by Brian Lumley
A nice gesture, but useless, Harry told him. And anyway, in the waking world it would only serve to get you killed! This is a scene from my past, Jake. Obviously we survived it, myself and my son both, but I fancy your dream won’t. So one last word before we part: next time, try to be easier to reach…
The scene warped, began to melt away even as Jake strove to move his body — a single muscle, a fingertip — and failed miserably. He stood poised, inert, desperate to go to the infant’s aid despite what the Necroscope had told him. He tried to shout a warning, managed a hoarse croak, a clotted gurgle, and all in vain. For everything was dissolving away. Terror, utter horror, can bring a man awake even when he knows he’s only dreaming.
The last thing Jake saw before he surfaced was the beast: on its knees beside the cot, mad with frustrated rage, tearing the bedclothes to shreds. But of the baby Harry himself, nothing at all…
And Jake gave a small glad cry and woke up. For somehow in the moment before waking he knew — he’d been given to know — where the infant had gone.
Along the Mobius route to E-Branch, of course.
Where else?
PART THREE The Start Of It
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN Second Thoughts, And Others Less Mundane
Noticing Jake’s distress, Liz had scrambled from her gunner’s seat into the narrow cargo area, crouched down beside him, and was now hauling on the lapels of his jacket, roughing him up a little. ‘Jake! Jake, wake up!’ Then — as his eyes snapped open, startling her, and lightning reflexes and hands worked in combination to slap her wrists aside, then grab them — ‘You were shouting,’ she explained. ‘And now you’re hurting!’
He let go of her, dragged himself into an upright, seated position among the jumble of packs, and mumbled, ‘What? Shouting?’ Of course he had been shouting, because he’d been nightmaring. But what about? Already the waking world, in the shape of Liz, was obliterating his dreams, consigning them to innermost recesses of his subconscious mind. But realizing something of their importance, Jake was reluctant to let them go. ‘What was I shouting about?’ he demanded harshly, but too late. For even as his head cleared the nightmare was retreating, shrinking to nothing.
Then he looked about — at the piled packs, the chopper’s interior, the faces of the men up front looking back at him — and remembered where he was. And as the fear went out of Jake’s eyes it was replaced by a worried frown. His face was damp with sweat, despite that it wasn’t any too warm in… the aircraft? In the jetcopter, yes. His orientation was still a little off, making everything feel and sound unreal. Then it dawned on him that the hiss of the horizontal jets was absent, and the crisp chop! chop! chop! of rotors had taken over. They must be descending, into Alice Springs.
‘I don’t know what you were shouting about/ Liz answered him. ‘Most of what you said was pure babble, until just before you woke up.’ She went back to her seat and buckled herself in. ‘Then you mentioned Szwart, Malinari, and Vavara. But you were doing a lot of twitching, too. It was a nightmare, Jake. A killer of a nightmare, I’d say.” A killer. Yes, she was right:
A grotesque thing — Wamphyri! — its taloned hands reaching to snuff the life from an innocent baby boy. And:
‘Yulian Bodescu!’ Jake gasped aloud, starting as if he’d been slapped in the face. ‘Does anyone know who… who Yulian Bodescu was?’ But that final scene, too, was fading away, following the rest of the nightmare into limbo.
In their seats up front, however, Ben Trask and lan Goodly exchanged secretive but mainly wondering glances and said nothing… not until they were on the ground and they’d stretched their legs and made their way to the lounge and the airport’s watering hole…
Jake and Lardis sat at the almost empty bar, chewing nuts and nursing large beers; Liz, Trask, and Goodly had a small table, smaller drinks, and ate from a plate of sandwiches. Huge overhead fans did their best to stir the sluggish air and keep the atmosphere bearable. But even the local Aussies were sweating. It was that kind of summer. El Nifio, drying everything to kindling.
Lardis smacked his lips in appreciation, sighed and told Jake: ‘This has to be one of the few true benefits of your entire world.’ And then, noticing how the bartender was giving him curious looks, he added, ‘Er, of Australia, I mean. One of the true benefits of Australia. They certainly know how to brew a good beer, these Australians.’
The bartender looked Lardis up and down, and said, ‘I saw that movie, too, me old mate, way back when I was a little kid. But it didn’t influence me mode o’ dress!’
