Dream Park

'Cats on the rooftops, cats on the tiles-'

The air had cleared. The plane dipped into a cloud deck and out the bottom. Ollie sang, 'The hippo's rump is big and round-'

'Islands,' the redheaded Dark Star said, and the song died in mid-leer.

They were coming up on the sub-continent itself, and Chester announced above the roar, 'We seem to be approaching New Guinea from the Bismarck Sea... those might be the Finis­terre Mountains, only about three thousand meters, we can clear those. - .'

The view below was an explosion of dense greens and browns, vegetation crowding from the rich soil in rich profusion. The Finisterre Mountains ruled the Huon Peninsula, overlooking Vi­tiaz Strait, and in the crystal- clear air they seemed close enough to reach out and touch. The DC-3 skimmed over them and reoriented north. Soon they were crossing swamps and marshy areas. Captain Stimac's voice buzzed from the intercom.

'We~ will be reaching Chambri Lake in a few minutes. It's the landmark for the landing strip which has been cleared for us. In fact, I think I see...' There was a pause, and the plane bucked

in the air. This time the bucking became a jarring side pull that bounced Acacia against her seat belt. 'Wait just a minute-that's not the right lake, but something... uh! Move, godamit!' Stimac began swearing in panic. The plane was sliding down the sky; the motors screamed. Stimac shouted, 'I can't move the controls! They're moving themselves!'

Hands gripped seats and faces went white as the swamps rose toward them, rotating now. There was light down there, and water

a sheen of water directly below the plane's nose, and two lines of lights glowing on the water... and a tower.

'It's pulling us in,' Chester said. He was squeezed up against a window, and his mouth hung a little open. Not frightened, but fas­cinated.

Kasan was in the aisle, waving his arms and chanting in an un­known language, while two Garners held him steady with hands on his belt.

Tony almost forgot his own fear as he stared out. Closer now and the control tower was only wickerwork on pontoons, and

the lights were floating torches tethered by ropes, forming lines too close together to make a real runway. It was a mockery of an airport laid out on water.

The mock-airport veered sideways, and gee forces pulled sav­agely at the passengers. The DC-3 pulled out of its dive. The wing on the right side bent far enough to pop two lines of rivets, then eased back into place; but fluid was streaming from where the metal had crinkled. Stimac's intercom voice screamed, 'Got it! I think we're all right now. Whatever it was, it's- Oh shiti' as the ‘wing unrolled a flapping flag of red-and-yellow flame.

'I've got to get us down,' said the crackling intercom voice. 'Brace yourselves. This isn't going to be neat.' They were barely at treetop level, trailing flame and black smoke. 'I'll try for Chambri Lake. There are life rafts in the rear of the plane . .'

Tony could restrain himself no longer. 'Just what the hell is happening?' He couldn't look away from the line of trees whip­ping past the plane at paint-scraping levels.

Acacia looked down. 'The real lake should be somewhere close up ahead. If we can make that-' her eyes were fixed on the win­dow, and as an expanse of dark green came into view, she sighed in relief. 'There it is!'

The plane plunged, shaking like a dog drying itself, and there were fourteen throat-rendering screams and one 'Yah-hoo!' In the

instant before the plane struck water Acacia was aware of Tony's fingers dipping clawlike into her arm.

The impact threw them forward. Water surged over the plane, bubbles streamed past the windows. At least the fire was out. The plane bobbed to the surface, wobbled, righted itself. Water lapped at the windows.

Chester was the first to regain his balance. 'All right, every­body, let's get out the lifeboats and get the gear together. We've got work to do.'

Seat belts clicked like castinets. Duffle bags were pulled out of their overhead racks with almost feverish eagerness. Tony looked toward the nose of the plane, where Captain Stimac lolled limply in his chair.

'Hey, is he... ?' Unnoticed by the rest of the Garners, Tony advanced to the front of the craft, shouldering his backpack un­steadily. 'Captain Stimac?' There was no reply. He took another cautious step, feeling the plane yaw slightly beneath him. 'Cap­tain?' Stimac's head rolled back loosely from a neck that seemed broken, and a trickle of blood ran from his mouth. Eyes stared sightless from a slack and pasty face. Tony felt his stomach con­vulse, and clutched at himself, suddenly afraid. 'Oh my God.'

Then Stimac winked at him. Straightening in mid-retch, Tony glared at him and stalked out of the cabin. He grabbed Acacia by the shoulder and spun her around. 'That's the last time, under­stand? Absolutely the last.'

Acting calmly and with near-military precision, Chester had four boats out on the water and was directing the inflating of the fifth from a cylinder of compressed gas. Tony and Acacia were in a raft with S. J. Waters, and Tony was looking back at the DC-3 with a half-smile. 'Boy that looks real. You really have to strain to catch even the outline of the Phoenix under the-'

Acacia laid a hand gently on his arm. 'Tony,' she said with genuine affection, 'stop fighting. It is real. Everything here is real. Just relax and let it happen, okay? Please?'

Her dark eyes sparkled with unmocking laughter, and Tony nodded. He gripped her hand hard. 'I'm sorry, babe. I guess maybe I'm-' He paused and looked around at the rafts bobbing in the lake. 'I don't know what's going to happen or what it will do to my head. It throws me.'

The rafts, five strong now, were bobbing next to the settling

DC-3 in the middle of a huge lake. It was impossible to tell the actual size of the body of water; perspective was no barrier to Dream Park technology. Chester and Maibang were last into the water, in a raft loaded with bundles of supplies.

'Which way, Kasan'?'

The guide looked around in feigned confusion. 'This is difficult to say, but I'm not sure.'

'What do you mean?'

'I mean that this lake isn't what it should be-it's shaped wrong.'

Chester's long face became thoughtful. 'Wrong shape. How so?'

'Chambri Lake is rounder than this. See, two of the shorelines are clearly visible, but the other two edges are lost to our sight.' Chester carefully got to his feet, standing precariously balanced as he looked. Just as carefully, he sat back down. 'All right, it's not Chambri Lake. What is it?'

Kasan wagged his head sorrowfully. 'Not sure. Very bad magic, I fear.' He gazed contemplatively across the lake. 'I think we should head to the north shore. It's closest.'

There was a feather touch of suspicion on Chester's face as he nodded assent. 'Okay, people, let's move out for the north bank. We can regroup there.'

Two out of the three people on each raft hefted paddles and began guiding their boats ashore. Tony and Acacia provided pro­pulsion for their boat while their passenger, S.J., merrily called, 'Stroke! Stroke!'

It became a race, with Tony and Acacia in second place, behind Eames and his two boatmates, one a Magic User named Alan Leigh, the other the irrepressible Mary-em, who as second paddle did not so much stroke as wrestle the water into submission. Leigh, his pouchy cheeks somewhat incongruous on his spare frame, watched the water ahead of them intently, and when his hand shot into the air all five of the rafts backpaddled to a halt.

Acacia shaded her eyes and cautiously stood, testing her bal­ance. 'There's something there...' Tony started to ask, then saw it himself.

Just ahead of Eames's boat, the water was rippling unpleas­antly. S.J. got to his feet, almost upsetting the boat. Acacia skew­ered him on a raised eyebrow, and he sat down. 'Water snake,' he muttered, watching the approaching ripples.