"Hey, I'm not saying you didn't have a problem last night, but do you really think they'll come back again?"
"Unfortunately, I'm sure they will. Especially since they don't have to come all the way from Central Park this time."
"You mean because of that hole that opened up in Oyster Bay this morning? Whatta y' think's goin' on?"
"Don't you know? It's the end of the world." My world, at least.
Rudy's smile was wary. "No…really."
"Please finish the job," she said. She didn't feel like talking about it. "Seal the house up tight. That will earn you the bonus I mentioned."
"You got it."
He bustled off and began shouting at his workers to get their asses moving.
Sylvia sighed as she stared at Toad Hall. The old place's carefully maintained look of faded elegance was gone, destroyed by the rolling storm shutters. But they were good, tight, with heavy-duty slats of solid steel. The best. During the day they could be rolled up into the cylinders bolted above the windows; at sunset they'd slide down along tracks fastened to the window frames. They'd be cranked down by hand tonight, but after they were fully wired up tomorrow, Sylvia would be able to roll them all up and down with the flick a single switch. This particular model was designed to withstand storms of hurricane force. Tonight they were going to have to withstand a storm of a different sort. She prayed they'd be enough.
"The back's done," Alan said, rolling toward her. "They're moving around here to help finish up this side." His gaze followed Sylvia's to the anachronisms being attached to Toad Hall. "A shame, isn't it?"
Sylvia smiled, glad to know their thoughts were still in synch, even after the uncomfortable silence of the ride back from the city. Especially when Alan had told her what that nut had said as they were leaving. Only three will live to return. What an awful thing to say.
"I feel like I'm witnessing the end of an era."
"It might be the end of a lot more than that," Alan said.
Sylvia felt all her muscles tighten under her skin. She said nothing. She knew where Alan was leading and didn't want to go there. She'd been dreading this conversation since they left Glaeken's apartment.
"Talk to me, Sylvia. Why are you so angry?"
"I'm not angry."
"You're coiled like a steel spring."
Again she said nothing. I'm coiled, all right, she thought, but it's not anger. I wish it were. I can deal with anger.
"What do you think, Syl?" Alan said finally.
You're not going to give up, are you?
"About what?"
"About Glaeken. About what he said this morning."
"I haven't had time to think much about anything since this morning, least of all that old crank's ravings."
"I believe him," Alan said. "And so do you. I saw it in your eyes when you were listening. I know your expression when you think you're being bullshitted. You weren't wearing it back in Glaeken's apartment. So why don't you admit it?"
"All right," she said through tight lips. "I believe him too. Does that make you happy?"
She regretted that last sentence as soon as she said it, but it seemed to roll right off Alan.
"Good. Now we're getting somewhere. So I've got to ask you: If you believe him, why did you walk out?"
"Because I don't trust him. Don't misunderstand me on that," she added quickly. "I don't think he's lying to us. I think he's sincere, I…just…don't think he's as much in control of his end of things as he thinks he is…or wants us to believe he is."
"Maybe not. He was trying to sell us—you, especially—on something none of us is prepared to accept. The only reason we can accept it is that we've already had our lives turned upside down by something that ninety-nine per cent of rational humanity would swear is impossible."
"The Dat-tay-vao" Sylvia said.
"Yeah. And if he says he needs the Dat-tay-vao to try to close up those holes and keep the days from shrinking to nothing and the world being overrun by those monstrosities from last night, why would you hold Jeffy away from him? Jeffy doesn't need the Dat-tay-vao."
"How do you know that?"
"Has it ever treated its carrier well? Look at Walter Erskine. Look at me. Remember the lines from the old song about the one who carries the Touch? '…He bears the weight of the balance that must be struck.'"
"But the Dat-tay-vao hasn't harmed Jeffy."
"Only because he hasn't used it—yet. He hasn't had an opportunity—yet. But what if he does find out, and does begin using it?"
Here it comes. She felt the pressure building up in her, edging past the point of control.
"And what if the Dat-tay-vao's relationship with Jeffy is different? Special?" she said.
Alan's eyes were puzzled as he searched her face.
"I don't—"
"What if the Dat-tay-vao's presence is keeping Jeffy like he is?" She tried to hold the tremor out of her voice but it grew, giving the words a jittery vibrato. "What if it's the reason he's been alert, responsive, laughing, singing, reading, playing with other kids—a normal boy—for the past year? Alan, what if that old man takes the Dat-tay-vao away for his focus or whatever he was talking about and Jeffy goes back to the way he was when I adopted him?" The tremor spread from her voice to her body now. She couldn't control the shaking in her hands and knees. "What if he becomes autistic again, Alan?"
Sylvia pressed her hands against her face, as much to hide as to catch the tears springing into her eyes.
"God, Alan, I'm so ashamed!"
Suddenly there was someone standing beside her. She felt a pair of arms slip around her and hold her close.
"Alan! You're standing!"
"Not very well, I'm afraid. But that's not the point. Watching you all morning, trying to figure out what's going on inside you, and never seeing how frightened you are. Christ, what a jerk."
"But you're standing!"
"You've seen me do it before."
"But not without the parallel bars."
"You're my parallel bars at the moment. I couldn't just sit there and watch you go to pieces and spout that nonsense about being ashamed."
"But I am ashamed." She twisted in his arms and clung to him. "If Glaeken's right, the whole world is threatened, billions of people in danger, and here I'm only worried about one little boy. I'm ready to let the whole world take a flying leap rather than jeopardize him."
"But that's not just any little boy. That's Jeffy—your little boy, the most important little boy in the world. Don't be ashamed of putting him first. That's where he should be. That's where he belongs."
"But the whole world, Alan! How can I say no?" Sylvia felt the panic well up inside her again. "How can I say yes!
"I can't answer that for you, Syl. I wish I could. You've got to weigh everything. Got to figure that if Glaeken's right, and he can't get the Dat-tay-vao for the focus he was talking about, then Jeffy's a goner along with everybody else. There's nothing to say that he can't lure the Dat-tay-vao from Jeffy without harming him. If Glaeken can then turn all these horrors around, Jeffy will have a safer world to live in."
"But if Jeffy is left in autistic limbo again…"
"That branches into two possibilities. Glaeken succeeds and Jeffy's back to where he was a year ago and we deal with it and hope for a medical breakthrough in the treatment of autism. Or Glaeken fails despite Jeffy's sacrifice."
"Then it's all been for nothing."
"Not necessarily. If nothing else, Jeffy's relapse into autism will shield him from the living hell Glaeken's predicting. That might be a blessing."