Other patients came out like pilgrims to a shrine, wandering as people do in fog, blinded by the light, calling out, their voices echoing dully. Some of them raised their arms as if asking for deliverance.
In the next moment Linda, the light, the great object that had produced it—all were gone, a majesty ascended into the turmoil of the sky.
An instant later, there was a devastated, earsplitting shriek and Tom Dryden collapsed in a heap in the grass.
More groans filled the silence, sounds of deep human misery and despair.
“Don’t,” Caroline called out to them. “It all balances out.”
Tom got up and came shuffling closer. “We were going together,” he muttered. “Together!” He jumped a couple of times, snatching at the air.
The others were milling now, peering into the violet sky, still calling to the emptiness.
“Please,” David said, “we need to get inside, this is not safe.”
As they went back in, he said to Glen, “If this recurs, let any patient out who wants to go. I don’t want them beating themselves to death against the walls.”
Glen nodded.
Most of the patients were clustering in small groups in the activity area, talking among themselves. Tom Dryden cradled his chest and swayed back and forth, his eyes closed.
David said to Claire Michaels, “Can you attend to him, please?”
“Of course, Doctor,” the resident replied. “Tom, do you want some Xanax? You can have a dose, Tom, if you need it.”
“The sins of the world belong to us,” he said, “the sins of the world.”
“Why do they belong to us?” Claire asked him as she gently led him away. If the world ever returned to what it had been—if that was possible—she was going to develop into an excellent clinician.
David approached Katie, who was wiping blood off Sam Taylor’s forehead.
“I’m sorry, Sam,” David said.
“I’m the one who should be sorry, Doc. I lost my patient.”
He was referring to Mack, of course. Frankly, David was glad.
“That guy was no loss. Katie, how’s Bev Cross?”
“All right,” she said, as he moved deeper into the recreation area, then the art room.
Caroline was sitting under the light of a lamp she had pulled close to her easel, once again painting with quiet concentration.
Going toward her, he caught sight of Katie following him with her eyes.
“I’m fine,” he said to Katie.
“I know you’re fine.”
He heard anger and stopped. He went to her.
“I am. I’m fine.”
“We’ve now lost two patients, first Mack leaves and then this. That’s the sort of operation you run, Doctor.” She turned away from him, started toward the hallway.
He caught up with her.
“Katie, you need to pull yourself together.”
She froze, her head bowed.
“Me? I don’t think so. You’re screwing a patient. Another patient is AWOL and probably in danger if he’s not already dead. And now this third—I can’t even begin to imagine what’s happened to her. But I do know one thing. You’re not competent.”
“I can’t quit. Where would I go?”
“David, I think last night was wonderful and I think we can be important to each other, and maybe this is the only chance for either of us to taste real love. But not if you screw the patients.”
He looked over at Caroline, who was painting steadily. Katie saw this, and drew away from him.
“Go play with your toy, then.” She stalked out.
“Katie!”
“I’ll be in the infirmary with the injuries.”
When she was gone, Caroline said, “ ‘Also when they shall be afraid of that which is high, and fears shall be in the way, and a man goeth to his long home—’ Do you know it?”
“Of course I know it. It’s from Ecclesiastes.”
“Did you know that the Bible is a scientific document?”
“I don’t see that at all.”
“You’re soul blind, therefore blind to soul science. You’re afraid of yourself, David. The long home of Ecclesiastes is the shadow of the soul reaching back across time, looking at its life and its previous lives. You need to open to yourself, David.”
“I am, I’m remembering an enormous amount. I can even use Herbert Acton’s lamp.”
She put down her brush, leaned closer and whispered to him, “We need to try a very serious dose of the gold. Take an injection.”
“It’s a heavy metal. You can’t inject that.”
“What we make isn’t a metal anymore at all, or even really connected to the physical world like other elements.”
“Gold is gold.”
“No, this starts with some of the ancient substance, so it becomes a hyperelement. In its pure form, it’s so light that it levitates.”
“It’s hardly ancient. You just made it.”
“We made it correctly, starting with a little of the ancient material, to light the path for the new gold.”
Her hands came like a fluid, and framed his face, and the love in her eyes was so intense and so naked that he felt embarrassed for her and looked away.
“David, you have to face our love. You need its energy.”
Furious, he pulled away from her.
“Goddamn it,
Lowering her eyes, she quietly returned to her easel.
He looked around the room at the milling patients. He had to control this situation first, but he had to get out of here, he could not bear another moment with this woman. He felt nothing and she felt a lot and it was just extremely disturbing.
“Patients are to go to their quarters now and remain in their rooms until the breakfast bell at seven,” he announced.
“Excuse me, Doctor, you’re needed.” Ray Weller had come up to him.
He stood there in a dirty apron, Glen and Doctor Hunt with him.
“We need an emergency meeting,” Ray said. Then, more softly, “We’re in trouble. Big trouble.”
That was obvious, but why say it in the hearing of patients, even in a whisper?
“In my office in five minutes,” he said. Then he went to Claire, who was talking softly with a group of patients. “Time to shut it down for the night,” he told her. “We’re going to have an administrative staff meeting. We’ll all be in my office.”
Claire raised her voice. “Okay, boys and girls, beddie bye.”
There were none of the usual groans and protests, David noted. People simply got up and began moving toward the door into the patient wing.
“This is a danger sign,” he said to Claire. “They’re in shock.”
“Yeah,” she replied.
“I want two people on the monitors tonight.”
“Doctor,” Glen said, “the system’s down, and it’s not coming back until we can get a new motherboard.”
Without its computer system, this place was in its death throes, especially when it came to security.
He waited until the last patient had gone, leaving just Caroline. The only sound in the room now was the faint rustle of movement when she dipped a brush.
“You need to go,” he said.