‘Eh?’ said Lardis.
‘Crocodile bleedin’ Dundee!’ The other shook his head and moved off along the bar. ‘Jesus, what is it with you tourists? Do yer think we all live in the bleedin’ outback?’
Lardis looked down at his clothes, lizard-skin belt, machete, shad-hide sandals, and scowled. ‘Have I been insulted?’ he wondered out loud.
But Jake’s thoughts were elsewhere. ‘Lardis, tell me about Harry Keogh,’ he said. ‘I mean, I’ve heard Trask talk about his compassion, warmth, and humility, which you have to admit makes him sound like a pacifist. But if he was so humble, how come he ended up as a — a what? A vampire-killer? And I gather it wasn’t only vampires he killed.’
‘As for Harry Dwellersire’s history in this world,’ the Old Lidesci answered, having first made sure that the bartender was well out of earshot, ‘I don’t know the entire story. That’s why I was only able to talk about Sunside/Starside. But from what I saw of him… well, I wouldn’t be too sure about Harry’s “humility,” or his compassion either. After all, Nathan Kiklu was a humble one, too, upon a time. Anyway, I only met the Necroscope towards the end, which wasn’t a pretty end…’
Then, abruptly, Lardis’s tone changed, and peering at Jake suspiciously he snapped, ‘Now do me a favour and stop trying to wheedle things out of me, okay? What am I anyway but “a bleedin’ tourist”, eh?’
While at the table, also out of earshot, Goodly, Liz, and Trask were considering something else. ‘Yulian Bodescu?’ Trask looked at Liz. ‘You’re sure he said Yulian Bodescu? We thought so, too, but we were too far away to be sure. Now tell me, how in hell did he come up with that name? If he’s read it or perhaps remembered it from something someone has said, why has it chosen to surface now, in a dream?’
Liz could only shrug and ask, ‘Is it really that strange? I mean, it’s hardly the most common of names, now is it? To be honest, it’s just exactly the kind of name that would stick in my mind.’
But Trask was out of sorts with himself, and it showed. ‘I put you in that gunner’s bucket-seat, close to him, so that you could listen in on him/ he said. ‘In E-Branch we know how important dreams can be. But you say you got nothing?’
‘To start with,’ Liz’s voice hardened as she began to flare up, i-r t j. > I don t—
But the precog quickly cautioned her: ‘SW. Keep it down.’ ‘Well, I don’t understand why we can’t tell Jake about the entire Bodescu affair.” she continued in a lowered but emphatic tone. ‘And what’s more,’ (looking at Trask) ‘I didn’t much like what you asked me to do. To start with, it’s not E-Branch policy to spy on our colleagues, and—’
‘Don’t go lecturing me about Branch policy — Miss!’ Trask glared. ‘As for Jake Cutter: he won’t be a colleague until I’m one hundred per cent sure he’s on our side. The man vacillates, sits on the fence. I’m not even sure he won’t make a break for it the first chance he gets.”
‘—And’ Liz continued, determined to be heard, ‘the last time I tried it he… he knew.’
‘He what?’ Goodly stared at her.
‘Jake knew I was listening in on him/ Liz said, deflated now. ‘He was dreaming — something sexy, erotic, yes, and frightening, too — and when I broke in on him it woke him up. So how can I ask him to trust me when he thinks I’m constantly in his mind?’
‘So you didn’t try?’ Trask said.
‘That’s not so/ she shook her head. ‘I did try, but I w
as blocked. I couldn’t get in. Or I could, but it was like walking through a fog, all dismal and distorted. I didn’t get one single clear picture.’
‘Precisely what I didn’t want to hear/ Trask grunted. ‘So now I’ll tell you why I’m not ready to tell him the entire Yulian Bodescu story. You know that a vampire isn’t safe even when
he’s dead and buried? If there was anything we learned from the Necroscope, it was that. Even as we burned the very earth where Thibor Ferenczy had been buried, still the bastard was instructing Yulian Bodescu, telling him about E-Branch. After that, the damage Yulian caused us, the deaths, the pain…’ He paused and shook his head.
And Goodly said, ‘So even at this stage you’re not entirely certain that this is the Necroscope’s work? You think that Jake might be under the influence of someone or something else? Just as Thibor got at Yulian, so someone might be getting at Jake?’
