Nightworld (Adversary Cycle/Repairman Jack) (39 page)

He got to his feet and stuffed the completed copy into his pocket. He’d have to come up with a new plan.

Out on the street again he looked around for the drunk and spotted him sitting on the curb at the corner. He called to him, but the guy was absorbed in staring down at the sewer grate beneath his feet. Jack walked toward him.

“Hey, fella! I’ll get you to a safe place where you can sober up.”

The guy looked up. “Somebod’s downair,” he said, pointing into the sewer. “Can’t see’m but I hear’m movin’ ’round.”

Jack wondered if people were hiding in the sewers.

“Swell. But I don’t think you’ll fit through that opening, so—”

“Prolly c’use a drink.”

The guy reached down to pour a taste of his rum through the grate.

Something flashed up from the sewer, something long and thick and brown whipped out and grabbed the drunk by his neck and yanked him down facefirst onto the grate. Then it began tugging him into the opening in the curb face. Not slowly, smoothly, inexorably, but with violent heaves, accompanied by sprays of blood and frantic but futilely flailing arms and legs. Three heaves did it.

Before Jack could recover from his shock and take a single step forward to help, the man was gone. All he’d left behind were splashes of blood and a bottle of rum on its side, slowly emptying into the sewer after its owner.

No people hiding in the sewers from the night things … night things—big night things—were down there hiding from the day.

Jack backed up a few steps, then turned and hurried for his car. He had one last stop before heading for Monroe: Astoria.

WFPW-FM

FREDDY: —and at sea, the QE2 appears to be missing, man. She was last heard from Sunday evening and since then, nada. If she hit one of the gravity holes she’d have radioed for help. The single air-sea rescue plane that was sent out has found no survivors. Bummer, man.

Astoria, Queens

With the Queensboro Bridge out of commission, Jack had to take the Triboro, which was jammed. Not like it had been during the Internet crash, but slow, slow going.

When he finally reached Menelaus Manor in Astoria he was struck by its condition: The neighbors up and down the block showed extensive bug damage, but the old stone house remained intact, almost … pristine.

Jack knocked on the front door. Lyle Kenton answered. He looked awful—eyes sunken, skin a dull black, his usually neat dreads in disarray.

“Jack?” He stepped back and opened the door wider. “You’re just about the last person I expected to see.”

Jack stepped inside. “Hey, you’re the psychic. Should’ve seen me coming.”

Lyle didn’t smile. “Charlie’s gone.”

“What do you mean, gone?”

Lyle’s brother had died a couple of years ago, but part of him—his ghost, his spirit, his personality, whatever—had hung around.

“As in not here anymore. As in I can’t contact him. As in he doesn’t answer when I call his name.”

“Since when?”

Lyle ran a hand over his face. “Last Wednesday. He woke me up early—still-dark-out early—and said something was wrong. No, wait. He said
everything
was wrong. Said he’d hit the wall.”

“What wall?”

“You know how he can see some of the future.”

“Yeah. Up to a point, and then he couldn’t see any further.”

“Right. He said everything was darkness after that certain point. He called it ‘the wall’ that he couldn’t see over. Well, early Wednesday morning he said he’d hit it. I was beat so I told him we’d talk about it in the morning. But in the morning he was gone. Haven’t heard from him since.” Lyle’s eyes puddled up. “He’s gone, Jack. Charlie’s gone.”

Jack didn’t know what to say. He laid a hand on Lyle’s shoulder.

“He’ll be back.” Lame … so lame. Then a thought. “Look, Wednesday was the first day the sun rose late. That’s got to have something to do with it. When this mess is straightened out, he’ll be back.”

Lyle looked at him. “Straightened out? How’s it going to get straightened out? Maybe there’s a reason Charlie couldn’t see the future past a certain point. Maybe because there isn’t one.”

Jack didn’t like the sound of that. It struck a little too close to home.

“It’s not over yet. There’s a guy who might have a way out. He’s got a place that’s temporarily safe. I came over to invite you to stay.”

Lyle shook his head. “Can’t leave. What if Charlie comes back and can’t find me?”

“He’ll know you’re safe—and he’ll be glad.”

“No. Got to stay here. Got to be here if he comes back. Besides, the bugs seem to avoid the house.”

“Yeah, I noticed. Because of Charlie, you think?”

Another head shake. “The stones in the cellar—the ones Dmitri Menelaus moved in. Don’t know where he got them, but I think they scare off the bugs. I’m probably safer here than in your place.” A wan smile. “Want to move in?”

Am I going to lose you too? Carol thought as she stood next to Bill in his bedroom and helped him pack a small duffel bag with some extra clothes for the trip.

