"To hell with the water," said Brisden, as they waited for me to compose myself. "I hope no one minds if after we return to Anotine's, I stay at least moderately drunk for the rest of this fiasco." He lifted the empty signal gun as if it were a bottle and pantomimed a healthy draught.

"Come on, Cley," said Anotine, "be real for me."

I looked back at her, and she appeared focused and determined.

"Fm with you," I said, and, after a few deep breaths, managed to carry on.

Nunnly led the way, the spear in his right hand and suddenly materializing Hundred-To-Ones in the left. He chain smoked through alleys and corridors, and at one point had to lean against a wall for a second to catch his breath. "Right now, Fm thinking about what fear would be like if it were a machine," he said.

Brisden stepped up and put his arm around him, helping him back on course.

When we reached the Doctor's rooms at the bottom of a long flight of steps, Anotine called out his name. There was no reply.

"How are we going to do this?" asked NunnJy, but Anotine had already taken the initiative and passed through the entrance, holding the spear out in front of her with both hands.

The rest of us followed reluctantly, not wanting to be left alone on the terrace. Inside, the candles had not been lit and the room we entered was cast in the subtle shadows of late afternoon. Whereas Nunnly's place had been lined with the schematics of his imaginary machines, the Doctor's walls were taken up by bookshelves crammed with hundreds of volumes. There were also stacks of books at different heights sitting here and there like a mountain range of pages and words. The passes that led between them were sometimes too narrow to fit through, and we would have to backtrack in order to find a way through the maze. Down the hallway, which ran off to the left, we found another of the dark closets like Anotine had at her place, and beyond that a larger area he obviously used as his living quarters.

We stood there in the middle of the bedroom, looking at each other. In one corner was a four-poster bed, and at the other end of the place, beneath a large window opening, sat a desk, facing into the middle of the room. On the desk, I could see what remained of his sample of ocean, glowing in its lidded glass jar, and an open notebook lying next to it.

"Perhaps he took another route to Anotine's while we were coming to get him" said Brisden.

"The Doctor has a tendency to let his mind wander," said Nunnly, "and while it does his body does the same. I just hope he hasn't walked off the edge of the island, daydreaming."

"Let's get back, before we miss him again," said Anotine.

"Perhaps we should check his notebook and see what he was working on before he left. It might give us an idea as to where he has gone if he wasn't heading for your rooms," I said.

"Allow me," said Brisden, and he stepped over behind the desk to read the open pages.

"I can see we're going to have to keep Doctor Hellman on a leash until this is all over," said Nunnly.

"Oh my," Brisden said in a weak voice. "I think I've located him."

We turned to him, and Anotine asked what was in the notebook.

"Not the notebook, the chair," he gagged out, doubling over with his hands grasping at his chest.

As Brisden moved away to sit on the bed, we took his position behind the desk. Lying on the seat of the chair, like some discarded heap of pink leather, was a wrinkled pile of flesh, resting upon the Doctor's empty clothes. There were two dark eye sockets and an opening where his mouth had been. Perhaps the most gruesome detail of all was the indistinguishable area that still held his beard.

Anotine and Nunnly stepped away, both of them in shock. I meant to follow, but as I turned, I noticed something was scrawled on one page of the notebook. The writing was nearly illegible and moved in a downward slant across the page. I leaned over and made out the message. "Shell in pocket" it said.

It was necessary to step away for a few minutes before I could work up enough courage to disturb the pitiful remains. Brisden was lying back on the bed, whispering to himself at lightning speed. Anotine and Nunnly both had found places against the wall, where they had leaned back and sunk down to cover their faces with their hands. Their crying and Bris-den's babble was enough to make me insane. In addition, I played out in my mind the scenario of the Doctor's last minute. As his insides were drawn out of him, bones splintering and brain becoming oatmeal, he had the courage to lift his pen and try to help us.

I shook my head, then returned to the chair to retrieve the shell. When I pulled on a trouser leg to expose the pocket from beneath the heap of flesh, the mess came with it and spilled onto the floor. The sound of it hitting made me dizzy. I wasted no time in fishing in the pocket and bringing out the canister. Once I had it in my hand, I backed away from the desk and shouted to the others in a voice cracking with fear. "Now, let's go!"

I went around the room and, using my foot, nudged everyone sharply and ordered them to move. Anotine was the first to come around, and she helped me rouse Brisden and Nunnly. Before we could leave, Brisden insisted that he take the glass jar of ocean as something to stand in as a symbolic presence we would now find difficult continuing without. Once he had it in his hands, we dashed down the hallway and out into the village. Anotine led us through the passage ways, and I was last, using my spear to prod Brisden in the rear end when he tried to slow down. Our flight was a nightmare, and at every turn I expected to see the gaping maw of the Delicate. Though I had only been told about it, it was now more real to me than anything I could remember.

20

Brisden kept to his own plan and was well into a pint of Tears In The River. He sat at the small table in the back of the room, the signal gun resting in his lap, staring into the glowing ocean sample he had retrieved from the Doctor's. Nunnly was in the chair opposite, following the trail of smoke that rose from his cigarette. I stood by the entrance, looking down the steps and across the moonlit terrace below for any signs of movement while Anotine sat cross-legged on the brown rug, her spear lying next to her and the black box in her hand. No one had bothered to light the spire lamps when twilight gave itself up to darkness. No one had spoken since our return. The loss of the Doctor had left us weak, our mourning compounded with the other impossible elements of our predicament.

As I stood guard, I thought about Hellman and how incredibly I missed him. He had been more vibrant than many of the people I had known on a daily basis back in Wenau. It came to me in the midst of my vigil that he had to be, no more, no less, than some manifestation of Below's personality. I had a hard time reconciling this. In fact, all of my companions on the island were first-rate human beings. Was there an aspect of the Master I had missed? I supposed that everyone, even the most heinous of criminals, could think himself, in some way, righteous and good. This type of delusion could have been the impetus for the creation of the four moral souls I had met, or perhaps Below did harbor a positive side.

It was all too confusing to consider, especially in light of the fact that our time was quickly running out. The sound of the island disappearing had grown stronger since our foray to the Doctor's. What was quickly becoming evident through our siege was that the Delicate was too smart to enter a room full of armed enemies. His plan became clear to me—draw us out into the night, separate us, and devour us one at a time. I had a sense from the little I knew that he was patient and methodical, perfect attributes for a beast of prey.