The Source by Brian Lumley

‘As I shall continue to absent myself from such . . . acts!’ Luchov answered. ‘You are the KGB here, Major, and I am a scientist. You call it an experiment, and I call it an execution. Two executions, it would seem! I thought it would be over by now else I’d not have been here, but unfortunately I was in time to see that lout Vyotsky take his departure. A brutal man, yes, and yet now I pity him. And how will you explain this to your superiors in Moscow, eh?’

Khuv’s nostrils flared a little and he grew slightly paler, but his voice remained even as he replied: ‘My reporting procedures are my business, Direktor. You are right: you are a scientist and I am KGB. But you will note that when I say “scientist” I do not make it sound like pig-swill. I would advise caution how you emphasize your use of the term KGB. Does the fact that I am able to perform certain thankless tasks better than you make me any less useful? I should have thought the very opposite. And can you truthfully tell me that as a scientist you are not fascinated by the opportunity we have here?’

‘You perform these “tasks” better than me because I would not perform them!’ Luchov almost shouted. ‘My God, I … I-!’

‘Direktor?’ Khuv raised an eyebrow; the line of his mouth was tight, thin and ugly now.

‘Some people never learn!’ Luchov stormed. ‘Man, have you forgotten the trials at Nuremberg? Don’t you know we’re still bringing people to justice for – ‘ He saw the look on Khuv’s face and stopped.

‘You compare me with Nazi war criminals?’ Khuv was now deathly white.

‘That man,’ Luchov pointed a trembling finger at the sphere, ‘was one of our own!’

‘Yes, he was,’ Khuv snapped. ‘He was also psychotically brutal, devious, insubordinate and dangerous to the point of being a downright liability! But haven’t you wondered why I never reprimanded him? You think you know it all, don’t you, Direktor? Well, you don’t. Do you know who Vyotsky worked for before me? He was a bodyguard to Yuri Andropov himself – and we still don’t know exactly how he died! But it’s a fact they didn’t get on, and that Andropov intended to demote him. Oh yes, you can believe it – Karl Vyotsky was implicated! Very well, and now I’ll tell you why he was sent here – ‘

‘I … I don’t think that’s necessary,’ Luchov grasped the landing’s handrail to steady himself. All of the blood had drained from his face until he was as white as Khuv. ‘I think I already know.’

Khuv lowered his voice. ‘I’ll tell you anyway,’ he whispered. ‘But for his misadventure tonight, Karl Vyotsky was to have been our next “volunteer”! So don’t cry for him, Direktor – he had only a month left anyway!’

Luchov gazed aghast at Khuv where he turned away and climbed the steps through the shaft. ‘And he didn’t know?’ he said.

‘Of course not,’ Khuv answered without looking back. ‘If you were in my shoes, would you have told him?’

Jazz plodded on.

No use hurrying and wasting energy needlessly, and it wasn’t as if anyone or thing was going to sneak up on him. Not here. But certainly he must try to conserve his strength. He didn’t know how far he had to go, another mile or ten or a hundred. He felt like a man crossing a vast lake of salt, whom the sun had already blinded. Yes, it was like that: as if he marched blindly, endlessly under a blazing sun, but one which held no heat. Only light. He sweated, yes, but purely from his efforts and not from any external source of heat. It was neither hot nor cold in this white tunnel between the worlds; the temperature seemed constant and was no problem; one might actually live here, except one couldn’t possibly live here. No one could ever really live here; not in a place where he was the only reality and everything else was . . . white!

Twice he’d taken a swig from his water bottle, replacing lost moisture, and twice he’d thought to himself: is this all there is, this emptiness? What if it doesn’t go anywhere?

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