Father Coughlin came by this noon and told me the poor old guy is sinking fast. He CAN have visitors, tho. He is in Derry Home ICU, Room 315. Faye PS Remember that time is short. Ralph read the note twice, put it back on the table with the rock on top to weight it down for the next Old Crock to happen along, then simply stood there with his hands in his pockets and his head down, gazing out at Runway 3 from beneath the bushy tangle of his brows. A crisp leaf, orange as one of the Halloween pumpkins which would soon decorate the street, came flipping down from the deep blue sky and landed in his sparse hair. Ralph brushed it away absently and thought of two hospital rooms on Homes ICU floor, two rooms side by side. Bob Polhurst in one, Jimmy V in the other. And the next room up the hall? That one was 317, the room in which his wife had died. This is not a coincidence, he said softly. But what was it? Shapes in the mist? A secret city? Evocative phrases, both of them, but they answered no questions. Ralph sat on top of the picnic table next to the one upon which Faye had left his note, took off his shoes, and crossed his legs. The wind gusted, ruffling his hair. He sat there amid the falling leaves with his head slightly bent and his brow furrowed in thought. He looked like a Winslow Homer version of Buddha as he meditated with his hands cupping his kneecaps, carefully reviewing his impressions of Doc 1 and Doc 2 . . . and then contrasting these impressions with those hed gotten of Doc 3. First impression all three docs had reminded him of the aliens in tabloids like Inside View, and pictures which were always labelled artists conceptions. Ralph knew that these baldheaded, darkeyed images of mysterious visitors from space went back a good many years; people had been reporting contacts with short baldies  the socalled little doctors  for a long time, maybe for as long as people had been reporting UFOs. He was quite sure that he had read at least one such account way back in the sixties. Okay, so say there are quite a few of these fellows around, Ralph told a sparrow which had just lit on the picnic areas litter barrel. Not just three docs but three hundred. Or three thousand. Lois and I arent the only ones whove seen them. And . . . And didnt most of the people who gave accounts of such meetings also mention sharp objects? Yes, but not scissors or scalpels  at least Ralph didnt think so. Most of the people who claimed to have been abducted by the little bald doctors talked about probes, didnt they? The sparrow flew off. Ralph didnt notice. He was thinking about the little bald docs who had visited May Locher on the night of her death. What else did he know of them? What else had he seen? They had been dressed in white smocks, like the ones worn by TVshow doctors in the fifties and sixties, like the ones pharmacists still wore. Only their smocks, unlike the one worn by Doc 3, had been clean. 3 had been toting a rusty scalpel; if there had been any rust on the scissors Doc 1 had been holding in his right hand, Ralph hadnt noticed it. Not even after hed trained the binoculars on them. Something else  probably not important, but at least you noticed it. ScissorsToting Doc was righthanded, at least judging from the way he held his weapon. ScalpelWielding Doc is a southpaw. No, probably not important, but something about it  another of those shapes in the mist, this a small one  tugged at him just the same. Something about the dichotomy of left and right. Go to the left and youll be right, Ralph muttered, repeating the punchline of some joke he no longer even remembered. Go to the right and youll be left. Never mind. What else did he know about the docs? Well, they had been surrounded by auras, of course  rather lovely greenishgold ones  and they had left those (whiteman tracks) Arthur Murray dancediagrams behind them. And although their features had struck him as perfectly anonymous, their auras had conveyed feelings of power . . . and sobriety . . . and . . . And dignity, goddammit, Ralph said. The wind gusted again and more leaves blew down from the trees. Some fifty yards from the picnic area, not far from the old train tracks, a twisted, halfuprooted tree seemed to reach in Ralphs direction, stretching branches that actually did look a little like clutching hands. It suddenly occurred to Ralph that he had seen quite a lot that night for an old guy who was supposed to be living on the edge of the last age of man, the one Shakespeare (and Bill McGovern) called the slippered pantaloon. And none of it  not one single thing  suggested danger or evil intent. That Ralph had inferred evil intent wasnt very surprising. They were physically freakish strangers; he had observed them coming out of a sick womans house at a time of night when visitors seldom if ever called; he had seen them only minutes after waking from a nightmare of epic proportions. Now, however, recollecting what he had seen, other things recurred. The way they had stood on Mrs Lochers stoop, for instance, as if they had every right to be there; the sense he had gotten of two old friends indulging themselves in a bit of conversation before going on their way. Two old buddies talking it over one more time before heading home after a long nights work. That was your impression, yes, but that doesnt mean you can trust it, Ralph. But Ralph thought he could trust it. Old friends, longtime colleagues, done for the night. May Lochers had been their last stop. All right, so Docs 1 and 2 were as different from the third one as day is from night. They were clean while he was dirty, they were invested with auras while he had none (none that Ralph had seen, at least), they carried scissors while he carried a scalpel, they seemed as sane and sober as a couple of respected village elders while 3 seemed as crazy as a shithouse rat. One thing is perfectly clear, though, isnt it? Your playmates are supernatural beings, and other than Lois, the only person who seems to know theyre there is Ed Deepneau. Want to bet on how much sleep Ed is getting just lately? No, Ralph said. He raised his hands from his knees and held them in front of his eyes. They were shaking a little. Ed had mentioned bald docs, and there were bald docs. Was it the docs hed been talking about when he talked about Centurions? Ralph didnt know. He almost hoped so, because that word  Centurions  had begun to call up a much more terrible image in his mind each time it occurred to him the Ringwraiths from Tolkiens fantasy trilogy. Hooded figures astride skeletal, redeyed horses, bearing down on a small party of cowering hobbits outside the Prancing Pony Tavern in Bree. Thinking of hobbits made him think of Lois, and the trembling in his hands grew worse. Carolyn Its a long walk back to Eden, sweetheart, so dont sweat the small stuff. Lois In my family, dying at eighty is dying young. Joe Wyzer The medical examiner usually ends up writing suicide on the causeofdeath line rather than insomnia. Bill His specialty was the Civil War, and now he doesnt even know what a civil war is, let alone who won ours. Denise Polhurst Death is very stupid. An obstetrician this slow in cutting a babys umbilical cord It was as if someone had suddenly clicked on a bright searchlight inside his head, and Ralph cried out into the sunny autumn afternoon. Not even the Delta 727 settling in for a landing on Runway 3 could entirely drown that cry. 6 He spent the rest of the afternoon sitting on the porch of the house he shared with McGovern, waiting impatiently for Lois to come back from her cardgame. He could have tried McGovern again at the hospital, but didnt. The need to speak to McGovern had passed. Ralph didnt understand everything yet, but he thought he understood a great deal more than he had, and if his sudden flash of insight at the picnic area had any validity at all, telling McGovern what had happened to his Panama would serve absolutely no purpose even if Bill believed him. I have to get the hat back, Ralph thought. And I have to get Loiss earrings back, too. It was an amazing late afternoon and early evening. On the one hand, nothing happened. On the other hand, everything happened. The world of auras came and went around him like the stately progression of cloudshadows across the west side. Ralph sat and watched, rapt, breaking off only to eat a little and make a trip to the bathroom. He saw old Mrs Bennigan standing on her front porch in her bright red coat, clutching her walker and taking inventory of her fall flowers. He saw the aura surrounding her  the scrubbed and healthy pink of a freshly bathed infant  and hoped Mrs B didnt have a lot of relatives waiting around for her to die. He saw a young man of no more than twenty bopping along the other side of the street toward the Red Apple. He was the picture of health in his faded jeans and sleeveless Celtics jersey, but Ralph could see a deathbag clinging to him like an oilslick, and a balloonstring rising from the crown of his head that looked like a decaying drapepull in a haunted house. He saw no little bald doctors, but shortly after fivethirty he observed a startling shaft of purple light erupt from a manhole cover in the middle of Harris Avenue; it rose into the sky like a special effect in a Cecil B. DeMille Bible epic for perhaps three minutes, then simply winked out. He also saw a huge bird that looked like a prehistoric hawk go floating between the chimneys of the old dairy building around the corner on Howard Street, and alternating red and blue thermals twisting over Strawford Park in long, lazy ribbons. When soccer practice at Fairmount Grammar let out at quarter to six, a dozen or so kids came swarming into the parking lot of the Red Apple, where they would buy tons of presupper candy and bales of trading cards  football cards by this time of year, Ralph supposed. Two of them stopped to argue about something, and their auras, one green and the other a vibrant shade of burnt orange, intensified, drew in, and began to gleam with rising spirals of scarlet thread. Look out! Ralph shouted mentally at the boy within the orange envelope of light, just a moment before Green Boy dropped his schoolbooks and socked the other in the mouth. The two of them grappled, spun around in a clumsy, aggressive dance, then tumbled to the sidewalk. A little circle of yelling, cheering kids formed around them. A purplishred dome like a thunderhead began to build up around and above the fight. Ralph found this shape, which was circulating in a slow counterclockwise movement, both terrible and beautiful, and he wondered what the aura above a fullscale military battle would look like. He decided that was a question to which he didnt really want an answer. Just as Orange Boy climbed on top of Green Boy and began to pummel him in earnest, Sue came out of the store and hollered at them to quit fighting in the damned parking lot. Orange Boy dismounted reluctantly. The combatants rose to their feet, looking at each other warily. Then Green Boy, trying to appear nonchalant, turned and went into the store. Only his quick glance back over his shoulder to make sure his opponent was not pursuing, spoiled the effect. The spectators were either following Green Boy into the store for their postpractice supplies or clustered around Orange Boy, congratulating him. Above them, unseen, that virulent redpurple toadstool was breaking up like a cloudbank before a strong wind. Pieces of it tattered, unravelled, and disappeared. The street is a carnival of energy, Ralph thought. The juice thrown off by those two boys during the ninety seconds they were mixing it up looked like enough to light Derry for a week, and if a person could tap the energy the watchers generated  the energy inside that mushroom cloud  you could probably light the whole state of Maine for a month. Can you imagine what it would be like to enter the world of auras in