She froze her emotions as she picked up the alarm clock. Its two detonator caps dangled on their crudely anastomosed wires against her thighs as she set the timer for 10 P.M. The time was a guess, but an educated one. She'd gleaned enough from the Unity to know that its new meeting place was not close by, and that the mutation to an airborne strain would not be a few minutes' work. She assumed—prayed—she'd be in their midst by then.
She carefully reinserted the detonators into the holes they'd previously occupied, then emptied her shoulder bag and gently settled the assembly into its bottom. A dishcloth from the sink covered the bomb, then the rest of her stuff went back in on top.
She found a pen and a small pad and wrote Jack a quick note explaining the pending mutation and how she planned to stop it. She wasn't sure where she was going but if he could follow her and get there in time—before ten o'clock—maybe he could find another solution, one that would leave her alive to see Kevin and Lizzie grow up and eventually make her a mother-in-law, and a grandmother…
But at the moment this was the only way.
Now… where to leave the note? She didn't want it where the Unity could see it when it took over—that would abort her whole plan. She looked around and her gaze settled on the microwave, still on the floor.
Of course.
Kate lifted it back onto the counter, then slipped the shoulder bag strap over her head so it ran across her chest. She didn't want it to slip off.
She was ready.
Then she spotted Jack's little pistol. Might as well take that too. If it related to death and destruction she wanted it handy. She jammed it into the front pocket of her slacks.
Now the hardest part: turning off the microwave. Simply opening the door would do that, and it would give her a place to hide the note to Jack. The Unity would never look in there, but Jack would see the open door… at least she hoped he would.
With the letter in her right hand, she reached her left toward the oven door latch but her hand didn't want to go. It seemed to know the consequences. She forced it forward—just the opposite of fighting the Unity—and let her fingertips rest against the latch.
Isn't there another way? her mind screamed. There's got to be some alternative to this!
No. There isn't.
Kate pulled on the latch. As the door popped open and the microwave generator cycled down, she shoved the letter inside…
… and almost immediately the sound, the touch, the presence of the Unity floods in.
Kate! You're back! And you're alone! That means you're going to stay with us! This is wonderful, Kate. We've missed you so.
And she knows it's true. You can't lie in the Unity. The loving, welcoming acceptance flows through her… so wonderful. Why did she ever resist? She vaguely remembers being sad, being terrified, but about what? Of being alone? She can't imagine. She'll never be alone again.
She senses the One Who Was Jeanette outside on the steps, waiting by the front door to take her to the gathering. Kate loves her, but no more than she loves every other member of the Unity. Dimly she remembers loving her in a more carnal way, but that is past.
She unlocks the door to the apartment and walks down the stairs to Jeanette. Tonight is going to be so wonderful. The Great Leap will lead them toward the Great Inevitability and she will be part of it. She feels so safe and secure. This is where she really belongs. Anything less is not truly living…
15
The sudden outburst of cheers and applause startled Sandy.
His attention had been drifting. He'd been to boring parties in his life but this one took the cake and all the candles. Six people hanging out for hours and not one word spoken. And it wasn't that they were mutes or deafies; they didn't use sign language either. They didn't even hum as they had at the meeting he'd peeked in on the other night. Nothing.
The eeriness had worn off after a while, leaving him antsy for something to happen. And something was going to happen—he'd sensed the anticipation in their body language. And then again, maybe not. A certain tension in the air as well. Maybe something had gone wrong. Whatever was going on, Sandy had hoped he'd find out this century.
But then the sudden noise—real human voices—called his wandering thoughts back to the front room of the bungalow.
Grins, laughter, hugs all around—
What's going on? What did I miss?
And then they settled down again into that numbing silence. But the tension seemed gone. All Sandy could sense now was the anticipation.
So weird. Wicked weird.
Maybe they were planning on sneaking Holdstock out of the country, or moving the whole cult somewhere to avoid prosecution.
And then he noticed that someone had moved the black-framed photo from its empty chair to a side table. Sandy could see the photo now. He repressed a gasp as he recognized the face: Ellen Blount, the woman who'd tried to knife the Savior in the back.
With the force of a blow Sandy was reminded that these innocuous-looking people already had killed one man and attempted to kill another. And here he was in the middle of nowhere peeping on them. Was he crazy? He should turn around and get the hell out of here. These people were killers and if they found him spying on them they'd kill him too.
Go back to the car, watch from a safe distance, and be ready and able to move on an instant's notice. That was the smart thing to do.
But nobody got ahead by playing it safe.
And then he remembered what Savior had said: If the cops don't pick up Holdstock, I'll be paying him a visit myself.
Maybe he should give him a call and let him know about this. A visit from the man they tried to kill might liven up this party.
Sandy slipped away and headed down to the end of the block to check the name of the street so he could leave the address on the Savior's voicemail.
If nothing was going to happen on its own, maybe Sandy could make something happen.
16
A lead weight plummeted into Jack's stomach when he found his apartment door unlocked.
On guard, he leaped through and dashed to the kitchen.
"Kate?"
Empty. The microwave off, the cracked door ajar—paused with hours left to run. A knife on the counter but no blood.
"Kate!"
His bedroom, the TV room, empty. No sign of a struggle. Back to the door: no sign of a break-in. What the hell? It looked as if Kate had simply turned off the oven and walked out. But she wouldn't do that.
Obviously she had. Which meant she was wandering around the city somewhere under the influence of the Unity.
Panic nibbled at Jack. She could be anywhere. Why? Why had she done it? He stood by the silent microwave, staring at its cracked glass. He was about to slam it closed when he spotted the corner of a piece of paper inside. He yanked it open, grabbed the sheet, and read.
And read again, his tongue turning to parchment.
The virus… mutating to airborne… the bomb…
He darted to the secretary and found the drawer ajar and empty. The Semmerling gone too.
She'd reconstructed the bomb and turned herself into a Trojan Horse.
Jack's throat constricted at the thought of her sitting alone in his kitchen piecing the bomb together, the depth of desperation that had driven her to such an act.
Why, Kate? Wanted to scream it. Why couldn't you wait for me?
We could have fought this together! I could have fixed this if you'd just let me!
Ten o'clock… the note said if he can do anything, do it before ten o'clock. He glanced at his watch: 8:05. Less than two hours. But even if he had two days—he had no idea where she was.
"Kate!" he whispered to the note. "Where are you?"
He spotted the phone. She'd been using it. Maybe…
He checked his voicemail. One message. Please!
"Shit!" he hissed as he recognized Palmer's voice.