The man was focusing an enormous camera balanced on an inadequate-looking tripod, otherwise Rob wouldn’t have known what he was talking about.
“Sorry,” he said. “Let me move out of your range.” He looked around and saw Edwin sitting nearby, against a gnarled gray tree trunk. “How do you like it, Ed?” he asked.
“This is the Tidal Basin, in Washington, B.C.,” Edwin said, enthralled.
“See the Jefferson Memorial? And the Lincoln’s over that way. What happened? Did you teleport us? I thought you said it was like New York City.”
Rob shook his head. “It’s different every time, did I mention that? This isn’t the real Washington, Ed. This is me, my playground, and today it happens to reflect downtown. Your body is untenanted, left to sit on a park bench in Takoma Park. I just hope passersby will assume we’re stoned or drunk.”
“But this is so real! Are you sure?”
“Think back, Ed. Did you watch the local evening news last night? When did they say the cherry blossoms peaked?”
“Ten days ago,” Edwin said, stunned. “During the cherry blossom festival.
Wow! And who are they?” He pointed at the plump tourist, who had posed with his family around the lantern and was now using a remote to take the picture.
Rob shrugged. “I don’t know. A lot of things here I don’t understand. Shall we go on?”
Edwin stared out at the sunny sparkling Tidal Basin. Someone in a paddle boat was halfway across to the Jefferson Memorial, glowing snowy white against the blue sky. “What a beautiful day! Even if it isn’t real. This is so great! Where are we going?”
Rob smiled at this enthusiasm. “If we go that way we’ll come to the Potomac, and the Lincoln Memorial. Head east, and we’ll be at the museums on the Mall.”
“The museums! Let’s go to Air and Space, and look at the Mars colony model!”
“There may not be one there,” Rob warned him. “Keep it in mind every minute, Ed. This is a construct, a metaphor. You’re pretty safe with me—this place is the core of my power, and I can literally do anything here. But we have to stay together. If you get lost in here, I don’t know what would happen to you.”
“Are you kidding? I’m going to stick like glue—you have to answer my questions!” Edwin took the small notebook and a ball-point pen out of the back pocket of his shorts. “Did you make this place, Rob? Did you know beforehand it would be D.C.? What exactly are we looking for?”
“I suppose, no, and I don’t know,” Rob said laughing. “I’ll know when we find it.”
It was impossible to be wary on such a glorious day. The cherry trees were so excessively gorgeous, and there were so many of them, that it was difficult to believe they were real. The beauty was superfluous, a generous gift pressed down and running over, unasked, undeserved. Cars full of gawking tourists armed with videocams and pocket cameras thronged every road around the Tidal Basin. The traffic chugged slowly past Rob and Edwin as they strolled down the sidewalk. Everything was glorious yet mundane, sunny and safe. It occurred to Rob that in defeating Gilgamesh he had routed the monster in the sub-basement too. Perhaps this was all there was now, a bright and sane interior universe.
Edwin’s glance was full of what Rob was startled to recognize as respect. “And you say I’m too nice? If this is you, your true self, Rob, you keep some impressive inner beauties hidden under a bushel.”
Rob shook his head. “I’ve changed a lot, Ed. Do you remember when we met, in Central Park? I bet it wasn’t so pleasant in here then.” “I recall. You looked like a crazy person—if you hadn’t helped Katie I would never have spoken to you. You’ve recovered amazingly since then, bud. It’s a miracle.”
Rob stared at him. “But Ed—you’re the one who did it. How can you not have noticed? If it’s a miracle, you worked it. You made the darkness bright, and built the bridge. If I hadn’t met you first, before meeting Gil, he would have had me by the short hairs, you know that? I’d still be in Aqebin, being groomed to be the next Hitler.”
Edwin laughed with genuine astonishment. “Holy Mike, it’s true. Superhero sidekick saves the world from disaster, film at eleven. No, don’t you dare thank me, I can’t stand it. Tell me instead, why Washington? Why not Paris, or Singapore? I’ve never been to Singapore.”
Rob stared up at the limpid sky. “I never know what it’s doing in here, or why. Maybe it’s Washington because I’ve never been to Singapore either. Maybe the weather is good only because I’m happy.”