Times Square at two minutes to midnight on New Years Eve? He couldnt and didnt want to. He suspected he had glimpsed the leading edge of a force so huge and so vital that it made all the nuclear weapons created since 1945 seem about as powerful as a childs cappistol fired into an empty peach can. Enough force to destroy the universe, perhaps . . . or to create a new one. 7 Ralph went upstairs, dumped a can of beans into one pot and a couple of hotdogs into another, and walked impatiently back and forth through the flat, snapping his fingers and occasionally running his fingers through his hair, as he waited for this impromptu bachelors supper to cook. The bonedeep weariness which had hung on him like invisible weights ever since midsummer was, for the time being, at least, entirely gone; he felt filled with manic, antic energy, absolutely stuffed with it. He supposed this was why people liked Benzedrine and cocaine, only he had an idea that this was a much better high, that when it departed it would not leave him feeling plundered and mistreated, more used than user. Ralph Roberts, unaware that the hair his fingers were combing through had grown thicker, and that threads of black were visible in it for the first time in five years, jivetoured his apartment, walking on the balls of his feet, first humming and then singing an old rockandroll tune from the early sixties Hey, pretty baybee, you cant sit down . . . you gotta slop, bop, slip, slop, flip top alll about . . . The beans were bubbling in their pot, the hotdogs boiling in theirs  only it looked to Ralph almost as if they were dancing in there, doing the Bristol Stomp to the old Dovells tune. Still singing at the top of his lungs (When you hear the hippie with the backbeat, you cant sit down), Ralph cut the hotdogs into the beans, dumped in half a pint of ketchup, added some chili sauce, then stirred everything vigorously together and headed for the door. He carried his supper, still in the pot, in one hand. He ran down the stairs as nimbly as a kid whos running late on the first day of school. He hooked a baggy old cardigan sweater  McGoverns, but what the hell  out of the front hall closet, and then went back out on the porch. The auras were gone, but Ralph wasnt dismayed; for the time being he was more interested in the smell of food. He couldnt remember the last time hed felt as flatout hungry as he did at that moment. He sat on the top step with his long thighs and bony knees sticking out on either side of him, looking decidedly Ichabod Craneish, and began to eat. The first few bites burned his lips and tongue, but instead of being deterred, Ralph ate faster, almost gobbling. He paused with half the pot of beans and franks consumed. The animal in his stomach hadnt gone back to sleep  not yet  but it had been pacified a bit. Ralph belched unselfconsciously and looked out at Harris Avenue with a feeling of contentment he hadnt known in years. Under the current circumstances, that feeling made no sense at all, but that didnt change it in the slightest. When was the last time he had felt this good? Maybe not since the morning hed awakened in that barn somewhere between Derry, Maine and Poughkeepsie, NewYork, amazed by the conflicting rays of light  thousands of them, it had seemed  which crisscrossed the warm, sweetsmelling place where he lay. Or maybe never. Yes, or maybe never. He spied Mrs Perrine coming up the street, probably returning from A Safe Place, the combination soupkitchen and homeless shelter down by the canal. Ralph once again found himself fascinated by her strange, gliding walk, which she achieved without the aid of a cane and seemingly without any sidetoside movement of her hips. Her hair, still more black than gray, was now held  or perhaps subdued was the word  by the hairnet she wore on the serving line. Thick support hose the color of cotton candy rose from her spotless white nurses shoes . . . not that Ralph could see much of either them or the legs they covered; this evening Mrs Perrine wore a mans wool overcoat, and the hem came almost to her ankles. She seemed to depend almost entirely on her upper legs to move her along  a sign of some chronic back problem, Ralph guessed  and this mode of locomotion, coupled with the overcoat, gave Esther Perrine a somewhat surreal aspect as she approached. She looked like the black queen on a chessboard, a piece that was either being guided by an invisible hand or moving all by itself. As she neared the place where Ralph sat  still wearing the ripped shirt and now eating his supper directly from the pot in the bargain  the auras began to steal back into the world again. The streetlights had already come on, and now Ralph saw delicate lavender arcs hung over each. He could also see a red haze hovering above some roofs, a yellow haze above others, a pale cerise above still others. In the east, where night was now gathering itself, the horizon flocked with dim green speckles. Closer to hand, he watched as Mrs Perrines aura sprang to life around her  that firm gray that reminded him of a West Point cadets uniform. A few darker spots, like phantom buttons, shimmered above her bosom (Ralph assumed there was a bosom hidden somewhere beneath the overcoat). He was not sure, but thought these might be signs of impending ill health. Good evening, Mrs Perrine, he said politely, and watched as the words rose in front of his eyes in snowflake shapes. She gave him a penetrating glance, flicking her eyes up and down, seeming to simultaneously sum him up and dismiss him in a single look. I see youre still wearing that same shirt, Roberts, she said. What she didnt say  but what Ralph was sure she was thinking  was I also see you sitting there and eating beans right out of the pot, like some ragged streetperson who never learned any better . . . and I have a way of remembering what I see, Roberts. So I am, Ralph said. I guess I forgot to change it. Hmmp, said Mrs Perrine, and now he thought it was his underwear she was considering. When was the last time it occurred to you to change that? I shudder to think, Roberts. Lovely evening, isnt it, Mrs Perrine? Another of those quick, birdlike glances, this time up at the sky. Then back to Ralph. Its going to turn cold. Do you think so? Oh, yes  Indian summers over. My back isnt good for much besides weather forecasting these days, but at that it does very well. She paused. I believe thats Bill McGoverns sweater. I guess it is, Ralph agreed, wondering if she would ask him next if Bill knew he had it. He wouldnt have put it past her. Instead, she told him to button it up. You dont want to be a candidate for pneumonia, do you? she asked, and the tucked set of her mouth added, As well as for the nuthouse? Absolutely not, Ralph said. He set the pot aside, reached for the sweater buttons, then stopped. He was still wearing a quilted stoveglove on his left hand. He hadnt noticed it until now. It will be easier if you take that off, Mrs Perrine said. There might have been the faintest gleam in her eyes. I suppose so, Ralph said humbly. He shook off the glove and buttoned McGoverns sweater. My offer holds good, Roberts. Beg your pardon? My offer to mend your shirt. If you can bring yourself to part with it for a day or so, that is. She paused. You do have another shirt, I assume? One you could wear while I mend the one you have on? Oh, yes, Ralph said. You bet. Quite a few of them. Choosing among them each day must be challenging for you. Theres bean juice on your chin, Roberts. With this pronouncement, Mrs Perrines eyes flicked forward and she began to march once more. What Ralph did then he did with no forethought or understanding; it was as instinctive as the chopping gesture he had made earlier to scare Doc 3 away from Rosalie. He raised the hand which had been wearing the thermal glove and curled it into a tube around his mouth. Then he inhaled sharply, producing a faint, whispery whistle. The results were amazing. A pencil of gray light poked out of Mrs Perrines aura like the quill of a porcupine. It lengthened rapidly, angling backward as the lady herself moved forward, until it had crossed the leaflittered lawn and darted into the tube formed by Ralphs curled fingers. He felt it enter him as he inhaled and it was like swallowing pure energy. He suddenly felt lit up, like a neon sign or the marquee of a bigcity movie theater. An explosive sense of force  a feeling of Pow!  ran through his chest and stomach, then raced down his legs all the way to the tips of his toes. At the same time it rocketed upward into his head, threatening to blow off the top of his skull as if it were the thin concrete roof of a missile silo. He could see rays of light, as gray as electrified fog, smoking out from between his fingers. A terrible, joyous sense of power lit up his thoughts, but only for a moment. It was followed by shame and amazed horror. What are you doing, Ralph? Whatever that stuff is, it doesnt belong to you. Would you reach into her purse and take some of her money while she wasnt looking? He felt his face flush. He lowered his cupped hand and shut his mouth. As his lips and teeth came together, he clearly heard  and actually felt  something crunch crisply inside. It was the sound you heard when you were chomping off a bite of fresh rhubarb. Mrs Perrine stopped, and Ralph watched apprehensively as she made a halfturn and looked out at Harris Avenue. I didnt mean to, he thought at her. Honest I didnt, Mrs P  Im still learning my way around this thing. Roberts? Yes? Did you hear something? It sounded almost like a gunshot. Ralph could feel his ears throbbing with hot blood as he shook his head. No . . . but my ears arent what they Probably just a backfire over on Kansas Street, she said, dismissing his weaksister excuses out of hand. It made my heart miss a beat, though, I can tell you. She started off again in her odd, gliding, chessqueen walk, then stopped once more and looked back at him. Her aura had begun to fade out of Ralphs view, but he had no trouble seeing her eyes  they were as sharp as a kestrels. You look different, Roberts, she said. Younger, somehow. Ralph, who had expected something else (Give me back what you stole, Roberts, and right this minute, for instance), could only flounder. Do you think . . . thats very . . . I mean to say thank y She flapped an impatient ohshutup hand at him. Probably the light. I advise you not to dribble on that sweater, Roberts. My impression of Mr McGovern is that he is a man who takes care of his things. He should have taken better care of his hat, Ralph said. Those bright eyes, which had begun once more to shift away from him, shifted back. I beg your pardon? His Panama, Ralph said. He lost it somewhere. Mrs Perrine held this up to the light of her intellect for a moment, then cast it aside with another Hmmp. Go inside, Roberts. If you stay out here much longer, youll catch your death of cold. And then she slid upon her way, not visibly the worse for wear as a result of Ralphs thoughtless act of thievery. Thievery? Im pretty sure thats the wrong word, Ralph. What you did just now was a lot closer to Vampirism, Ralph said bleakly. He put the pot of beans aside and began to slowly rub his hands together. He felt ashamed . . . guilty . . . and all but exploding with energy. You stole some of her lifeforce instead of her blood, but a vampire is a vampire, Ralph. Yes indeed. And it suddenly occurred to Ralph that this must not have been the first time he had done such a thing. You look different, Roberts. Younger, somehow. That was what Mrs Perrine had said tonight, but people had been making similar comments to him ever since the end of the summer, hadnt they? The main reason his friends hadnt hectored him into going to the doctor was because he didnt look like anything was wrong with him. He complained of insomnia, but he apparently looked like the picture of