Up the steps, and she scanned the four nameplates to see who lived in her apartment. But the paper slips were missing, leaving four mystery bell pushes.
“Try the door,” Sally said.
Trix tried. The handle turned and the big glass door opened inward, a waft of musty air emerging from the lobby. I know that smell! she thought. No one in her block had ever discovered where the smell came from, and it gave her an intense, welcome feeling of home.
She entered, with Sally close behind, then stood before her apartment door. “Whoever lives here must have taken them in,” she said.
“It’s a rough night,” Sally said. “Something I know more than most is that people are generally good, and usually want to help.”
Trix beamed as she rapped on the door. She wondered whether the handle stuck like hers, and the hinges squealed, and whether the oak flooring in the small hallway held the scratched inscription of the man who had laid it decades before. But when the door opened and she saw Jenny standing there, all such thoughts evaporated.
“Jenny!” she shouted, lurching in through the door, arms raised, sweeping the stunned woman into her embrace.
“Wha-?” Jenny said, as if in her terror and delight she could no longer speak.
“Oh, my God, I found you!” Trix said, bursting with tears of giddy relief. “Jim is desperate! Please tell me you’ve got Holly with you!” She hugged Jenny tight and looked over her shoulder into the apartment. It seemed silent, felt quiet and calm… and looked familiar.
Jenny hugged her back. Tight. One hand pulled against the small of Trix’s back, the other held her neck, and then Jenny pulled back a little so that they were face-to-face. That was when Trix knew that something was different, because Jenny looked as if she had seen a ghost.
“Whoops,” Sally said.
“I don’t care if I’m dreaming,” Jenny said, “as long as I never wake up.” And then she reached up to catch Trix’s face between her hands, and kissed her.
The Wrong Company
Are they what caused the earthquake?” Jennifer asked. Jim nodded but then thought better of it. There was more to it than that, but now was not the time. Now they had to survive.
Jennifer drew close to him, and once again he was almost overwhelmed by her familiarity. Even catching sight of her from the corner of his eye-her stance, the determined expression, the way she filled her space-flooded him with memories of Jenny. “You’ve seen them before?” she asked.
“Yeah, but that doesn’t help us.” Four wraiths were stealing along the street, while, past the scene of ruin outside Sally’s house, three more had manifested from smoke and unseen corners. Jim’s heart galloped as he tried to think of something to do, some way to escape them. Into Sally’s house? But even if they could reach the shattered front door before being caught by the wraiths, they were obviously the cause of the death and chaos apparent in the street. Being inside, even in the Oracle’s home, would offer no protection. He’d seen that with Peter O’Brien.
“Are they going to…?” Jennifer asked, fear lowering her voice.
They didn’t find Sally! Jim thought, which gave him hope that Trix had made it away with the Oracle. “No,” he said, “they won’t kill us. But they might take us prisoner.”
“Take us where?”
He’d seen them form and melt away again, and the idea of being pulled through with them was terrible. He was Unique, and maybe that would make it possible, but…
But Jennifer was not Unique. And this place was not a crossing point.
“Jim?” Jennifer asked.
But he could not speak. What will it do to her to be dragged after them? What will it do to her body, her soul? He glanced around at the several dead bodies splayed across the street, saw the terrible damage inflicted upon them, and he grabbed Jennifer’s hand and pulled her close. “When they come for me,” he whispered, “run as fast as you can.”
“No!” Her voice was angry and fearful.
“Jennifer,” he said, and her face was so close to his that he could smell Jenny’s breath.
The wraiths dashed at them, and Jim felt momentary surprise when he heard their footsteps slapping on the pavement. His vision blurred, and he thought that an aftershock was striking the city-buildings shimmered, his stomach lurched, and Jennifer cried out beside him. She hugged him tighter, and her body fit his as well as it always had.
But the ground did not move, and he felt enclosed, his breathing and heartbeat echoing back at him from the wall of air around them. That wall darkened and resolved itself into separate shapes, and he heard Jennifer whimper softly as she pressed her face against his neck. She doesn’t want to see, but I have to, he thought as the shapes became vaguely humanoid and rushed outward to meet the threat.
The wraiths seemed unconcerned at the appearance of these new things, and unsurprised. They joined in brutal battle without preamble, and the conflict seemed more violent because of its utter silence. One of Veronica’s wraiths was flipped around and crushed against the ground, rupturing the concrete paving with a loud crack! that gave the fight brief voice. And at last Jim saw the thing that had met the wraith and bettered it. It had a silvered, flickering blank face and long limbs, and its gray shape seemed to flex and shiver as though trying to retain a hold on reality, but that ambiguity detracted nothing from its strength. It stomped down on the floored wraith, driving its foot into the thing’s head and twisting, sending glittering shreds across the road. They shriveled and turned black before fading away, and the rest of the wraith melted to nothing.
The faceless man motioned to Jim to follow. Every fiber of his being urged him to grab Jennifer and flee, but while conflict raged around them, this creature seemed the safest ally they had. Still Jim paused, glancing around at the fighting, thrashing things that had come from thin air and belonged. He heard Jennifer gasp, turned around, and the faceless man was so close that Jim could have touched it. His hair stood on end, and his balls tingled. The shape raised an arm and pointed at the house of this Boston’s Oracle. And then it signaled once again that he should follow.
They hurried after the shape as it seemed to float across the street, away from the house and the human bodies lying close by. They passed other bodies that were fading away-wraiths and faceless men alike-and Jim wondered if they hurt, and if the shift from living to dead meant anything to them.
“I don’t know if I can do this,” Jennifer said. “What are they? What is this?”
“It all has to do with the city,” Jim said, because he thought he knew where these things came from-from Sally, this Boston’s Oracle. Maybe they were constantly on guard outside her home, but he thought not. If they were, why the dead people, the smashed windows, and the sense of something momentous having happened here? The other alternative was that Sally had left them here to wait for him. That seemed more likely, as this thing was guiding them somewhere. And the only way he could figure this out was that Trix had gotten here first.
He only hoped she was all right. And he hoped and prayed that she and Sally had found his wife and child.
The thing led them quickly away from the battle, edging into an alley between buildings, headed west. It passed over a recently tumbled wall, waiting on the other side while Jim and Jennifer climbed the precarious pile. It exuded no impatience but walked on as soon as they were ready, moving unerringly through streets and alleys, across parks, and into the heart of the ruined city. They went through the theater district and kept moving west, crossing streets where buildings had collapsed or fires were raging, passing crowds of onlookers or people trying to help, and no one saw the faceless man. Jim didn’t believe for a moment that it was invisible to all but him and Jennifer-how could it be?-but perhaps it had some way of diverting attention, or seeking paths between perception.