Edwin stopped for a moment, and then excitedly began to walk again. “That is a really significant statement, Rob, do you realize? You hardly ever confess, even to me, how you’re feeling.”
“That’s true.” Rob knew that out in reality even that simple admission would have made him stammer with embarrassment. “I wonder why that is.” “I can guess,” Edwin said, thinking hard. “It’s because here we’re really inside you. Somewhere out there—” He waved an arm at the cloudless blue sky—“either about four inches away, or a hundred billion light years, depending on how you think about it, is your face, Rob. Your mask. Your reserved tough-guy interface with the rest of the world.”
Rob laughed. In a strange way it all made perfect sense. He had given up expecting this place to be logical in any mundane way. “How does a guy who holds by all the articles of Christianity know so much psychobabble?”
“Nonsense, Rob, I’m the epitome of consistency. Taking apart the toy to see how it works just increases your respect for the toymaker.”
The path dwindled drastically as the road crossed over an inlet of the Tidal Basin. Rob led the way along the foot-wide sidewalk, separated by an ordinary steel highway barrier from the clogged tourist traffic idling along beside his right hip. Under his left hand the ugly W.P.A.-era bridge rail was made of concrete uprights and clunky rectangular ironwork painted green. Edwin followed at his heels, still simmering with questions. “And suppose we walked over to the White House? Would there be a President there? Who would he be? George Bush, or that other guy who ran against him, I forget his name, Clinton?”
Suddenly the water beside Rob burbled and boiled. A deep and gluey voice roared, “Who’s that tripping over my bridge?”
Rob halted, completely unalarmed. He recognized that voice. It was his own, the ominous troll-voice he had perfected for Angela and Davey. In his opinion this overpass barely merited the honor. “Ed,” he said. “Does this even rate as a real bridge?”
“There’s water on both sides,” Edwin pointed out, gulping. “Rob, who was that?”
Rob smiled. “It’s the troll, Ed—did you ever read the fairy tale? He lives under the bridge.”
Big oily bubbles rose to the surface, bringing up a smell of swamp and decay. “Who’s that tripping over my bridge?” the troll yelled again in earthquake tones.
“This is uncanny,” Edwin said.
“That’s what this place is like,” Rob agreed. “Scary, but fun too.” Serene, he leaned over the iron rail. In the shadow of the low bridge the water was gloomy gray. There was no gap between the bottom of the overpass and the sullen surface of the water. “I’m Rob Lewis,” he called down.
“Then I’ll eat you up!”
“You don’t want to eat me,” Rob said. He had nearly said “meeee,” in billy-goat bleats! “There’s another guy coming just behind me, with a lot more meat on him.”
He grinned back at Edwin, who waved his hands in negative denying motions and pulled a comic horrified face. “Leave me out of it, why don’t you?”
Edwin whispered. “Why doesn’t the troll yell at all these cars?”
“He doesn’t know there are people inside? He doesn’t want to become a traffic fatality? Don’t sweat it, Ed—just refer the troll to someone even bigger and tastier following us. That’s how it worked in the story.”
The water blurped and bubbled disgustingly again. “No,” the troll bellowed.
“I want—you!”
Something shot with a tremendous spurt
of icy water straight up at Rob, a greenish slimy paw at the end of an impossibly long boneless arm. With horrible sticky strength, it clutched Rob’s chest and throat. He gasped, thrashing in terror as the thing dragged him down. He tore at the cold strangling grip with desperate hands.
“Holy Mike! This is impossible!” Edwin stared around wildly, searching perhaps for a policeman.
“Ed—help me!” Rob choked. “It’s pulling me over—”
Just in time Edwin locked his powerful hairy arms around Rob’s waist.
“Don’t worry, bud,” Edwin panted. “I’ve got my legs hooked around a concrete baluster. We’re rooted like Gibraltar. Holy Jesus, why isn’t anybody getting out of their car?”
But the vehicles crept by without pause. It was as if underwater monsters plucked pedestrians off this bridge every day. Fire swam in his eyes as Rob forced first two fingers, and then three, between his throat and the stinking green death-clutch. He was stronger than this monster. He had defeated Gilgamesh and stripped him of everything. This troll wasn’t going to get him. He dragged the paw relentlessly off his neck.