health. I guess that honeycomb must have really turned the trick, Johnny Leydecker had said just before the two of them had left the library on Sunday  back in the Iron Age, that felt like now. And when Ralph had asked him what he was talking about, Leydecker had said he was talking about Ralphs insomnia. You look a gajillion times better than on the day I first met you. And Leydecker hadnt been the only one. Ralph had been more or less dragging himself through the days, feeling folded, spindled, and mutilated . . . but people kept telling him how good he looked, how refreshed he looked, how young he looked. Helen . . . McGovern . . . even Faye Chapin had said something a week or two ago, although Ralph couldnt remember exactly what Sure I do, he said in a low, dismayed voice. He asked me if I was using wrinkle cream. Wrinkle cream, for Gods sake! Had he been stealing from the lifeforce of others even back then? Stealing without even knowing it? I must have been, he said in that same low voice. Dear Jesus, Im a vampire. But was that the right word? he wondered suddenly. Wasnt it at least possible that, in the world of auras, a lifestealer was called a Centurion? Eds pallid, frantic face rose before him like a ghost which returns to accuse its murderer, and Ralph, suddenly terrified, wrapped his arms around his knees and lowered his head to rest upon them. CHAPTER FIFTEEN 1 At twenty minutes past seven, a perfectly maintained Lincoln Town Car of late seventies vintage drew up to the curb in front of Loiss house. Ralph  who had spent the last hour showering, shaving, and trying to get himself calmed down  stood on the porch and watched Lois get out of the back seat. Goodbyes were said and girlish, sprightly laughter drifted across to him on the breeze. The Lincoln pulled away and Lois started up her walk. Halfway along it, she stopped and turned. For a long moment the two of them regarded each other from their opposite sides of Harris Avenue, seeing perfectly well in spite of the deepening darkness and the two hundred yards which separated them. They burned for each other in that darkness like secret torches. Lois pointed a finger at him. It was very close to the hand gesture shed made before shooting at Doc 3, but this didnt upset Ralph in the least. Intent, he thought. Everything lies in intent. There are few mistakes in this world . . . and once you get to know your way around, maybe there are no mistakes at all. A narrow, grayglistening beam of force appeared at the end of Loiss finger and began to extend itself across the deepening shadows of Harris Avenue. A passing car drove blithely through it. The cars windows flashed a momentary bright, blind gray and its headlights seemed to flicker briefly, but that was all. Ralph raised his own finger, and a blue beam grew from it. These two narrowcasts of light met in the center of Harris Avenue and twined together like woodbine. Higher and higher the interwoven pigtail rose, paling slightly as it went. Then Ralph curled his finger, and his half of the loveknot in the middle of Harris Avenue winked out of existence. A moment later, Loiss half also disappeared. Ralph slowly descended the porch steps and began to cross his lawn. Lois came toward him. They met in the middle of the street . . . where, in a very real sense, they had met already. Ralph put his arms around her waist and kissed her. 2 You look different, Roberts. Younger, somehow. Those words kept running through his head  recycling themselves like an endless tapeloop  as Ralph sat in Loiss kitchen, drinking coffee. He was unable to take his eyes off her. She looked easily ten years younger and ten pounds lighter than the Lois hed gotten used to seeing over the last few years. Had she looked this young and pretty in the park this morning? Ralph didnt think so, but of course she had been upset this morning, upset and crying, and he supposed that made a difference. Still . . . Yes, still. The tiny networks of wrinkles around the corners of her mouth were gone. So were the incipient turkeywattles beneath her neck and the sag of flesh which had begun to hang from her upper arms. She had been crying this morning and was radiantly happy tonight, but Ralph knew that couldnt account for all the changes he saw. I know what youre looking at, Lois said. Its spooky, isnt it? I mean, it solves the question of whether or not all this has just been in our minds, but its still spooky. Weve found the Fountain of Youth. Forget Florida; it was right here in Derry, all along. Weve found it? For a moment she only looked surprised . . . and a little wary, as if she suspected he was teasing her, having her on. Of treating her as our Lois. Then she reached across the table and squeezed his hand. Go in the bathroom. Take a look at yourself. I know what I look like. Hell, I just finished shaving. Took my time over it, too. She nodded. You did a fine job, Ralph . . . but this isnt about your five oclock shadow. Just look at yourself. Are you serious? Yes, she said firmly. I am. He had almost gotten to the door when she said, You didnt just shave; you changed your shirt, too. Thats good. I didnt like to say anything, but that plaid one was ripped. Was it? Ralph asked. His back was to her, so she couldnt see his smile. I didnt notice. 3 He stood with his hands braced on the bathroom sink, looking into his own face, for a good two minutes. It took him that long to admit to himself that he was really seeing what he thought he was seeing. The streaks of black, lustrous as crow feathers, which had returned to his hair were amazing, and so was the disappearance of the ugly pouches beneath his eyes, but the thing he could not seem to take his eyes away from was the way the lines and deep cracks had disappeared from his lips. It was a small thing . . . but it was also an enormous thing. It was the mouth of a young man. And . . . Abruptly, Ralph ran a finger into his mouth, along the righthand line of his lower teeth. He couldnt be entirely positive, but it seemed to him that they were longer, as if some of the wear had been rolled back. Holy shit, Ralph murmured, and his mind returned to that sweltering day last summer when he had confronted Ed Deepneau on his lawn. Ed had first told him to drag up a rock and then confided in him that Derry had been invaded by sinister, babykilling creatures. Lifestealing creatures. All lines of force have begun to converge here, Ed had told him. I know how difficult that is to believe, but its true. Ralph was finding it less difficult to believe all the time. What was getting harder to believe was the idea that Ed was mad. If this doesnt stop, Lois said from the doorway, startling him, were going to have to get married and leave town, Ralph. Simone and Mina could not  literally could not  take their eyes off me. I made a lot of glib talk about some new makeup Id gotten out at the mall, but they didnt swallow it. A man would, but a woman knows what makeup can do. And what it cant. They walked back to the kitchen, and although the auras were gone again for the time being, Ralph discovered he could see one anyway a blush rising out of the collar of Loiss white silk blouse. Finally I told them the only thing they would believe. What was that? Ralph asked. I said Id met a man. She hesitated, and then, as the rising blood reached her cheeks and stained them pink, she plunged. And had fallen in love with him. He touched her arm and turned her toward him. He looked at the small, clean crease in the bend of her elbow and thought how much he would like to touch it with his mouth. Or the tip of his tongue, perhaps. Then he raised his eyes to look at her. And was it true? She looked back with eyes that were all hope and candor. I think so, she said in a small, clear voice, but everythings so strange now. All I know for sure is that I want it to be true. I want a friend. Ive been frightened and unhappy and lonely for quite awhile now.


The loneliness is the worst part of getting old, I think  not the aches and pains, not the cranky bowels or the way you lose your breath after climbing a flight of stairs you could have just about flown up when you were twenty  but being lonely. Yes, Ralph said. That is the worst. No one talks to you anymore  oh, they talk at you, sometimes, but thats not the same  and mostly its like people dont even see you. Have you ever felt that way? Ralph thought of the Derry of the Old Crocks, a city mostly ignored by the hurrytowork, hurrytoplay world which surrounded it, and nodded. Ralph, would you hug me? My pleasure, he said, and pulled her gently into the circle of his arms. 4 Some time later, rumpled and dazed but happy, Ralph and Lois sat together on the livingroom couch, a piece of furniture so stringently hobbitsized it was really not much more than a loveseat. Neither of them minded. Ralphs arm was around Loiss shoulders. She had let her hair down and he twined a lock of it in his fingers, musing upon how easy it was to forget the feel of a womans hair, so marvellously different from the feel of a mans. She had told him about her cardgame and Ralph had listened closely, amazed but not, he discovered, much surprised. There were a dozen or so of them who played every week or so at the Ludlow Grange for small stakes. It was possible to go home a fivebuck loser or a tenbuck winner, but the most likely result was finishing a dollar ahead or a handful of change behind. Although there were a couple of good players and a couple of shlumps (Lois counted herself among the former), it was mostly just a fun way to spend an afternoon  the Lady Old Crock version of chess tournaments and marathon ginrummy games. Only this afternoon I just couldnt lose. I should have come home completely broke, what with all of them asking what kind of vitamins I was taking and where Id gotten my last facial and all the rest of it. Who can concentrate on a silly game like Deuces and Jacks, Man with the Axe, Natural Sevens Take All when you have to keep telling new lies and trying not to trip over the ones youve already told? Must have been hard, Ralph said, trying not to grin. It was. Very hard! But instead of losing, I just kept raking it in. And do you know why, Ralph? He did, but shook his head so she would tell him. He liked listening to her. It was their auras. I didnt always know the exact cards they were holding, but a lot of times I did. Even when I didnt, I could get a pretty clear idea of how good their hands were. The auras werent always there, you know how they come and go, but even when they were gone I played better than I ever have in my life. During the last hour, I began to lose on purpose just so they wouldnt all hate me. And do you know something? Even losing on purpose was hard. She looked down at her hands, which had begun to twine together nervously in her lap. And on the way back, I did something Im ashamed of. Ralph began to glimpse her aura again, a dim gray ghost in which unformed blobs of dark blue swirled. Before you tell me, he said, listen to this and see if it sounds familiar. He related how Mrs Perrine had approached while he was sitting on the porch, eating and waiting for Lois to get back. As he told her what he had done to the old lady, he dropped his eyes and felt his ears heating up again. Yes, she said when he was finished. Its the same thing I did . . . but I didnt mean to, Ralph . . . at least, I dont think I meant to. I was sitting in the back seat with Mina, and she was starting to go on and on again about how different I looked, how young I looked, and I thought  Im embarrassed to say it right out loud, but I guess I better  I thought, Ill shut you up, you snoopy, envious old thing. Because it was envy, Ralph. I could see it in her aura. Big, jagged spikes the exact color of a cats eyes. No wonder they call jealousy the greeneyed monster! Anyway, I pointed out the window and said Oooh, Mina, isnt that the