‘We have to remember what Harry was, and what he became at the end/ Trask answered. ‘And not only him but his lover Penny Sanderson, and what both the Dweller and Harry’s other son Nestor became.’
‘Vampires/ Liz said, with a small shudder.
‘Wamphyri!’ said Trask. ‘All of them. The Necroscope died on Starside. And now something — three somethings — have come out of Starside to infest our world. And Jake is being influenced by a remnant, or revenant, of the Necroscope himself. Let’s not forget that just as Harry sired Nathan Kiklu, he also fathered Nestor. Two sides of the same coin, do you see? And do you wonder that I’m cautious? Why, of course I’m cautious! I should let something like that infiltrate E-Branch, get in amongst us, learn our secrets, use them against us? No, I don’t think so/
‘And if you’re wrong?’ said Liz.
‘I hope I’m wrong!’ Trask answered. ‘I believe I’m wrong, and I want to be wrong. But if I’m right I’ll be alive, and so will you, Liz. Look, you’ve read about Harry but you never knew him, you haven’t seen what he could do. Not the other things he could do. I have, and I don’t want to see powers such as those fall into the wrong hands. That could mean the end of us all/
He sat back in his chair, let his brooding eyes rest speculatively on Jake and Lardis at the bar, but only for a moment. Then he finished by saying, ‘So that’s that. For now let it go. Let’s all of us let it go. But Liz, try to remember what I’ve said. And the next time I ask you to do something, don’t be so damn quick off the mark to question my motives..’
Meanwhile, at the bar, Jake had asked the bartender for a sedative, something to help him sleep during the next stage of the journey. And after the man had gone off to fetch him something:
‘Haven’t you had enough of sleep?’ Lardis asked him.
Jake looked at him. ‘Sleep is a funny thing,’ he said. ‘Do you know what my doctor told me, when I was laid up in hospital in Marseille that time, after I’d got myself trampled on?’
‘But how could I possibly know?’ Lardis answered, as yet a long way from mastering the vagaries of the English tongue. ‘It isn’t as if I was there with you, now is it?’
‘Anyway,’ said Jake, ‘I had things to do and wanted to be out of there, but they wouldn’t let me go. And this doctor told me I needed to rest, get some sleep. He said there were different kinds of sleep: a kind that comes from physical exhaustion, and another from mental. And that even when you’ve done no physical or mental work, there’s the kind that tells you your body and brain have been mobile for too long without a decent break. Sleep is a medicine — the best you can get — following injury or mental trauma, yet too much of it can be debilitating rather than curative. You can walk and talk in your sleep, and in some cases solve intricate problems. Sleep can be induced, resisted, prolonged or interrupted, but no one can do without it for too long…’ As he fell silent, Lardis said, ‘Phew! Ask a simple question!’ Jake nodded his agreement, said, ‘I’m not usually so longwinded, but it’s been on my mind — not so much what that doctor said about sleep, but the things he left out. At the time those things didn’t apply to my case. Now they do.’
Tm learning a lot about sleep!’ Lardis grunted. ‘Tell me more.’
‘It produces dreams,’ said Jake. ‘Often they’re enigmatic, insoluble, and they’re usually unremembered because they don’t mean anything. Are you with me?’
‘And I’m learning a lot of new words, too!’ Lardis sighed. ‘But go on, go on.’
‘But from time to time,’ Jake went on, ‘from time to time, they do mean something. They’re like — I don’t know — clearing houses for all the jumble of our waking hours. And when the rubble has been cleared away, sometimes there’s a silver nugget or two left over.’
‘And you’ve been pros— er, prospec— er…’
‘Prospecting?’
‘Right! Right?’
‘Aboard the jetcopter,’ Jake answered, Tm sure my dream — my nightmare — meant something. And I want to get back into it.’ He offered a weary shrug. ‘I must be crazy, right? To look forward to returning to a bad dream? But anyway, what the hell? I may have been sleeping, but I didn’t get much rest. I’m still dead on my feet.’
‘It’s the heat,’ said Lardis. ‘It drains a man’s strength. I’m tired, too… we all are. On Sunside I’d probably be under some tree right now, asleep in a deep cool forest. But I’ve had trouble with my dreams, too, Jake. The fact is, I’d probably be nightmaring about the hell that’s brewing in Starside! And that kind of sleep… well, you’re right: it can’t cure anything.’
