She Wakes (23 page)

    They began to slide off the bed.

    It looked like it was melting.

    “Get out!” he screamed. Chase flung the door open. Eduardo and Xenia ran naked from the bathroom toward the door. Across the concrete floor snakes hissed angrily. They continued to fall off the bed-a hideous heavy sliding falling sound behind them. Then Chase and Eduardo and Xenia were through and then Michelle and Billie and finally Danny, kicking at one that darted near him, screeching in raw panic.

    And then it was as though a wind came up around him, a huge dense burst of air.

    The door slammed shut.

    He heard them shouting his name and pounding on the door as he pulled at it but it was as though it were cemented shut. He turned and saw snakes pouring off the bed, winding through the room, seeking, the hot steamy bathroom full of them already but they were coming toward him too. He heard the agitated hissing, the slide of muscular flesh against concrete.

    He picked up the chair by the window.

    One of them was winding its way up the chair leg and he slapped at it with the back of his hand, screaming, until it fell away. He swung the chair and threw it at the window. Glass exploded outward and the chair fell back inside into what was already a pool of snakes ahead of him and he hurled himself through the window in what was undoubtedly the single best dive of his life.

    He saw the waves beneath him and was grateful, for once, for the storm-the waves were high and he wouldn’t crash to the rocks below. Then they churned and parted.

    He saw her reach for him.

    Arms spread wide dripping kelp and seaweed, naked breasts bobbing on the surface, face and hair streaming, gleaming with water and starlight.

    He plunged down into her, into the waves.

    The cold water shocked him. He closed his eyes, praying.

    He pulled out of the dive to the surface. He looked for her.

    “Lelia," he gasped.

    She was gone.

    They were dragging him out of the sea.

    “I saw her,” said Danny.

    “You did?”

    “She was there all right. I was just coming round the comer. I heard glass breaking. She went down with you. You fell right into her arms.”

    “Jesus.”

    “You all right, buddy?”

    “I think so.”

    Danny lifted him to his feet.

    “Come on,” said Eduardo. “My house. Hurry. I’m freezing

    Chase stripped off his shirt and gave it to him. Danny gave his to Xenia.

    Billie grabbed hold of Dodgson. One or both of them were trembling.

    They followed Eduardo and it wasn’t far. They turned two corners and they were there.

    He slid a spare key off the lintel and they went inside. This time they left the door wide open.

    The place was a mess. Eduardo had thrown himself together in a hurry.

    Nobody sat down.

    Eduardo pulled on a pair of pants and handed a pair to Xenia. He got shirts for them out of a drawer and they gave back Chase’s and Danny’s.

    While they were dressing Dodgson looked at Michelle. She was burrowed deep beneath Danny’s shoulder. He caught Danny’s eye and looked at him questioningly and then glanced at Michelle. Danny nodded. Good, he thought. Danny felt she’d be all right, then. Chase’s eyes were fixed on the doorway. And that was just fine too.

    “What now?” said Eduardo. “I mean, what’s left. What’s safe?"

    “Nothing,” said Chase.

    “What?”

    “Nothing’s safe. We stay and watch and wait. If she wants us she’ll find us and I don’t think there’s much we can do about it.”

    “Great.”

    “I’m sorry.”

    Xenia buttoned her shirt and rolled up the cuffs of Eduardo’s pants. They almost but not quite suited her.

    “I could use a drink,” said Danny. “Got anything?”

    “Sure.” He went to the kitchen cabinet and pulled out a liter bottle.

    “Scotch! Eduardo, you’re a genius.”

    They passed it around. Nobody refused.

    “You should get out of those wet clothes, Dodgson,” Eduardo said. “I’ve got some that should fit you.”

    He found a pair of linen trousers and a large pullover sweater. Dodgson stripped and toweled dry and put them on. Michelle passed him the bottle, summoning up a smile for him. Just a small smile but it was good to see. He felt a moment of impotent fury. These were all good people. They didn’t deserve this. None of them did.

