Dean Koontz - Phantoms

That was most unfair. I never mentioned the judge or the luckless aviatrix. I am interested only in unexplained mass disappearances of both humankind and animals, of which there have been literally hundreds throughout history.”

The waiter brought croissants.

Outside, lightning stepped quickly down the somber sky and put its spiked foot to the earth in another part of the city; its blazing descent was accompanied by a terrible crash and roar that echoed across the entire firmament.

Sandier said, "If subsequent to the publication of your book, there had been a new, startling mass disappearance, it would have lent considerable credibility”

"Ah," Flyte interrupted, tapping the table emphatically with one stiff finger, "but there have been such disappearances!”

"But surely they would have been splashed all over the front page-”

"I am aware of two instances. There may be others," Flyte insisted.”

One of them involved the disappearance of masses of lower lifeforms-specifically, fish. It was remarked on in the press, but not with any great interest. Politics, murder, sex, and two-headed goats are the only things newspapers care to report about. You have to read scientific journals to know what's really happening. That's how I know that, eight years ago, marine biologists noted a dramatic decrease in fish population in one region of the Pacific. Indeed, the numbers of some species had been cut in half. Within certain scientific circles, there was panic at first, some fear that ocean temperatures might be undergoing a sudden change that would depopulate the seas of all but the hardiest species. But that proved not to be the case. Gradually, sea life in that area-which covered hundreds of square miles-replenished itself. In the end no one could explain what had happened to the millions upon millions of creatures that had vanished.”

"Pollution," Sandler suggested, between alternating sips of orange juice and champagne.

Dabbing marmalade on a piece of croissant, Flyte said, "No, no, no. No, sir. It would have required the most massive case of water pollution in history to cause such a devastating depopulation over that wide an area.

An accident on that scale could not go unnoticed. But there were no accidents, no oil spills-nothing. Indeed, a mere oil spill could not have accounted for it; the affected region and the volume of water was too vast for that. And dead fish did not wash up on the beaches.

They merely vanished without a trace.”

Burt Sandler was excited. He could smell money. He had hunches about some books, and none of his hunches had ever been wrong. (Well, except for that diet book by the movie star who, a week before publication day, died of malnutrition after subsisting for six months on little more than grapefruit, papaya, raisin toast, and carrots.) There was a surefire best-seller in this: two or three hundred thousand copies in hardcover, perhaps even more; two million in paperback. If he could persuade Flyte to popularize and update the dry academic material in The Ancient Enemy, the professor would be able to afford his own champagne for many years to come.

"You said you were aware of two mass disappearances since the publication of your book," Sandier said, encouraging him to continue.

"Mother was in Africa in 1980. Between three and four thousand primitive tribesmen, women, and children vanished from a relatively remote area of central Africa. Their villages were found empty; they had abandoned all their possessions, including large stores of food.

They seemed to have just run off into the bush. The only signs of violence were a few broken pieces of pottery. Of course, mass disappearances in that part of the world are dismayingly more frequent than they once were, primarily due to political violence. Cuban mercenaries, operating with Soviet weaponry, have been assisting in the liquidation of whole tribes that are unwilling to put their ethnic identities second to the revolutionary purpose.

But when entire villages are slaughtered for political purposes, they are always looted, then burned, and the bodies are always interred in mass graves. There was no looting in this instance, no burning, no bodies to be found. So ten weeks later, game wardens in that district reported an inexplicable decrease in the wildlife population. No one connected it to the missing villagers; it was reported as a separate phenomenon.”

"But you know differently.”

"Well, I suspect differently," Flyte said, putting strawberry jam on a last bit of croissant.

"Most of these disappearances seem to occur in remote areas," Sandler said." Which makes verification difficult. "Yes. That was thrown in my face as well. Actually, most incidents probably occur at sea, for the sea covers the largest part of the earth. The sea can be as remote as the moon, and much of what takes place beneath the waves is beyond our notice. Yet don't forget the two stories I mentioned-the Chinese and Spanish. Those took place within the context of modern civilization.

And if tens of thousands of Mayans fell victim to the ancient enemy whose existence I've theorized, then that was a case in which entire cities, hearts of civilization, were attacked with frightening boldness.”

"You think it could happen now, today”

"No question about it!”

'!-in a place like New York or even here in London?”

"Certainly! It could happen virtually anywhere that has the geological underpinnings I outlined in my book.”

They both sipped champagne, thinking.

The rain hammered on the windows with greater fury than before.

Sandier was not certain he believed in the theories Flyte had preported in The Ancient Enemy. He knew they could form the basis for a wildly successful book written in a popular vein, but that didn't mean he had to believe in them. He didn't really want to believe. Believing was like opening the door to Hell.

He looked at Flyte, who was straightening his wilted carnation again, and he said, "It gives me the chills.”

" It should," Flyte said, nodding." It should.”

The waiter came with the eggs, bacon, sausages, and toast.

The Dead of Night The inn was a fortress.

Bryce was satisfied with the preparations that had been made.

At last, after two hours of arduous labor, he sat down at a table in the cafeteria, sipping decaffeinated coffee from a white ceramic mug on which was enblazoned the blue crest of the hotel.

By one in the morning, with the help of the ten deputies who had arrived from Santa Mira, much had been accomplished. One of the, two rooms had been converted into a dormitory; twenty mattresses were lined up on the floor, enough to accommodate any single shift of the investigative team, even after General Copperfield's people arrived. In the other half of the restaurant, a couple of buffet tables had been set up at one end, where a cafeteria line could be formed at mealtimes. The kitchen had been cleaned and put in order. The large lobby had been converted into an enormous operations center, with desks, makeshift desks, typewriters, filing cabinets, bulletin boards, and a big map of Snowfield.

Furthermore, the inn had been given a thorough security inspection, and steps had been taken to prevent a break-in by the enemy. The two rear doors — through the kitchen, one through the lobby-were locked, and additionally secured with slanted two-by-fours, which were wedged under the crashbars and nailed to the frames; Bryce had ordered that extra precaution to avoid wasting guards at those entrances. The door to the emergency stairs was similarly sealed off-, nothing could enter the higher floors of the hotel and come down upon them by surprise. Now, only a pair of small elevators connected the lobby level to the three upper floors, and two guards were stationed there. Another guard stood at the front entrance. A detail of four men had ascertained that all upstairs rooms were empty. Another detail had determined that all of the ground floor windows were locked; most of them were painted shut, as well. Nevertheless, the windows were points of weakness in their fortifications.