Nightworld (Adversary Cycle/Repairman Jack) by F. Paul Wilson Page B

what you meant when you said his next move would be in the earth.”
    Glaeken nodded. “And its placement is not random.”
    “Really? Central Park has some significance for Rasalom?”
    “Only so far as Central Park is located right outside my window.”
    Going to rub my face in it, aren’t you, Rasalom?
    “It doesn’t look real,” Bill said. “I feel like I’m in a movie looking at some sort of computer-generated effect.”
    “It’s quite real, believe me.”
    “I do. They’ve got close-ups on the TV, by the way. Want to take a look?”
    “I’ve seen others like it close up before, although never one this big.”
    “You have? When?”
    “Long ago.” Ages.
    “How deep is that thing?”
    “Bottomless.”
    Bill smiled. “No. Really.”
    Apparently he’d misunderstood, so Glaeken spoke slowly and clearly.
    “There is no bottom to that hole, Bill. It is quite literally bottomless.”
    “But that’s impossible. It would have to go all the way through to China or whatever’s on the other end.”
    “The other end doesn’t open on this world.”
    “Come on. Where then?”
    “Elsewhere.”
    Glaeken watched the priest’s eyes flick back and forth between him and the hole.
    “Elsewhere? Where’s elsewhere?”
    “The place has no name. We call it the Otherness, but I don’t believe there’s any way to describe in human terms what the other end of that hole is like.”
    “I believe I’ll change and go down there for a closer look.”
    “No need to rush. The hole isn’t going anywhere. And it’s only the first.”
    “You mean there’s going to be more?”
    “Many. All over the world. But Rasalom has honored me by opening the first outside my front door.”
    “I’ll see if I can hook up with Nick down there and find out what he knows.”
    “Just be sure to be back before dark.”
    Bill smiled. “Okay, Dad.”
    “I’m quite serious.”
    His smile faded. “Yeah. I guess you are. Okay. Back before dark.”
    Glaeken watched Bill hurry to his room. He was fond of the man. He couldn’t ask for a better houseguest. Always willing to help around the apartment or with Magda when the nurse wasn’t around.
    As if sensing her name within his thoughts, Magda called from the bedroom.
    “Hello? Is anybody there? Have I been left alone to die?”
    “Coming, dear.”
    He took one final look at the hole, then headed down the hall.
    He found Magda sitting up in her bed. She’d been losing weight and her eyes were starting to retreat into her skull. Her face was as lined as his, her hair as white. But her brown eyes were bright with anger.
    “Who are you?” she said, switching to her native Hungarian tongue.
    “I’m your husband, Magda.”
    “No, you’re not!” She spat the words. “I wouldn’t marry such an old man like you! Why, you’re old enough to be my father! Where’s Glenn?”
    “Right here. I’m Glenn.”
    “No! Glenn’s young and strong with red hair!”
    He took her hands in his. “Magda, it’s me. Glenn.”
    Terror flashed across her face, then her features softened. She smiled.
    “Oh, yes. Glenn. How could I have forgotten? Where have you been?”
    “Right in the next room.”
    Her expression hardened as her eyes narrowed.
    “No you weren’t! You’ve been out seeing other women! Don’t deny it! You’re out with that nurse! Don’t think I don’t know what the two of you are up to when you think I’m asleep!”
    Glaeken held her hands and let her ramble on. He wanted to cry. After two years he’d have thought he could have adapted to anything, but he couldn’t get used to Magda’s dementia. None of her ravings were true, yet Magda fully believed the delusions floating through the expanding vacuum of her mind, truly meant the hurtful things she said as she spoke them. They never failed to cut him deeply.
    Oh, Magda, my Magda, where have you gone?
    Glaeken closed his eyes and recalled her as she had been when they’d met in 1941. Her soft, even features, her fresh