    “Listen,” said Chase.

    

    

    At first he heard nothing. He looked at Xenia and she shrugged, as puzzled as he was. Then he did hear something, far off in the distance.

    They huddled in the doorway.

    The wind had died outside and the night was much warmer. The weather was truly strange, he thought, changing from moment to moment. He’d never seen anything like it.

    He listened.

    Voices. Shouting. And something else-a kind of crackling sound, like static on a telephone line.

    Women wailing. Screaming.

    “What is it?” whispered Billie.

    “I don’t know.”

    “Whatever it is, it’s big,” said Danny.

    He was right. It was far away but clearly there were many voices, sometimes one alone and sometimes many together, rising and falling. And underneath them that other sound.

    A breeze wafted past them. Then all was still again.

    It felt eerie standing there, listening to some human chaos far away from them yet remembering what had just gone on in Chase’s room. The night felt thick with a terrible potential.

    Anything could happen.

    He felt Billie’s arm tighten around his waist. A light breeze blew up again.

    “There," said Chase. “Smell it?” He took a breath.

    “Fire.”

    They heard footsteps, someone running in their direction. They flinched as a group of men came tearing around the comer.

    Xenia ran to the street.

    “Tee enay? Tee enay afthoh?"

    One of the men whirled at her. The others kept going forward toward the harbor. His face was contorted with fear. “Fotia!” he shouted. He spit the word at her. "Bar Harlequin! Eji pandoo fotia. Ohla! Pandoo!”

    He turned, stumbling, and ran after the others.

    “What is it?” asked Billie. “What’d he say?”

    “Chase is right. He says there is a fire at the Harlequin. Fire everywhere!”

    “She’s burning it,” said Dodgson.

    They could smell it clearly now. Billie clutched his arm.

    “But we’re okay up here, aren’t we? Listen. It’s far away.”

    He did listen and she was right, it was far away.
But not so far as before,
he thought.
Not quite. No. She’ll bum the whole damn island.

    
What do you want, Lelia? What the hell do you want?

    “I don’t think so,” he said.

    He looked to Chase. His eyes seemed to mirror his own. He read a cold fine wariness there.

    “I don’t think we’re safe anywhere here.”

    Chase nodded. “I agree. I think she’s proved that. Nobody’s safe on this island. But have a look at that.”

    He pointed out to sea, to the ocean glimmering in the distance.

    It was smooth as glass.

    And Dodgson realized that for some time now there had been virtually no wind.

    “We could leave! Get the hell out of here!” said Danny.

    “Unless that blow starts up again,” said Eduardo.

    “Jesus, it’s worth a try.”

    “Is it?” said Chase.

    “Hell, yes.”

    “You know what the nearest island is, don’t you?”

    “Sure. It’s…”

    “That’s right,” he said. His smile was bitter, and Dodgson saw the sadness play across his face as gently and distinctly as someone closing the eyes of a dead man.

    “The nearest island is Delos.”

    They watched him. He didn’t move. It seemed to Dodgson that he was somewhere inside himself again, listening. A moment passed. Distant voices howled like lost souls, like the damned.

    Finally he sighed.

    “I can’t tell you a thing. Nothing at all. I’m not surprised. All I see is fire.

    “It’s possible I suppose. It’s possible that Delos is where we’ll escape to. But I doubt it. Quite the contrary. I think that’s where we’ll find her. Really find her.”

    “We’ve already found her,” Danny said. “Or she’s found us. I mean, what were those things in your room, Chase, party invitations?”

    “Maybe. Something like that.”

    “Come on, Chase. The fucking island is burning up! Jesus, let’s try it!”

    “I have ex-lovers on this island right now,” said Eduardo. “And not a few of them. This is happening to them too. If we leave maybe it will stop. I think I agree.”

