The Beasts Of Valhalla

small gray blotches-shadows with small, radiating fingers, like tentacles-in the spinal fluid, just below the base of the skull.

'What are they?' I asked softly.

Lippitt slowly shook his head. 'I don't know. Nothing shows up in the spinal fluid itself; only in the X-rays, under fluorescent light. Whatever is causing those shadows must have been incorporated into your genetic material at the most fundamental level. It's part of your DNA. Something might show up on an electron scanner, but frankly I doubt it. My guess is that we're looking at something caused by viroids-tiny organisms that can transform genetic material; they're much smaller than viruses, and even viruses are difficult to see.'

'After all the tests we've been through, that's all you can say?'

'Oh, we've determined that the rods and cones on your retina have multiplied three- or four- fold.'

'Does that mean I can give up eating carrots?'

It wasn't funny, and nobody so much as smiled.

'You'll notice that your night vision is dramatically improved, Frederickson,' Lippitt said grimly. 'Also, you'll probably be able to see further into both the infrared and ultraviolet bands of the spectrum than other people. The problem is that you'll be virtually blind-or in great pain-during the day, unless you wear very dark glasses.'

'What about me?' Garth asked quietly.

'There's an alteration in the way your acetylcholine activates the nerve impulses that fire across your nerve synapses. We don't have basal tests for comparison, but I'd guess that your reflexes are now two or three times as fast as they were before Bolesh got hold of you.'

My hand trembled as I raised it, touched the shadows in our spinal columns. 'That's causing it?'

'We have to assume so,' Lippitt replied in the same soft voice. 'We can identify some of the symptoms, but not the precise causal effect.'

'What the hell is in Lot Fifty-Six?'

'I don't know. It would take a team of biochemists to try and answer that, and I'm not at all sure they'd be able to do a final analysis.'

'Father knows, doesn't he?'

Lippitt nodded once, very slowly. 'I believe so. Also, perhaps, Siegfried Loge and the other scientists working on the Valhalla Project.'

'Then we'll have to pay them a visit, won't we?' I asked tightly.

Lippitt just grunted.

'Lippitt, what's wrong with us?'

Lippitt thought about it, said: 'As dramatic and disturbing as your symptoms may seem to you, it's what's not wrong with you that's important.'

'Maybe to you. I know there's still more to this. What 'ring' were you talking about before?'

There was no response, but now Lippitt seemed not so much evasive as very distant and distracted.

'What the hell is Father up to?'

No answer.

Now Garth spoke, and there was menace in his voice. 'Lippitt, I'm giving serious thought to doing something to your spine. After all the good times Mongo and I have had over the past few days, don't you think we have a right to know everything?'

'I'm sorry,' Lippitt said in a voice so low Garth and I could hardly hear him. 'I'm still thinking about it.'

15

We stood on the crest of the rise and stared down at the enormous black stain on the prairie. 'Mirkwood' was gone; the entire Volsung Corporation complex had been expertly and efficiently destroyed, probably with hundreds of strategically placed incendiary grenades.

Despite the fact that I was wearing dark glasses, the light of day hurt my eyes and had given me a headache. Garth was having muscle spasms with increasing frequency; he would clench his fists, throw his head back and stiffen his body until they passed.

'You knew it was gone, didn't you?' I asked quietly.

Lippitt nodded absently.

'And you weren't kidding about the gorilla snitching on me, were you?'

'I have to find Siegmund Loge and kill him,' Lippitt said distantly. 'I'm responsible for him.'

'What difference would that make?' Garth asked, using a handkerchief to mop sweat from his face as yet another spasm passed. 'You'd still have all those other scientists working merrily away someplace else. How can you even be sure Siegmund Loge is involved with Project Valhalla?'

'Every once in a while they'd run into problems at Volsung,' Lippitt replied. 'I wasn't supposed to know, but I've been in the finding-out business for a long time. They'd struggle with the problem for a week or so before a call would go out, in code. A day or so later a call would come back, and the problem would be solved.'

'Father was feeding them information, guiding the research?'

'I'm sure of it. Without him, they'll eventually run into a problem they can't solve and work will stop.'

'What work?' I asked. 'Just what is it you think Siegmund Loge is trying to do?'

No answer.

Garth closed his eyes and clenched his fists as a new series of spasms seized him.

'What do we do now, Lippitt?'

'You and your brother must run, Frederickson, and you must keep running. Don't go near any member of your family; don't contact anyone you've ever known; don't go anyplace you've ever been. Sooner or later-probably sooner-men will be hunting you.'

'What will you do?'

'Hunt Siegmund Loge.'

'Where?'

'I don't know.'

'Well, we're sure as hell going with you.'

'No,' Lippitt said in a flat voice. 'Mongo, my friend, you're just a bit conspicuous. Also, the shadows in your spines are growing. I don't know what's going to happen to you, or what form the symptoms may take.'

'Fuck that,' Garth said, his voice trembling with rage as he came out of his seizure. 'We sure as hell are not going to just run around. You say you don't know what's finally going to happen to us. Men will be after us. You're the only link we have to what's happened. You think we're just going to wave good-bye to you?'

'I'm sorry, Garth,' Lippitt said evenly. 'I don't have any other advice. You can't come with me for the reasons I already gave you. I'll be far more effective traveling alone. I don't know what else you can do but run. You could see some doctors, but I strongly doubt that anyone is going to be able to help you.'

'Father-or his son-may be able to help us,' I said. 'At least they know what's wrong with us. Given that information, we may be able to stop it-find a cure.'

Lippitt abruptly turned and walked back to the car. There was nothing for Garth and me to do but follow. We sat in the back and waited for Lippitt to start the engine. He didn't. He simply sat stiffly behind the wheel, staring intently through the windshield. He sat like that for close to ten minutes before his curt voice cut through the silence.

'Get out.'

Garth and I got out, walked around to meet Lippitt at the front of the Cadillac.

'You've finished thinking,' I said. It wasn't a question.

'Yes.'

'What is it you've been thinking about?'

'I've been trying to decide whether or not I should kill the two of you.'