Manhattan, the situation is rapidly deteriorating.…
Glaeken stared at the TV screen in dismay, barely aware of the picture. But he was listening intently, hoping for fresh news from Maui. As a geologist came on, spouting his theory of how the hole in the channel between Hawaii and Maui had destabilized the Pacific “hot spot” that had formed the Hawaiian Islands over the ages, Glaeken hit the mute button on his remote.
Apparently the doorman had rung while he’d been intent on the TV—he saw Bill leading a familiar figure into the room.
“Jack! I see you made it through the night. Did you take care of that ‘business’ you mentioned?”
Jack nodded, a bit glumly, Glaeken thought.
“Yeah. All taken care of.”
As Bill returned to the kitchen to finish helping Nick eat breakfast, Jack dropped into a chair.
“Anything I can do?” Glaeken said.
He shook his head. “I sent some people off into the hinterlands. I’m just hoping they get where they’re going without any trouble. The city’s already starting to fall apart.”
“So I’ve heard. I understand the National Guard is on alert but that fewer than half of the Guardsmen are reporting in.”
“Not surprised. Probably want to stay home and protect their own. Who can blame them?”
“You should have had your people stay here. They’re welcome.”
“I thought about that after they left, but I think far from the city might be better for them. However, I’ve got some other friends who could use this place. Good people. You got room?”
“The building’s practically empty.”
“How come? It looks like a prime spot.”
“I’m very choosy about my neighbors. You’ve heard about Maui, I presume?”
“No. What?”
Glaeken capsulized the news reports for him.
“You think she’s still alive?”
Glaeken nodded. “There’s a good chance. She lives on the northwest slope. If she was home…” He asked the question that was uppermost in his mind. “When can you leave, Jack?”
“Tomorrow.”
“No. You must leave today. Every moment counts.”
“No way. I just checked with the engraver. The bogus necklaces won’t be ready till tomorrow morning at the earliest. And I’m not going without them. They’re my ace in the hole.”
Glaeken considered that for a moment. At the rate the situation was deteriorating, tomorrow might be too late. But he didn’t see that he had much choice. He had no way of forcing Jack to leave today.
“I promise—I’ll catch a flight out there first thing tomorrow—soon as those necklaces are ready.”
“That may not be so easy. A number of airlines have grounded all flights.”
“Why? Pilots not showing up?”
“Partly that. But a number of flights have disappeared. I should say, a lot of flights have disappeared. They take off but never land.”
“Swell. What’ve we got now—holes in the sky?”
“No. Leviathans in the air, snatching the planes, pulverizing them.”
“How about the Air Force?”
“According to the reports, surface-to-air and air-to-air missiles are ineffective and interceptor jets are disappearing as well.”
Jack said nothing, simply sat and stared at Glaeken with a skeptical look.
“I’ve seen them,” Bill said, leading Nick in from the kitchen. He sat him in a chair that caught the morning sun. Nick stared emptily at the wall.
“The leviathans?”
Bill nodded. “Big. Big as towns, gliding through the night.”
“At least we’ve got the days,” Jack said. “The daylight time may be shrinking, but maybe Rasalom made a mistake giving us some slack like this.”
“Not at all. The days give us time to be at our worst. A constant onslaught might drive us together, bring out the best in us. But the respite offered by the daylight gives the terrors of the night before and the anticipated terrors of the night to come a chance to work on us. It allows fear to demoralize us. Fear is the key to Rasalom’s power. Fear is the great divider. From war and racism to the mundane vices of greed and gluttony—they’re all rooted in fear. What is religion, after all, but a ritualized response to fear—fear of death, fear of the perversities of luck and happenstance that afflict every life at one time or another?” He pointed out the window. “Fear is rampant out there now. It’s dividing us, hurting us, bringing out the worst in too many of us. It will be the end of us.” He turned to Jack. “That’s why you’ve got to get to Maui and retrieve those necklaces.”
“I’ll find a way,” Jack said softly. “There’s always a way.”
Glaeken wondered even if Jack did find a way to retrieve the necklaces, then what?
Tension rolled out from his chest along his limbs. He flexed his arthritic fingers to disperse it. What indeed? Knowing the source of the metal from which they’d been fashioned, he was almost afraid to be in the same room with those necklaces. What would happen if he touched them? Or even got near? Nothing, he hoped. But he couldn’t risk it. He’d have to keep his distance when and if Jack brought them back.
Jack said, “You know, with the way things are going, I think I’m going to need some backup on the trip.”
Bill said, “I could come along if you wish.”
