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been broken and a powerful stream of pure ice water had smacked him in the middle of his back, running
down his spine to chill the crevice between his buttocks. In addition to being stunned he was scared,
more scared that he'd ever been except maybe for the time in Idaho when he'd been discovered by that
neo-Nazi group and was sure he was going to be shot.
He was frightened because he was running over grass.
8
Then the grass was gone, as fast as if someone had slipped new glasses over his eyes, and he was
moving over soft, low carpet once again. Green carpet, he noted absently. He was so relieved to see
tables again, neatly set with napkins and silverware, that he almost cried out. And still the expectant,
nervous rustlings and gruntings came from the vegetation closing down around them.
To the right.
No, straight ahead, Merry argued, keep going straight!
You're sure?
I work at night, she told him, panting hard from the endless sprint. I've got excellent sense of direction
in the dark.
No, he said abruptly, slowing to a halt. Not yet.
Merry stopped nearby. Please, let's just leave.
Huh-uh. I want to know what's going on here. Hell, Ineed to know what's going on here, Merry. I need
to know if this is some kind of test the Bu my company is putting me through, or if this old fart's got us
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both hypnotized, or if this is some kind of new amusement ride or what. This time he did draw the .38
from its holster, not caring what any other patrons or employees of the restaurant might think if they saw
it. Let the manager call the cops if he wanted to.
More sounds and rustling from a cluster of palms and calathea, and then a glimpse of maybe-movement.
Busboy? The leaves stilled as he drew near the clump and he paused. It had to be a ride of some sort, or
an elaborate gag that wasn't funny anymore. Or maybe he'd just been to too many movies.
Reaching out, he swept the top layer of leaves aside.
In the darkness an enormous gray-black face leaped toward him, fiery red-orange eyes burning like
coals. Jaws parted to reveal a mouth that looked big enough to swallow a Volkswagen. From the black
throat came an angry growl. Oak staggered backward and gestured feebly with the pistol, too shocked
by the sight to aim and fire. Then it was gone.
Something the size of a house cat skittered from behind the cluster of bushes to vanish between two
tables. Merry Sharrow had inhaled sharply behind him but had been unable to scream.
The three of them retreated slowly. Oak waited several minutes before returning the pistol to its resting
place beneath his left arm. He might have cursed himself for not firing, but didn't. Would a .38 be any use
against a visitor from Hades anyway?
What the hell was that? he muttered, then looked sharply at Olkeloki. What's going on here, old
man? He was conscious of the fear in his voice and desperately embarrassed by it.
That was your lion, Olkeloki said softly.
I asked you what the hell's going on here! No riddles.
Not a riddle. Your lion. Everyone has their lion. I have mine, you have yours, she has hers. Most
people do not see their lion until it comes for them. The first time is usually the last.
It wasn't any damn lion. It was just a big dark shape. Wasn't it? Or had that dirty yellowish fringe
framing the horrible face been something else? A mane? He looked at Merry. You saw it too?
No, but I saw the other thing. She pointed between the two tables where the cat-shadow had
vanished. It ran from behind the bushes in front of you, under there. It looked like, it looked like I
think I've seen something like it before.
Olkeloki spoke without taking his eyes off their surroundings. Yes, you are the right ones. I was right to
choose you, as you chose me.
Ignoring him, Oak stared at Merry. What are you talking about? You can't have seen it before.
Not it, something like it. About a week ago, back home outside of Seattle. I was driving home in a
bad storm and just as I was getting off the interstate I hit something. I thought it was a big dog, about
collie size. I kept telling myself it was a dog. But it didn't look like a dog. It looked like the thing that ran
under the tables.
All kinds of crazies were racing around inside Joshua Oak's skull, bizarre thoughts colliding with one
another, bouncing off reason and crashing through logic, messing up his usual cool calculation. Get out,
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no matter what's going on. Get out of this restaurant, out of this building, back into the clear no-nonsense
June sunshine, down on the street where people were hawking newspapers and ice cream and giant
pretzels. Get away from giant lion faces and twisted parodies of humanity that go scuttling out of sight
beneath dining room tables.
Another distinct growl reached them from a clump of bamboo off to their right. We must go from this
place now, said Olkeloki intensely. There is too much darkness here. The longer we linger, the stronger
they become.
Ordinarily Oak would have trusted his own senses to lead him along, but he was so dazed by what he
was seeing and hearing that he allowed himself to be led. Which was just as well. Merry Sharrow hadn't
been just boasting when she'd laid claim to a good sense of direction in the dark. The restaurant
brightened slightly as they came within sight of the wide picture windows that overlooked the city. He
was extraordinarily relieved to see that it was still there.
The cash register was locked and there was no sign of the hostess who'd seated them. The carpet
behind her little podium was stained. Probably a spilled Coke, though Oak found he didn't really want to
examine the stain too closely. He tried to keep his body between Merry and that section of floor so she
wouldn't see the strain. The hostess might appear if they yelled for her, and then again she might not, and
something else might follow the sound of their voices.
Out.He wanted outside, immediately,now.
There were no offices atop the building. Only the restaurant. They moved rapidly down the short hall
toward the waiting elevators. As they ran Oak was sure the noises behind them were growing louder and
more distinct. Besides the grunts and growls there was something else, something new. A sharp chittering
sound, a drunken distorted laughter like a cloud of muffled hornets might make.
Wuzz, wuzz run, run!
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