'It is what we call a Gateway,' Beau said. 'It is a formal connection to other worlds that we have infested.'
'What do you mean, connection?' Cassy asked. 'Is this some communication device?'
'No,' Beau said. 'Transportation, not communication.'
Cassy swallowed. Her throat had gone dry. 'You mean other species from other planets that you, I mean, the virus has infected. They will be able to come here. To Earth!'
'And we there,' Beau said triumphantly. 'The Earth will henceforth be linked to these other worlds. Its isolation is over. It will truly become part of the galaxy.'
Cassy felt suddenly weak. The horror of the Earth being invaded by countless alien creatures was now added to the personal fear she had for herself. Combining this with the frantic swirl of nightmarish activity around her and her physical, emotional, and mental exhaustion, Cassy swooned. The room begin to spin and darken, and she fainted.
When she came to, Cassy had no idea how long she'd been unconscious. The first thing she was aware of was a slight nauseousness, but it quickly passed after a shiver.
The next thing she sensed was that her right hand was balled into a fist and held firmly.
Cassy's eyes blinked open. She was on the floor in the busy ballroom looking up at a portion of the futuristic, jury-rigged contraption that was allegedly capable of transporting alien creatures to Earth.
'You're going to be okay,' Beau said.
Cassy shuddered. It was the cliche that was always told to the patient no matter what the prospective prognosis. Cassy let her eyes fall toward Beau. He was kneeling next to her, clutching her fist closed. That was when Cassy realized there was something in her palm, something heavy and cold.
'No,' Cassy cried. She tried to pull her hand free, but Beau would not let it go.
'Please, Beau,' Cassy cried.
'Don't be afraid,' Beau said soothingly. 'You will be content.'
'Beau, if you love me don't do this,' Cassy said.
'Cassy, calm down,' Beau said. 'I do love you.'
'If you have any control over your actions, let go of my hand,' Cassy said. 'I want to be myself.'
'You will be,' Beau said assuringly. 'And much more. I do have control. I'm doing what I want. I want the power that has been given me, and I want you.'
'Ahhh!' Cassy cried.
Beau immediately let go of her hand. Cassy sat up and with an exclamation of disgust threw the black disc away from herself. It skidded on a small patch of floor before thumping into a bundle of wires.
Cassy grabbed her injured hand with the other and looked at the slowly enlarging drop of blood at the base of her index finger. She'd been stung, and the crushing realization of what that meant caused her to collapse back onto the floor. A single tear rolled out from beneath each eyelid and ran off on either side of her face. She was now one of them.
18
9:15 A.M.
The gas station looked like a movie set in the nineteen-thirties or the cover of an old Saturday Evening Post magazine. There were two old skinny gas pumps that resembled miniature skyscrapers with art deco round tops. In the middle of the tops an image of a red Pegasus still could be discerned despite the peeling paint.
The building behind the pumps was of the same vintage. It defied belief it was still standing. Over the last half century the sand blowing in off the desert had scoured the clapboards of any vestige of paint. The only thing that was reasonably intact was the old asphalt shingle roof. The screen door minus its screens blew back and forth in the hot breeze: a standing tribute to the longevity of its hardware.
Pitt pulled the van over to the side of the road opposite the dilapidated station so that they could look at it.
'What a Godforsaken place,' Sheila commented, wiping the sweat out of her eyes. The desert sun was just beginning to give evidence of its noonday power.
They were on an essentially abandoned two-lane road that at one time had been a major route across the Arizona desert. But the interstate twenty miles to the south had changed that. Now cars rarely ventured along this rutted tarmac, as evidenced by the encroaching wisps of sand.
'This is where he said he'd meet us,' Jonathan said. 'And it is exactly as he described it, screen door and all.'
'Well, where is he?' Pitt asked. He ran his eyes around the distant horizon. Except for a few lonely mesas in the distance, there was nothing but flat desert in every direction. The only movement visible was that of clumps of tumbleweed.
'Maybe we should just sit and wait,' Jonathan suggested. He was finding it difficult to keep his eyes open from lack of sleep.
'There's no cover out here whatsoever,' Pitt said. 'It gives me the willies.'
''Maybe we should look inside the broken-down station house,' Sheila said.
Pitt restarted the van, pulled across the road, and parked between the ancient gas pumps and the dilapidated building. They all eyed the structure with unease. There was something about it that was spooky, particularly with the screen door opening and closing repeatedly. Now that they were close enough they could hear the aged hinges squeaking. The small paned windows, which were surprisingly intact, were too filthy to see through.
'Let's take a look inside,' Sheila said.
Hesitantly they climbed out of the van and warily approached the porch. There were two old rocking chairs whose cane seats had long ago rotted out. Next to the door was the rusting hulk of an old-style, ice-cooled Coke dispenser. The sliding lid was open and the interior was filled with all manner of debris.
Pitt propped open the screen door and tried the interior door. It was unlocked. He pushed it open.
'You guys coming or what?' Pitt asked.
'After you,' Sheila said.
Pitt stepped inside followed by Jonathan and then Sheila. They stopped just over the threshold and glanced around. With the dirty windows the light was meager. There was a metal desk to the right with a calendar behind it. The year was 1938. The floor was littered with dirt, sand, broken bottles, old newspaper, empty oil cans, and old car parts. Cobwebs hung like Spanish moss from portions of the ceiling joists. To the left was a doorway. The paneled door was partially ajar.
'Looks like nobody's been in here for a long time,' Pitt said. 'You think this supposed meeting was some kind of setup?'
'I don't think so,' Jonathan said. 'Maybe he's waiting for us in the desert, watching us to make sure we're okay.'
'Where could he be watching us from?' Pitt asked. 'It's as flat as a pancake outside.' He walked over to the partially opened door and pushed it open all the way. Its hinges protested loudly. The second room was even darker than the first, with only one small window. The walls were lined with shelving, suggesting it had been a storeroom.
'Well, I'm not sure it makes a hell of a lot of difference if we find him or not,' Sheila said dejectedly. She nudged some of the trash on the floor with her foot. ''I was holding out hope that since he was giving us some interesting information, he had access to a lab or something. Needless to say we're not going to be able to do any work in a place like this. I think we'd better move on.'
'Let's wait a little while,' Jonathan said. 'I'm sure this guy is legit.'
'He told us he'd be here when we got here,' Sheila reminded Jonathan. 'He either lied to us or ... '
'Or what?' Pitt asked.
'Or they got to him,' Sheila said. 'By now he could be one of them.'
'That's a happy thought,' Pitt said.
'We have to deal with reality,' Sheila said.
'Wait a second,' Pitt said. 'Did you hear that?'
'What?' Sheila asked. 'The screen door?'
