Used to entering through the main entrance, they were forced to pause for a minute to reorient themselves. Courteous hospital employees corrected their mistakes and offered helpful suggestions. Soon the expectant travelers were in a section of the facility Cody thought he recognized, hurrying through the pediatrics wing past anxious mothers and wide-eyed children. Had he paused a moment to consider where he was, warning signs would have been raised. But so close to the woman he had not seen in weeks, his thoughts were preoccupied.

  He did not take time to reflect that any place packed with sobbing, ailing, unhappy children would constitute a natural feeding ground for gluttonous Interlopers.

  A holdover from simpler times, Lincoln Logs were pre-cut sections of tree trunk and tree limb designed to fit together to form cabins, Western-style forts, and various other child-friendly structures. In addition to the standard line there were also mini-sets and oversized editions. It was one of the latter that two prepubescent boys and a girl were presently attempting to assemble into a small house. Scattered about the play area were a host of as yet unused logs, none longer than three feet, with shorter connecting pieces.

  Reaching for a long log with which to complete a wall, one of the boys kicked it before he could reach it. Or perhaps his leg was impelled by a force he did not understand. The log rolled toward a covey of mothers seated behind a low table piled high with a tattered assortment of housekeeping, health, and beauty magazines. Striding single-mindedly between knees and kids, Cody barely noticed the toy log rolling toward him.

  Oelefse slammed into him from behind, throwing him off-balance and knocking him forward. The startled archaeologist had to scramble to maintain his footing.

  “What the hell was—?” As he caught sight of the log, he broke off, staring. Disapproving of his mild profanity, a couple of the mothers had glanced up from their magazines. When they saw him looking in their direction they promptly returned to their reading.

  The oversized, umber-stained, notched wooden dowel had rolled to a stop against the foot of a young woman in her twenties. From within the log a sinuous, two-foot-long shape was oozing out of the wood and into her leg. It had stubby membranous wings and multiple eyes and a ration of gnarled transparent teeth that looked like a plateful of overcooked hash browns. Oblivious to the infection in progress, the woman shuddered slightly, as if from a sudden chill, and went back to her reading.

  Approaching the log, the little girl who had been helping to build the house smiled and murmured something to her mother. This brought forth a retort so excessively sharp that the child immediately started crying. The other mothers looked up but said nothing. It was not their child who was being rebuked. Truth be told, it was not the mother who was doing the berating. No longer wholly her own self, she had absorbed the infestation that had been meant for Cody.

  A small, strong hand was tugging at him, and a voice was whispering urgently. “Come, my friend. There is nothing we can do for her, and we have business elsewhere.”

  Still staring at the woman, who now slammed her magazine down hard on an end table, Cody allowed himself to be drawn toward the next corridor. Behind him, the children continued to fumble innocently with the toy logs, including the quietly sobbing, unfortunate little girl whose mother had now become unwitting host to one of Those Who Abide.

  “You must never let down your guard like that. Didn’t I warn you?” Oelefse’s words were reproving as they strode past a tall service cart laden with trays of styrene-covered, rapidly cooling food.

  “I—I wasn’t thinking.” Cody was simultaneously relieved and embarrassed by his narrow escape. After all he had been through, both here and overseas, he had nearly been trapped by a child’s toy. “I thought it was probably plastic and so I didn’t take a good look at it.” His tone was defensive. “Isn’t every other kid’s toy these days made of plastic?”

  “I suppose you cannot be blamed for that. Most everything in your country is. In Europe we still believe that children should grow up with some toys fashioned from natural materials. As you nearly found out, while aesthetically pleasing, that can be dangerous. A number of the Society’s members work in the toy industry solely to vet such materials before they can pass into the hands of our children.”

  “It won’t happen again.” Cody wondered which of them he was trying to convince.

  “Not until after we have treated your wife, anyway.” They were in the last hall, approaching the room where Kelli Westcott lay in stasis. Nothing could stop them now. The intern and nurse they warily passed were clean, and carried nothing that could be considered a threat.

