Jack McDevitt - The Devil's Eye

too. "Then he took out the security people and disappeared into the woods. By then he'd gone crazy. One night he came into town and went on a rampage, strangling and beating everybody he saw. They couldn't stop him. Eventually, an enraged mob was able to drive him out. They tracked him into the nearby hills, took a few more casualties, and finally brought him down with a plasma shell. "They buried him in the cemetery, along with their own dead. Members of his family were notified, and several came for the service. They were horrified to hear what had happened. Forrest had simply vanished. Nobody had known what had happened to him. When it got out that he was behind it, Cleev had been so worried he went public and denied the story. Claimed it was renegade scientists. Within a week of the burial, somebody descended on the ruined lab and removed everything that could connect it with the government." "My God," I said. "Is that really true? Did that actually happen?" The shopkeeper's eyes were gray. His hair was also gray, and his skin was sallow. I remember thinking that he needed to get away from the souvenir shop. Get away from the cemetery. "It gets worse," he said. "What else happened?" asked Alex. "Several weeks after they took down the lab, something attacked the town again. They didn't know what it was. But they started finding bodies. Beaten to death. Clubbed. Strangled. Witnesses swore it was Barryman. A reporter went out to the cemetery." "The grave was empty," said Alex. "Yes." That part of the story I'd heard before we left Marinopolis. "They asked for help from the authorities. But they just laughed. And so did the media, which, in those days, wasn't worth a damn anyhow. So the town got up an action committee. They went out after him, tracked him down a second time, and killed him again. Everybody agreed it was the same person. This time, they encased the body in concrete before putting it in the ground. They brought in a priest to perform an exorcism ceremony, and they put a stone block on top of the burial site to keep him in his grave." Had the shopkeeper by any chance seen Vicki Greene? Had she actually come to town? "Who?" he asked. So we moved on. To one of the town's two restaurants. The hostess was tall and looked a bit too sensible to be living in a place like Boldinai Point. I doubted the town had much in the way of prospects. As we were getting seated, I asked whether there was anything to the Barryman story, no kidding, and she said sure, where had I been all my life? "I'll tell you something else," she added. "There's a connection of some sort with Callistra." "With Callistra?" "Most times you go out there, everything's quiet. But do it at night, when the star's directly overhead, and you can feel that thing trying to break out of its tomb." Welcome to Boldinai Point.

We picked a hotel, but it was full. "Try the Hamel," they said. The Hamel was okay, but it wasn't the luxurious kind of place Alex liked. They didn't have suites available, so we checked into separate rooms. During the process, Alex asked the AI whether she knew who Vicki Greene was. "Oh, yes, sir," she said. "She's very popular at the Point." "Can you tell me whether she showed up here during the past year?" "That's private information, sir," she said. "I'm sorry, but I'm not permitted to speak of such matters. I can check to see whether she's staying at this hotel now, if you like." We tried calling the Point Man , which was the local journal. She had been here, had in fact stayed at the Hamel, had "starred at a special event for delighted visitors," during which she'd spoken about why people want to believe in the supernatural. She'd signed books, including some bound collector's

editions, and had "joined a number of her readers at a raucous party." She'd also submitted to an interview, which the Point Man made available. As before, she looked fine.

Q: Ms. Greene, why have you come to the Point?

A: It's a special place, Henry. I've always wanted to come here.

Q: Are you working on your next book?

A: I'm always working on my next book. (Laughs.)

Q: Would you want to tell us what it's about?

A: It's still in its early stages.

Q: Can you give us the title?

A: The working title is The Devil's Eye .

Q: You're visiting the Point?

A: Yes. That seems to be true.

Q: Can I guess that means you're writing about Forrest Barryman?

A: You can certainly guess.

Q: Would I be right? A:(Smiles.) Honestly, Henry, it's in the air. I'm still making up my mind.

"She seems upbeat," I said. This Vicki bore little resemblance to the woman who'd sent that original transmission to us. "Whatever the problem is," Alex said, "it hasn't happened yet." We watched the rest of the interview. When asked what she planned to do while she was in town, Vicki said she just intended to look around. "This is a nice place. I'd like to just take it easy." "Will you be visiting the Tomb?" "Oh, I don't think so, Henry. It's a bit scary out there."

