Dream Park

bottle and passed it to Owen. Owen gave it to Alan Leigh, Leigh passed it to Mary-em; it passed down the line until it reached Chester at the far end. Gwen continued opening bottles until all held twelve-ounce containers of lukewarm cola.

'We accept this thy sacred fluid into our bodies in thy names. .

Griffin gagged it down. 'I don't like soda pop,' he whispered to Acacia. 'I don't drink this junk.'

'Shut up and glug,' she whispered back, not bothering to hide her grin. 'You've got to.'

Griffin finished his, and passed another bottle along. 'What if I have diabetes?'

'Then you can have your implant adjusted after the Game. Drink,' she commanded. Ollie handed him his next twelve ounces.

Griffin drained it, stifling a heartfelt belch. Then he recon­sidered and eructated with vigor. The echoes were fearsome; they seemed to go on forever, down the line and back up.

After the fourth round, moans could be heard from all corners. Tony looked green and had hiccoughs. Alex sympathized whole­heartedly.

'Who's ready for lunch?' Mary-em's question raised a chorus of vile suggestions.

Owen and Gwen finished their drinks, and sat amid a heap of empty bottles. 'We are ready. Hear us, oh gods-' The air above the entire group began to shimmer with electric white. Owen low­ered his voice. 'All join hands, please.'

Owen and Gwen faced each other, interlocking fingers as they closed their eyes.

The aura jumped and crackled, a bird's nest woven of lightning.

The air sizzled with power. Griffin squinted against the glare. His skin crawled. The ground itself trembled.

A thunderous voice split their ears, a sound that echoed to the far mountains and back. 'Yes, my children,' the voice said with tremendous deliberation, each word rounded and perfectly enun­ciated. 'I know what you wish of us. Yes, your leader may be saved. He shall pick five among you, quick-witted and wise, to compete for his life. i~ you win, his life will be returned to him. If not...'

The voice faded away, and the dancing glow lifted.

Chester definitely looked more yellowish. He rose unsteadily to his feet. 'Leigh, Acacia, Oliver, Gina, and... Griffin.' He gazed at Alex speculatively. 'Something tells me that you might answer questions as well as you ask them.'

Confusion ran unmasked on Alex's face. 'Questions?'

Acacia took his arm comfortingly. 'Don't worry. I think you'll do fine.'

The sky rumbled above them, and clouds began to mass. Like soapsuds floating in a whirlpool, they swirled together, directly in front of the sun, eclipsing it. Darkness fell, and stars glowed above them. Then it seemed that the very fabric of space was twisting and torqueing, tortured by forces beyond imagination. The stars were rippled aside as the sky tore open. Soft, pale blue light pulsed beyond the edges.

From the region beyond the sky came a tiny shadow that growled noisily, growing larger by the second. Now it was plainly visible, an olive-drab Army-issue helicopter with its engine at full throttle. It hovered above them, then set down on the grass twenty meters away. A dark man in a smart white uniform hopped from the door and ran to them carrying a clipboard.

He saluted Chester smartly. 'Mr. Henderson? I believe that your representatives are ready?'

'Yes,' he said, looking warily at the helicopter. 'Where are you taking them?'

'To heaven, sir.'

Chester pointed. 'In that?'

'Surplus cargo, sir. We don't waste anything. And now, if your people are ready? Yali is waiting.'

'Yali? Who is Yali?'

The man with the clipboard clucked disapprovingly. 'He is your intermediary. Certainly you don't think you can get an ap­

pointment with God on such short notice? Be happy for a chance to speak with His district Manager. Are we ready?'

'One moment.' Chester spoke softly and hurriedly to his five representatives. 'I remember a little about the New Guinea heaven. It was very European. Don't let that throw you. The im­portant thing is the questions. Good luck.'

Gina reached out for his hand, and he took it for a moment, squeezed, then let it fall. 'We won't let you down, Chester,' she promised. He nodded silently, his grin a lopsided slash.

The Garners followed their host into the helicopter. The door slammed shut, the engine revved, and in a cloud of dust it lifted off and vanished into the wounded sky.

Chester watched the crack seal shut, swallowing them. 'Now it's wait,' he muttered. 'It's just wait.'

Chapter Nineteen

NECK RIDDLES

'We will be arriving in Heaven in approximately three min­utes,' the man with the clipboard said. He had already taken their names down in a precise hand. His name was Gengai.

There was nothing to see but dense blue fog which strobed light. Leigh sat across the aisles from Griffin, elbows balanced on knees and chin balanced on fists. Griffin leaned toward him. 'Well? What do you think we're in for?'

'Some kind of test of wits. Neck riddles, probably.' 'Neck riddles?'

Acacia bumped him on the shoulder with her palm. 'Neck rid­dles. In olden days, a convicted felon was sometimes challenged to answer a series of riddles. If he won, he gained his freedom.'

'Sounds like a good deal. What did the local king get out of it?'

'Jollies, mostly. Imagine a poor half-starved and half-flogged-

to-death prisoner standing in chains at the Royal Court riddling for his life. Sometimes the prisoners did have something to lose. Hanging versus burning, for instance.'

'How does that apply to us? It's only Chester's neck on the block this time.'

'It's everybody's. Without a Lore Master to lead us, we don't stand much of a chance. Lopez knows that, and he knows we know it, and believe me, he'll take advantage of it.'

The blue fog cleared, and there were white clouds above and ahead of them. One billowing cloudscape bore a classically boxy-looking two-story house. As they 'climbed' to the level of the cloud Griffin felt his load of Coca-Cola become buoyant, and knew that the copter was actually losing altitude.

They landed. The door swung down for them. The five Garners stepped down into knee-high white fog. The surface underfoot was spongy. The house nearby had white clay shingles and bamboo shades on its windows.

Strains of vaguely martial music drifted from within. Griffin rec­ognized the overture to Bizet's Carmen. He hummed along, won­dering where the insanity would end.

At the door they were greeted by a European manservant in coat and tails, who bid them enter with Old World formality. Gen­gai led them through a narrow hallway plush with white carpet­ing. Not a stick of furniture marred the path, so that when their guide turned left into an open doorway, Griffin was unprepared for what he saw.

The room was opulent. The ceiling was lost in distance; the walls seemed to go up forever. Two of the four walls were covered in bookshelves, a third wall was an enormous world map. The fourth was hung with reproductions of classic works of art. Griffin recognized a Picasso, two Dalis, a Frazetta. Frazetta? Well, why shouldn't God borrow from the future to decorate his rooms? But the paintings didn't really complement each