  A young woman, little more than a teenager, was standing outside the door of the private room next to Kelli’s. In her arms she held a softly squalling infant less than a year old. A glance in her direction assured the perceptive Cody that she was uncontaminated. So close to his wife now, he had to resist the urge to break into a run. But running would only have drawn attention, and they were nearly there anyway.

  As he passed the teenage mother, he absently noted her drawn expression, the lost look in her eyes. That was not unexpected in a mother of sixteen or seventeen. What he did not, could not, anticipate were the actions of the baby. Reaching down in a most non-infantile manner, it brought something up from within its powder blue blanket and threw it in the archaeologist’s direction with more force than such tiny, undeveloped arms ought to possess. Instinctively, he flinched.

  It was a rock the size of a silver dollar, smooth and shiny as if it had just been plucked from the bed of a sparkling mountain stream. From its reddish depths a pair of insectlike ovipositors extended outward. At the tip of each was an eye, and a small, piercing mouth.

  He did not even have time to shout before it struck him on the neck.

  Fifteen

  Anyone else would have felt nothing but the momentary chill. Cody was cursed with the ability to see as well as feel what was happening to him. Boring into his neck, the Interloper’s mouths and eyes entered his self, the rest of the attenuated, loathsome form following rapidly. It flowed out of the stone even before that tumbling vector began to succumb to the pull of gravity. By the time the rounded rock struck the floor, nearly all of the Interloper had passed into the alarmed archaeologist. The distraught young mother barely glanced in the direction of the staggering professor. A stunned Cody now understood the reason for her distress: She was not and probably had never been infected—but her infant was.

  Before he could react, something cold and hard smacked him in the mouth. Eyes flicking downward, he saw Oelefse straining to jab something into his face. He barely had time to recognize it before an incredible pain shot through his entire system. It was as if he’d suddenly bitten down on a live wire and could not open his jaws.

  He nearly fainted from the pain. The older man was there to catch him as his legs went numb. Once again he felt the surprising strength in that elderly body. Then his own system responded, recovering from the initial shock, a burst of adrenaline helping him to regain control of his legs. Trembling slightly, he found himself leaning up against the wall. The far wall, away from the hollow-eyed mother and her malevolently precocious, subtly manipulated child. It glared at him out of beguiled baby eyes, unable to assault him further.

  Looking down, Cody saw the river rock lying innocently on the floor. Bending, the young mother picked it up and handed it back to her child. The infant took the rock in its tiny hands, turning the cool smoothness over and over, cooing and gurgling.

  What, Cody wondered fearfully, of the Interloper that had sprung from the rock into his neck at the instant of contact? Reaching up, he felt the skin there. Naturally, there was no sign of entry, nor would he find one in a mirror. No puncture mark, no miniscule wound, no millimeter-long telltale gash. Was he contaminated? Was it even now sequestering itself deep within him, making itself comfortable, adjusting to its new surroundings preparatory to taking control of his thoughts and actions?

  “You are clean.” Gazing up at his young friend, Oelefse took a deep breath. “Though it was a near thing.”

  Dwindling waves of pain dribbled from the archaeologist’s lips like a rapidly receding tide on a beach. His jaw throbbed where the old man had struck him. “What did you do to me?”

  “I had to strike before it could establish itself.” Reaching into his pocket, Oelefse removed a small, familiar object. “I barely had time enough to rap this against the wall and smack you in the teeth with it. My apologies for hurting you, but the only way to counter the influx of an Interloper is with a greater shock to the system.”

  Cody considered the small tuning fork and tried not to remember exactly how it had felt when the rapidly vibrating steel had made contact with the nerves in his teeth. “Then it’s dead? Just like the ones we killed in Salzburg?” Oelefse nodded. “Christ, I thought my head was going to come off!”

  “At least it is still your head.” Turning, Oelefse headed for the last door on the left-hand side of the corridor. “Come. We have tea to brew.”

