A Darkness in my Soul by Dean R. Koontz

page, but within the mind of the man setting words to

paper. Or woman, as the case may be. But there isn’t any

use discussing it. I haven’t any say about it. Besides, I’ve

seen her picture, and I’m certain you can wait seven

months for that kind of stuff.” Voice of the obscene tele-

phone caller, yet still authoritarian. In the back of his

throat: unvoiced laughter that will explode when I hang

up.

“I know why you’re in the military now,” I said, my

voice deceptively neutral.

“Why is that?” he asked, walking into it.

“When your own manhood is negligible, a gun must at

least be a little consolation.” And I hung up on the creep.

“That was definitely a mistake,” my mentor said.

I picked my coat up and worked into it. “Maybe.”

“No maybe about it. Where are you going now?”

“Home, pack some things, and get out. Look, I’ll get a

message to you so you’ll know where I’m at. Wait. Scratch

that. I’ve got a key to Melinda’s apartment. If it’s still

unoccupied, I’ll stay there. They’ll check hotels right

away, so maybe her place is safer. Maybe I’m not as

potent a wedge as I think I am. Maybe they really don’t

need my esp. But I rather think they’ll come crawling

after a while; it’s the only way I can help her.”

“You love her?” he asked.

I nodded. I couldn’t really say it. Maybe it was still a

hangover from my delusions of godhood. Or maybe I was

just afraid that her affection did not run as deep as mine.

Perhaps, in a month, she had forgotten me.

“Then hurry,” he said. “You might not have much

time.”

I left his Tudor home under the trees, took one of his

two hovercars, and pressed the accelerator half through

the floor on the way home. The craft veered from one

side of the road to the other as clouds of snow kicked up

and stuttered through the blades of the air cushion

mechanism, but I didn’t hit anyone.

Perhaps the sole reason for Melinda’s arrest was her own

actions. But I thought not. It seemed too clever a hook in

my side to hold me should I ever return from the no-

man’s-land inside of Child. Melinda was the perfect in-

surance policy, they must have thought, against my temper

and foolishness.

I parked the car on my patio and entered the house

through the double glass doors, packed two suitcases, and

folded the healthy amount of cash in my library lockbox

into five different wads in five different pockets. It was all

in Western Alliance poscreds, so the rise or fall of any one

government could not much affect its value. I took two

game pistols out of the collection in the shooting range

downstairs, grabbed a box of ammunition for each, and

put everything in the car.

As I drove off the patio and down the lane alongside

the cliff which overlooks my segment of the Atlantic

Ocean, the police made their appearance. At the foot of

the drive, eight hundred feet below, a howler pulled into

sight, lumbering upward in all its armored glory.

IV

I stopped the hovercar and watched the approaching

vehicles, three in all: the howler which I had first seen, a

crimelab truck full of detection equipment (though what

they hoped to find here, I could not guess), and a regular

patrol car with two plainclothesmen inside. They were

sending heavy guns for a single man, and they had not

wasted any time about it. I looked across the road at the

woods, the sloping hill leading to other houses in the de-

velopment, and knew the hovercar would never hold up

on that terrain. The beaters need an even surface to work

on. In hilly country, the four heavy blades would chew

through a rise in the land, twist, slice up through the floor

of the cabin and make it nasty for me, to say the least.

And if I went back, there was only my house to take

refuge in, for that was at the top of the cliff, with no road

down the other side. I had paid for isolation, and now it

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