WNEW-FM

JO: All right, man. We've had confirmation. A few other good people have CB'd in to tell us that yes, there is some heavy light coming out of the sky on Central Park West up near the Sheep Meadow.

FREDDY: Yeah, and if you remember, that's near where the first of those nasty holes opened up. We don't know if there's a connection so you might want to be careful, but a lot of the folks who've contacted us say they're going to try to get over to it to check it out.

JO: We'll keep you informed. As long as we've got juice for the generator, we'll be here. So keep us on.

Carol pointed into the dark blob that was Central Park. The thread of light that wove through the blackness there had not lengthened in the past few minutes.

"Glaeken must have stopped moving," she said. "Do you think something's wrong?"

"I don't think we'll see it move any further," Bill said. "It looks like it's gone as far as the hole. He's probably out of sight now, moving down."

"I hope the light's still following him."

Carol glanced down at the sidewalks below in time to see a battered car skid to a halt against the curb. It was covered—smothered—with night things, but they slipped away when the car lurched to a stop on the edge of the light. The door flew open and half a dozen people—a man, two women, and three kids—tumbled out. They began to run for the door of the building but slowed to a stop as they realized they were no longer being pursued. They looked up at the light, spread their arms, laughed, and began to embrace each other.

Another car suddenly flew out of the darkness and bounded over the curb before it came to a stop. Another group of people jumped out. They were greeted with cheers by the first and they all embraced.

"I don't know if I like this," Jack said.

"They're coming to the light," Carol said.

"Yeah," Jack said, shaking his head. "And that could be trouble. Maybe I ought to get downstairs. You coming, Ba?"

The big Oriental stood behind Sylvia and Jeffy. He shook his head.

"Okay," Jack said. "I understand. But we might need you later." He waved and trotted for the stairs.

"I don't think there's anything to worry about, do you?" Carol said to Bill. "I mean, I think we should share the light."

"I do too," Bill said. "Jack's just being Jack. He doesn't like surprises."

Carol looked down again. More people had reached the light, some apparently on foot from neighboring buildings. She noticed something.

"Bill?" she said. "Remember when we first looked down? Wasn't the light just to the edge of the sidewalk?"

Bill shrugged. "I don't know. I didn't notice."

Carol stared down at the rim of shadow the encircled the building. It was now a couple of feet beyond the curb on the asphalt of the street.

Glaeken found the mouth of the lateral passage a hundred or so feet down the western wall. A dozen feet across, it was the only break in the wall of the hole. Glaeken swung inward and landed on his feet. He pulled the weapon free of the back of his belt and started walking. He needed no signpost to tell him that Rasalom lay ahead. He knew.

The light followed, filling the tunnel behind him, stretching his shadow far ahead, sending dark things scuttling and slithering and fluttering out of the way.

He pushed on, not running, but moving swiftly with quick, long strides. The sense of urgency was still at his back, propelling him forward. He swung the blade back and forth, splashing the air ahead of him with bright arcs of light, then waded through them.

But as he progressed deeper and further along the tunnel, he noticed a dimming of the light. He turned and looked back along his path. The light seemed as thick and bright as before back there, but down here it was attenuated, diluted, tainted…

It could only mean he was nearing his goal, the heart of the darkness.

Not much further on, the light loosened its embrace and pulled free of him; it hung back, deserting him, abandoning him to penetrate the beckoning blackness of the tunnel ahead alone.

Glaeken kept moving, slower now, stepping more carefully. Only the blade was glowing now, and that faintly, struggling against the thickening blackness that devoured its light. Soon its light failed too. Glaeken stood in a featureless black limbo, cold, silent, expectant. The darkness was complete. Victorious.

And then, as he knew it would, came the voice, the hated voice, speaking into his mind.

"Welcome, Glaeken. Welcome to a place where your light cannot go. My place. A place of no light. Remind you of anyplace from the past?"

Glaeken refused to reply.

"Keep walking, Glaeken. I won't stop you. There's light of sorts ahead. A different light, a kind I choose to allow here. No tricks, I promise. I want you here. I've been waiting for you. The Change is almost complete. I want you to marvel at my new form. I want you to be the first to see me. I want to be the very last thing you see."

Glaeken felt his palms dampen. He was in Rasalom's country now, where he made all the rules. Tightening his grip on the hilt, he stepped forward into the black.

WNEW-FM:

JO: Okay. We've had somebody CB us from right inside the beam of light over on Central Park West and they say it's the real thing. Bright, warm, and the bugs won't go near it. Nobody knows how long it'll last, but it's there now and these folks think it might be there to stay.

FREDDY: So look, here's what we're gonna do. We're gonna make this loop and set it going, then we're outta here. We're heading there ourselves. We'll have a message on the tape, then we'll follow it with a Travelin' Wilburys song, and the whole deal will play over and over.

JO: And here's the message: Get to the light. Get over to Central Park West any way you can and get into the light. Get moving and good luck. And while you're gettin' there, here's some appropriate traveling music. See you there, man.

Cue: "Heading for the Light"

Dim light ahead, oozing around the next bend in the passage.

Unhealthy light. A sickly, wan, greasy glow, purulent green, clinging to the tunnel walls like grime, casting no shadows. There was no hope to be found in that light, no succor from the night, merely a confirmation of the dark's superiority.

As Glaeken moved toward the feeble glow, the air grew colder; a bitter, acrid odor stung his nostrils. He rounded the bend and stopped.

In the center of a huge granite cavern, a hundred feet across, Rasalom's new form hung suspended over a softly glowing abyss. Four gleaming ebon pillars reached from the corners of the chamber, arching across the chasm of the abyss to fuse over its center. A huge sack, bulging, pendulous, nearly the size of a small warehouse, hung suspended from that central fusion. Glaeken could make out no details of the shape that floated within the inky amnion of the sack. He didn't need to see Rasalom to know that it was he, undergoing the final stage of his transformation.

"Welcome to my uterus, Glaeken."

Glaeken did not reply. Instead, he leapt upon the nearest support where it sprang from the wall and strode along its upper surface toward the center where Rasalom hung in his amniotic sack.

"Glaeken, wait! Stop!" Rasalom's voice took on a panicky edge in his head. "What are you doing?"

Glaeken kept moving toward the center, the weapon raised before him.

"There's no need for this, Glaeken! I'm so close! You'll ruin everything!"

Glaeken had progressed to within a dozen feet of the sack when the surface of the support suddenly softened and erupted in hundreds of fine tendrils that wrapped around his ankles, snaring them, encasing them in a squirming mass, then recrystallized to rock-like hardness. He pulled and strained at them but his feet were locked down to the support. He chopped at them with the blade but he remained trapped like a fly on a pest strip.