Why was it always she who was left behind? Jim had died and left her—although that certainly hadn’t been his choosing. And her son—at least at the time she had thought of him as her son—had left her. Nelson had run off like a thief in the night, and now Bill was preparing to fly to Romania.

“What are your chances of getting back?”

“I don’t know. Not great, I think.”

“Oh.” Carol couldn’t manage any more than that.

Bill straightened and looked at her. “Do I sound brave? I hope so. Because I sure as hell don’t feel it. I mean, I want to do this, but I don’t want to die or even get hurt. But I’ve got to do something.”

“Can I go with you?”

Anything would be better than being left behind again, especially now when she had nothing else to do but sit around and wait.

“To Romania?” Bill said, staring at her. “It’s too dangerous.”

“Is anyplace safe anymore?”

Even the daytime was no longer safe. Jack had returned a short while ago with a story of horrors hiding in the sewers and storm drains.

“You’re safe here. And Glaeken seems to want you around.”

“But why? What can I do besides help him take care of Magda? Not that I mind, but what else?”

“I don’t know. Maybe you’re part of the equation. I don’t pretend to understand why he’s doing what he’s doing. Sometimes I wonder if he knows. But he’s all we’ve got. And if he says we need these bits of metal from Romania, and I’m the only one left who can get them, then I’ll give it my best shot. And if he says you’re important to the solution to what’s happening to the world, then I’ll go along with him. He hasn’t let us down yet.”

“‘Part of the equation.’” Her throat constricted around the words. “I’ve been part of some sort of equation since I got pregnant and provided the body that allowed this … this monster back into the world.” Her voice cracked. “He took my baby, Bill! He kicked out whoever my real baby might have been and took over his unformed body. And now he’s going to take you!”

She felt Bill’s arms go around her shoulders and pull her tight against him. His flannel shirt smelled lightly of detergent, and as its rough surface pressed against her cheek, the thought that he really should use fabric softener wafted inanely across her mind. She slipped her arms around his waist and pulled herself closer. If she could just hold him here like this it soon would be too late for him to leave, and then she wouldn’t lose him.

She realized then how much she wanted him. Not like the last time, not like back in ’68 when the beast that had usurped her womb twisted her into trying to seduce Bill from his vows. That had been lust, induced lust. This was something else. This was love. An old love, following a long and winding road from the puppy love when they’d dated in their teens, to something deep and real. In a way, perhaps she’d always loved Bill. And now that he’d turned away from his church and his old beliefs, now that the cocoon of his priesthood had unraveled, he seemed real again, flesh and blood. She wanted to tell him how she felt but the decades-old memories of that degrading scene of attempted seduction still echoed around her and held her back.

And yet, if she didn’t tell him now, would she ever get the chance again?

Jack’s voice shattered the moment: “Time’s a-wastin’, Bill. We’ve got to make a stop in Monroe on the way.”

Monroe … her hometown. Bill’s too. Where Rasalom had usurped her child’s body at conception. The torrent of memories was cut off as Bill pulled free of her arms.

“Got to go, Carol.”

He went to kiss her on the forehead. Impulsively, Carol lifted her face and kissed him on the lips. From the way he pulled back and the way he looked at her, she knew that he hadn’t forgotten 1968 either.

“Come back to me, Bill,” she said softly. “I don’t want to lose you too.”

He swallowed, nodded. “Okay. Yeah.” His voice was sandpaper dry. “I’ll be back. We can talk more about this then.” He picked up his duffel and started for the door, then stopped and turned. “I love you, Carol. I can’t think of a moment when I didn’t.”

And then he was gone. But his final words lingered after him, filling Carol with a bewildering mix of emotions. She wanted to laugh with joy; instead she sat on the edge of the bed and cried.

Long Island

It took Jack longer than he’d planned to reach Monroe. A lot of traffic outbound on the LIE. Maybe they thought it would be better out on the Island. He’d talked to Doc Bulmer on the phone this morning, and from what he’d said, things didn’t seem a whole hell of a lot quieter out here.

So he did the best speed he could. Nick sat in the backseat, his zombie stare fixed straight ahead. Bill wasn’t much better company. He sat in the passenger seat and said nothing, just gazed out the window, lost in a world of his own.

Jack wondered what was going on between him and that Mrs. Treece. Her husband had run off and left her. Was Bill moving in? He’d been a priest for most of his life. Had a lot of lost time to make up for. Jack couldn’t blame him. She was attractive, even if she could have been Jack’s mother. But he sensed more to it than opportunity knocking. Those two seemed to go back a long way.