"You've got to, man! I'll pay you anything you want!"
"Money has nothing to do with it." There were people on the walk, almost to the front steps. "I'm sorry," he said as he tried to push the door closed.
"No!" chorused from the man and the others directly behind him as they all leaped forward and slammed the door open, sending Alan reeling backward, off balance.
But they didn't stop at the door. In a blind, frantic rush, squeezing through the open doorway two and three at a time, eyes wild, faces desperate, hands outstretched and reaching, they came for him. Not to hurt him. He could see no malice in their eyes, but that didn't lessen his terror. There was no stopping them. They wanted to touch him, to grab him, to pull him toward their sick loved ones, or toward their cars and pickups to drive him where the needy ones waited, to use him, to own him for a minute, just a few seconds, just long enough for him to work his miracle and then he could have his freedom back and go about his business with their eternal thanks.
That was what frightened him the most—he had become a thing to them.
There were so many of them, and as they pushed and shoved at each other to get to him, he tripped and stumbled to the floor. And then some of the others around him tripped too and fell on him, driving him down, knocking the wind out of him with explosive force. More fell on top of them. Alan felt the thick fibers of the shag rug grind into his left cheek from below as someone's belly molded itself around his face from above. An elbow drove into his stomach. Frantic, he tried to cry out his pain, his fear, but he couldn't breathe.
If they didn't get off him and give him some air, he was going to suffocate!
Then everything went black.
___31.___
Ba
The Missus had been silent all the way in from the city. Lately she had spent much of their time in the car quizzing him for his Naturalization exam. He was glad for no questions today; he had been having second thoughts about citizenship. Not because he didn't love this new country—he truly did— but because naturalization seemed so final, like a deathblow to his homeland, a final slap in the face, saying You are dead and gone and useless to me, so I've found another place and hereby renounce you forever. Could he do that?
And yet, his village was gone, his friends were no longer in the country, and those ruling his homeland would probably execute him if he returned.
He wished there were an easy answer.
The Missus watched the threatening sky and flickering lightning in silence. As they passed Dr. Bulmer's office, she finally spoke.
"Well, look at that—the lot's empty."
Ba slowed and glanced to his left in the pre-storm dimness. The lot was not completely empty—there were still two cars there—but it was a far cry from the congestion that had been present around the clock for the past few weeks.
"I wonder what happened?"
"Perhaps they gave up and left, Missus."
"I doubt it. They waited this long… hard to believe they'd all lose patience at once."
"Perhaps the police drove them off."
"Maybe. Tony must have finally got fed up with the mob scene around his office and blown the whistle. But I'm sure he wouldn't have done it without checking with Alan, and I can't see Alan agreeing to that. Maybe…"
Her voice trailed off. Although the Missus thought she hid them from the world, Ba knew her deep feelings for Dr. Bulmer. The tales warned against loving the one with the Dat-tay-vao. But what could he say to her? How could one warn against feelings? Besides, the die was cast. The Dat-tay-vao sought those whose lives were already pointed along a certain path. Ba knew that the Doctor would follow that path at all costs. It was his karma.
Still, for some unaccountable reason, the nearly deserted parking lot struck an uneasy note within him.
He accelerated to cruising speed and was ready to bear right toward Toad Hall at the fork in the road when the Missus spoke.
"Swing by Dr. Bulmer's house before we go home."
"Yes, Missus," Ba said with a secretly approving smile. The Missus too sensed that something was wrong.
The lightning grew brighter, the sky darker, and the thunder was now audible through the car's soundproofing. As rain began to pour from the sky in a sudden torrent, Ba turned on the headlights and heard the Missus gasp as they revealed the street ahead lined on both sides with a motley assortment of vehicles. Either someone was throwing a very big party or—
"They've found his house!" Her voice was a hoarse whisper behind his right ear as she leaned forward and stared ahead.
He pulled to a stop in the middle of the road before the Doctor's house. Through the sheets of rain he could see a crowd of people pushing and squeezing their way through the front door.
"Oh, Ba! They're in there!"
The anguish in her voice was all he needed to hear. He slammed the Graham into neutral, set the emergency brake, took off his chauffeur's cap, and leaped out into the pelting rain. He did not run, but a quick stride with his long legs moved him along almost as quickly as another man at a run.
He reached the crowd from its rear and began working his way through it. Those who would not or could not move aside he grabbed by the back of the shirt or blouse or nape of the neck and pulled from before him and deposited behind, one after the other in a rhythmic swimming motion.
He was soon in the house. Although he could not see the Doctor, he knew immediately where he was—in the flailing knot of humanity lumped in the middle of the living room. Were these people mad? Were they trying to crush the life out of the Doctor? How long had he been under them? He had to get to him!
Ba waded into the crowd, roughly pushing aside anyone who was in his way until he reached the knot.
The lights flickered, then went out. It didn't matter to Ba. He simply reached into the knot and yanked on anyone he contacted, using the sporadic flashes of lightning through the windows to adjust his course. He worked hard, knowing he didn't have much time. The people here were more determined—some fiercely so. They struck back at him, aiming fists at his face, kicks at his groin. Ba was rougher on these, literally hurling them aside. The room became filled with sound, shouts of pain and anger breaking through the nearly continuous roar of the thunder.
The lights suddenly went on again and he found himself standing over the form of Dr. Bulmer, white-faced, gasping, disheveled. He held his hand out to the man. As the Doctor grasped it and pulled himself to his feet, Ba heard the babble of voices around him die to the point where he could understand snatches of sentences here and there.
… "Who the hell is he?"—"Where'd he come from?"— "Gawd he's big!"—"Looks sicker than you, pal!"…
The people backed away, leaving Ba and the Doctor in a rough circle of clear floor. Ba knew that his appearance was forbidding as he stood there dripping water, his thin wet hair plastered to his skull and hanging over his forehead. Perhaps that alone would be enough to get them out to the car without further violence.
"The Missus awaits you in her car," he told Dr. Bulmer.
The Doctor nodded. "Thanks, but I'll be okay."
Ba knew that was a very slim possibility. "Perhaps, but would you please speak to her to assure her of your safety?"
"Sure." He started toward the door.
A man stepped in his way. "You ain't goin' nowhere till you've seen my sister, pal."
Ba stepped forward but the man was apparently waiting and ready for him: Without warning, he swung a vicious uppercut at Ba's jaw. Ba blocked the blow with his palm and wrapped his long fingers around the man's fist. He would have to make an example of this one. He held the man's hand trapped in his own so that all could see how powerless he was, and then he twisted it back sharply. There was a loud crack and the man screamed and went down on his knees.