There was a Barryman Museum. And Graveyard Books. And the Occult Transit Company, which provided virtual trips into the hereafter. You could get shirts with a picture of the monster on them. A sim that dramatized the event. A hologram of the monster itself stood in front of the gift shop. A family were getting their pictures taken beside it when we arrived. Everybody seemed to be doing a thriving business. We went looking for people who might have seen Vicki Greene. Everybody at the Point seemed to be a fan of horror fiction. Most of the locals we talked to said yes, they'd heard she'd been in town. Most said they'd seen her, and several even claimed to have talked with her. But nobody was particularly helpful. Several told us she'd been writing about the Barryman Monster. "Why else would she have come here?" one demanded. The word that she'd been lost hadn't gotten around, and her fans were reluctant to believe the news. On the whole, we had trouble finding reliable sources. The details didn't match. Vicki was described as wearing different clothes. Her hair was a different color. Sometimes she spoke with an accent, sometimes she didn't. We asked whether they believed that the Barryman story had any basis in fact. I thought we'd find some skepticism there, especially among the kids. But no. Of course it had happened. Ask anybody. Or go out to the cemetery when Callistra's in the sky.

They ran tours out to Barryman's grave during the daylight hours, using a light-grav bus marked ANDROID LOCAL. When I asked the hotel host whether there was a night tour, he looked startled. "Absolutely not, young lady. Nobody goes out there at night. It's not allowed." He couldn't quite resist a smile. They picked us up at the hotel, made one more stop, and headed north to the cemetery. About fifteen of us were on board, half of whom were kids. It was a holiday crowd, full of laughter, and I could hear a little girl saying, "Is it really true, Mommy?"

"No, darling," Mommy said. "There are no such things as ghosts." Alex looked for his chance to show the tour guide a picture of Vicki. "Do you recall whether she ever rode with you?" "Mister," he said, "do you have any idea how many people go out there?" We passed through the town and drove about three kilometers on a flat straight road. Turned right onto a cutoff. And approached a pair of iron gates. They swung open for us. (As a security measure, they were of doubtful use because the fence was broken in any number of places.) The cemetery was old. Markers dated back more than six hundred years, to the beginning of the Bandahriate. The tour guide, a middle-aged guy who was trying his best to look nervous, told us the town advisory committee was talking about putting the cemetery off-limits to visitors, because everybody knew it was just a matter of time before Forrest Barryman broke loose from his grave and nobody knew what he might do then. He looked around at the children, some of whom giggled while others nestled closer to their mothers. "Of course, most of us at the Point think they're worried over nothing," he said with a straight face. "But you know how people are. One restless grave's enough to give the entire town a bad name." Alex leaned my way. "You look a little nervous, Chase." Anything to put me on the defensive. I smiled at him and let it go. The cemetery was a dusty, dry place, not at all like the green, almost lush graveyard near the Country House back on Rimway. Signs reading DO NOT APPROACH AFTER DARK were posted throughout the area. "I don't think I'd want to bury anybody here that I cared about," I said. Alex looked past me, and I could have predicted his response: "At the end, I can't imagine it matters much." A burst of wind rocked the bus. "Forrest is quiet in the daytime," said our tour guide. "Nothing to worry about." The bus made its way among the headstones. Eventually we topped a low hill, and the block came into view. It was higher than I could have reached and half as long as the bus. We swung into a parking area, and the doors opened. The tour guide was first off the bus. He helped the ladies navigate down, lent a hand to the kids, all the while explaining that we were perfectly safe, that there was nothing to worry about in the daytime. "It's only active when Callistra is in the sky." He drew the word Callistra out, rolling the consonants and savoring the vowels. The guy really enjoyed his work. "They're putting on a nice show," whispered Alex. The LIE STILL inscription was, of course, the first thing that caught my eye. There was another inscription, on the far side, consisting of three rows of unfamiliar symbols. "They're Arrakesh," the tour guide explained. "They're from the Enkomia , which is an ancient text that some people think is sacred. The first line translates to his name, Forrest Barryman. The second is the date of his first burial. And the bottom says Gone to Glory ." He touched the rock cautiously. "We certainly hope so," he added. "Why the strange language?" I asked. "It's supposed to help keep him in the ground," he said. "Most of the people who lived here at the time were Travelers. They were the faithful. Their name came out of their emphasis on the notion of life as a journey from a wicked world to salvation. If you look around, you'll notice quite a few of the graves have a star emblem. Those are the Travelers." "Callistra," said a woman behind me. "That's correct," said the guide. "Travelers believed Callistra was God's star, placed in the heavens as a sign of His presence." The star, of course, was central to a number of that world's religions although I didn't know that at the time. The site seemed peaceful enough. The block would have required a good-sized antigrav engine to move it. "He's not really at rest," said the guide, who was obviously not one to let go of a good thing. "If you come out here on a windy night, which is strictly prohibited, by the way, but come out here anyway, when Callistra is directly overhead, you can hear him down there, trying to get free." There was a big bald-headed guy who asked him to stop. "You're scaring the kids," he said.