Veil

With the cold in him temporarily beaten back, Veil began moving along the face of the cliff, exploring its stone surface with his hands. The cliff appeared impossible to climb, yet one or more Mambas had periodically come through the mountain caves to penetrate and spy on the compound. Even Mambas didn't fly, and Veil was certain there had to be a relatively easy route up to the hospice.

He found it fifteen yards from the waterfall—steel pitons driven into crevices in the rock face. He grabbed the first piton and began to climb up the vertical wall.

Halfway up he suddenly began to tremble and cramp.

Unwilling to release the pitons with either hand to fumble for the pills, unsure of his remaining strength and equilibrium, Veil pressed his body against the rock face and waited. Fortunately, the spasms turned out to be relatively mild and passed quickly. Fighting dizziness, he completed the climb to the top.

He rested on the edge of the cliff for a half minute, then ran to Sharon Solow's office. He found Perry Tompkins absently swinging back and forth in the swivel chair before the computer terminal. The huge painter's head snapped around as Veil burst into the office, and his coal-black eyes glinted with excitement and pleasure.

"So?" Tompkins said, raising one eyebrow slightly. "Did you have a good time?"

Veil smiled thinly. "Not really. I don't think I'll go back, and I definitely will not recommend the place to my friends."

"Did you find what you were looking for?" Tompkins asked seriously.

"I think so—at least part of it. What are you doing here, Perry?"

"Playing light in the window. We figured this would be the first place you'd come to when you got back—if you got back. You caused quite a commotion when you disappeared. Pilgrim and Dr. Solow knew you had to be in the Army compound, but they didn't know what to do about it. Whatever son of a bitch is in charge down there sealed the place off. He wouldn't even talk to Pilgrim on the phone."

"Where's Sharon?"

"Up in the hospital with Pilgrim. He's been shot."

Veil tensed. "Bad?"

"Bad, but he's alive. At least he was alive the last time I called, which was fifteen minutes ago. The surgeons took a bullet out of his chest."

"Does anyone know who shot him?"

"No. Pilgrim is still unconscious."

Tompkins sprang to his feet as Veil headed for the door. "Veil! Before you go up there, let me get you some dry clothes! You're freezing to death!" "No time, Perry."

"I'm coming with you!"

"No," Veil said firmly. "I have something else for you to do. I want you to round up all the people in the chalets, patients and Lazarus People, and get them someplace safe."

"What? Why?"

"I'm not sure why. I just have a bad feeling, Perry."

"Where can I take them? It would take hours to get them all across to the other mountain."

"No! I don't want them over there."

"Then where do I put them, Veil?"

Veil shook his head in frustration. "I don't know. Just tell everyone to be on the alert for anything unusual; I want everyone to be careful. Don't give a reason. I don't know the reason."

"There isn't anyone's feelings I'd trust more, my friend— and I do consider you my friend. I'll do what I can."

Veil nodded, then turned and hurried out of the office. He ran up the steep trail leading to the hospital, grew dizzy, and staggered the last fifty yards. He half fell through the swinging doors at the entrance—into Sharon Solow's arms.

"Veil, oh, Veil," Sharon murmured, cradling his head, kissing his eyes, his cheeks, his mouth. "When Perry called ... I thought you were dead."

He had to get up, Veil thought as he fought against a furry darkness that threatened to envelope him, had to somehow keep going. His enemy was on the loose, and that enemy was unpredictable as well as deadly. There was no time to rest now.

But he couldn't take his arms from around the woman, couldn't take his lips away from the sweet-smelling, wheat-colored hair that fell across his face. He had been afraid that he was going to die without ever having told her that he loved her. Yet he couldn't tell her now; he could only hold on.

And drift away.

But not far away. He could not afford to pass out, he thought, even as his vision blurred and he experienced a nauseous, spinning sensation. He felt as if he were paralyzed, lying in a dark room where disembodied hands stripped him of his clothes, then wrapped him in something warm. There were voices—some near, some far away—but he could not understand what they were saying. Once, lips that he knew were Sharon's kissed him lightly on the mouth. More than anything else he longed to sleep, but he constantly fought to stay awake. There was so little time left; perhaps none at all.

If only he could see; if only someone would turn on the lights, open a window in the room, speak to him slowly so that he could understand. . . .

"You're incredible," Sharon said.

Veil jerked his eyes open, started to roll over, and almost fell off the hospital gurney. He sat up and swung his legs over the edge, then slumped forward as he experienced another attack of nausea and dizziness. Sharon steadied him, wrapping her arms tightly around his waist and resting her head on his chest. His wet clothes had been stripped from him and taken away, and he was dressed in a warm blue sweat suit. His feet were bare.

"How long have I been out?" Veil murmured as he clung to Sharon, running his fingers through her hair and kissing her scalp.

"All of an hour and a half. And you haven't really been out; you've been fighting it all along. You must think you're King Kong; no, you are King Kong. You've been dehydrated, sunburned to a well-done turn, and a blood test showed traces of what must have been a ton of some strange combination of amphetamines. God knows what you've been through, Veil, and you're still on your feet—or trying to get there." She paused, squeezed him. "The doctors wanted to give you something to knock you out. I said no."

"Thank you."

"I know you have things you must do."

"Yes."

"Veil . . . Veil, I was so afraid you were dead."

Veil gently pushed the woman away, then got down from the gurney. He swayed for a moment but steadied himself. Sharon came back into his arms.

"And I was afraid I was going to die," Veil replied softly. "I wondered why, because I'd never been afraid of death before. Then I realized that, until I met you, I'd never really understood all that life could be. You've become life to me, Sharon. You're an adventure I wish to experience, a journey I want to take. That's why I was suddenly afraid to die."

"Taking life for granted ties our tongues, Veil, as well as our hands."

"Yes."

"You've certainly untied both my tongue and my hands."

Veil smiled, kissed her forehead. "So I've noticed."

"You once invited me to tango with you on the edge of time. I should have taken the time we had then."

"Everyone has to do things in his or her own time. To face death doesn't mean that living should be rushed."

"Will we dance when this is over?"

"Yes."

"I wish there were time now, Veil. There are things I want to say to you."

"And I to you. But there isn't time."

"Not even for explanations?"

"Especially not for explanations. I have to go to Jonathan."

"I know." Sharon sighed, buried her lips in his neck for a few seconds, then abruptly broke away and gripped his hand. "Come with me."

Pilgrim lay on a hospital bed in the Emergency Care Ward. A sheet covered him to the waist, and his chest was heavily bandaged. A tube led from a needle in his arm to a bottle of clear intravenous fluid suspended from a rack beside his bed. His color was good, his breathing regular, and on his face was an expression of quiet rapture.