It simply … faded … out …
His friend was on his hands and knees at the edge, looking down into the blackness.
“Oh, fuck, Jason! Where are you?” He turned to Jack. “How deep is this fuckin’ thing?”
Jack didn’t answer. If this one held true to the others he’d seen, it was bottomless.
He stepped to within half a dozen feet of the kid, got down on his belly, and crawled to the edge. He’d seen light deep down in the others—not a bottom, just light … a hazy violet glow. Maybe he’d see that—
Vertigo hit him like a gut punch as he peeked over and saw nothing but impenetrable blackness.
Jack closed his eyes and hung on. And as he did he thought he could still hear Jason screaming down there … way, way down there … fading …
He felt a slight breeze against the back of his neck. Air was flowing into the hole. Into the hole. That meant it had to go somewhere, be open at the other end. He had a good idea where that might be.
And then the earth began to slide away beneath his fingers, beneath his wrists, his forearms. Christ! The rim was giving way.
Jack rolled to his left and back, away from the edge, but he wasn’t fast enough. A Cadillac-sized wedge of earth gave way and crumbled beneath him. He slid downward toward the black maw. With a desperate, panicky lunge he managed to grab a fistful of turf and hang on. His feet kicked empty air and for one breathless moment he felt eternity beckoning from below. Then the toes of his sneakers found the rocky wall. He levered himself up to ground level and scrambled away from the edge as fast as his rubbery knees would carry him.
When he’d gone a good fifty feet he heard a terrified cry and risked a look back. Jason’s buddy had stayed behind and the edge had given way under him. Most of his body had dropped into the hole. Jack could see his head, see his arms and hands tearing at the grass in a losing effort to hold on.
“Help me, man!” he cried in a voice all tears and terror. “God, please !”
Jack started to unbutton his shirt, thinking he might be able to use it as a rope. But before he was halfway done, a huge clump of earth gave way beneath the kid’s hands and he was gone, leaving behind only a fading high-pitched wail.
More earth sloughed off and fell away, narrowing the distance between Jack and the edge. The damn hole was getting bigger.
He looked around. The few people who had been scattered around the perimeter of the Sheep Meadow were now fleeing for the streets. Good idea, Jack thought. A fine idea. He broke into a headlong run and followed them.
And as he ran it occurred to him that a big chunk of Central Park was missing. What was it Glaeken had said last night?
Will you reconsider if Central Park shrinks?
Sure, he’d said.
Jack didn’t remember his high school geometry, so he couldn’t even guess the surface area of that hole, but a helluva lot of the Sheep Meadow was missing. Which meant the park was smaller by that many square feet.
… if Central Park shrinks …
Jack picked up his pace. How had Glaeken known?
He shook his head. Stupid question.
Arms limp at his sides, Rasalom floats within a tiny pocket in the bedrock, a pocket he has made. When he descended approximately a hundred feet into the pit, he stopped and hovered as a passage into the stone opened before him. He followed it to this spot.
Yesterday he began the Change without. Now to begin the Change within.
He hesitates. This is a step from which there is no return. This is a process that once begun cannot be reversed, cannot be halted. When it is complete he will have a new form, one he will wear into eternity.
He will be magnificent.
Still he hesitates. For the shape of his new form will not be of his own choosing. Those above—those puny, frightened creatures milling on the surface—will determine his countenance. He shall be an amalgam of all that they fear. For as their fear feeds him, so shall it shape him. His form shall
His friend was on his hands and knees at the edge, looking down into the blackness.
“Oh, fuck, Jason! Where are you?” He turned to Jack. “How deep is this fuckin’ thing?”
Jack didn’t answer. If this one held true to the others he’d seen, it was bottomless.
He stepped to within half a dozen feet of the kid, got down on his belly, and crawled to the edge. He’d seen light deep down in the others—not a bottom, just light … a hazy violet glow. Maybe he’d see that—
Vertigo hit him like a gut punch as he peeked over and saw nothing but impenetrable blackness.
Jack closed his eyes and hung on. And as he did he thought he could still hear Jason screaming down there … way, way down there … fading …
He felt a slight breeze against the back of his neck. Air was flowing into the hole. Into the hole. That meant it had to go somewhere, be open at the other end. He had a good idea where that might be.
And then the earth began to slide away beneath his fingers, beneath his wrists, his forearms. Christ! The rim was giving way.
Jack rolled to his left and back, away from the edge, but he wasn’t fast enough. A Cadillac-sized wedge of earth gave way and crumbled beneath him. He slid downward toward the black maw. With a desperate, panicky lunge he managed to grab a fistful of turf and hang on. His feet kicked empty air and for one breathless moment he felt eternity beckoning from below. Then the toes of his sneakers found the rocky wall. He levered himself up to ground level and scrambled away from the edge as fast as his rubbery knees would carry him.
When he’d gone a good fifty feet he heard a terrified cry and risked a look back. Jason’s buddy had stayed behind and the edge had given way under him. Most of his body had dropped into the hole. Jack could see his head, see his arms and hands tearing at the grass in a losing effort to hold on.
“Help me, man!” he cried in a voice all tears and terror. “God, please !”
Jack started to unbutton his shirt, thinking he might be able to use it as a rope. But before he was halfway done, a huge clump of earth gave way beneath the kid’s hands and he was gone, leaving behind only a fading high-pitched wail.
More earth sloughed off and fell away, narrowing the distance between Jack and the edge. The damn hole was getting bigger.
He looked around. The few people who had been scattered around the perimeter of the Sheep Meadow were now fleeing for the streets. Good idea, Jack thought. A fine idea. He broke into a headlong run and followed them.
And as he ran it occurred to him that a big chunk of Central Park was missing. What was it Glaeken had said last night?
Will you reconsider if Central Park shrinks?
Sure, he’d said.
Jack didn’t remember his high school geometry, so he couldn’t even guess the surface area of that hole, but a helluva lot of the Sheep Meadow was missing. Which meant the park was smaller by that many square feet.
… if Central Park shrinks …
Jack picked up his pace. How had Glaeken known?
He shook his head. Stupid question.
Arms limp at his sides, Rasalom floats within a tiny pocket in the bedrock, a pocket he has made. When he descended approximately a hundred feet into the pit, he stopped and hovered as a passage into the stone opened before him. He followed it to this spot.
Yesterday he began the Change without. Now to begin the Change within.
He hesitates. This is a step from which there is no return. This is a process that once begun cannot be reversed, cannot be halted. When it is complete he will have a new form, one he will wear into eternity.
He will be magnificent.
Still he hesitates. For the shape of his new form will not be of his own choosing. Those above—those puny, frightened creatures milling on the surface—will determine his countenance. He shall be an amalgam of all that they fear. For as their fear feeds him, so shall it shape him. His form shall
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