Frank stepped around a tree. He ought to be exhausted, but there was no dozing in Mouse’s presence. Not when she was keyed up like this. She exuded enough energy and sense of purpose to keep an army awake.
We’re all the army she’s got, he told himself. Myself, Alicia, and the kids, and one crazy Comajo. Or maybe Burnfingers would prefer Navamanche.
“I know this isn’t a dream. I know it’s all happening for real. But every now and then I find myself wondering if it’s some kind of elaborate hallucination, if you’re a terrorist or foreign agent or something.”
“Think of me as a foreign agent if it makes it easier for you. Think of the Anarchis as a terrorist. The analogy is not so very extreme. All terrorists are agents of Chaos to some degree. All affect the fabric of existence. All alter reality or attempt to do so. It is the degree to which they achieve their aims that matters.”
“You said the aim of the Anarchis is Chaos. What’s the aim of Evil besides encouraging the spread of Chaos?”
“Extermination of the good. I’m sorry you’ve been put in this position, Frank, but I can’t change that. More than just your reality is at stake here. Mine is endangered as well. The fabric of existence weaves through all worlds. A single substantial rip anywhere”—she drew her hands apart sharply, as if ripping a sheet of paper in half—“can shock many worlds, many lines. The Anarchis will move quickly to exploit the smallest tear.”
“Once reality gets ripped, how can you fix it?”
“I cannot. Only the Spinner can do that.”
“What’s this Spinner like, anyway? Is it like you?”
“Oh, no.” She laughed gently, bells in the night. “It is difficult to describe. Whatever you imagine will be insufficient. Grand it is, and vast.”
“Must be pretty damn overpowering.”
“You will see for yourself when we reach the Vanishing Point.”
“You know, I think I’m starting to get a handle on this. It’s kind of like how a foul-up at a critical point affects a whole company. The ripple effect.”
“You would be surprised how few differences there are, Frank, between existential philosophy and commerce.”
“No kiddin’? I’m afraid my readings in philosophy don’t go any further than Andrew Carnegie and Lee Iacocca’s autobiography.”
“That may be, but you have an instinctive grasp of how things connect in order to work together. That is philosophical knowledge at its most practical. Reality is not so very different.”
“That so? You won’t mind if I throw out the philosophy and just look at this as a question of getting from point A to point B without getting killed?”
“Think of it however it pleases you.”
“Hey, I may be crude, but I have shallow depths nobody’s plumbed yet.”
“There you go, demeaning yourself again.”
“Yeah. But only among friends.”
11
WHEN PEOPLE HAVE BEEN married for a long time they develop the ability to sense their partner’s presence or absence, even in the midst of deep sleep. Few scientists will admit to the existence of this marital telepathy—unless they themselves are married.
Alicia awoke and rolled over, squinting sleepily in the dark. “Frank?” She rose halfway, supporting herself on one arm. “Frank, you in the john?” She kept her voice down even though the children were in the other room behind a closed door.
No reply came from the bathroom, nor the chairs nor anywhere else. Enough light seeped around the edges of the curtain for her to make out the dim silhouettes of bed and cheap motel furniture.
It wouldn’t be the first time. Frank was fond of nocturnal walks when he couldn’t sleep. Certainly he had more on his mind than the future of their vacation.
With a sigh she slipped into her robe and went to the front door. The parking lot was mostly empty, dominated by the silent shape of the motor home. Moonlight enabled her to see clear across the street, to shuttered gift shops and real estate offices. The motel office was dark.
No familiar figure bestrode the concrete walkway in front of the rooms. If he wanted a soda he would’ve gone out to the motor home, she reflected. She retreated long enough to slip into a pair of sneakers, knotted the belt of her robe, and started across the lot.
The door to the motor home stood ajar, a figure seated on the lowest step. “Frank?” A face turned up to her and at the same time she saw that the shape was of a man much bigger than her husband.
“Yatahey, Mrs. Sonderberg. Or perhaps I should say good morning. The sun will rejoin us soon.”
“Hello, Burnfingers. Have you seen Frank?”
“He’s not with you?” Burnfingers tried to see past her.
She shook her head. “I thought he came out to talk or get something to drink.” She looked back toward the motel, trying to remember where the vending machines were located. Even now he might be back in the room, wondering at the empty bed. Well, if he came looking for her this would be the first place he’d check. No point in worrying about it.
“You can’t sleep, either?”
She could just make out Burnfingers’s grin in the moonlight. “I never sleep. Waste of time.”
“Oh, now really. Everybody sleeps.”
“Not me. You know, if you spend eight hours out of every twenty-four asleep and you live to be eighty years old, you have wasted one third of your entire life.”
“Well, I have to sleep.” She wondered why she sounded so defensive. Burnfingers’s claim was patently absurd but, of course, he was crazy. It shouldn’t have surprised her. Nothing he said ought to surprise her.
“Sleepy or not, what are you doing out here alone?”
“Talking to the moon. Watching the sky. Standing guard.”
“Guard?” She turned sharply. “Is there something out here?”
“No. But if I wasn’t standing guard, there might be.”
“Like what?”
He turned to her. “After all you have seen these past couple of days, I would not think you would have to ask such a question, Mrs. Sonderberg.”
“Just Alicia, please. It all has been real, hasn’t it?” One hand clutched at the neck of the bathrobe, pulling it tight around her throat.
“Oh, very real. And instructive.”
“Instructive?” She laughed nervously. “Didn’t it scare you? Weren’t you frightened? But, then, maybe it wouldn’t scare you. Not after working as a janitor in Hell.”
“Many things frighten me, Alicia.”
She walked over to lean against the cool exterior of the motor home. “I bet you’ve seen a lot of strange things.”
“More than you can imagine. I have worked with goblins as well as with demons, have danced with witches who were pure energy, have attended the Old Ceremonies. I have seen the sleeping places of the Great Old Ones and read the forbidden books. I’ve traded ice for gold with people who had no water and sat at the feet of all the prophets, trying to learn from them. Jesus and Buddha, Moses and Mohammed, Zoroaster and Confucius: all of them.”
