Hosts

He tried to hang up the receiver but didn't have the strength.

8

Kate jumped at the sound of the key in the door, thinking, Jack's back. Thank the Lord.

She'd been a wreck all morning. Jack had tried to ease her mind by telling her that the bomb he'd found had been meant for him, not her. Had he expected her to be relieved that her brother was some madman's target? Well, she wasn't. But he'd said he had a good idea who the bombers were and how to protect himself and her from them.

At least that had allowed her to go back to sleep. But then Jack had been up at dawn, looking terrible, all sunken-eyed and exhausted, saying he had to go out and instructing her to stay away from the windows and not worry if she heard a loud noise.

A few minutes later a car exploded on the street below.

Not Jack's, thank the Lord. His was still out there when she'd looked, and he'd waved up at her. She'd hoped he'd come back up, to tell her he hadn't blown up that car. She didn't want to believe he'd done such a terrible thing. Even if someone had been trying to kill him, he'd endangered everyone on the block.

But he must have done it, must have known it was coming. Why else would he have warned her to stay away from the windows?

But then instead of returning, he'd walked off.

He hadn't told her where he was going, but it didn't matter. He was back now.

But it was Jeanette who stepped through the door. And Holdstock. And others, six more men and women of varying ages, trooping in, all smiling at her with the open friendly faces of old friends. She knew them, she'd seen them through Holdstock's window.

Jeanette had brought her cult home.

"Hello, Kate," Jeanette said, beaming. "I've asked some friends over to meet you."

Kate swallowed. "That's nice."

They didn't seem threatening—if anything their expressions virtually glowed with amiability. So why then did she feel this cold dread seeping up from her stomach?

"I was so worried about you," Jeanette said, taking Kate's left hand and pressing it between both of hers.

Kate felt rather than heard a strange hum in her head, a faint, faint echo of Jeanette's voice.

"Were you? Why?"

"Why, the explosion, of course. When I heard about it and realized it had happened right on our block, I wanted to fly here. But then I learned that no one had been hurt except two men with criminal records, and I was so relieved. But still, I didn't think you should be alone."

That odd hum continued, but Kate sensed that she truly had been in Jeanette's thoughts, and that warmed her.

"That's nice, but—"

"So I brought my dearest friends to keep you company. You remember Terrence, don't you?"

Holdstock stepped forward, smiling warmly as he offered his hand. "I know we didn't get off on the right foot, but I'm sure I can make amends for that."

Kate didn't want to shake hands with this man, but how could she snub him with a radiant Jeanette still clutching her left hand? She extended her right, Holdstock grasped it—

—and the hum in her head grew louder.

Something wrong here! She tried to pull free of Holdstock but his grip was like a steel clamp.

"Let me go!"

"Don't be frightened, Kate," Jeanette said, smiling reassuringly while clutching Kate's other hand. "It's all right. Trust me, it's all right."

"No!"

The others were moving forward. Holdstock held out his free hand and one of them, a woman, took hold of it—

—and the hum in Kate's head increased—

—and then someone took the woman's hand and stretched out his hand to another—

—and the hum in Kate's head further increased, a roar now, like the ocean, and her heart was a panicked rabbit, battering itself against the cage of her ribs, trying to break free—

—and someone took his and another took hers and the roaring doubled and tripled and she felt her strength slipping away and through her blurring vision she saw Jeanette free one of her hands from gripping Kate's and reach it out to another hand, the last free hand in the world, and Kate saw them touch, closing the circle—… and suddenly all is peaceful.

Kate's vision blurs as she descends into a deep pool of tranquillity, leaving no ripples, no trail of bubbles as she sinks.

There, says a soft, sexless voice that seems to come from within and without, from nowhere and everywhere. Isn't this better? Isn't this wonderful, the most wonderful feeling you've ever known?

And it is wonderful, a feeling of complete acceptance, of absolute belonging, of soft arms lovingly enfolding her and drawing her to a motherly bosom.

Her vision clears and she sees the others, the eight who've formed the hand-holding circle of which she is now a part.

Is this why Jeanette was sneaking off to the Bronx? she wonders. Is this what she was experiencing when I watched her through the window?

The Everywhere Voice answers. Yes. That was when The One Who Was Jeanette was like you and could experience oneness only by touch. Now that she is of the Unity she is with us always, dwelling within the oneness.

Kate isn't sure she follows that but it doesn't matter. What does is this glorious feeling of peace, of belonging. All the anxieties and uncertainties these past few years about the course of her life and where it will lead her, all the fears about revealing her true self to the children are gone, vanished as if they've never been. She can barely remember them.

Unconditional love and acceptance, simply for being. This is the way all of life should be, all the time.

And it will be.

No, Kate thinks. You've got it wrong. It's human nature to fear what's different.

Human nature can be changed.

Kate is about to laugh at the absurdity of this when a thought strikes her. The Voice reminds her of Jeanette's, but Jeanette's lips haven't moved.

"Who are you?" she says aloud. "Whose voice is this?

It is us, all of us. The Unity.

"Then why do you sound like Jeanette?"

Because that is who you feel most comfortable listening to. But it's not the One Who Was Jeanette. It is all of us.

Kate looks around and sees the eight of them, Jeanette, Holdstock, and the rest, nodding in unison.

Kate senses an alarm bell trying to ring, to warn that this is all wrong, that she should not be conversing with voices in her head. But the cotton-thick ambiance of peace and harmony smothers it, and all that seeps through to her is confusion.

"I don't understand."

We have been united. We are one. We are the Unity. We know each other as no others have known us, even more intimately than we have known ourselves. Every thought—

"You can read each others' minds?"

We are each others' minds. We share every thought, every emotion.

Kate feels a twinge of fear. Is she crazy? Are they?

Don't be afraid.

And now a stab of terror. They know what she's feeling!

You need not fear the Unity. We love you. You are our sister.

"But why me? And how—?"

And then Kate knows.

The virus. The mysterious contaminant in Fielding's cultures.

Yes! It brought us together, repairing the faults in our brains, linking our minds into this glorious Unity.

"And me?" She looks at Jeanette. "I was infected, wasn't I. Why?"

You were following the One Who Was Jeanette, spying on her—

"I was concerned!"

And we sensed that. But we also feared that your loving con-

cern might turn into interference, and since we are at a delicate stage of development, we brought you into the Unity.

"But I wasn't asked! You had no right!"

The niggling alarm sounding within Kate has escalated, clamoring through the swaths of bliss, but still so faintly.