As if it sensed defeat, the watcher in the water abruptly switched tactics.
The oozy grip turned itself inside out with rubbery ease and fastened with numbing strength on Rob’s wrist. “No!” he gasped. But the swift outward jerk on his arm nearly dislocated his shoulder, and plucked him neatly right out of Edwin’s grasp.
“Rob!” Edwin yelled, lunging.
With a splash, Rob was reeled under. The water bit icicle cold through his khakis and sports shirt. Here at the edge, the Tidal Basin couldn’t possibly be more than a couple of feet deep. Yet the implacable arm sucked him down and down with fearful speed into the gelid sunless water. He could see nothing, and a roaring noise filled his ears. I’m going to drown, he
thought in terror. I didn’t breathe properly before I went under. I’ll black out and then drown. He struggled feebly, hopelessly, and felt something dragging on his right foot. Something warm, clinging to the ankle—Edwin!
The knowledge calmed Rob’s panic a little. This is my place, my country, he told himself. I can’t drown here. Nothing can hurt me. Still he didn’t quite dare to open his mouth and inhale the water just yet. He could hold out another few seconds—
With a rush and a buffet Rob’s head broke the surface. He had arrived. The grip on his wrist was gone, and the darkness was absolute. Gasping, he groped forward and touched a slick rough surface. It was a narrow place, a ledge perhaps. Wheezing for breath, he levered himself onto it. He was deep under the foundations of the bridge, in a tiny underwater nook that had trapped a bubble of air.
Edwin fumbled at his leg, and Rob reached in the dark to help him up. The sound of their rasping breath echoed close around their ears. The place must be very small.
When he recovered a little, Rob wiped away the water streaming from his beard and hair. “Told you so,” he panted. “Dangerous.”
“Right. Rub it in.” Water splashed and dripped in the dark as Edwin shifted to sit on the narrow slope beside Rob. “What do we do now?” “I don’t know.” In this country he could speak the truth without selfconsciousness. Rob leaned back against what felt like a stone wall. He knew what was coming, very soon. “Ed, I—I’m terrified.”
“Very sensible,” Edwin panted. “I’m scared spitless myself. Lost my notebook, too. But if I still have my Swiss Army knife …”
It was so dark Rob could distinguish no difference if he opened his eyes or shut them. He glared out into the void anyway, stubbornly hoping to glimpse his enemy. How could he have ever dreamed the monster had fled? Fear jerked and plucked at his nerves, grinding in his stomach like gravel. “We’re not really trapped here, Ed,” he said, steadying his voice with an effort.
“Takoma Park, the bench by the pond— we can get back in a second. Then he can’t get us. I’m in control. I can push the ‘abort’ button any time.”
“Let’s think about that,” Edwin said. “Is this troll here the monster you were talking about?”
Rob nodded, but then remembered Edwin couldn’t see him. “Yeah,” he said huskily. “Up there on the bridge. He knew my name.”
“Then he’s the gent we’ve come to see. There’s no point in running away from him—you did that before, am I right? Let’s try to see it through this time.”
Rob hitched himself up onto the slippery ledge again. It was true that nothing horrible was happening right this moment. At any time he could pull out. Nothing could hurt him here. He swallowed the lump of irrational fear in his throat and said, “You want to just sit here in the dark for a while, before we go?”
Close beside him, Edwin gave a grunt of satisfaction. “It’s a shame I’ll never be able to tell anyone how clever I am.” And a tiny spark of light came to life in Edwin’s hand, pushing back the dark.
Rob goggled at it. “Ed—how?”
“Halogen button light,” Edwin said, grinning with justifiable pride. “I buy them at the camping store, mainly for the Mazda—so I can unlock the door at night without scratching the finish. I keep it on the ring with my knife.
It’s only powered by a couple watch batteries, though. So it won’t last us long. Here—since the troll is after you, you take this.”
He passed over the Swiss Army knife. It was the little one, not the massive four-inch Gerber multi-purpose tool Edwin kept for camping trips. Rob snapped open the biggest blade. He had seen Edwin use this to slit open cookie packets and cut the tape on parcels. It was less than two inches long, totally comic as a defense. Rob gave a laugh so weak it sounded like he was choking. “Ed, this thing wouldn’t stop a mouse.” “It’s wonderful what a little light will do,” Edwin said, replying to the tone rather than the words. “Let’s boogie, huh? Come out, troll,” he called softly, lifting the light. “Come where we can see you.”