dearest little house? And when she turned to look, I . . . I did what you did, Ralph. Only I didnt curl up my hand. I just kind of puckered my lips . . . like this . . . She demonstrated, looking so kissable that Ralph felt moved (almost compelled, in fact) to take advantage of the expression. . . . and I breathed in a big cloud of her stuff. What happened? Ralph asked, fascinated and afraid. Lois laughed ruefully. To me or her? Both of you. Mina jumped and slapped the back of her neck. Theres a bug on me! she said. It bit me! Get it off, Lo! Please get it off! Of course there was no bug on her  I was the bug  but I brushed at her neck just the same, then opened the window and told her it was gone, it flew away. She was lucky I didnt knock her brains out instead of just brushing her neck  thats how full of pep I was. I felt like I could have opened the car door and run all the way home. Ralph nodded. It was wonderful . . . too wonderful. Its like the stories about drugs you see on TV, how they take you to heaven at first and then lock you in hell. What if we start doing this and cant stop? Yeah, Ralph said. And what if it hurts people? I keep thinking about vampires. Do you know what I keep thinking about? Loiss voice had dropped to a whisper. Those things you said Ed Deepneau talked about. Those Centurions. What if theyre us, Ralph? What if theyre us? He hugged her and kissed the top of her head. Hearing his worst fear coming from her mouth made it less heavy on his own heart, and that made him think of what Lois had said about loneliness being the worst part of getting old. I know, he said. And what I did to Mrs Perrine was totally spurofthemoment  I dont remember thinking about it at all, just doing it. Was it that way with you? Yes. Just like that. She laid her head against his shoulder. We cant do it anymore, he said. Because it really might be addictive. Anything that feels that good just about has to be addictive, dont you think? Weve got to try and build up some safeguards against doing it unconsciously, too. Because I think I have been. That could be why A scream of brakes and sliding, wailing tires cut him off. They stared at each other, wideeyed, as outside on the street that sound went on and on, grief seeming to search for a point of impact. There was a muffled thud from the street as the scream of the brakes and tires silenced. It was followed by a brief cry uttered by either a woman or a child, Ralph could not tell which. Someone else shouted, What happened? and then, Oh, cripe! There was a rattle of running footsteps on pavement. Stay on the couch, Ralph said, and hurried to the living room window. When he ran up the shade Lois was standing right beside him, and Ralph felt a flash of approval. It was what Carolyn would have done under similar circumstances. They looked out on a nighttime world that pulsed with strange color and fabulous motion. Ralph knew it was Bill they were going to see, knew it  Bill hit by a car and lying dead in the street, his Panama with the crescent bitten out of the brim lying near one outstretched hand. He slipped an arm around Lois and she gripped his hand. But it wasnt McGovern in the fan of headlights thrown by the Ford which was slued around in the middle of Harris Avenue; it was Rosalie. Her earlymorning shopping expeditions were at an end. She lay on her side in a spreading pool of blood, her back bunched and twisted in several places. As the driver of the car which had struck her knelt beside the old stray, the pitiless glare of the nearest streetlamp illuminated his face. It was Joe Wyzer, the Rite Aid druggist, his orangeyellow aura now swirling with confused eddies of red and blue. He stroked the old dogs side, and each time his hand slipped into the vile black aura which clung to Rosalie, it disappeared. Dreams of terror washed through Ralph, dropping his temperature and shrivelling his testicles until they felt like hard little peachpits. Suddenly it was July of 1992 again, Carolyn dying, the deathwatch ticking, and something weird had happened to Ed Deepneau. Ed had freaked out, and Ralph had found himself trying to keep Helens normally goodnatured husband from springing at the man in the West Side Gardeners cap and attempting to rip his throat out. Then  the cherry on the Charlotte russe, Carol would have said  Dorrance Marstellar had arrived. Old Dor. And what had he said? I wouldnt touch him anymore . . . I cant see your hands. I cant see your hands. Oh my God, Ralph whispered. 5 He was brought back to the here and now by the feeling of Lois swaying against him, as if she were on the edge of a faint. Lois! he said sharply, gripping her arm. Lois, are you okay? I think so . . . but Ralph . . . do you see . . . Yes, its Rosalie. I guess she I dont mean her; I mean him! She pointed to the right. Doc 3 was leaning against the trunk of Joe Wyzers Ford, McGoverns Panama tipped jauntily back on his bald skull. He looked toward Ralph and Lois, grinned insolently, then slowly raised his thumb to his nose and waggled his small fingers at them. You bastard! Ralph bellowed, and slammed his fist against the wall beside the window in frustration. Half a dozen people were running toward the scene of the accident, but there was nothing they could do; Rosalie would be dead before even the closest of them arrived at the place where she lay in the glare of the cars headlights. The black aura was solidifying, becoming something which looked almost like sootdarkened brick. It encased her like a formfitting shroud, and Wyzers hand disappeared up to the wrist every time it slipped through that terrible garment. Now Doc 3 raised his hand with the forefinger sticking up and cocked his head  a teacherly pantomime so good that it almost said Pay attention, please! right out loud. He tiptoed forward  unnecessary, as he couldnt be seen by the people out there, but good theater  and reached toward Joe Wyzers back pocket. He glanced around at Ralph and Lois, as if to ask them if they were still paying attention. Then he began to tiptoe forward again, reaching out with his left hand. Stop him, Ralph, Lois moaned. Oh please stop him. Slowly, like a man who has been drugged, Ralph raised his hand and then chopped it down. A blue wedge of light flew from his fingertips, but it diffused as it passed through the windowglass. A pastel fog spread out a little distance from Loiss house and then disappeared. The bald doctor shook his finger in an infuriating pantomime  Oh, you naughty boy, it said. Doc 3 reached out again, and plucked something from Wyzers back pocket as he knelt in the street, mourning the dog. Ralph couldnt tell for sure what it was until the creature in the dirty smock swept McGoverns hat from his head and pretended to use it on his own nonexistent hair. He had taken a black pocketcomb, the kind you could buy in any convenience store for a buck twentynine. Then he leaped into the air, clicking his heels like a malignant elf. Rosalie had raised her head at the bald doctors approach. Now she lowered it back to the pavement and died. The aura surrounding her disappeared at once, not fading but simply winking out of existence like a soapbubble. Wyzer got to his feet, turned to a man standing on the curb, and began to tell him what had happened, gesturing with his hands to indicate how the dog had run out in front of his car. Ralph found he could actually read a string of six words as they came off Wyzers lips seemed to come out of nowhere. And when Ralph shifted his gaze back down to the side of Wyzers car, he saw that was the place to which the little bald doctor had returned. CHAPTER SIXTEEN 1 Ralph was able to get his rustbucket Oldsmobile started, but it still took him twenty minutes to get them across town to Derry Home on the east side. Carolyn had understood his increasing worries about his driving and had tried to be sympathetic, but shed had an impatient, hurryup streak in her nature, and the years had not mellowed it much. On trips longer than half a mile or so, she was almost always unable to keep from lapsing into reproof. She would stew in silence for awhile, thinking, then begin her critique. If she was particularly exasperated with their progress  or lack of it  she might ask him if he thought an enema would help him get the lead out of his ass. She was a sweetheart, but there had always been an edge to her tongue. Following such remarks, Ralph would always offer  and always without rancor  to pull over and let her drive. Such offers Carol had always declined. Her belief was that, on short hops, at least, it was the husbands job to drive and the wifes to offer constructive criticism. He kept waiting for Lois to comment on either his speed or his sloppy driving habits (he didnt think he would be able to remember his blinkers with any consistency these days even if someone put a gun to his head), but she said nothing  only sat where Carolyn had sat on five thousand rides or more, holding her purse on her lap exactly as Carolyn had always held hers. Wedges of light  store neon, traffic signals, streetlights  ran like rainbows across Loiss cheeks and brows. Her dark eyes were distant and thoughtful. She had cried after Rosalie died, cried hard, and made Ralph pull down the shade again. Ralph almost hadnt done that. His first impulse had been to bolt out into the street before Joe Wyzer could get away. To tell Joe he had to be very careful. To tell him that when he emptied his pants pockets tonight, he was going to be missing a cheap comb, no big deal, people were always losing combs, except this time it was a big deal, and next time it might be Rite Aid pharmacist Joe Wyzer lying at the end of the skid. Listen to me, Joe, and listen closely. You have to be very careful, because theres all sorts of news from the HyperReality Zone, and in your case all of it comes inside black borders. There were problems with that, however. The biggest was that Joe Wyzer, sympathetic as he had been on the day he had gotten Ralph an appointment with the acupuncturist, would think Ralph was crazy. Besides, how did one defend oneself against a creature one couldnt even see? So he had pulled the shade . . . but before he did, he took one last hard look at the man who had told him he used to be Joe Wyze but was now older and Wyzer. The auras were still there, and he could see Wyzers balloonstring, a bright orangeyellow, rising intact from the top of his head. So he was still all right. For now, at least. Ralph had led Lois into the kitchen and poured her another cup of coffee  black, with lots of sugar. He killed her, didnt he? she asked as she raised the cup to her lips with both hands. The little beast killed her. Yes. But I dont think he did it tonight. I think he really did it this morning. Why? Why? Because he could, Ralph said grimly. I think thats the only reason he needs. Just because he could. Lois had given him a long, appraising look, and an expression of relief had slowly crept into her eyes. Youve figured it out, havent you? I should have known it the minute I saw you this evening. I would have known, if I hadnt had so many other things rolling around in what passes for my mind. Figured it out? Im miles from that, but I have had some ideas. Lois, do you feel up to a trip to Derry Home with me? I suppose so. Do you want to see Bill? Im not sure exactly who I want to see. It might be Bill, but it might be Bills friend, Bob Polhurst. Maybe even Jimmy Vandermeer  do you know him? Jimmy V? Of course I know him! I knew his wife even better. In fact, she used to play poker with us until she died. It was a heart attack, and so sudden  She broke off suddenly, looking at Ralph with her dark Spanish eyes. Jimmys in the hospital? Oh God, its the cancer, isnt it? The cancer came back. Yes. Hes in the room right next to Bills friend. Ralph told her about the conversation hed had with Faye that morning and the note hed found on the picnic table that afternoon. He pointed out the odd conjunction of rooms and residents  Polhurst, Jimmy V, Carolyn  and asked Lois if she thought it was just a coincidence. No. Im sure it isnt. She had glanced at the clock. Come on  regular visiting hours over there finish at ninethirty, I think. If were going to get there before then, wed better wiggle. 