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.
