“He saw it,” Bane muttered, “he saw it all….”
“Who did?” Von Goss wondered. “What are you talking about?”
“There was a boy on Flight 22. He came back able to see things … and do things.” Bane went on to relate a capsulized version of the events experienced by Davey Phelps and the other passengers from Flight 22.
“Lord in heaven,” Von Goss said distantly when he had finished, “it’s even worse than I thought.”
“What did the flight do to him … and the others?”
“Basically, exposure to the Vortex fields switched on new parts of their brains and/or switched off others, the effects in this boy’s case being rather extreme.” Von Goss smiled ironically. “But under a controlled situation, not as extreme as we may think. You see, with Vortex, Metzencroy has merely scratched the topmost surface of this area of physics, first grade math compared to calculus. With Project Placebo, we are witnessing the most infantile of applications. Do you realize, Mr. Bane, that in an advanced stage the vortex principle could solve the problem of space travel? Pack your bags, step into warped space, and you could be on the moon, Mars, or anywhere else in the universe. Vortex reduces the distance from light-years to inches. We could actually colonize other solar systems as easily as walking through a door, not to mention the wonders of the mind Vortex might unlock.” Von Goss’s brow was sweating. “But all that is not to be. The base stubbornness of the military has kept science from advancing in geometric bounds rather than arithmetic ones. In the end Metzencroy even suggested to Chilgers that waiting two or three minutes to detonate the warheads after regeneration would alleviate the problem by allowing the vortex energy fields to dissipate, thus sealing the door to the other universe. The colonel refused to bend even that much out of fear that superior Russian ground detection systems and beam weapons could not be given more than fifteen seconds.”
Von Goss stood up, the fire’s light barely reaching his trembling lips. “We have tampered with forces in the cosmos I suppose we were never meant to discover.” His right hand had moved across to his left, begun tugging at the black leather mitten to free it from the flesh. “Allow me one more lecture, Mr. Bane. All amino acids are asymmetrical, either left or right. Since the ultraviolet light we are exposed to every day destroys the right-handed proteins, our bodies are composed of left-handed proteins. The universe where the Eldridge went in 1943 and where the 727 went ten days ago is right-handed to conserve parity.”
Von Goss had the mitten off now. He began to raise his naked left hand alongside his right toward the fire’s orange glow. “Yes, Mr. Bane, I can move this dead hand; I just can’t feel it and can never expose it to light. I haven’t felt it since a day fifteen years ago when I artificially created a Vortex field and couldn’t resist reaching over to feel the other side. I reached over, Mr. Bane, into a world I had no business invading.”
Von Goss stretched his palms upward till all ten of his fingers scraped at the fiery embers reaching out from the hearth. Bane watched the tips quiver and realized in one horrible instant what he was seeing.
Dr. Otto Von Goss had two right hands.
Chapter Thirty-two
Bane aimed the Ford through the misty night, driving faster than he should have around the tight corners.
The end of the world …
“You say something, Winter Man?” Trench asked him.
“Just thinking out loud.”
The mist thickened and Bane tried his high beams without success. The curves came suddenly and blindly; if not for the desperate lack of time he might have opted to stay at the mountain fortress overnight. As it was, though, Von Goss said Project Placebo was scheduled to begin in less than thirty-six hours, probably. Time wasted now was time never to be made up.
“Where to?” Trench wondered.
“Ultimately San Diego.”
“To take on COBRA by ourselves?”
“I don’t see much choice.”
“And I’m sure that’s the same way Chilgers sees it. He’ll be expecting us, Winter Man.”
Bane braked the Ford around a corner, sticking as close to the mountainside as he dared. The curve angled sharply and he felt his bumper scrape up against rock. “There isn’t any choice, Trench. We’re the only ones who know enough to stop Vortex.”
“There’s desperation in your voice, fostered by Von Goss’s conclusions no doubt.”
“The whole world’s desperate, Trench, but we’re the only ones who realize just how much.”
“So we strive to save a world that has declared you unsalvageable to live in it.”
“Before Von Goss I could have almost turned my back and walked away from the whole mess,” Bane lied. San Diego had been in his plans all along because Chilgers had Davey. The whole world might end tomorrow but Bane felt worse about the boy. Thoughts of rescuing him fueled his emotional desires, and promised to keep Bane going long after he stopped caring about saving a cold, impersonal world that had turned both of them into freaks. “We’ll head for New York first,” Bane went on. “I’ve got a friend there who can help us get to the West Coast.”
Trench smiled faintly. “We could almost pull this off given enough time.”
“We don’t have—”
The light blinded Bane as he swung around the corner. He braked the Ford to a sliding halt, barely holding it on the road.
A towering yellow dragon thundered forward.
“A goddamn bulldozer!” he shouted, jamming the Ford into reverse and taking the mountain road backward.
Trench yanked out the pistol Von Goss’s guards had returned to him and squeezed off five shots in rapid succession, succeeding in knocking out one of the dragon’s eyes. The next four bullets slammed harmlessly off its tempered steel flesh.
“I’m out,” he reported.
Bane struggled to free his pistol from his belt and tossed it over.
The yellow dragon roared up the hill.
Bane didn’t see it, his eyes were locked on the back window. He fishtailed into turns, fighting to judge angles from his impossible perspective. It had been hard enough taking the corners going forward. Backward made his flesh crawl. His tires spit gravel. The Ford’s gears screamed in protest.
The yellow dragon leveled its mouth in line with the car’s hood.
Bane misjudged a corner and his back end slammed hard into the rocky mountainside. He fought down panic and floored the accelerator. The car lurched backward, leaving a fender behind which the roaring monster crunched in its path.
The gap closed still further.
Bane jammed the pedal down again, trying to put as much distance between the Ford and the dragon as possible. The effort proved futile. The monster took the curves effortlessly, swallowing Trench’s bullets as it went.
Bane felt the pedal give a little, then come back.
“Gas tank’s going!” he shouted. “We’re almost out!”
Trench said nothing, just held the gun at nothing in particular. The Ford started to sputter, creeping up the straightaway.
The dragon roared at them, engine growling.
Suddenly Bane saw what they had to do.
“Get ready to jump!” he told Trench.
The dragon lunged down the straightaway, picking up speed.
Bane slammed the Ford’s brakes, felt its rear tires teeter halfway over the edge, and jammed the car from reverse into drive before its skid was complete. The tires tore holes in the gravel and then pushed the car forward with its last breath of gas, finding purchase and hurtling it out toward the dragon.