2 Now, as he turned onto Hospital Drive (Forgot your damned turnblinker again, sweetheart, Carolyn commented), he glanced at Lois  Lois sitting there with her hands clasped on her purse and her aura invisible for the time being  and asked if she was all right. She nodded. Yes. Not great, but okay. Dont worry about me. But I do worry, Lois, Ralph thought. A lot. And by the way, did you see Doc 3 take the comb out of Joe Wyzers pocket? That was a stupid question. Of course shed seen. The bald midget had wanted her to see. Had wanted both of them to see. The real question was how much significance she had attached to it. How much do you really know, Lois? How many connections have you made? I have to wonder, because theyre not really that hard to see. I wonder . . . but Im afraid to ask. There was a low brick building about a quarter of a mile farther down the feeder road  WomanCare. A number of spotlights (new additions, he was quite sure) threw fans of illumination across its lawn, and Ralph could see two men walking back and forth at the end of grotesquely elongated shadows . . . rentacops, he supposed. Another new wrinkle; another straw flying in an evil wind. He turned left (this time remembering the blinker, at least) and eased the Olds carefully up the chute which led into the multilevel hospital parking garage. At the top, an orange barrierarm blocked the way. PLEASE STOP  TAKE TICKET, read the sign next to it. Ralph could recall a time when there used to be actual people in places like this, rendering them a little less eerie. Those were the days, my friend, we thought theyd never end, he thought as he unrolled his window and took a ticket from the automated dispenser. Ralph? Hmmm? He was concentrating on avoiding the back bumpers of the cars slantparked on both sides of the ascending aisles. He knew that the aisles were much too wide for the bumpers of those other cars to be an actual impediment to his progress  intellectually he knew it  but what his guts knew was something else. How Carolyn would bitch and moan about the way Im driving, he thought with a certain distracted fondness. Do you know what were doing here, or are we just winging it? Just another minute  let me get this damned thing parked. He passed several slots big enough for the Olds on the first level, but none with enough bufferzone to make him feel comfortable. On the third level he found three spaces side by side (together they were big enough to hold a Sherman tank comfortably) and babied the Olds into the one in the middle. He killed the motor and turned to face Lois. Other engines idled above and below them, their locations impossible to pinpoint because of the echo. Orange light  that persistent, penetrating toneglow now common to all such facilities as this, it seemed  lay upon their skins like thin toxic paint. Lois looked back at him steadily. He could see traces of the tears she had cried for Rosalie in her puffy, swollen lids, but the eyes themselves were calm and sure. He was struck by how much she had changed just since that morning, when he had found her sitting slumpshouldered on a park bench and weeping. Lois, he thought, if your son and daughterinlaw could see you tonight, I think they might run away screaming at the top of their lungs. Not because you look scary, but because the woman they came to bulldoze into moving to Riverview Estates is gone. Well? she asked with just a hint of a smile. Are you going to talk to me or just look at me? Ralph, ordinarily a cautious sort of man, recklessly said the first thing to come into his head. What Id like to do, I think, is eat you like icecream. Her smile deepened enough to make dimples at the corners of her mouth. Maybe later well see how much of an appetite for icecream you really have, Ralph. For now, just tell me why you brought me here. And dont tell me you dont know, because I think you do. Ralph closed his eyes, drew in a deep breath, and opened them again. I guess were here to find the other two bald guys. The ones I saw coming out of May Lochers. If anyone can explain whats going on, itll be them. What makes you think youll find them here? I think theyve got work to do . . . two men, Jimmy V and Bills friend, dying side by side. I should have known what the bald doctors are  what they do  from the minute I saw the ambulance guys bring Mrs Locher out strapped to a stretcher and with a sheet over her face. I would have known, if I hadnt been so damned tired. The scissors should have been enough. Instead, it took me until this afternoon, and I only got it then because of something Mr Polhursts niece said. What was it? That death was stupid. That if an obstetrician took as much time cutting the umbilical cord, hed be sued for malpractice. It made me think of a myth I read when I was in gradeschool and couldnt get enough of gods and goddesses and Trojan horses. The story was about three sisters  the Greek Sisters, maybe, or maybe it was the Weird Sisters. Shit, dont ask me; I cant even remember to use my damned turnblinkers half the time. Anyway, these sisters were responsible for the course of all human life. One of them spun the thread, one of them decided how long it would be . . . is any of this ringing a bell, Lois? Of course it is! she nearly shouted. The balloonstrings! Ralph nodded. Yes. The balloonstrings. I dont remember the names of the first two sisters, but I never forgot the name of the last one  Atropos. And according to the story, her job is to cut the thread the first one spins and the second one measures. You could argue with her, you could beg, but it never made any difference. When she decided it was time to cut, she cut. Lois was nodding. Yes, I remember that story. I dont know if I read it or someone told it to me when I was a kid. You believe its actually true, Ralph, dont you? Only it turns out to be the Bald Brothers instead of the Weird Sisters. Yes and no. As I remember the story, the sisters were all on the same side  a team. And thats the feeling I got about the two men who came out of Mrs Lochers house, that they were longtime partners with immense respect for each other. But the other guy, the one we saw again tonight, isnt like them. I think Doc 3s a rogue. Lois shivered, a theatrical gesture that became real at the last moment. Hes awful, Ralph. I hate him. I dont blame you. He reached for the doorhandle, but Lois stopped him with a touch. I saw him do something. Ralph turned and looked at her. The tendons in his neck creaked rustily. He had a pretty good idea what she was going to say. He picked the pocket of the man who hit Rosalie, she said. While he was kneeling beside her in the street, the bald man picked his pocket. Except all he took was a comb. And the hat that bald man was wearing . . . Im pretty sure I recognized it. Ralph went on looking at her, fervently hoping that Loiss memory of Doc 3s apparel did not extend any further. It was Bills, wasnt it? Bills Panama. Ralph nodded. Sure it was. Lois closed her eyes. Oh, Lord. What do you say, Lois? Are you still game? Yes. She opened her door and swung her legs out. But lets get going right away, before I lose my nerve. Tell me about it, said Ralph Roberts. 3 As they approached the main doors of Derry Home, Ralph leaned toward Loiss ear and murmured, Is it happening to you? Yes. Her eyes were very wide. God, yes. Its strong this time, isnt it? As they broke the electriceye beam and the doors to the hospital lobby swung open before them, the surface of the world suddenly peeled back, disclosing another world, one that simmered with unseen colors and shifted with unseen shapes. Overhead, on the walltowall mural depicting Derry as it had been during its halcyon lumbering days at the turn of the century, dark brown arrowshapes chased each other, growing closer and closer together until they touched. When that happened, they flashed a momentary dark green and changed direction. A bright silver funnel that looked like either a waterspout or a toy cyclone was descending the curved staircase which led up to the secondfloor meeting rooms, cafeteria, and auditorium. Its wide top end nodded back and forth as it moved from step to step, and to Ralph it felt distinctly friendly, like an anthropomorphic character in a Disney cartoon. As Ralph watched, two men with briefcases hurried up the stairs, and one of them passed directly through the silver funnel. He never paused in what he was saying to his companion, but when he emerged on the other side, Ralph saw he was absently using his free hand to smooth back his hair . . . although not a strand was out of place. The funnel reached the bottom of the stairs, raced around the center of the lobby in a tight, exuberant figureeight, and then popped out of existence, leaving only a faint, rosy mist behind. This quickly dissipated. Lois dug her elbow into Ralphs side, started to point toward an area beyond the Central Information booth, realized there were people all around them, and settled for lifting her chin in that direction instead. Earlier, Ralph had seen a shape in the sky which had looked like a prehistoric bird. Now he saw something which looked like a long translucent snake. It was essing its way across the ceiling above a sign which read PLEASE WAIT HERE FOR BLOODTESTING. Is it alive? Lois whispered with some alarm. Ralph looked more closely and realized the thing had no head . . . no discernible tail, either. It was all body. He supposed it was alive  he had an idea all the auras were alive in some fashion  but he didnt think it was really a snake, and he doubted that it was dangerous, at least to the likes of them. Dont sweat the small stuff, sweetheart, he whispered back to her as they joined the short line at Central Information, and as he said it, the snakething seemed to melt into the ceiling and disappear. Ralph didnt know how important such things as the bird and the cyclone were in the secret worlds scheme of things, but he was positive that people were still the main show. The lobby of Derry Home Hospital was like a gorgeous Fourth of July fireworks display, a display in which the parts of the Roman candles and Chinese fountains were being played by human beings. Lois hooked a finger into his collar to make him bend his head toward her. Youll have to do the talking, Ralph, she said in a strengthless, amazed little voice. Im having all I can do not to wee in my pants. The man ahead of them left the booth and Ralph stepped forward. As he did, a clear, sweetly nostalgic memory of Jimmy V surfaced in his mind. Theyd been on the road someplace in Rhode Island  Kingston, maybe  and had decided on the spur of the moment that they wanted to attend the tent revival going on in a nearby hayfield. They had both been drunk as fleas in a ginbottle, of course. A pair of wellscrubbed young ladies had been standing outside the turnedback flaps of the tent, handing out tracts, and as he and Jimmy neared them, they began to admonish each other in aromatic whispers to act sober, dammit, to just act sober. Had they gotten in that day? Or Help you? the woman in the Central Information booth asked, her tone saying she was doing Ralph a real favor just by speaking to him. He looked through the glass at her and saw a woman buried inside a troubled orange aura that looked like a burning bramblebush. Heres a lady who loves the fine print and stands on all the ceremony she can, he thought, and on the heels of that, Ralph remembered that the two young women flanking the entrance to the tent had gotten one whiff of him and Jimmy V and