Night Plague by Graham Masterton

Author:Graham Masterton [Masterton, Graham]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781035904068
Publisher: Bloomsbury Publishing

*

At last they approached Gordon, who had just woken up from a restless doze on the sofa. Springer knelt down beside him and gently laid his hand on his scarf-wrapped wrist. Gordon’s face was colorless, and his eyes were widely dilated. When he spoke, his voice was slurred, as if he were recovering from anesthetic.

Stanley wondered if Springer had somehow “put him under” to ease the shock and the pain of what had happened to him. No matter how miraculous Springer’s healing might have been, the loss of a hand must still have been hideously traumatic.

“Gordon …” said Springer in a gentle voice. “How are you feeling?”

“Terrible,” Gordon replied. “I feel as if a gerbil’s been sleeping in my mouth. Do you think I could have a drink of water?”

“Of course. Stanley, would you mind? It’s going to take you a week or two to get over the shock.”

“What were those things … those dog-things?”

“Guard dogs, if you like. Witches create them for their own amusement; and also to serve them and protect them. You’ve read fairy stories about witches stealing children … Rapunzel, Hansel and Gretel … they’re based on truth. Witches used to steal babies and children and meld them supernaturally with the bodies of dogs, or cats, or goats. The children were always promised that—one day—they would be changed back into human shape, but in return they had to serve and obey their mistress without question. Those boy-dogs who attacked you at Tennyson were guarding the entrance to their mistress’s memories … that rainy landscape, that barbaric world of pain and disease.”

Stanley brought Gordon a glass of water, which Gordon drank thirstily and unsteadily, spilling some of it down the front of his coat.

“The boy-dogs were told to kill all intruders, whatever the cost,” said Springer. “You were lucky to escape with your lives.”

“I left my hand behind,” said Gordon.

Springer slowly stood up and looked at Gordon with a mixture of compassion and acceptance. Stanley saw in his eyes the steadiness of somebody who knows that events must turn out as events must turn out; but somebody who can regret it, all the same. There are greater conflicts in the universe than the squabbles of men. There are far more monstrous planets turning than the planet earth; and far more agonizing losses than the loss of Gordon’s hand.

All the same, the distance between the earth and Jupiter, at conjunction, was only 928 million kilometers; and the distance between Gordon and his lost hand was infinite.

Springer said, “Since you were born, Gordon, you were fated to lose that hand. You probably don’t know it, but your great-great-grandfather lost the same hand, when he was called to the service of the Night Warriors. And three generations before that, his great-great-grandfather also lost his left hand.”

“But why?” asked Gordon in a hoarse voice.

“It was a sacrifice, of a sort. A way of improving your ability to fight for Ashapola. Just as Amazon women removed one breast to make it easier for them to use a bow and arrow, your hand was given in the cause of the greatest battle of all.

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