At first, Glaeken was startled by Bill’s offer. He glanced at the ex-priest and caught a desperate look in his eyes. Desperate for what? And then he understood. Bill felt lost, adrift, already a resident of the land to which most of humanity would soon be emigrating. Poor man. The New York City police records still listed him as a fugitive suspect in a capital crime, he had broken with his church, his family was dead, his last friend was sitting there lapsing in and out of catatonia, and Glaeken suspected that his feelings for Carol Treece ran deeper than he dared admit.
Small wonder he was feeling reckless.
Glaeken hoped Jack had the good sense not to take him up on the offer.
“Uh, nothing personal, Bill,” Jack said after a long pause, “but I’m looking for someone with maybe a little experience in hand-to-hand work.”
“If I were younger…” Glaeken said wistfully.
He remembered times when he had cursed the ages he’d spent in a body in its mid thirties. Now, with the burden of eternity off him, he had moments when he would have relished tight muscles, mobile joints, and a supple back.
“Yeah,” Jack said, smiling. “We’d have made a helluva pair, I think. But I was wondering about Ho Chi Minhzilla. Think he’d be up for it?”
“Ba? I don’t know. I doubt he’d be willing to leave Mrs. Nash unprotected, but it wouldn’t hurt to ask. I’ll call if you like.”
“Might be better I go in person. Maybe I can sway him with my magnetic charm.”
Bill laughed aloud. Jack gave him a sidelong look.
“Something funny, guy?”
Bill grinned. “I didn’t know what to make of you at first, but I think you’re all right.”
“Which says loads about your character judgment. None of it good.”
Glaeken gave Jack directions to Toad
Hall and said he’d call ahead to let them know he was coming.
When he was gone, Glaeken reached for the TV remote control. Before he could resume the audio, Nick spoke.
“They won’t be enough,” he said in his monotone.
Bill squatted before him and looked into his eyes.
“What, Nick? What won’t be enough?”
“The necklaces. They won’t do the job. You’ll need more to make it work. Pieces of something else. Pieces of the rest of it.”
“What does that mean, Nick? Pieces of what?”
But he was gone again. Bill turned to Glaeken.
“Any idea what he’s talking about?”
Glaeken sat numb and cold and sick as he stared at Nick.
“Yes, I’m afraid I do.”
WFPW-FM
JO: Well, the news keeps getting worse, folks. Reports from the Midwest and the Plains States say that the nation’s cattle herds were decimated by the bugs last night. Measures are being taken now to protect them but no one knows how successful they’ll be. Our advice: Enjoy your Big Macs and Whoppers today, man, because pretty soon you won’t be able to afford them.
FREDDY: And now, continuing with our F-Rock All-Request Weekend, we’ve got Marvin Gaye asking the question that’s on everybody’s lips.
“There!” Thompson said, pointing to the radio. “Am I brilliant or what? Food! Food is going to be the new gold.”
Ernst didn’t come here to listen to Thompson pat himself on the back. He needed help.
“I want to know where you got your storm shutters.”
Thompson grinned. “Why? Want some?”
He hated to admit it, but …
“Yes.”
“After all the stink you made about defacing this wonderful old historic building, now you want them for your office?”
“No … my apartment.”
The grin broadened. “Why? Rough night?”
“You might say that.”
A very rough night.
When buying into his building, he’d opted for one of the lower floors. For safety reasons, he wanted quick access to the outside in case of fire or another emergency. Conversely, if a blackout occurred and the elevators were shut down, he didn’t want a long walk up.
But most of the lower floors had taken a beating last night. The bugs broke through his windows and chased him through the apartment. He had to spend all night in the hall closet with those things right outside the door, clawing, chewing, scratching, trying to get in at him.
Horrifying.
With the dawn—the late dawn—they’d scurried back to their holes, leaving Ernst with a trashed apartment and severely frazzled nerves.
The first thing he’d done was call the head of the Order’s High Council of Seven to see if he’d had any contact with the One. He hadn’t. And he’d sounded as frightened as Ernst felt.
The conclusion was unmistakable: The One was excluding them from the Change. Which meant they would have to fend for themselves, just like the Great Unwashed.
Unfortunately, certain members of the Great Unwashed, like Hank Thompson, seemed better prepared. When Ernst had arrived at the Lodge this morning he’d noticed its smashed windows and torn screens. Every window but two showed damage: the pair that had been protected by hurricane shutters during the night.
“You want the name of my guy?” Thompson jerked a thumb at his own windows. “The one who did these?”
“I would appreciate it.”
“No good. Had a run on them and he’s outta stock.” He grinned. “Which means you’re outta luck.”
“Well, I’m sure if the price was right—”
“Don’t count on it. Pretty much everybody in the place was chased down to the basement last night. Luckily, there’s no windows down there, so they were safe. But come the dawn, those boys were on the phone and could hardly find anyone even willing to talk to them. Everybody’s got the same idea.”
“I’ll find someone,” Ernst said, with more confidence than he felt.