    “I have a boat,” said Xenia. “We can do it. I know we can. It takes twenty minutes to get there. Even if the seas run high again we can make it if we have just ten minutes of calm. That’s all we need. Ten minutes. Please, come on.”

    “All right,” Chase said calmly.

    He looked at Dodgson, then at Billie. The others started off toward the harbor.

    “You’re sure?” asked Dodgson.

    “Not at all. But your friends are right. This place is a known quantity. We know she can get us here. There-who can tell what’ll happen?”

    “You’re not convincing me.”

    There was more than bitterness in the smile now-it was more like pain. He shrugged and turned and began walking after the rest. Billie and Dodgson followed.

    “It’s me who needs convincing,” he said.

    “What do you mean?”

    “I ought to have told you.”

    He spoke so softly they could barely hear him. He talking to himself now, thought Dodgson. Leaning forward as he walked, shoulders hunched against some unseen wind.

    “I think I’m supposed to die there,” he said.

    They stopped a moment, stared. And then kept walking.

    

    

    The fire had three points of origin, all more or less along the harbor.

    The biggest blaze was at the Harlequin. It had already spread to the adjoining buildings before anyone noticed there were two more fires- one at the travel agency at Taxi Square and the other at the far end of the harbor at the City Lights Disco. These two were confined, mostly, to interiors-the buildings in Mykonos were built like bunkers-but they added to the confusion, billowing smoke out over the town and sending locals and tourists alike scurrying out into the streets.

    The Harlequin was an inferno, however, the genuine article. How it began was a mystery. Whoever might have had information on that- waitresses, patrons, bartender-all had been trapped inside.

    There was little to be done. With limited water for such an emergency and no organized fire department the strategy was merely to wait until the fires burned out and hope for as little damage as possible. But the fact that there were three fires and not just one sent a wave of panic through the town. Somewhere out there a madman was amongst them and any store, home or taverna might be next. Businesses were abandoned as people flooded through the streets to the open expanse dock-side. Some stood guarding their homes with ancient rifles. Some just gawked at the flames.

    Boats pulled out of the harbor hoping for safety at sea, their owners highly aware of the vulnerability of their craft to sparks from the Harlequin. There was no order to this, and in the darkness there were quite a few near-collisions, with the bow of the sixty-foot British Chris Craft Ruby Lee, now struck lightless for some reason, actually broad-siding the fifty-four-foot Striker Holy Moses just out of port. She too-indeed most every ship in the harbor-was having trouble with her running lights tonight.

    Orville and Betty Dunworth had been enjoying a late dinner at Kostas’-if not each other’s company-when news of the fire reached them. Above them a string of colored lights flickered, died, and flickered on again. They hurriedly abandoned their kabobs and tzadziki and headed for the Balthazar. Orville had never quite mastered the drachma so he dropped a handful of bills on the table, imagining it was more then enough and cursing the damn fool Greeks who seemed willing to let their town bum down around them.

    Where he came from you protected private property.

    “If anything happens to that cruiser,” he told Betty, “I’ll kill them.”

    The following events-and word of them-added immensely to the town’s prevailing mood of fear and chaos.

    Back by the windmills on the far side of town a pair of goats and a donkey were found eviscerated in a field, parts of them scattered through the scrubby grass and across the low fieldstone fence. A blonde teenage boy and a dark teenage girl were seen walking away from the field by a reliable witness, a grandmother of twelve, who said that even in the dark she could see that the back of the girl’s head seemed to be matted with dried blood.

    At the overseas telephone office near the City Lights Disco, Kostas Mavrodopolous, who had been missing for over a day and whose wife, it was well known, was worried sick about him, ambled by the flower man, who for once was without his basket and when the flower man tried to stop and talk to him Kostas turned and hissed like a cat, his head at an angle so that the neck looked broken, dried blood all across his fancy shirt, his eyes covered by a thin lusterless cloudy film. The flower man had lived through two world wars and knew a dead man when he saw one, and as far as he was concerned Kostas was completely dead, and walking.