  The last obstacle to his reunion removed, Cody hurried forward, passing Oelefse and shoving the door to the room inward. Instantly, something large and aggressive was in his face, shoving him backward and through the doorway.

  “Who do you think you are . . . sir?” The man gripping the front of the archaeologist’s shirt was not particularly tall, but very wide.

  “Take it easy!” Cody struggled to free himself. His adversary released him, but continued to block the doorway with his bulk.

  “No one gets in here who ain’t first been cleared by my office.”

  “Glad to hear it.” More relieved than ruffled, Cody strained to see past the guard. “Call them, then. I’m Coschocton Westcott, the husband of the woman your company was hired to keep watch over.” Less challengingly, he added, “She is still in this room, isn’t she?”

  The other man’s expression remained guarded. “Yeah, she’s here. Just stay there a moment.” Pulling a cell phone from a pocket, he called in, making Cody and Oelefse stand outside in the hall while he waited for a reply. Anguished and apprehensive, the archaeologist had no choice but to wait. There was nothing to be gained by causing a scene that might bring security personnel running.

  The guard looked up from the phone. “Let’s see some ID.”

  Fumbling for his wallet, Cody produced driver’s license, university identification, and credit cards. After a short exchange over the phone, the guard finally stood aside.

  “Sorry, Mr. Westcott. Just doing my job.”

  “Real well, too,” Cody blurted as he pushed past him and into the room. Following, Oelefse smiled sympathetically at the man.

  “Mr. Westcott thanks you for your professionalism on behalf of his wife. You must be tired. While we are visiting, why not take a small break?” He checked his watch. “If I am not mistaken, the hospital cafeteria should be serving lunch now.”

  “I brought my lunch. We always bring our own. Something hot for a change would be nice, though.” He hesitated. “I really oughta wait for my relief.”

  Oelefse patted him on the arm, urging him through the doorway even as he was pulling it shut. “We will be here for a while. Everything will be all right. Mr. Westcott has been away and is not about to leave his wife’s side for some time.”

  “Well—okay. If you’re sure. Who are you, anyway?”

  “I am his uncle. I am your uncle, too.”

  “Yeah, right. Funny.” The guard gazed longingly down the hall. “I’ll be back in an hour. No more.”

  “Life is short, my friend. Take two.” From the gap that remained between closing door and waiting wall, Oelefse smiled encouragingly. “We will be here when you return.”

  Having seen the guard off, the old man shut the door and stepped into the room. Cody was seated on the edge of the bed, holding his wife’s left hand. It was a tender tableau whose parameters were unchanged from the last time they had visited. The archaeologist was silent, but tears were running down his face.

  Seeing his mentor approach, Cody struggled to control his emotions. “Look at her, Oelefse. She’s worse. Don’t you think she looks worse?”

  Bending over the bed, the older man considered the inert, softly breathing form. The plastic spaghetti of feeding tubes and monitoring cables still ran from her face and body into an array of medical machinery on either side of the bed. The beautiful face was paler than he remembered it, the pulse in her wrist lagging.

  As he stared, something that was all glaring eyes and gnashing teeth rose up from her chest to snap at him. At the same time, half-a-dozen eel-like shapes bit at Cody, coiling around his arms and gnawing futilely at his face. Both men ignored the ferocious manifestations of Those Who Abide. They could not be harmed by them, just as puzzled doctors could not detect the monstrosities or their insidious influence on the inexplicably nonresponsive patient in room 322. Cody almost wished some kind of minimal contact with the infesting Interlopers could be gained, if only so he could wrap his fingers around the throat of at least one of Those Who Abide, could feel it writhe and die beneath him instead of under the striking but physically removed vibration of one of Oelefse’s lethal tuning forks.

  Impotent to influence the two unpolluted visitors, the grotesque, hideous shapes withdrew back into the human they were slowly destroying. Wanting to plunge his hands deep into his beloved, to drag them out with his bare hands, Cody could only sit by her side and hold her hand while Oelefse attended to necessary preparations.

