She sighed. “Perhaps. At times I can sense the Adversary’s presence and know what he is doing—he is human, after all—but other times he seems to wink out of existence. He is active on a number of fronts now. Some are petty, involving simple vengeance, others are hidden from me. But he has a plan . . . he most certainly has a plan.”
“To do what?”
“Open the gates to the Otherness and let it flood through. And that will be the end of you and, as a consequence, the end of me. For once the Change occurs, the Ally will not want us back. By combining your knowledge of known history with the secrets of the First Age, you may find a way to impede the Adversary, or perhaps even stop him. He is fallible—he has made mistakes in the past—and therefore stoppable.”
By me? Weezy thought. Me? I don’t think so.
12
“I have to go in there?” Darryl said, staring at the Orsa.
“Well, no.” Drexler spoke from where he stood about ten feet away with Hank. “But you do have to reach in and remove the compound. ‘He who would be healed must remove the compound from the Orsa.’ Or so tradition says.”
Darryl did not like that idea one bit. He didn’t want any part of him inside that thing. But for a cure, he might go through with it.
“But the thing’s alive. You said so yourself. And I’m reaching into its mouth and—”
“It doesn’t have a mouth. It doesn’t eat in the sense you’re thinking. It draws sustenance from contact with the Opus Omega column buried beneath it. That column is planted at an intersection point in the Nexus Grid. That is why we dug up the concrete there, so the Orsa could have contact with the column and draw life from the Grid.”
Darryl scratched his scraggly jaw, wondering what the hell Drexler had just said. Bunch of gobbledygook.
“I don’t know, man . . .”
“See that groove encircling the very end there?”
He saw it. Maybe half an inch deep running around the conical end, maybe a foot in from the tip.
“Yeah?”
“That is a plug of sorts. You simply have to remove it, then reach inside for the compound. Place the compound in the bin by your feet as you remove it. Very simple.”
Easy for you to say.
He stared at the thing. The light reflecting off its dull surface partially obscured the vein of brown dust within. He adjusted his angle to study it. He wondered how it had got in there. Then again, what did it matter? He had to get it out.
Okay. Here goes.
He slipped his fingers into the groove and felt the Orsa’s surface ripple as he touched it. He stifled his own ripple—of revulsion—and kept his grip. Leaning back he began to pull and twist.
The plug moved surprisingly easily, almost as though the Orsa was helping to push it out. Darryl didn’t know if he liked that idea. But maybe the Orsa wanted to be rid of it, like getting a splinter removed from its skin.
He thought of that old story about somebody removing a splinter from a lion’s paw, and then the lion becoming his friend. Maybe that was how this worked. If he removed the plug, the Orsa would be his friend and cure him.
Finally it released with a slurping pop! He could have sworn he heard the Orsa sigh as the plug fell into his hands.
“Excellent,” Drexler said. “Now, begin removing the compound.”
Darryl stared at the pocket left by the plug. A ways beyond it lay the vein of dust. He reached in, immersing his arm to the shoulder.
“Hey, it’s warm in here and kind of wet.”
“Does it smell like fish?” Hank said.
“Not funny, Hank.”
Thankfully it didn’t smell like anything.
His questing fingers found the compound and he pulled out a handful. He stared at it. Brown and powdery, with little flecks of what looked like fine gravel.
Are you the stuff that’s gonna make me better?
“Okay. I got some.”
“You must remove it all.”
He looked at the vein. It ran pretty far in.
“All? How am I gonna get to it?”
“By doing what is necessary.”
“You can do it, Darryl,” Hank said.
I don’t need a cheerleader, Darryl thought. I need someone to do this for me.
But since no one was going to volunteer . . .
He dumped the compound into the bin and returned to his task. He stretched as far as he could, removed more, but the rest was beyond his reach.
He turned to Hank and Drexler. “I’ll need a hoe or something to get the rest out.”
“No-no!” Drexler said, waving his hands. “You might damage the inner membranes. That mustn’t happen.”
“Okay, then, how do I get to the rest?”
“Just crawl in and get it,” Hank said. “Let’s get this done with.”
Darryl stared at the opening and didn’t like that idea one bit. Something about this thing made him afraid. But he didn’t see any way around it.
“Inside,” Drexler said. “You must enter to retrieve the rest. And don’t forget: You will be cured not only of AIDS, but of every illness hidden in your body. If you have a cancer, it will be gone; if you have hardened arteries, they will be cleared.”
Well, that didn’t sound so bad.
“All right. I’m going, I’m going.”
He put one arm in, followed by the other. Then, taking a deep breath, he ducked and slipped his head and shoulders inside.
Warm in here . . . much warmer than he’d figured. Light from the room filtered through. The sides of the cavity were softer than around the plug, and much, much softer than the Orsa’s hide.
But forget about that—just grab as much of this junk as you can and get out.
Even better: Start grabbing the compound and pushing it behind him—the tight space made it hard but it was doable. That way he could scoop it up once he slid back out.
He cleared out the new area of the vein within reach. The dust seemed lumpier here.
Almost to the end. Just a little more and he’d be finished. As he inched farther in, he thought he felt the sides tremble. He froze, waiting to feel it again, wondering if he’d really felt it.
All remained still. Maybe he’d caused it himself. Maybe he’d just felt his own vibrations. More than ever now he wanted to get out of here ASAP.
The urgency pushed him forward again, stretching his fingers toward the final deposit. He grabbed a handful and felt some larger lumps. He pulled it closer and opened his hand. In the dim light the lumps had definite shapes. They looked familiar. Almost like—
Teeth! These were human teeth!
Just then the sides trembled again, but this time they tightened against him.
No!
He began a frantic struggle backward, pushing as hard as he could against the slick, rubbery surface, but his hands slipped and the space grew even smaller.
He screamed.
The walls began to weep a clear, sour fluid that pressed against his face. He sealed his lips against it but it ran in through his nostrils. It soaked through his clothes and into his skin. And then the trembling in the walls organized into ripples running from his head, along his body, and down his legs. He felt the compound he’d pushed back beside his legs begin to slide away, following the ripples.
The walls tightened further, molding to him, sealing against him until he couldn’t move a finger. He tried to scream again but the walls were so tight he couldn’t draw a breath. He loosed a strangled groan that allowed the fluid to rush into his mouth. It ran down his throat, seeping through his tissues from within and without.
As his vision and consciousness dimmed he saw the hazy figures of Hank and Drexler through the encasing semitransparent walls. One figure struggling to move his way and the other holding him back.
Drexler! He knew all along! He set me up!
13
“An awful lot to absorb,” Jack said as he exited the Brooklyn Battery Tunnel and took the ramp to the southbound BQE.