Rick had heard of something called the "white death" that afflicted soldiers on Napoleon's Russian campaign. Mal-nourished men quietly fell asleep and froze. For a dreadful time, Rick thought the same was happening to Con. It grieved him to see her lying there, yet he could not bring himself to wake her. Instead, he fed the fire to keep her warm. He also prepared Joe's pyre so, when the time came, the fire would spread quickly. As he worked, he prayed that when the pyre lit the night, there would be only one body atop it. When he had done this last thing and fed the fire one more time, Rick lay next to Con and fell into an exhausted sleep.
It was dark when Con woke him a kiss. The fire was burn-ing brightly, and Rick was warm. He stared about groggily.
"It's time to say good-bye to Joe," said Con.
Rick still felt exhausted. "How long has it been dark?"
"Not long. I see you got everything ready. Thanks."
Rick rose and, after stretching his stiff muscles, took a flaming brand from the bonfire. "This tribute was your idea," he said. "You should light the pyre."
"We should do it together."
Each holding the brand, they advanced to the kindling and wood Rick had placed at the base of the mound on the wind-ward side. Flames danced and spread, fanned by the wind. They rose ever higher into the black sky and illuminated the landscape with reds and oranges. The fire grew so hot, it drove Con and Rick back. They sat on the ground, which now seemed pleasantly cool, and watched the spectacle of light. Somewhere within it, Joe was ascending to the sky.
Rick felt an anxious excitement as he scanned the night sky where he thought the island lay. Any moment he hoped to see the lights of a plane.
Con did not share his optimism. "It's as if my cabin's burning," she said sadly.
"Your cabin?"
"The cabin I dreamed of while I was alone. The place where I was going to make you and Joe honey cakes. I guess I don't need it anymore."
"You won't need it because we're going to be rescued."
Con nodded, but otherwise seemed lost in her own thoughts. "Will you make me a promise?" she asked.
"Anything."
"Will you make me a pyre, too? It doesn't have to be as big as Joe's, just something bright and warm."
"Con, we don't need to talk about that..."
"Yes we do." Con lifted her jacket to reveal a rib cage where every bone was sharply denned. Beneath it; her ab-domen formed a deep cavity. "I don't want to leave you, but I'm souped." She smiled ruefully.
"My parents wanted me to have every advantage."
Time passed, and the sky above the sea remained dark. Rick's hopes faded. As the future lost its promise, the present became paramount. It seemed-to him that, as Con's body dwindled, her spirit was more apparent. It wants to break
free, he thought, and leave her body behind. He craved for that spirit to linger as long as possible. Rick held Con in his arms and tried to savor each heartbeat.
Intent on one another, Rick and Con did not see the pin-point of light that rose from the sea. Blue-white, it mingled with the swirling red sparks ascending into the black sky, but unlike the sparks, it moved purposefully and grew ever brighter. Even when the light became an airplane, Rick and Con remained unaware of it. The plane descended and dis-appeared behind the pyre.
The two figures that approached from the beach were still far away when Rick spotted them. They appeared to be chil-dren. Their clothing shimmered, reflecting the flames. He squeezed his eyes shut to clear them of tears, then stared to make sure they weren't an illusion.
"Con!" he cried joyously. "We're saved!"
Con rose to her feet, her expression one of disbelief and wonder. Rick rose with her. He wrapped one arm around Con and waved the other, calling out. "Over here! We're over here!" One of the figures reacted to Rick's shouts by pointing an object in his direction. The end of it briefly glowed blue. Con gave a startled cry, jerked violently, and fell to the ground. Rick turned to call her name, but a jolt of pain froze the word in his mouth, as the world dissolved into blackness. 36
RICK BECAME AWARE THAT HIS EYES WERE OPEN. HE HAD
no idea how long they had been that way. When he blinked, they felt dry and scratchy. He tried to move and found that he could not. For a terrified instant, he thought he was par-alyzed. Then he realized this could not be the case, for he was still aware of every sensation in his body. There was a presence in his mind that blocked his efforts to control that body. What it was, he had no idea, but he thought he knew its source. That thing that glowed blue did this to me.
Rick stared into a flat surface that shone softly. It looked vaguely familiar. He was laying on something flat and soft, yet gritty. The air was warm. He was naked.
There was the noise of people entering the room. He heard voices. The sounds they made were utterly alien. He had never heard a language, if it was a language, that remotely resembled it. It seemed to be a string of vowels that were sung as tones, interrupted by lip noises that vaguely sounded like the letter "B." The effect was that of a recording played too fast and backward.
A childlike face appeared over his. She had a metallic-colored dot in the middle of her forehead. Rick wished he could say something, even make some small movement to communicate, but he lay powerless. My eyes are playing tricks, or that child's gigantic, he thought. The face disap-peared, and hands touched his body. The touch was not like that of a physician. There was rough indifference in the way he was prodded and examined. It was as if he were a corpse or a specimen, something that could not feel pain or indig-nity.
The hands left him, but the voices were still nearby. Rick found that, through an act of intense concentration, he could regain some control over his body. Slowly, he turned his head in the direction of the voices. He was lying on a sandy bed. Next to him lay Con, emaciated and naked. What seemed to be three huge children, two boys and the girl, were standing near her. The boys had the same metallic dot on their heads as the girl. Their clothing was of a strange pattern, with surfaces that were sculpted into elaborate organic de-signs. It was made from a material that shimmered and changed shade as they moved.
The girl bent over Con and began to examine her in a manner that outraged Rick. Somehow, he had to make her stop. He concentrated on forming a word. Before he could, one of the boys saw that Rick was staring at them and pointed an object in his direction. Rick felt a jolt of pain and became unconscious. FOR DAYS, CON existed in a netherworld, only dimly aware of the passage of time. Things were being done to her, but she did not know what. Something was fogging her mind, and whenever it began to clear, a jolt of pain sent her plummeting into darkness. At last, she was left alone and gradually became aware of her surroundings. The vague, confused memories of her ordeal made little sense and, once again, she wondered if she were dead. If that were true, then she was spending the afterlife in one of the stone rooms on the island.
The room was not as she remembered it. There was a thick layer of sand and beach debris on the floor. The bed she lay upon was also sandy. The most radical change in the room appeared between the stone pillars in the col-onnade. An immaterial, translucent plane bridged all the openings. It had the opalescent look of an oil slick on a puddle. Like an oil slick, its colors swirled and changed. Beyond the colored plane, the world outside was only faintly visible.
Con examined her nude body and saw it had also changed. It was no longer bony. The washboard pattern of her ribs was obscured by-soft skin. Her breasts were no longer shriveled. The muscles on her legs and arms had returned to their former sizes. Her frostbitten foot appeared normal. As she examined her restored body, she discovered a recent needle mark near a vein of her inner elbow. Strangely, none of her other ailments had been healed. Her sores and rashes remained. She was still dirty. Some of her clothing was laid next to her on the bed. It was dirty also, but had an acrid smell, as if it had been fumigated. She dressed, although the clothes felt greasy and scratchy next to her skin, and their fumes stung her eyes.