  These were simple and few in number. From his briefcase this time he withdrew a different kind of rattle, narrow and more tubular, decorated with different symbols and feathers the like of which Cody had never seen. He wondered at the kind of bird from which they had been plucked—or if they even belonged to any creature he would recognize as a bird. In contrast to their previous visit, Oelefse kept his suit on and put no paint on his face. Setting the rattle aside, he removed from the case a tiny, compact coffee brewer of German manufacture. Noting the direction of his young friend’s gaze, the old man smiled.

  “This is designed to make a decent cappuccino even in the wilds of Mongolia. It will, should circumstances demand, also brew tea.” He nodded in the direction of the door. “I understand your feelings, having not seen her in so many days and after so much drama, but it will benefit her more if you keep watch at the door rather than hold a hand she cannot feel.”

  Reluctant, but deferring to the older man’s wisdom, Cody gently let his wife’s limp hand fall back to the bed as he rose and took up a stance next to the entrance. Recalling a previous similar situation, he thoughtfully jammed a chair under the handle as tightly as he could.

  The miniature brewer hissed softly as Oelefse added water from the tap in the bathroom. Chanting softly, he began to crumble between his palms the blue leaves of the ilecc he and Cody had fought so hard to acquire. As each fragment of leaf fell into the rapidly heating water, it emitted a single, brief, cobalt-blue spark.

  Within minutes the water was boiling. Closing the plastic lid, Oelefse raised both arms and began to make studied passes over the coffeemaker, his chanting growing louder. Despite the presence of the splatter-preventing translucent brown lid, blue sparks continued to fly from the fermenting brew, shooting through the protective plastic as if it did not exist.

  Picking up the rattle, Oelefse shook it several times over the coffeemaker. There was no ultimate burst of flames; no geyser of embers or flurry of electrical discharges. Ceasing his chant, he put the rattle back in the briefcase and switched off the brewer. Passing the open container beneath his nose, he inhaled but did not taste of the final concoction. Cody thought it had grown a little brighter in the shuttered room, but could not be sure.

  “Ice. We need ice. And we don’t want to call for it.” Without waiting for his young friend to respond, Oelefse reentered the bathroom. Leaning to one side, Cody could see him place the hot container in the sink and run cold water around it. More minutes passed, during which the archaeologist tried to divide his time between his motionless wife, the door, and Oelefse’s inscrutable actions.

  When at last the old man thought the brew had cooled enough, he returned. Objection sprang unbidden to Cody’s lips, but he said nothing as Oelefse carefully removed one of the plastic bags supplying glucose solution to Kelli’s unmoving form and poured the tea into the bag. Nearly empty, it promptly turned dark blue with the tea as Oelefse hung it back on its hook. The cobalt-colored liquid swiftly began to flow through the tube and into the ashen arm of the comatose woman in the bed. Adjusting the controller on the tube, the oldster increased the flow to maximum.

  If a nurse or doctor should walk in now, Cody knew . . .

  None did. Moving to the foot of the bed, Oelefse armed himself with rattles both old and new—and waited.

  Unable to restrain himself any longer, Cody finally asked, “Is this how it’s usually done?”

  “This is not ‘usually done,’ my young friend. In fact, I have never seen it done myself. The use of the leaves of the ilecc is described in the records of the Society. Given the gravity of your wife’s condition, I believed from the first time I saw her that this was the only chance she had.” His lips tightened slightly. “The accounts say that the tea is to be sipped.” He indicated the intravenous tubing that was conveying the precious blue liquid. “Though no mouth, no throat is involved, I estimate the rate of ingestion to be sufficient.”

  Cody stared at the steady flow of cerulean fluid that was sliding from the bag into the arm of the woman who meant more to him that life itself. Had they really been friendly antagonists once, in the high green mountains of another continent? It seemed so long ago. Back when the world had been a safer, saner place. Both of them had been happier in the bliss that ignorance brought. They would never, could never, be ignorant again, he knew. That happy, childish state was denied to them even as it was granted to most of the rest of humankind. Such was the inescapable burden of knowledge.