Fear Nothing (53 page)
Now that I understand my mother better, I know where I get the strength—or the obsessive will—to repress my own emotions when I find them too hard to deal with. I’m going to try to change that about myself. I don’t see why I shouldn’t be able to do it. After all, that’s what the world is now about: change. Relentless change.
Although some hate me for being my mother’s son, I’m permitted to live. Even my father wasn’t sure why I should be granted this dispensation, considering the savage nature of some of my enemies. He suspected, however, that my mother used fragments of my genetic material to engineer this apocalyptic retrovirus; perhaps, therefore, the key to undoing or at least limiting the scope of the calamity will eventually be found in my genes. My blood is drawn each month not, as I’ve been told, for reasons related to my XP but for study at Wyvern. Perhaps I am a walking laboratory: containing the potential for immunity to this plague—or containing a clue as to the ultimate destruction and terror it will cause. As long as I keep the secret of Moonlight Bay and live by the rules of the infected, I will most likely remain alive and free. On the other hand, if I attempt to tell the world, I will no doubt live out my days in a dark room in some subterranean chamber under the fields and hills of Fort Wyvern.
Indeed, Dad was afraid that they would take me anyway, sooner or later, to imprison me and thus ensure a continuing supply of blood samples. I’ll have to deal with that threat if and when it comes.
Sunday morning and early afternoon, as the storm passed over Moonlight Bay, we slept—and of the four of us, only Sasha didn’t wake from a nightmare.
After four hours in the sack, I went down to Sasha’s kitchen and sat with the blinds drawn. For a while, in the dim light, I studied the words
Mystery Train
on my cap, wondering how they related to my mother’s work. Although I couldn’t guess their significance, I felt that Moonlight Bay isn’t merely on a roller-coaster ride to Hell, as Stevenson had claimed. We’re on a journey to a mysterious destination that we can’t entirely envision: maybe something wondrous—or maybe something far worse than the tortures of Hell.
Later, using a pen and tablet, I wrote by candlelight. I intend to record all that happens in the days that remain to me.
I don’t expect ever to see this work published. Those who wish the truth of Wyvern to remain unrevealed will never permit me to spread the word. Anyway, Stevenson was right: It’s too late to save the world. In fact, that’s the same message Bobby’s been giving me throughout most of our long friendship.
Although I don’t write for publication anymore, it’s important to have a record of this catastrophe. The world as we know it should not pass away without the explanation of its passing preserved for the future. We are an arrogant species, full of terrible potential, but we also have a great capacity for love, friendship, generosity, kindness, faith, hope, and joy. How we perished by our own hand may be more important than how we came into existence in the first place—which is a mystery that we will now never solve.
I might diligently record all that happens in Moonlight Bay and, by extension, in the rest of the world as the contamination spreads—but record it to no avail, because there might one day be no one left to read my words or no one capable of reading them. I’ll take my chances. If I were a betting man, I’d bet that some species will arise from the chaos to replace us, to be masters of the earth as we were. Indeed, if I were a betting man, I’d put my money on the dogs.
Sunday night, the sky was as deep as the face of God, and the stars were as pure as tears. The four of us went to the beach. Fourteen-foot, fully macking, glassy monoliths pumped ceaselessly out of far Tahiti. It was epic. It was so
live.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
Moonlight Bay’s radio station, KBAY, is entirely a fictional enterprise. The real KBAY is located in Santa Cruz, California, and none of the employees of the Moonlight Bay station is based on any past or present employee of the Santa Cruz station. These call letters were borrowed here for one reason: They’re cool.
In chapter seventeen, Christopher Snow quotes a line from a poem by Louise Glück. The title of the poem is “Lullaby,” and it appears in Ms. Glück’s wonderful and moving
Ararat.
Christopher Snow, Bobby Halloway, Sasha Goodall, and Orson are real. I have spent many months with them. I like their company, and I intend to spend a lot more time with them in the years to come.
—DK
About the Author
DEAN KOONTZ, the author of many #1 New York Times bestsellers, lives with his wife, Gerda, and the enduring spirit of their golden retriever, Trixie, in southern California.
Correspondence for the author should be addressed to:
Dean Koontz
P.O. Box 9529
Newport Beach, CA 92658
Also by DEAN KOONTZ
The Good Guy • Brother Odd • The Husband • Forever Odd
• Velocity • Life Expectancy • The Taking • Odd Thomas •
The Face • By the Light of the Moon • One Door Away From Heaven
• From the Corner of His Eye • False Memory • Seize the Night •
Fear Nothing • Mr. Murder • Dragon Tears • Hideaway
• Cold Fire • The Bad Place • Midnight • Lightning •
Watchers • Strangers • Twilight Eyes • Darkfall
• Phantoms • Whispers • The Mask • The Vision •
The Face of Fear • Night Chills • Shattered
• The Voice of the Night • The Servants of Twilight •
The House of Thunder • The Key to Midnight
• The Eyes of Darkness • Shadowfires • Winter Moon •
The Door to December • Dark Rivers of the Heart
• Icebound • Strange Highways • Intensity • Sole Survivor •
Ticktock • The Funhouse • Demon Seed
DEAN KOONTZ’S FRANKENSTEIN
Book One: Prodigal Son
• with Kevin J. Anderson
Book Two: City of Night
• with Ed Gorman
In Moonlight Bay, California, children are disappearing. From their homes. From the streets.
Christopher Snow believes the lost children are still alive. He is convinced their disappearances have everything to do with the secret research conducted deep within Fort Wyvern.
In
Seize the Night
Chris will challenge the powerful and violent people who would conceal even the most heinous crimes in order to hide the secrets of Fort Wyvern. His greatest advantage is that he knows the night world better than anyone—better even than his adversaries, who seem at one with the darkness….
Available Now, in hardcover…
Dean Koontz’s
THE GOOD GUY
This edition contains the complete text of the original hardcover edition.
NOT ONE WORD HAS BEEN OMITTED.
FEAR NOTHING
A Bantam book
Grateful acknowledgment is made for permission to use the following material: “Lullaby” from
Ararat
by Louise Glück. Copyright ©1990 by Louise Glück. Reprinted by permission of The Ecco Press.
PUBLISHING HISTORY
Bantam hardcover edition published 1998
Bantam export edition / June 1998
Bantam paperback edition / December 1998
All rights reserved.
Copyright © 1998 by Dean Koontz
.
Cover art copyright © 1998 by Tom Hallman
Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 97-41129
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. For information address: Bantam Books.
eISBN: 978-0-307-41410-6
Bantam Books are published by Bantam Books, a division of Bantam Doubleday Dell Publishing Group, Inc. Its trademark, consisting of the words “Bantam Books” and the portrayal of a rooster, is Registered in U.S. Patent and Trademark Office and in other countries. Marca Registrada. Bantam Books, 1745 Broadway, New York, NY 10019.
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