He had to find someone. He could not endure another ordeal like last night. He glanced at his watch. Still early. He had all day. But a day wasn’t what it used to be.
Monroe, Long Island
Sylvia recognized the old man’s voice immediately. A wave of resentment surged through her.
“I hope this isn’t about moving in with you in the city,” she said, controlling her tone. “Pressure tactics won’t work, Mr. Veilleur. I don’t wear down very easily.”
“I’m quite well aware of that, Mrs. Nash. And please call me Glaeken. That’s my real name.”
Sylvia didn’t want to do that. She didn’t wish to be on a first-name basis with this man. So she said nothing.
“I didn’t call to pressure you into anything,” he said after a pause. “I merely wished to inquire as to how you and your household fared last night.”
“We did just fine, thank you.” No thanks to you.
She repressed the urge to tell him that the strange attraction Jeffy had developed for him had nearly cost the boy his life—and Ba’s and her own as well; that if Jeffy hadn’t become so fixated on Glaeken he wouldn’t have wandered off last night. But in the back of her mind she knew Glaeken could crush her with the simple admonishment that a good mother should know the whereabouts of her child. She’d spent most of the night telling herself the same thing, berating herself for letting Jeffy wander off. If only she’d kept an eye on him, Rudy might still be alive and Ba wouldn’t have dozens of ugly wounds on the back of his neck.
“This is a tough old house,” she said. “And with the metal storm shutters we installed yesterday, it’s like a fortress.”
The racket last night had been horrendous. Those things from the hole had pounded incessantly against the shutters until sunrise. Sealed in as they were, the silence from outside had been their only clue that daylight had arrived. She’d greeted the dawn with relief and exhaustion.
“Good,” Glaeken said. “I’m very glad to hear that. I hope your defenses remain as effective against future assaults. But I called for two reasons. The other is to let you know that Jack, the fellow who let you in yesterday, will be stopping by later for a visit.”
“I warned you about pressuring me.”
“Have no fear, Mrs. Nash. He’s not coming to see you. He wishes to speak to Ba.”
“Ba? What does he want with Ba?”
She vaguely remembered the wiry, brown-eyed man Glaeken had mentioned—a rather ordinary-looking sort. She had an impression of him and Ba standing at the back of the living room, speaking together in low tones. So unusual for Ba to speak at all to a stranger that she remembered wondering if they’d met before.
“Perhaps I’d better let Jack explain that himself. Good day, Mrs. Nash.”
WFAN-AM
DAVE: And now our next caller on the FAN sports radio is Rick from Brooklyn. What’s on your mind, Rick?
RICK: Yeah, hi, Dave. I just want to say that I really love your show, and I’d like to talk about the commissioner’s canceling all games indefinitely.
DAVE: What’s wrong with that, Rick?
RICK: It’s not fair to the Mets. They’ve got one of their best teams ever. They was headin’ for the Pennant for sure. I think it’s a dirty trick. And you know what else…?
Monroe, Long Island
Jack arrived in the early afternoon. Sylvia heard him drive up and watched as he got out of a big black car with a damaged paint job and odd reddish stains on the roof and driver door. Since Ba was outside, reinforcing whatever weak points he could find in the house’s defenses, and Alan was in the back tossing a football to Jeffy, Sylvia went downstairs to let him in. He didn’t come to the door, however. Instead, he walked around to the side of the house to where Ba was working.
What on earth could those two have in common? She resisted the temptation to tiptoe to one of the windows and eavesdrop. She’d know soon.
And su
re enough, a few minutes later Ba was leading Jack through the back door. Alan rolled in behind them and Jeffy brought up the rear, flipping his football from hand to hand.
“Hi, Mrs. Nash,” Jack said, extending his hand. “We met yesterday.”
She shook it briefly. “I remember.”
“Can we all talk?”
Alan looked at Sylvia and gave her a puzzled shrug. “Why don’t we go into the den,” he said.
Sylvia sent Jeffy upstairs to wash his hands and seated herself where she had a view of the stairway. If Jeffy came down, she’d see him. No wandering off this time. She was determined to know his whereabouts every minute of the day.
Jack seated himself across from her. Ba remained standing near Alan. She sensed his tightly coiled tension.
Jack said, “Do you remember Glaeken talking about a certain pair of necklaces yesterday?”
Sylvia nodded. “The ones supposedly made from the ‘second focus.’”
“Right. Well, he’s located them on Maui, and I’m going to head out there tomorrow to see if I can get them back.”
“I see.” Sylvia kept her tone noncommittal. “What does that have to do with Ba?”
“I’d like him to come along.”
“And what did Ba say?” She suspected the answer but wanted to hear it for herself.
“He refused. Said he couldn’t leave you here unprotected.”