‘Me, I’ll risk it anyway,’ Jake muttered. ‘Just as soon as I’m back on that chopper…’
When the pilot declared the jetcopter refuelled, the two technicians were the first out across the asphalt. Jake and Lardis were next, and tailing them Trask, Goodly and Liz. They had at least one hundred and fifty yards to walk to the helipad.
‘Funny thing,’ Goodly reported as they left the embarkation building and set out into the sizzling sunlight, ‘but what Liz said suddenly makes sense. There’s Jake in plain view, not forty yards ahead, and I can’t read a thing of his future. Not any longer.’
‘But isn’t that normal?’ Trask was immediately concerned.
‘Aren’t you always telling us that this talent of yours isn’t controllable, that you can’t just switch it on and off)’
Goodly nodded and said, ‘Right. But I should at least be aware of something. My original prediction, that Jake would be with us for some time to come, hasn’t changed. The future doesn’t chop and change like that; what has been foreseen is inevitable… or it should be. It’s how it will be, its circumstances, that can change. But now, with Jake, I can’t sense a damn thing! It’s as if there were nothing there.’
‘Like he’s shielded?’ Now Trask was even more concerned. 1 suppose so, yes,’ said the precog.
‘Huh!’ Trask grunted. ‘It’s the same for me. I thought I was imagining it. I still know the truth of him, the reality? But I’m no longer sure whose truth it is.’
‘Harry’s dart?’ Goodly wondered. ‘The Necroscope had powerful shields. Has he perhaps passed them on to Jake?’
‘Yes, Harry was shielded,’ Trask answered. ‘Him, and the traitor Wellesley, too. But Nathan also has shields, and likewise — and especially — the Wamphyri! So Harry isn’t the only one who could have passed this on, whatever it is. And I can’t help thinking: maybe it hasn’t been passed for the best possible reasons. I mean, why should he want to keep us out?’
And Liz put in: ‘Maybe it’s not deliberately or aggressively active, but just… active?’
‘Like something new, feeling its way?’ Trask said. ‘Well, it’s possible, I suppose.’
‘You could always check it out,’ the precog said. ‘David Chung can locate us — any one of us — just like snapping his fingers. He’d soon tell us if we have something of that nature travelling with us.’
‘Mindsmog?’ said Trask.
By which time Liz was thoroughly alarmed. ‘Or it could be just his taint!’ she now
broke in. ‘Harry’s taint, I mean. For he was, after all—’
‘—We know what he was,’ Trask quickly cut her short.
‘And we knew then what he was,’ Goodly said, taking Liz’s side. ‘And we accepted it. You especially, Ben. It was you who let him go, remember? When Harry’s house — his last vestige on Earth — when we burned it to ashes, you could have killed him then.’
‘I could have tried,’ said the other.
‘But you didn’t.’
‘We all have our talents,’ Trask argued. ‘Maybe mine told me it wasn’t possible.’
‘And maybe it told you to let him live,’ said Goodly. (As Trask’s closest friend, he was the only member of E-Branch who had ever been able to talk to him as openly as this.)
‘I was younger then,’ Trask answered gruffly, ‘and a sight more foolish. The Necroscope could have been lying when he said he was quitting Earth for Starside. Talent or no talent, I
didn’t have the right to take that chance. But I did. Foolish, as
I
> j > ve said.
‘Younger I remember,’ the precog nodded. ‘But foolish? If Harry hadn’t lived, what then? Who would have stopped Shaitan, and given his life for us in the vampire world? And what would have been our fate then? The chance that you took paid off
But now the jetcopter loomed, with Jake leaning out and down, offering a helping hand to Liz. And: ‘We’ll just have to let it go for now,’ Trask murmured, his voice almost inaudible even to his companions as the engine coughed into life and the rotor blades began slicing the air overhead. ‘But that doesn’t
mean we’ll stop watching. And sooner or later, we’ll see what
MI > we 11 see.
What he didn’t tell them, keeping it back for the moment, was that in fact he had already contacted David Chung by telephone from the airport. From now on they wouldn’t be the only ones who were ‘watching.’