his only hope. That's what you have to get through to him.'
'I can't,' I said, gasping. 'I can't see him like that.'
'Then he'll be incinerated with all the others. That's what happens here when a test subject is no longer useful. They get incinerated and tossed in the ditch. His only chance lies in us finding those research materials- then he'll be first in line for the treatment.'
'Don't lie to me! Stop lying to me! That's only for those rich guys!'
'Not until it's tested. It has to be screened on someone. Why not him?'
There was nothing to do but force myself back inside, shielding my eyes from the gallery of ravaged flesh.
'This may seem cruel,' Dr. Stevens said, 'but Maenads have no consciousness of pain as we know it. The Agent X morphocyte was modeled on prokaryotes and archaea-primitive life-forms that exist in highly adverse environments-so they're all but unkillable, however grisly this may appear. They regenerate in no time.'
'But I killed some,' I said. 'On the submarine we killed a whole bunch.'
'Ah yes, your carbon-monoxide flush! We heard about that. That was good, but I hate to tell you they were far from dead. They were simply dormant, and if they had been first-generation females or neurologically intact specimens like we have here, they wouldn't have fallen for it. Like Clinton, they wouldn't have inhaled. You got lucky.'
Lucky, I thought, coming to the last window. At first I didn't see a thing, but as I reluctantly stepped closer, I spotted him crouching in the bottom of the cell, squat as a toad, his lacquered blue back turned to me. Cowper.
I clapped my hands to my mouth, moaning, 'Oh no, oh no…' It was actually a subdued reaction, tempered by relief: At least he wasn't mangled or hung up like a gruesome marionette! I had seen worse, let's face it. Maybe there was even a chance he could be saved. I grasped that flimsy straw, thinking, We'll get through this. Just hold on. Hold on.
'Do you want to try to talk to him?' Dr. Stevens coaxed gently. A microphone was pressed into my hand. 'Just push the button to speak.'
'I know how it works.' As if preparing to jump from a high board, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. With as much calm as I could muster, I said, 'Mr. Cowper? It's-'
There was a startling thud that caused me to open my eyes. Cowper's gargoyle leer was pressed to the glass only inches from me, his black eyes bugging out so hard they seemed about to pop like corks. He was horrible-a giant baby bird yearning for a worm. The shock made me trip backward and fall on my butt. 'Oof,' I said.
'That's good,' Dr. Stevens urged, thrilled. She helped me up. 'Don't worry, he can't get out. He can't even see you.'
I wished I didn't have to see him. He remained imprinted on the glass, waiting, his eyeballs rolling with the slow deliberation of a man cracking a safe. Those eyes. They made me think of our floating compasses as they went haywire around magnetic north. They were my mother's eyes.
Shuddering, I swallowed, and whispered, 'It's me. Lulu.' Cowper spoke: 'Lulu.' His voice was a bottomless silky rasp, savoring the word. The sound of it, especially over the crackly radio, was so freakish it curdled even the doctor's enthusiasm. Her wiry hair seemed to stand on end.
'Yes, it's me,' I said tremulously. 'Do you remember me?'
'Of course. I hope I don't scare ya.' His bulging eyes, undersides glistening, fixed on something above the window. He was looking at the intercom speaker, the source of my voice. Before I could reply, he asked, 'Still there?'
'Yes, I'm still here.'
'Good. They treating you okay?'
'I'm… fine.'
'Because it can get cold in here… very cold…'
'He's cold,' I protested.
'Interesting,' said the doctor. 'I've never heard one complain before. It has to be some kind of ruse.'
'Are you cold?' I asked him.
'Why? Are my lips blue?'
Dr. Stevens and I glanced at each other. 'I think that was a joke,' she said.
I shook my head, eyes wide, and said to him, 'I'm just concerned, that's all.'
'There's nothing you can do for me… except trust me.'
'Trust you?'
'Trust me to help you. That's all I want, Lulu, for you and me to have all that we never had together, before you turn to dust and slip through my fingers. You're dust already and don't know it, just waiting for a breeze to come along and blow you away. I'm not what you think. You're in the shadow of that big grinding wheel and it's coming around. It's coming around. But I can make you real so the bastids can't touch you. I can take you home.'
It was awful to hear him say these things, these travesties of fatherly concern. Swallowing my grief, I forged ahead. 'Fred, I need your help.'
'I'm here for you, sweetheart.'
'I need you to remember something. About the boat. When you were in command, did you take something from the captain's safe?'
'Lulu, did you look into my heart?'
'What are you talking about?'
'I gave you my heart, and you didn't even give it a second glance.'
Crumbling, I demanded, 'How can you say that? I tried, but you were never there!'
Dr. Stevens put her hand over the mike, and said, 'Let's stay focused, shall we?'
I nodded, regrouping. Keeping my eyes fixed on her, I said to him, 'This is important. I need to know if you took what was in the safe and what you did with it. This can help both of us.'
'Come with me. That's all the help we'll ever need, Lulu. That's all I want. I know you think I'm a monster, but I've changed. I been blind, now I can see. I was scared like you, spitting like a cat stuck in a drainpipe because of time eating away at me, but now I know that's not real. It's a movie, Lulu, only a movie. You're stuck on the screen, and you know it's gotta end, because every movie you've ever seen has a beginning and an end. But it doesn't have to. Step out of the picture and join me.'
'I… can't. I'm sorry.'
'I know. There ain't words to describe it, and all you have to go by are words. That's the curse of the Xombie. But try to remember one last thing.'
I was weeping. 'What?'
'I loved you, baby girl.'
He fell away, folding down into a crouched homunculus once again. Nothing we could do would make him move. After a while, it was hard to believe he ever had.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
As the doctor and I tried our best to reanimate Cowper, a few people came in through the flaps. All of them were wearing the crisp blue uniforms of Air Force officers, their head implants strangely in harmony with the other medals. They weren't armed.
'Colonel Lowenthal,' said Dr. Stevens, sounding tense.
'Hello, Doctor,' said the leader. This was the man who had met Commander Coombs when we first arrived, but I hadn't had a very good look at him then. Seeing him close-up, I thought he seemed very young to be a colonel-midtwenties at most-and too wispy to be any kind of military officer. He looked more like a sullen supermarket bagger. 'Still no luck?' he inquired.
'I wouldn't say that. She was able to elicit more information in five minutes than we were able to in three
