gasped and drew their laser pointers in alarm. He was wearing a white robe, and it gave him the bearing of a Greek god. Sea green light webbed across him from a polynya at his feet-it was all that separated us from the striking, unearthly creature. As he stared back, I had the feeling of being watched by some vast dispassionate intelligence. I couldn't believe how different he looked from the homunculus I had seen in the tank.
In a hushed voice, Langhorne said, 'Everyone, I'd like you to meet Homo perrenius.'
It was Mr. Cowper.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
'You have seen them die, and you have seen them rise,' said Langhorne. 'But you ain't seen nothin' yet. Gentlemen, I direct your attention to the man on the conning tower.'
Sandoval had climbed stairs up to the port sailplane, the one opposite the band, and was picking up an elaborate compound bow. It was camouflage-colored, with Day-Glo arrows attached to it, and with practiced grace, he removed one, nocked it, and cranked back the string. His posture with the bow was heroic, Olympian.
Unbelieving, I mouthed the words, 'What is he…?'
Without the slightest hesitation, Sandoval let fly. The arrow flitted across the water, too fast to follow, but then as if by magic was planted in Cowper's chest, its bladed point sticking out his back as if to indicate something. The old man barely reacted except to steady himself from the impact. Easy as plucking off a piece of lint, he removed the arrow and dropped it on the ice. It came out perfectly clean.
Sandoval called out, 'Anybody else want to take a turn?' He held up an armload of bows.
The Moguls were suddenly animated with surprise and delight. They had not been expecting party favors this interesting. Sandoval passed down the bows, and men lined up along the wall to try their luck.
'This is sick,' I said.
'It's a guy thing,' Langhorne replied over her shoulder.
The row of archers, twelve in all, tested the feel of their bows, some more awkwardly than others. They were so close to Cowper they could scarcely miss, but the first two who fired did, sending their arrows skittering far across the ice. Friendly ribbing and encouragement emanated from their less-adventurous fellows: 'Hey, Chauncy, got your game permit?' Then several men shot almost simultaneously, and three arrows struck Cowper's upper body-one so deeply that its gaudy quills resembled a pink boutonniere. I flinched. He didn't bother removing them.
Everything became very quiet as the men methodically fired and reloaded. I was reminded of the boys' grisly revenge on the fallen Xombie in the sub, so long ago. The men's catharsis continued until the supply of arrows was exhausted. I made myself turn away, more out of protest than horror-I knew Cowper couldn't be hurt, though he was the picture of martyrdom with all those spines sticking out of him. When they were done he looked exactly like what he was: an archery target. There were even arrows in his face! For a long moment he stood there in the water-dappled light, literally transfixed.
After a span of awed silence, the Moguls began to applaud. The bows were tossed aside and the archers welcomed back into the crowd.
Langhorne asked, 'Do we all agree he can't be harmed?'
The spectators scoffed, 'Of course!' Fun over, they were more annoyed than impressed, convinced that this had been only a cheap stunt. While they were grumbling, Sandoval gave a signal and several doctors began maneuvering a light pontoon bridge across the water. This caused pandemonium:
'Are you out of your mind? Stop! He's a killer!'
Langhorne replied, 'Strictly speaking, Maenads don't kill; they share. But I understand your anxiety. Be assured you are in no danger whatsoever.'
While Dr. Langhorne was trying to calm them, Sandoval nudged me, smiling benignly. 'Go to your father,' he said.
'What?'
'Go to your father, Lulu. This is it: the reunion you've been waiting for. It's why you're here. It's why we're all here. Don't be afraid.'
'I'm not.'
My instinct was to resist, but then I realized I wanted to go to him, no matter what happened. I really wasn't afraid. Sandoval saw the change, the tears, and nodded in encouragement. The bastard. I slapped him and jumped over the wall onto the wobbly platform, making my way across. The crowd buzz doubled, and I could hear boys entreating me to stop.
Cowper waited for me as patiently as he had borne the arrows. Something was different, I knew, or he would have been all over me. I was almost disappointed. Red speckles danced on him, and on my back as well, I'm sure. Freezer-cold air wafted off the water-I tried not to look into the depths.
As I mounted the far ice bank, I began to get anxious, thinking of the wolfish faces of Xombies I had known, including his. But this new Cowper had the calm bearing of a guru, regarding my approach with world-weary compassion rather than animal lust. Looking out from that thicket of feathered shafts, his marble black eyes were full of pity.
I wasn't sure he knew me, and ventured, 'Mr. Cowper?'
He didn't respond.
By then we were about ten feet apart, and as I cautiously closed the distance, he turned his face away, showing all those embedded spines in profile. They looked strangely ceremonial, shamanistic. He was looking across the ice to the dark side of the dome. Someone there was running out of the shadows toward us-someone I dreaded to see.
It was Julian. He was not placid like Cowper, but of the more-familiar Maenad type, monstrous and vulpine, with all the rapturous fury of an avenging angel. A Fury.
He came straight for me, ignoring Cowper. From the crowd, boys' voices entreated me to swim for it, run, hurry, but there was not a thing I could do to escape, and I didn't try. As Julian got close, Cowper suddenly darted between us, snagging the boy by one leg, whirling with it, and slamming him down on his face. Julian was bigger and younger, but he seemed clumsy next to Cowper-or maybe it was just that he wasn't fighting back at all. While Cowper attacked, he behaved as if the old man were some kind of baffling invisible obstacle, like a high wind. In a flurry of blue limbs, Julian tried to break free and get at me, but Cowper was tenacious as a pit bull. He wrestled Julian to the edge of the ice and finally flipped him into the water. With a pleading cry of, 'Lulu!' Julian scrabbled at the slick ice, then sank like a stone.
The wind was knocked out of me, seeing Julian just vanish like that, but I slowly became aware of the sensation his death caused among the spectators on the opposite shore. It was fizzing in me as well-What just happened? Could it be true that those doctors had done what they promised? Had they cured Cowper? No. He wasn't a horrible Xombie, but he wasn't human. What had they turned him into?
The show was not over. As I stood there in shock, something else stirred in the darkness: many people this time. A whole host of men came shuffling into the spotlight, and from the way they walked I knew at once that they were human. There were about a hundred of them. Even before they fully emerged, I began frantically slipping and sliding my way over, because it was obvious from their clothes that they were the men from the sub. Commander Coombs was in front. Flanking him were Mr. Robles and Mr. Monte, with Noteiro and Fisk and all the others streaming after. Kranuski and Webb were there, too, the creeps.
They all looked haggard and suspicious, and the sight of me in my getup didn't seem to alleviate their fears. I couldn't blame them; I was just one more part of the whole appalling circus. My own relief was short-lived. Before I could reach the men, there was more commotion from another direction, a line of dark figures that unmercifully resolved itself into feral blue Xombies, scores of them, swarming in to intercept us.
A collective moan of dread arose from the living. As the rampaging creatures skittered into the light I could make out the warped features of Albemarle and Jake and Cole and Lemuel, as well as Xombies from the tanks in the research compound and many others I had never seen before-forty or fifty all told. But there was something unusually awkward about them, and as they swept forward like a bizarre chorus line, I realized what it was: They
