"He needs a doctor," the man said suddenly.
"No!" The woman whirled on him. "The Exalted One would wish that he be
brought to him."
"We aren't sure--"
"But he must be one who can hear the voices. You heard what he
said--and you said yourself he should have been killed in that
accident. If he hadn't been a Chosen One--"
"He might be hurt worse than we can see."
"The Swami will know. We must take him there."
Bewildered, I listened to them argue, not understanding what they could
mean. They spoke in casual tones as if others had heard the voices.
But if that were true then I was not alone, it wasn't something I had
imagined--
"You've heard the voices?" I asked eagerly. "You've heard them?"
The brightness faded from her eyes, clouded over with sadness. She
shook her head. "We try, Henry and me, but we can't hear them. We are
weak. We have not learned the fullness of believing. But the Swami
says we are approaching the purity of full knowledge." Her voice rose
earnestly. "Our day will come--if not in this life, then in the next."
The man grunted, interrupting her. "Can you move your legs?" he asked
of me.
I hesitated, then tried. I could wriggle my toes and flex my knees. I
felt as if this were a great accomplishment.
The man shook his head. "You should have been killed," he said as if it
were a grudging admission. "I guess maybe mother is right." He stood,
turning toward the woman. "I'll bring the car down here. Don't let him
move." He glanced down at me. "We can't do anything about your car
right now. We'll report it and maybe they'll be able to fish it out.
But the water's pretty deep there."
The loss of the car meant nothing to me. At the moment it did not even
occur to me that the car was not mine and I would be responsible for
any damage to it. The man had trudged up the beach toward the road and
I stared at the bird woman.
"This person you're taking me to--has he heard them?"
"Oh, yes!" she said, evidently surprised. "He is exalted!"
I didn't understand. Fatigue pressed down on me and I was conscious
of the pain in my head, of the deep throbbing in my arm. I tried
to concentrate on what the couple had said, feeling an impatient
excitement, but I couldn't seem to think clearly. I clung to the one
fact that emerged clearly. There was someone else who had heard the
voices, someone who could help me. I wouldn't be alone any more.
A car chugged through the soft sand and stopped nearby. A door opened.
I felt hands sliding under my arms, lifting me. There was a cry of
pain. A dizzying spiral of brightness whirled me around and around,
released me, and I went sailing off into dark, empty space once more.
16
It was morning when I woke. I felt stiff and sore, and for a minute I
had the impression that I was encased from head to toe in thick white
bandage. As I came more fully awake I realized that only my head and
left arm were bandaged. I was dressed in a shapeless one-piece white
gown that was tangled around my legs and torso.
I didn't know where I was. I lay in a hard, narrow bed between crisp,
old-fashioned, white cotton sheets, the kind I had known as a child.
The room was small and high-ceilinged. There was but one window, long
and narrow and deeply inset with an elaborate metal grill. Though the
window was curtainless, the wall was so thick that the rays of the sun
were not direct but soft and filtered through the narrow aperture.
I pushed myself up, swinging my legs over the side of the bed. I had
to brace myself as a dizzying wave of pain and nausea washed over me.
I had the weak-limbed sensation of someone who has been in bed a long
time. I wondered if I was in a hospital and how long I had been there.
There was a heavy carved wooden door at one end of the room with a
small panel of opaque glass set into it at eye level. I had a fleeting
impression that someone was watching me but I couldn't see through the
glass.
Memory returned to me slowly in sharp-edged, broken fragments. I
remembered being with Laurie, the fight with Jenkins outside her
trailer, the headlong flight along the coast road, the lights staring
at me from the rear view screen, the voice urging me to go faster and
faster, and at last, the moment of terror when the car struck the
parapet and tumbled through the air so fast that I was pinned against
the seat.
And the couple who had loaded me into their car. They were taking me to
see someone--
I heard a click. The door swung open and a small, sharp-featured woman
trotted briskly into the room, clad in a loose white toga.
"You're awake!" she exclaimed.
The statement didn't seem to require an answer. I frowned at her.
"Don't you remember? We brought you here--Henry and I. The Swami was
very pleased."
"Swami?"
"Yes! The Exalted One. He will see you this morning." She peered at me
anxiously. "Are you feeling all right? The Swami said there was nothing
broken. Your arm was badly cut and you had a concussion, that's all."
That was all. I felt as if I would never be able to move freely again.
Yet I realized that I had once again been incredibly lucky. The alien
had failed.
"Do you think you can eat?"
The thought of food brought back the acute sensation of nausea. I bent
over, pressing one hand against my stomach, swallowing hard. I shook my
head.
"You must have something," the woman said with a birdy peck of her
head. "Don't try to walk yet."
She swept out, her toga trailing on the floor. The dust on the skirt
marred the pristine white effect of the gown. I made no further attempt
to move. The room swayed unsteadily around me whenever I stirred. I sat
on the edge of the bed, unable to rouse myself to any real curiosity
about where I was and why I had been brought here. Minutes ticked by
and the woman did not return. The room was totally soundless. I could
hear neither movement within it nor the sounds of a living world
outside. Even the air conditioning was noiseless.
The place was like a crypt, I thought. The idea was peculiarly
disturbing. I stared at the thick walls and the narrow slot of
window and the heavy closed door, and they danced before my eyes as
if they were edging forward, slowly closing in on me. A smothering
claustrophobic fear clotted my throat and my breathing became labored
and irregular.
Panic drove me off the bed. My clothes were laid neatly on a carved
wooden chair against the wall. I staggered toward the chair. The floor
of the room tilted and I had the sensation of falling, but somehow
I reached the wall and leaned against it. After the room steadied,
it took me several minutes to change from the white gown into my own
coverall. I had to keep grabbing the chair for support. In spite of the
cool temperature I was sweating.
Then I discovered that my shoes were missing. I looked very carefully
around the room. There was no closet. The chair and the narrow bed
were the only pieces of furniture. The floor itself was bare. My shoes
weren't there.
I was still puzzling over this when the door opened and the bright-eyed
bird woman tripped into the room carrying a tray. She stopped abruptly
when she saw me.
"I told you not to get up," she said crossly.
I didn't answer her. She left the door open and I was staring at it.
Air seemed to rush in through the opening. The smothering, closed-in
feeling left me. How absurd, I thought. You're ill. You're imagining
all kinds of dangers.
"You'd better sit on the bed," the woman said. "Can you make it? I
guess you can, getting dressed and all."
I went obediently to the bed. It was easier this time. Even the
dizziness was subsiding. I could smell the fragrance of hot tea. On the
tray there were also some dry crackers and a bowl of some kind of dried
meal that looked like rice but was hard and crunchy like a seed. To my
own surprise the sight of the food made me hungry.
I ate. The meal was tasteless but not unpleasant. The crackers and the
tea were excellent. I seemed to feel strength pouring into me as I ate.
By the time I had finished I felt almost normal.
I glanced up at the woman, who sat perched on the edge of the chair
with a bright-eyed air of interest. She even cocked her head and peered
at me sideways like a bird. She wore a thin little smile.
"Where are my shoes?" I asked suddenly.