turned them politely but firmly away. They had ended up spending the evening in a Central Falls jukejoint, as he recalled, and had probably been lucky not to get rolled when they staggered out after last call. Sir? the woman in the glass booth asked impatiently. Can I help you? Ralph came back to the present with a thud he could almost feel. Yes, maam. My wife and I would like to visit Jimmy Vandermeer on the third floor, if Thats ICU! she snapped. Cant go up to ICU without a special pass. Orange hooks began to poke their way out of the glow around her head, and her aura began to look like barbed wire strung across some ghostly nomansland. I know, Ralph said, more humbly than ever, but my friend, Lafayette Chapin, he said Gosh! the woman in the booth interrupted. Its wonderful, the way everyones got a friend. Really wonderful. She rolled a satiric eye toward the ceiling. Faye said Jimmy could have visitors, though. You see, he has cancer and hes not expected to live much l Well, Ill check the files, the woman in the booth said with the grudging air of one who knows she is being sent upon a fools errand, but the computer is very slow tonight, so its going to take awhile. Give me your name, then you and your wife go sit over there. Ill page you as soon as Ralph decided that he had eaten enough humble pie in front of this bureaucratic guard dog. It wasnt as if he wanted an exit visa from Albania, after all; just a goddam ICU pass would do. There was a slot in the base of the glass booth. Ralph reached through it and grasped the womans wrist before she could pull it away. There was a sensation, painless but very clear, of those orange hooks passing directly through his flesh without finding anything to catch on. Ralph squeezed gently and felt a small burst of force  something that would have been no bigger than a pellet if it had been seen  pass from him to the woman. Suddenly the officious orange aura around her left arm and side turned the faded turquoise of Ralphs aura. She gasped and jerked forward on her chair, as if someone had just dumped a paper cup filled with icecubes down the back of her uniform. [Never mind the computer. Just give me a couple of passes, please. Right away.] Yes, sir, she said at once, and Ralph let go of her wrist so she could reach beneath her desk. The turquoise glow around her arm was turning orange again, the change in color creeping down from her shoulder toward her wrist. But I could have turned her all blue, Ralph thought. Taken her over. Run her around the room like a windup toy. He suddenly remembered Ed quoting Matthews Gospel  Then Herod, when he saw that he was mocked, was exceeding wroth  and a mixture of fright and shame filled him. Thoughts of vampirism recurred as well, and a snatch from a famous old Pogo comic strip We have met the enemy and he is us. Yes, he could probably do almost anything he wanted with this orangehaloed grump; his batteries were fully charged. The only problem was that the juice in those batteries  and in Loiss, as well  was stolen goods. When the informationladys hand emerged from beneath the desk, it was holding two pink laminated badges marked INTENSIVE CAREVISITOR. Here you are, sir, she said in a courteous voice utterly unlike the tone in which she had first addressed him. Enjoy your visit and thank you for waiting. Thank you, Ralph said. He took the badges and grasped Loiss hand. Come on, dear. We ought to [Ralph, what did you DO to her?] [Nothing, I guess  I think shes all right.] get upstairs and make our visit before it gets too late. Lois glanced back at the woman in the information booth. She was dealing with her next customer, but slowly, as if shed just been granted some moderately amazing revelation and had to think it over. The blue glow was now visible only at the very tips of her fingers, and as Lois watched, that disappeared as well. Lois looked up at Ralph again and smiled. [Yes . . . she is all right. So stop beating up on yourself.] [Was that what I was doing?] [I think so, yes . . .


were talking that way again, Ralph.] [I know.] [Ralph?] [Yes?] [This is all pretty wonderful, isnt it?] [Yes.] Ralph tried to hide the rest of what he was thinking from her that when the price for something which felt this wonderful came due, they were apt to discover it was very high. 4 [Stop staring at that baby, Ralph. Youre making its mother nervous.] Ralph glanced at the woman in whose arms the baby slept and saw that Lois was right . . . but it was hard not to look. The baby, no more than three months old, lay within a capsule of violently shifting yellowgray aura. This powerful but disquieting thunderlight circled the tiny body with the idiot speed of the atmosphere surrounding a gas giant  Jupiter, say, or Saturn. [Jesus, Lois, thats braindamage, isnt it?] [Yes. The woman says there was a car accident.] [Says? Have you been talking to her?] [No. Its     .] [I dont understand.] [Join the club.] The oversized hospital elevator labored slowly upward. Those inside  the lame, the halt, the guilty few in good health  didnt speak but either turned their eyes up to the floorindicator over the doors or down to inspect their own shoes. The only exception to this was the woman with the thunderstruck baby. She was watching Ralph with distrust and alarm, as if she expected him to leap forward at any moment and try to rip her infant from her arms. Its not just that I was looking, Ralph thought. At least I dont think so. She felt me thinking about her baby. Felt me . . . sensed me . . . heard me . . . some damned thing, anyway. The elevator stopped on the second floor and the doors wheezed open. The woman with the baby turned to Ralph. The infant shifted slightly as she did, and Ralph got a look at the crown of its head. There was a deep crease in the tiny skull. A red scar ran the length of it. To Ralph it looked like a rill of tainted water standing at the bottom of a ditch. The ugly and confused yellowgray aura which surrounded the baby was emerging from this scar like steam from a crack in the earth. The babys balloonstring was the same color as its aura, and it was unlike any other balloonstring Ralph had seen so far  not unhealthy in appearance but short, ugly, and no more than a stub. Didnt your mother ever teach you any manners? the babys mother asked Ralph, and what cut him wasnt so much the admonition as the way she made it. He had scared her badly. Madam, I assure you Yeah, go on and assure my fanny,she said, and stepped out of the car. The elevator doors started to slide closed. Ralph glanced at Lois and the two of them exchanged a moment of brief but total understanding. Lois shook her finger at the doors as if scolding them, and a gray, meshlike substance fanned out from its tip. The doors struck this and then slid back into their slots, as they were programmed to do upon encountering any barrier to their progress. [Madam!] The woman stopped and turned around, clearly confused. She shot suspicious glances about her, trying to identify who had spoken. Her aura was a dark, buttery yellow with faint tints of orange spoking out from its inner edges. Ralph fixed her eyes with his. [Im sorry if I offended you. This is all very new to my friend and me. Were like children at a formal dinner. I apologize.] [          .] He didnt know just what she was trying to communicate  it was like watching someone talk inside a soundproof booth  but he sensed relief and deep unease . . . the sort of unease people feel when they think they may have been observed doing something they shouldnt. Her doubtful eyes remained on his face a moment or two longer, then she turned and began to walk rapidly down the corridor in the direction of a sign reading NEUROLOGICAL SURVEY. The gray mesh Lois had cast at the door was thinning, and when the doors tried to close again, they cut neatly through it. The car continued its slow upward journey. [Ralph . . . Ralph, I think I know what happened to that baby.] She reached toward his face with her right hand and slipped it between his nose and mouth with her palm down. She pressed the pad of her thumb lightly against one of his cheekbones and the pad of her index finger lightly against the other. It was done so quickly and confidently that no one else in the elevator noticed. If one of the three other riders had noticed, he or she would have seen something that looked like a neatnessminded wife smoothing away a blot of skin lotion or a dollop of leftover shaving cream. Ralph felt as if someone had pulled a highvoltage switch inside his brain, one that turned on whole banks of blazing stadium lights. In their raw, momentary glow, he saw a terrible image hands clad in a violent brownishpurple aura reaching into a crib and snatching up the baby they had just seen. He was shaken back and forth, head snapping and rolling on the thin stalk of neck like the head of a Raggedy Andy doll  and thrown The lights in his head went black then, and Ralph let out a harsh, shuddery sigh of relief. He thought of the prolife protestors hed seen on the evening news just last night, men and women waving signs with Susan Days picture and WANTED FOR MURDER on them, men and women in Grim Reaper robes, men and women carrying a banner which read LIFE, WHAT A BEAUTIFUL CHOICE. He wondered if the thunderstruck baby might have a differing opinion on that last one. He met Loiss amazed, agonized eyes with his own, and groped out to take her hands. [Father did it, right? Threw the kid against the wall?] [Yes. The baby wouldnt stop crying.] [And she knows. She knows, but she hasnt told anyone.] [No . . . but she might, Ralph. Shes thinking about it.] [She might also wait until he does it again. And next time he might finish the job.] A terrible thought occurred to Ralph then; it shot across his mind like a meteor scratching momentary fire across a midnight summer sky it might be better if he did finish the job. The thunderstruck babys balloonstring had only been a stump, but it had been a healthy stump. The child might live for years, not knowing who he was or where he was, let alone why he was, watching people come and go like trees in the mist . . . Lois was standing with her shoulders slumped, looking at the floor of the elevator car and radiating a sadness that squeezed Ralphs heart. He reached out, put a finger under her chin, and watched a delicate blue rose spin itself out of the place where his aura touched hers. He tilted her head up and was not surprised to see tears in her eyes. Do you still think its all pretty wonderful, Lois? he asked softly, and to this he received no answer, either with his ears or in his mind. 5 They were the only two to get out on the third floor, where the silence was as thick as the dust under library shelves. A pair of nurses stood halfway up the hall, clipboards held to whiteclad bosoms, talking in low whispers. Anyone else standing by the elevators might have looked at them and surmised a conversation dealing with life, death, and heroic measures; Ralph and Lois, however, took one look at their overlapping auras and knew that the subject currently under discussion was where to go for a drink when their shift ended. Ralph saw this and at the same time he didnt, the way a deeply preoccupied man sees and obeys traffic signals without really seeing them. Most of his mind was occupied with a deadly sense of dj vu which had washed over him the moment he and Lois stepped out of the elevator and into this world where the faint squeak of the nurses shoes on the linoleum sounded almost exactly like the faint beep of the lifesupport equipment. Evennumbered rooms on your left; oddnumbered rooms on your right, he thought, and 317, where Carolyn died, is up by the nurses station. It was 317, all right  I remember. Now that Im here I remember everything. How someone was always sticking her chart in the little pocket on the back of the door upside down. How the light