Hosts

And what if he didn't get back—ever? A sick feeling wormed through Sandy's gut. What if he'd scared the Savior with the amnesty talk, what if he'd picked up and left town? If the Savior was off the map, so was Sandy. How interested in Sandy Palmer would Harvey Weinstein be a few weeks from now when he literally was yesterday's news? No Talk article, no film development…

"You've so got to get this amnesty for him, Sandy."

And once more he was struck by Beth's different perspective.

For him? No, I'm doing it for me.

2

"What day is it?"

Kate jumped at the sound of Jack's hoarse voice. She turned from the TV and found him leaning in the bedroom doorway with a blanket draped over his shoulders. Dull-eyed and unshaven, his hair sticking out in all directions, but he looked so much better than yesterday.

"Sunday."

He shuffled into the front room and dropped into the recliner. He closed his eyes and let out a deep breath as if the short walk had exhausted him.

"I've been sick for a week?"

"No. Just a day."

"Feels like a month."

"You were pretty sick yesterday. Delirious at times."

"You should have seen it from my side. You wouldn't believe the nightmares."

Should she tell him about her own dream? If that was all it had been, then why bother. But if not…

Kate shuddered. She'd been up half the night trying to reach Dr. Fielding. She hadn't expected anyone to answer his office phone at four A.M. on a Sunday morning, but since his home number was unlisted she'd tried anyway. Finally she'd pulled out her cell phone—long since blocked to caller ID to keep patients from phoning her instead of whoever was on call for the group—and called 911; she flat out told the police to check on a Dr. James Fielding in Middle Village because he wasn't answering his phone and she feared, well, something awful.

She'd been flipping back and forth between the local TV cha

"You didn't happen to make any coffee, did you?" Jack muttered.

"Just some instant, but you should be drinking something like Gat-orade to replenish your fluids and electro—"

"Coffeeeeeee," Jack intoned, sounding like a muezzin calling the faithful to prayer. "Coffeeeeeeee."

"Jack—"

"I've got a splitting headache from caffeine withdrawal. This is not to feed a habit, this is a medical necessity. Coffeeeeeeee!"

"For crying out loud," she laughed, heading for the kitchen. "All right. I'll get you some. Just stop that moaning."

"You know what?" Jack said from the other room as she filled an eight-ounce measuring cup with water and stuck it in the microwave. "Fever must make you hypersusceptible to suggestion. I dreamed about your mysterious Russian lady."

"Russian lady?" What on earth—? "Oh, yes. The one who gave me your name."

"Right. Dreamed she paid me a visit with her big white malamute."

Kate smiled. That was the breed—a malamute. She hadn't been able to place it. And then with a start she realized…

"Jack, I never told you it was a malamute."

"Sure you did. How would I have known?"

"Jack, I didn't know. I couldn't recall the breed. So how could you know?"

"Had to be from you, because the Russian lady's visit was all in my head. See that four-way bolt on the front door? Nobody gets in here unless I let them. So you must have told me."

Kate was sure she hadn't but wasn't going to argue.

"What did she tell you? In the dream, I mean."

"All sorts of apocalyptic stuff about the virus. Like if I—me and me alone—didn't stop it, the world as we know it would end in bloodshed, death, hatred, terror, all that good stuff."

Kate dumped two spoonfuls of instant coffee into a large mug. Not quite the communal agrarian paradise the Unity had pictured for her. Although the part about the end of the world as we know seemed right on the mark.

"What would make her think you could stop a virus?"

"Damned if I know. That's for guys like Fielding and the government's alphabet soup agencies."

Kate closed her eyes and took a breath. Yes, Fielding… if he's alive.

"But she said something even crazier. She said you and I were already infected."

Kate gripped the edge of the sink as the room seemed to tilt. "She told you that?"

"Yeah. And you know what? The Russian-lady delusion must have tripped a switch in my brain because that fueled an even weirder dream. Weirdest I've ever had."

Kate was almost afraid to ask. "How so?"

The microwave chimed. Her hand trembled as she removed the measuring cup and poured the water into the mug.

"Well, the whole dream was based on the idea that Fielding's mysterious contamination virus doesn't just cause personality changes, it links all the minds of the people it infects into one group consciousness—a hive mind. Isn't that wild?"

Kate, stirring Jack's coffee, dropped the spoon.

"Wh-what? What did you say?"

Jack was describing the Unity, describing it perfectly. But how could he know? And how could he know he was infected?

"A hive mind."

Was that how he knew? During the battle between his immune system and the Unity virus, could his subconscious have realized what was at stake and tried to warn him? No, she couldn't buy that. Too New Age-y. But somehow… Jack knew.

Feeling a bit punch-drunk, Kate carried the coffee into the front room and handed it to him quickly to hide her trembling hands, then lowered herself onto a nearby hassock.

"Tell me about it."

"It took place just a few months from now when we're in the middle of an all-out war between the infected and the uninfected."

A war. Yes, Kate thought, that's what could happen if the virus were easily spread—say, airborne. Thank the lord it isn't.

She listened to his chilling, tragic scenario with a lump in her throat. She didn't know this Abe Jack mentioned, but she'd met Gia and Vicky and was deeply disturbed by hearing of Gia overdosing her daughter.

"I don't know her that well, but I can't see Gia doing something like that."

"Neither can I," Jack said. "Like most dreams it's got Swiss cheese logic. Like where Gia got the sleeping pills; I never questioned it in the dream, but I don't think she's ever taken one in her whole life. Lots of things got by me, and the weirdest one concerned you."

Kate felt her insides tighten. "I was in your dream?"

"Not in person. But my dreamself was thinking about you as being one of the infected. It wasn't a shocking revelation or anything like that; more like something I'd known for a while."

Kate felt as if she were slowly becoming a block of ice. "Is that all?"

"Not quite. I was thinking awful thoughts about you, imagining you returning to Trenton and using your practice to infect all your kid patients.

Kate closed her eyes and fought a wave of nausea.

"Sorry for being such a sicko, Kate," Jack was saying, and his voice seemed to be coming from the far end of a long corridor, "but that was the dream, not me. I know damn well you'd never do something like that."

But that was what she found most sickening: it was exactly what she'd do. Because that was what the Unity would command her to do. And even worse, she'd want to do it. Once fully integrated she'd be an enthusiastic participant in anything that brought more minds into the Unity.

"Kate?" Jack's voice, echoing from somewhere. "Kate are you all right?"

She had to tell him. He had to know.

"Jack…"

But he was staring at the TV screen, pointing. "Holy, Christ, Kate! Look at this!"

Kate turned and saw Fielding's face, obviously a perso

Jack had grabbed the remote and was bringing the sound up.