The tiny glow just barely illuminated a rough concrete ceiling. It was very low, too low to stand under, and came down to the black water all around. Their slimy ledge, the only footing, was about three yards long. Rob held his breath and listened. The only sound was the drip from their sodden clothes.
After a long moment Edwin said, “You want to give it a try?”
“No,” Rob admitted. “But I will.” He raised his voice. “Where are you? Come out!”
The space was too small for a creature of any size to hide Rob stared at the ominous black surface of the water wondering if trolls were amphibious. Edwin shifted to a crouch his tennis shoes squelching. As the light moved with his motion Rob caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of his eye. In the dark, beside him in the shadow—“No!” he yelled, throwing himself back.
Edwin grabbed Rob by the shoulder before he plummeted into the water again. “It’s okay, Rob!” he said. “I—I know you.”
Edwin was staring past him at the troll. Rob looked too, and gulped. It was not really a movie monster with slimy tentacles. Or the green spiny troll from the twins’ favorite book, or even a Mesopotamian monarch. The third person in this tiny space looked like a drowned man. His face was greeny-white, and weeds clogged his long pale hair and beard. Water streamed from his colorless rags, and he glared at them out of deep-set icy gray-blue eyes—the eyes of a wolf.
“I know you,” Edwin repeated, kneeling up. He ducked his head under the low ceiling, watching the drowned man intently across Rob’s sprawled body. “You did a Heimlich on Katie. You stood up to the casino doormen. You fought to save my life. You are not a bad person. You are Rob Lewis too.”
The truth of this struck Rob with the force of revelation. Of course! This wasn’t a monstrous aspect. It was an emergency weapon. It had always been here, down in his unconscious. Newly armed this past year with the weirdness, this inner tiger was as dangerous as a nuclear missile. But like a nuke, this terrifying lurker had on occasion been a genuine asset.
Galvanized, Rob began to sit up.
Suddenly the drowned man spoke, with difficulty, a thick oleaginous voi
ce. “Who asked you, smart guy?”
“Rob asked me,” Edwin said, disconcerted.
The words were like matches to gunpowder. With a wordless bellow the
drowned man dove across Rob and seized Edwin’s throat in both hands. The impact carried Edwin backwards halfway off the ledge. In the scuffle, the little knife squirted out of Rob’s hand into the water and was lost. The button light also went flying, bouncing off the wall behind Rob’s head. Gibbering with rage, the drowned man straddled Edwin’s chest and held his head under.
Fifty-five minutes, Rob recalled, fighting down panic. Ed’s okay. He held his breath the other day for fifty-five minutes. Rob knew he had to use smarts, as he had against Gilgamesh, not force. Now was the time to start exerting that control he claimed. He scrabbled to find the light—thank goodness it hadn’t bounced off into the water, too—and held it up to the manic dead-white face.
“You don’t have to do this,” Rob stammered. “Edwin’s a friend, remember?”
Edwin’s legs thrashed. His strong hands clawed at the drowned man’s tattered sleeves, and with a final writhe he kicked free. He slid with a splash into the dark water. Sleek as a seal, his head immediately broke the surface, and he sucked in a huge furious breath. He trod water and croaked, “Try me fair, you trog!”
“Ed, cut it out.” Rob kept his attention fixed on the cunning crazy face not six inches from his own, gleaming with wet in the tiny light between them. What could he say to calm the creature? Some glib and plausible
fiction, anything! “You are me,” Rob said insistently. “And I am you. I can exploit people for my own gratification. Lie without blushing. Threaten my friends, steal and cheat and kill. I am you.”
Then Rob’s heart almost stopped in his chest. Here in the depths he could not lie. What he had said was indeed true. His very intention, paradoxically, showed it—to placate the monster with tarradiddle. In desperate situations, under sufficient stress, there was no crime beyond him, no trough he could nor plumb. “You are me,” he repeated, in a trembling whisper. “Brother. Self.”
How Like A God Page 26