from the window fell across the bed in a kind of crooked rectangle on sunny days. How you could sit in the visitors chair and look out at the desknurse, whose job it is to monitor vital signs, incoming telephone calls, and outgoing pizza orders. The same. All the same. It was early March again, the gloomy end of a leaden, overcast day, sleet beginning to spickspack off the one window of Room 317, and he had been sitting in the visitors chair with an unopened copy of Shirers Rise and Fall of the Third Reich in his lap since early morning. Sitting there, not wanting to get up even long enough to use the bathroom because the deathwatch had almost run down by then, each tick was a lurch and the gap between each tick and the next was a lifetime; his longtime companion had a train to catch and he wanted to be on the platform to see her off. There would only be one chance to do it right. It was very easy to hear the sleet as it picked up speed and velocity, because the lifesupport equipment had been turned off. Ralph had given up during the last week of February; it had taken Carolyn, who had never given up in her life, a little longer to get the message. And what, exactly, was that message? Why that, in a hardfought tenround match pitting Carolyn Roberts against Cancer, the winner was Cancer, that alltime heavyweight champeen, by a TKO. He had sat in the visitors chair, watching and waiting as her respiration grew more and more pronounced  the long, sighing exhale, the flat, moveless chest, the growing certainty that the last breath had indeed been the last breath, that the watch had run down, the train arrived in the station to take on its single passenger . . . and then another huge, unconscious gasp would come as she tore the next lungful out of the unfriendly air, no longer breathing in any normal sense but only lunging reflexively along from one gasp to the next like a drunk lurching down a long dark corridor in a cheap hotel. Spicklespicklespacklespackle the sleet had gone on rapping invisible fingernails against the window as the dirty March day drew down to dirty March dark and Carolyn went on fighting the last half of her last round. By then she had been running completely on autopilot, of course; the brain which had once existed within that finely made skull was gone. It had been replaced by a mutant  a stupid grayblack delinquent that could not think or feel but only eat and eat and eat until it had gorged itself to death. Spicklespicklespacklespackle, and he had seen that the Tshaped breathing apparatus in her nose had come askew. He waited for her to tear one of her awful, labored breaths out of the air and then, as she exhaled, he had leaned forward and replaced the small plastic nosepiece. He had gotten a little mucus on his fingers, he remembered, and had wiped it off on a tissue from the box on the bedside table. He had sat back, waiting for the next breath, wanting to make sure the nosepiece didnt come askew again, but there wasnt any next breath, and he realized that the ticking sound he had heard coming from everywhere since the previous summer seemed to have stopped. He remembered waiting as the minutes passed  one, then three, then six  unable to believe that all the good years and good times (not to mention the few bad ones) had ended in this flat and toneless fashion. Her radio, tuned to the local easylistening station, was playing softly in the corner and he listened to Simon and Garfunkel sing Scarborough Fair. They sang it all the way to the end. Wayne Newton came on next, and began to sing Danke Shoen. He sang it all the way to the end. The weather report came next, but before the disc jockey could finish telling about how the weather was going to be on Ralph Robertss first full day as a widower, all that stuff about clearing and colder and winds shifting around to the northeast, Ralph finally got it through his head. The watch had stopped ticking, the train had come, the boxing match was over. All the metaphors had fallen down, leaving only the woman in the room, silent at last. Ralph began to cry. Still crying, he had blundered over into the corner and turned off the radio. He remembered the summer they had taken a fingerpaint class, and the night they had ended up fingerpainting each others naked bodies. This memory made him cry harder. He went to the window and leaned his head against the cold glass and cried. In that first terrible minute of understanding, he had wanted only one thing to be dead himself. A nurse heard him crying and came in. She tried to take Carolyns pulse. Ralph told her to stop being a goddam fool. She came over to Ralph and for a moment he thought she was going to try to take his pulse. Instead, she had put her arms around him. She [Ralph? Ralph, are you all right?] He looked around at Lois, started to say he was fine, and then remembered there was precious little he could hide from her while they were in this state. [Feeling sad. Too many memories in here. Not good ones.] [I understand . . . but look down, Ralph! Look on the floor!] He did, and his eyes widened. The floor was covered with an overlay of multicolored tracks, some fresh, most fading to invisibility. Two sets stood out clearly from the rest, as brilliant as diamonds in a litter of paste imitations. They were a deep greengold in which a few tiny reddish flecks still swam. [Do they belong to the ones were looking for, Ralph?] [Yes  the docs are here.] Ralph took Loiss hand  it felt very cold  and began to lead her slowly up the hall. CHAPTER SEVENTEEN 1 They hadnt gone far when something very strange and rather frightening happened. For a moment the world bled white in front of them. The doors to the rooms ranged along the hall, barely visible in this bright white haze, expanded to the size of warehouse loading bays. The corridor itself seemed to simultaneously elongate and grow taller. Ralph felt the bottom go out of his stomach the way it often had back when he was a teenager, and a frequent customer on the Dust Devil roller coaster at Old Orchard Beach. He heard Lois moan, and she squeezed his hand with panicky tightness. The whiteout lasted only a second, and when the colors swarmed back into the world, they were brighter and crisper than they had been a moment before. Normal perspective returned, but objects looked thicker, somehow. The auras were still there, but they appeared both thinner and paler  pastel coronas instead of spraypainted primary colors. At the same time Ralph realized he could see every crack and pore in the Sheetrocked wall to his left . . . and then he realized he could see the pipes, wires, and insulation behind the walls, if he wanted to; all he had to do was look. Oh my God, he thought. Is this really happening? Can this really be happening? Sounds were everywhere hushed bells, a toilet being flushed, muted laughter. Sounds a person normally took for granted, as part of everyday life, but not now. Not here. Like the visible reality of things, the sounds seemed to have an extraordinarily sensuous texture, like thin overlapping scallops of silk and steel. Nor were all the sounds ordinary; there were a great many exotic ones weaving their way through the mix. He heard a fly buzzing deep in a heating duct. The finegrain sandpaper sound of a nurse adjusting her pantyhose in the staff bathroom. Beating hearts. Circulating blood. The soft tidal flow of respiration. Each sound was perfect on its own; fitted into the others, they made a beautiful and complicated auditory ballet  a hidden Swan Lake of gurgling stomachs, humming power outlets, hurricane hairdryers, whispering wheels on hospital gurneys. Ralph could hear a TV at the end of the hall beyond the nurses station. It was coming from Room 340, where Mr Thomas Wren, a kidney patient, was watching Kirk Douglas and Lana Turner in The Bad and the Beautiful. If you team up with me, baby, well turn this town on its ear, Kirk was saying, and Ralph knew from the aura which surrounded the words that Mr Douglas had been suffering a toothache on the day that particular scene was filmed. Nor was that all; he knew he could go (higher? deeper? wider?) if he wanted. Ralph most definitely did not want. This was the forest of Arden, and a man could get lost in its thickets. Or eaten by tigers. [Jesus! Its another level  it must be, Lois! A whole other level!] [I know.] [Are you okay with this?] [I think I am, Ralph . . . are you?] [I guess so, for now . . . but if the bottom drops out again, I dont know. Come on.] But before they could begin following the greengold tracks again, Bill McGovern and a man Ralph didnt know came out of Room 313. They were in deep conversation. Lois turned a horrorstruck face toward Ralph. [Oh, no! Oh God, no! Do you see, Ralph? Do you see?] Ralph gripped her hand more tightly. He saw, all right. McGoverns friend was surrounded by a plumcolored aura. It didnt look especially healthy, but Ralph didnt think the man was seriously ill, either; it was just a lot of chronic stuff like rheumatism and kidney gravel. A balloonstring of the same mottled purple shade rose from the top of the mans aura, wavering hesitantly back and forth like a divers airhose in a mild current. McGoverns aura, however, was totally black. The stump of what had once been a balloonstring jutted stiffly up from it. The thunderstruck babys balloonstring had been short but healthy; what they were looking at now was the decaying remnant of a crude amputation. Ralph had a momentary image, so strong it was almost a hallucination, of McGoverns eyes first bulging and then popping out of their sockets, knocked loose by a flood of black bugs. He had to close his own eyes for a moment to keep from screaming, and when he opened them again, Lois was no longer at his side. 2 McGovern and his friend were walking in the direction of the nurses station, probably bound for the waterfountain. Lois was in hot pursuit, trotting up the corridor, bosom heaving. Her aura flashed with twizzling pinkish sparks that looked like neonflavored asterisks. Ralph bolted after her. He didnt know what would happen if she caught McGoverns attention, and didnt really want to find out. He thought he was probably going to, however. [Lois! Lois, dont do that!] She ignored him. [Bill, stop! You have to listen to me! Somethings wrong with you!] McGovern paid no attention to her; he was talking about Bob Polhursts manuscript, Later That Summer. Best damned book on the Civil War I ever read, he told the man inside the plumcolored aura, but when I suggested that he publish, he told me that was out of the question. Can you believe it? A possible Pulitzer Prize winner, but [Lois, come back! Dont go near him!] [Bill! Bill! B] Lois reached McGovern just before Ralph was able to reach her. She put out her hand to grab his shoulder. Ralph saw her fingers plunge into the murk which surrounded him . . . and then slide into him. Her aura changed at once, from a grayblue shot with those pinkish sparks to a red as bright as the side of a fire engine. Jagged flocks of black shot through it like clouds of tiny swarming insects. Lois screamed and pulled her hand back. The expression on her face was a mixture of terror and loathing. She held her hand up in front of her eyes and screamed again, although Ralph could see nothing on it. Narrow black stripes were now whirring giddily around the outer edges of her aura; to Ralph they looked like planetary orbits marked on a map of the solar system. She turned to flee. Ralph grabbed her by the upper arms and she beat at him blindly. McGovern and his friend, meanwhile, continued their placid amble up the hall to the drinking fountain, completely unaware of the shrieking, struggling woman not ten feet behind them. When I asked Bob why he wouldnt publish the book, McGovern was continuing, he said that I of all people should understand his reasons. I told him . . . Lois drowned him out, shrieking like a firebell. [!!!       !!!           !!!] [Quit it, Lois! Quit it right now! Whatever happened to you is over now! Its over and youre all right!] But Lois continued to struggle, dinning those inarticulate screams into his head, trying to tell him how awful it had been, how hed been rotting, that there were things inside him, eating him alive, and that was bad enough, but it wasnt the worst. Those things were aware, she said, they were bad, and they had known she was there. [Lois, youre with me! Youre with me and its all r] One of her flying fists clipped the side of his jaw and Ralph saw stars. He understood that they had passed to a plane of reality where physical contact with others was impossible  hadnt he seen Loiss hand pass directly into McGovern, like the hand of a ghost?  but they were obviously still real enough to each other; he had the bruised jaw to prove it. He slipped his arms around her and hugged her against him, imprisoning her fists between her breasts and his chest. Her cries [!!!          !!!         !!!] continued to rant and blast in his head, however. He locked his hands together between her shoulderblades and squeezed. He felt the power leap out of him again, as it had that morning, only this time it felt entirely different. Blue light spilled through Loiss turbulent redblack aura, soothing it. Her struggles slowed and then ceased. He felt her draw a shuddering breath. Above and around her, the blue glow was expanding and fading. The black bands disappeared from her aura, one after the other, from the bottom up, and then that alarming shade of infected red also began to fade. She put her head against his arm. [Im sorry, Ralph  I went nuclear again, didnt I?] [I suppose so, but never mind. Youre okay now. Thats the important thing.] [If you knew how horrible that was . . . touching him that way . . .] [You put it across very well, Lois.] She glanced down the corridor, where McGoverns friend was now getting a drink. McGovern lounged against the wall next to him, talking about how the Exalted  Revered Bob Polhurst had always done the Sunday New York Times crossword puzzle in ink. He used to tell me that wasnt pride but optimism, McGovern said, and the deathbag swirled sluggishly around him as he spoke, flowing in and out of his mouth and between the fingers of his gesturing, eloquent hand. [We cant help him, can we, Ralph? Theres not a thing in the world we can do.] Ralph gave her a brief, strong hug. Her aura, he saw, had entirely returned to normal. McGovern and his friend were walking back down the corridor toward them. Acting on impulse, Ralph disengaged himself from Lois and stepped directly in front of Mr Plum, who was listening to McGovern hold forth on the tragedy of old age and nodding in the right places. [Ralph, dont do that!] [Its okay, dont worry.] But all at once he wasnt so sure it was okay. He might have stepped back, given another second. Before he could, however, Mr Plum glanced unseeingly into his face and walked right through him. The sensation that swept through Ralphs body at his passage was perfectly familiar; it was the pinsandneedles feeling one gets when a sleeping limb starts to wake up. For one moment his aura and Mr Plums mingled, and Ralph knew everything about the man that there was to know, including the dreams hed had in his mothers womb. Mr Plum stopped short. Something wrong? McGovern asked. I guess not, but . . . did you hear a bang someplace? Like a firecracker, or a car backfire? Cant say I did, but my hearing isnt what it used to be. McGovern chuckled. If something did blow up, I certainly hope it wasnt in one of the radiation labs. I dont hear anything now. Probably just my imagination. They turned into Bob Polhursts room. Ralph thought, Mrs Perrine said it sounded like a gunshot. Loiss friend thought there was a bug on her, maybe biting her. Just a difference in touch, maybe, the way different pianoplayers have different touches. Either way, they feel it when we mess with them. They may not know what it is, but they sure do feel it. Lois took his hand and led him to the door of Room 313. They stood in the hall, looking in as McGovern seated himself in a plastic contour chair at the foot of the bed. There were at least eight people crammed into the room and Ralph couldnt see Bob Polhurst clearly, but he could see one thing although he was deep within his own deathbag, Polhursts balloonstring was still intact. It was as filthy as a rusty exhaust pipe, peeling in some places and cracked in others . . . but it was still intact. He turned to Lois. [These people may have longer to wait than they think.] Lois nodded, then pointed down at the greenygold footprints  the whiteman tracks. They bypassed 313, Ralph saw, but turned in at the next doorway  315, Jimmy Vs room. He and Lois walked up together and stood looking in. Jimmy V had three visitors, and the one sitting beside the bed thought he was all alone. That one was Faye Chapin, idly looking through the double stack of getwell cards on Jimmys bedside table. The other two were the little bald doctors Ralph had seen for the first time on May Lochers stoop. They stood at the foot of Jimmy Vs bed, solemn in their clean white tunics, and now that he stood close to them, Ralph could see that there were worlds of character in those unlined, almost identical faces; it just wasnt the sort of thing one could see through a pair of binoculars  or maybe not until you slid up the ladder of perception a little way. Most of it was in the eyes, which were dark, pupilless, and flecked with deep golden glints. Those eyes shone with intelligence and lively awareness. Their auras gleamed and flashed around them like the robes of emperors . . . . . . or perhaps of Centurions on a visit of state. They looked over at Ralph and Lois, who stood holding hands in the doorway like children who have lost their way in a fairytale wood, and smiled at them. [Hello, woman.] That was Doc 1. He was holding the scissors in his right hand. The blades were very long, and the points looked very sharp. Doc 2 took a step toward them and made a funny little halfbow. [Hello, man. Weve been waiting for you.] 3 Ralph felt Loiss hand tighten on his own, then loosen as she decided they were in no immediate danger. She took a small step forward, looking from Doc 1 to Doc 2 and then back to 1 again. [Who are you?] Doc 1 crossed his arms over his small chest. The long blades of his scissors lay the entire length of his whiteclad left forearm. [We dont have names, not the way ShortTimers do  but you may call us after the fates in the story this man has already told you. That these names originally belonged to women means little to us, since we are creatures with no sexual dimension. I will be Clotho, although I spin no thread, and my colleague and old friend will be Lachesis, although he shakes no rods and has never thrown the coins. Come in, both of you  please!] They came in and stood warily between the visitors chair and the bed. Ralph didnt think the docs meant them any harm  for now, at least  but he still didnt want to get too close. Their auras, so bright and fabulous compared to those of ordinary people, intimidated him, and he could see from Loiss wide eyes and halfopen mouth that she felt the same. She sensed him looking at her, turned toward him, and tried to smile. My Lois, Ralph thought. He put an arm around her shoulders and hugged her briefly. Lachesis [Weve given you our names  names you may use, at any rate; wont you give us yours?] Lois [You mean you dont already know? Pardon me, but I find that hard to believe.] Lachesis [We could know, but choose not to. We like to observe the rules of common ShortTime politeness wherever we can. We find them lovely, for they are passed on by your kind from large hand to small and create the illusion of long lives.] [I dont understand.] Ralph didnt, either, and wasnt sure he wanted to. He found something faintly patronizing in the tone of the one who called himself Lachesis, something that reminded him of McGovern when he was in a mood to lecture or pontificate. Lachesis [It doesnt matter. We felt sure you would come. We know that you were watching us on Monday morning, man, at the home of ] At this point there was a queer overlapping in Lachesiss speech. He seemed to say two things at exactly the same time, the terms rolling together like a snake with its own tail in its mouth [May Locher.] [the finished woman.] Lois took a hesitant step forward. [My name is Lois Chasse. My friend is Ralph Roberts. And now that weve all been properly introduced, maybe you two fellows will tell us whats going on around here.] Lachesis [There is another to be named.] Clotho [Ralph Roberts has already named him.] Lois looked at Ralph, who was nodding his head. [Theyre talking about Doc 3. Right, guys?] Clotho and Lachesis nodded. They were wearing identical approving smiles. Ralph supposed he should have been flattered, but he wasnt. Instead he was afraid, and very angry  they had been neatly manipulated, every step down the line. This was no chance meeting; it had been a setup from the word go. Clotho and Lachesis, just a couple of little bald doctors with time on their hands, standing around in Jimmy Vs room waiting for the ShortTimers to arrive, hohum. Ralph glanced over at Faye and saw he had taken a book called 50 Classic Chess Problems out of his back pocket. He was reading and picking his nose in ruminative fashion as he did so. After a few preliminary explorations, Faye dove deep and hooked a big one. He examined it, then parked it on the underside of the bedside table. Ralph looked away, embarrassed, and a saying of his grandmothers popped into his mind Peek not through a keyhole, lest ye be vexed. He had lived to be seventy without fully understanding that; at last he thought he did. Meanwhile, another question had occurred to him. [Why doesnt Faye see us? Why didnt Bill and his friend see us, for that matter? And how could that man walk right through me? Or did I just imagine that?] Clotho smiled. [You didnt imagine it. Try to think of life as a kind of building, Ralph  what you would call a skyscraper.] Except that wasnt quite what Clotho was thinking of, Ralph discovered. For one flickering moment he seemed to catch an image from the mind of the other, one he found both exciting and disturbing an enormous tower constructed of dark and sooty stone, standing in a field of red roses. Slit windows twisted up its sides in a brooding spiral. Then it was gone. [You and Lois and all the other ShortTime creatures live on the first two floors of this structure. Of course there are elevators] No, Ralph thought. Not in the tower I saw in your mind, my little friend. In that building  if such a building actually exists  there are no elevators, only a narrow staircase festooned with cobwebs and doorways leading to God knows what. Lachesis was looking at him with a strange, almost suspicious curiosity, and Ralph decided he didnt much care for that look. He turned back to Clotho and motioned for him to go on. Clotho [As I was saying, there are elevators, but ShortTimers are not allowed to use them under ordinary circumstances. You are not [ready] [prepared] [        .] The last explanation was clearly the best, but it danced away from Ralph just before he could grasp it. He looked at Lois, who shook her head, and then back at Clotho and Lachesis again. He was beginning to feel angrier than ever. All the long, endless nights sitting in the wingchair and waiting for dawn; all the days hed spent feeling like a ghost inside his own skin; the inability to remember a sentence unless he read it three times; the phone numbers, once carried in his head, which he now had to look up A memory came then, one which simultaneously summed up and justified the anger he felt as he looked at these bald creatures with their darkly golden eyes and almost blinding auras.