There were still flashes of the old Magda. She couldn't remember what she had for breakfast—or if she'd even had breakfast—yet now and then she'd recall an incident in their life together from thirty or forty years ago as if it were yesterday. But instead of buoying him, the brief lapses in Magda's dementia only served to deepen Glaeken's depression.
It wasn't fair.
Glaeken had known and loved so many women through the ages, yet each relationship had ended in bitterness. Each in her own way had ended up hating him because she grew old while he stayed young. Finally there had been Magda, the one woman in his seemingly endless life that he would be allowed to grow old with. And they'd had a glorious life, a love that could not be tainted even by the pain of these past few years.
Maybe it was for the best. Magda would spend her final days immune to the horror stalking the world. Her body was as vulnerable as everybody else's, but her mind was impregnable to reality.
He glanced at Magda and saw that she'd fallen asleep again. This was her pattern—a reversal of day and night. Cat naps throughout the day, awake most of the night. Even with the hired nurse and Bill to help, Glaeken existed in a state of constant exhaustion. His heart went out to all the unfortunate spouses of Alzheimer's patients throughout the world who did not have his financial resources. Unless they had a large family of willing helpers, their lives were an endless nightmare.
Nightmare…soon everyone across the globe would know what it was like to live a nightmare.
Gently he lay Magda's head back down on the pillow and tucked the covers in around her. He would not allow a deterioration of her brain to lessen his commitment to her. If their conditions were reversed, she'd be at his side whenever he needed her. He was sure of it. And he would do no less.
All morning he had debated whether or not to warn the media about the hole. Finally, he'd decided against it. He didn't want to attract attention to himself. Besides, they'd write him off as just another doom-monger and ignore him. The end result would be the same: they'd have to learn the hard way.
FNN:
—on the commodities exchanges, prices are up sharply, especially in October beans and orange juice futures, in brisk trading around the globe due to uncertainties about the upcoming growing season…
Nick felt someone tugging at his arm. Reluctantly, he turned away from the hole to face one of the Park cops.
"You Dr. Quinn?" the guy said, shouting over the rattle and roar of the generators.
"Yeah. What's up?"
"Got a priest back in the crowd says you asked him here to say some prayers."
"Priest?" Nick said, baffled. "I didn't ask for any—" And then he knew. He almost laughed in the cop's face. "Oh, yeah. I've been waiting for him. Can you bring him over?"
The cop turned and waved to someone along the barricade. Nick saw a lone figure in black break from the crowd and approach at a quick walk.
He shook Father Bill's hand when he arrived. He'd seen the priest a couple of times since his return from North Carolina but still couldn't get used to how he'd aged during his five years in hiding. Before he disappeared, Nick had got to the point where he'd been calling the priest simply "Bill," but since his return he'd fallen back into the practice of prefixing the name with "Father." He pointed to the cassock and Roman collar.
"I thought you weren't going to wear that anymore."
"So did I. But I've decided the uniform has its uses. Especially when you want special treatment in a crowd."
"So what are you doing here?"
Father Bill smiled. "I came to perform the exorcism," he said in a low voice. "To close this thing up."
"Very funny."
The smile faded. "Seriously, Nick. I would like to get a close-up look at the hole."
"Sure. But stay on the platform. The dirt tends to crumble at the edges."
Nick felt the excitement build all over again as he led Father Bill to the edge. He still couldn't get over it. Something like this—a mysterious two-hundred-foot-wide hole appearing here, practically in his back yard. It was wonderful. He guided him to the railing at the edge of the wooden platform and together they looked down.
He heard Father Bill catch his breath.
"Incredible, isn't it?" Nick said. "I can't believe my luck. And that's all it is. Luck. If I'd been out getting coffee when the boys from Geology had called this morning, someone else might have picked up the phone and they'd be calling the shots here now instead of me. Being in the right place at the right time. That's all it takes."
But Father Bill said nothing. He seemed to be mesmerized by the hole.
Nick knew what the priest was feeling. He'd looked down into that hole a good hundred times since he'd arrived and still couldn't shake how unnatural it seemed.
The walls did it. Too sheer. They didn't look fallen away—more like scooped away. He could see the layers of earth and stone stacked like the cut edge of a trifle. When he'd first looked down he'd expected to see a sort of inverted cone with a rubble-filled bottom. But he couldn't see the bottom. The hole was much deeper than he'd imagined. Half a mile down, he guessed. Maybe deeper. Straight down into darkness. Maybe when the sun got higher they'd be able to see more, but right now it was night down there.
Nick had been to the Grand Canyon last summer and still remembered the vertigo he'd experienced standing at the edge of the look-out for the first time. The giddy, vertical descent of these walls gave him a similar sensation. But he'd been able to see a ribbon of water at the base of the Grand Canyon. Here, with the gentle downdraft flowing around him, he could see only blackness.
The downdraft had bothered him at first. Where could it be going? Then he realized that the air was probably flowing down into the cavity at the edges, and then turning upward and flowing out straight up through the center. That had to be the explanation. It couldn't all be flowing continually downward. There was no place to go.
He straightened up and turned to the priest.
"Well? What do you think of our little sand pit?"
The priest tore his eyes away from the hole and looked at him. He looked frightened.
"How'd it get here, Nick?"
"Don't know. That's for the geology boys to figure out. But already people are making comparisons to those crop circles in England. The tabloids will have a field day. I think The Light has got its whole staff here already."
"Any idea how deep it is?"
"We don't know yet. Geology rigged up a sonic range-finder first thing this morning and pointed it at the bottom, but couldn't get a reading."
"No bottom?" The priest's voice suddenly sounded a little dry.
Nick laughed. "Of course there's a bottom. It's just that echoes from the side walls were interfering with the readings. Geology was stumped, so they called Physics. We could wait till the sun hits zenith and do a sight measurement, but why wait? We've got a new laser that'll bounce a beam off the bottom of that hole and give us a distance reading accurate to within a centimeter."
Father Bill was staring into the hole again as he spoke.
"I have it on good authority that it's bottomless."
"It's deep," Nick said. "But not that deep." And then a thought struck him. "This authority wouldn't be the same one that told you about something happening 'in the heavens' now, would it?"