F. Paul Wilson - Nightworld

"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. 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 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, sweeping the planes from the sky. Pulverizing them."

Jack said nothing, simply sat and stared at Glaeken with a skeptical look.

"It's true," Bill said, leading Nick in from the kitchen.

Bill sat him in a chair that caught the last fleeting rays of the morning sun. Nick stared emptily at the wall.

"I've seen them," Bill went on. "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 this guy 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 a chance 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 was sure Jack would find a way, and if he was successful in retrieving the necklaces, then what? Tension rolled out from Glaeken's chest along his limbs. He flexed his arthritic fingers to free 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? Hopefully, nothing. 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 back-up 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 in the kitchen, 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, there were 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 the big Viet guy from yesterday. 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 if 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."

WXRK-FM

Well, the news keeps getting worse. Reports from the Midwest and the Plains States say that the nations 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. My advice: Enjoy your Big Macs and Whoppers today because pretty soon you wont be able to afford them.

And now, continuing with our K-Rock All-Request Weekend, we've got Marvin Gaye asking the question that's on everybody's lips.

Cue: "What's Goin' On?"

"Come on, Carol," Hank said. "We don't have much time!"

"We've got all day, Hank," she said, trying to hide her annoyance.

"But a day isn't what it used to be. Let's go!"

Carol joined him in the hall where he was holding the elevator.

"Where are we going now?" she asked when the doors had closed them in.

"You've got your list?"

"Yes," she sighed, fingering the handwritten sheet in her coat pocket. "I've got my list."

"We're going to split up," Hank said.

"I don't know if that's such a good idea."

"It's necessary," he said. "I've given it a lot of thought and that's the most efficient way to get everything done."

His eyes were feverish. He'd spent most of the night hours compiling lists of necessities they'd have to pick up today. He'd been up and down repeatedly, checking the windows. A few times he'd found one sort of monstrosity or another clinging to the screens, but for the most part it had been a quiet night.

"But there are warnings on the radio and TV—"

The elevator slowed to a stop at the fourth floor. The doors opened to reveal another couple outside in the hall, each weighted with a pair of suitcases. They looked pale, drawn, shaken. Carol recognized the woman—she'd seen her in the lobby a few times.

"Moving out?" she said, stepping aside to make room for them and their luggage.

The woman nodded glumly. "My sister's got a place in the Catskills. We're going to move in with her until this mess gets straightened out."