The Dark at the End

8

Ernst checked his watch again. Hours now since he’d dropped off the One.

The One had offered no explanation, simply directed him to an address in the East Twenties and walked into a brick-front office building. A brass plaque was affixed to the wall to the left of the door, but in the fading light Ernst could not read it from the street.

I must feed…

What was he feeding on in there?

Ernst had driven around the block a number of times until a parking space opened with a view of the entrance. He’d left the car and walked over to view the plaque close up.

He could find nothing else to give any hint as to what was being renewed, so he returned to the car and called the Order’s office in midtown. He asked the receptionist who answered to look up the organization.

After a short wait she said, “It appears to be a drug rehabilitation facility.”

Ernst stared at the entrance. What possible need could the One have for a place like that?

He watched a few people straggle in and out-none of them looked like the clientele one would expect at a rehab center. Finally the One appeared. He walked to the curb and stood. Ernst started the car and pulled in before him.

Ernst got a brief look at him while the courtesy light was on and was nearly as shocked at his appearance now as he had been this morning. The wounded, haggard, exhausted, depleted man who had exited the car was gone, replaced by someone who looked healthy and rested.

Still scarred, yes, and still missing his left hand, but the scars seemed less prominent, his complexion had improved, and he seemed to have-was it possible?-filled out.

“Sir, you look…” He searched for the right word.

“Renewed?”

Yes. Exactly.

“May I ask-?”

“Not your concern, Drexler. Your immediate concern lies in retrieving the item I entrusted to you for safekeeping before the Internet fiasco. I assume you still have it.”

“Yes. Of course.”

“Then proceed.”

Traffic was light and he made good time, pulling in front of his building fewer than fifteen minutes later.

“I will wait here.”

Ernst hurried up to his apartment but entered cautiously. What if Jack waited inside? Not an irrational fear-it wouldn’t be the first time. Ernst would have to choose sides right then and there: Tell Jack that his prey waited below, wounded and unsuspecting, or keep the One’s confidence.

But his fear proved unfounded. His apartment was empty and he removed the rectangular box from beneath his bed without incident.

Ernst returned to the car and opened the rear door to hand it to the One, who took it awkwardly with his remaining hand. Then Ernst slipped back behind the wheel.

“One more stop,” said the One.

Only one? And then what?

He gave Ernst an address in the West Eighties. Traffic was heavier there, and half an hour passed before he pulled in before a four-story brownstone. The One got out, carrying his package, and disappeared into the narrow alley running along the side.

What now? More renewal? How long would this take?

Not long at all. The One reappeared less than ten minutes later, still carrying that strange box under his arm. But instead of re-entering the car, he motioned Ernst to lower the window.

“You may go about your business. I have no further need of you tonight.”

That came as both a relief and a disappointment. The One’s presence was intensely discomfiting, but at least he knew where he was and what he was doing… although he had to confess he had no idea what the One had been up to since they’d arrived in Manhattan.

“But where are you going, where will you stay? You have no phone, no money. I will give you the use of my-”

“Not necessary. Events will reach a head in the next few hours or days or… they will not. If they go our way, phones and money will be irrelevant. If they do not, you will hear from me.”

With that he turned and began walking east. Where to? Central Park lay in that direction.

Ernst sat and watched him go, remembering his parting words.

If they go our way…

The One had said “ our way.” Did that mean that Ernst was back in the fold, that he’d be spared the tribulations of the Change? It certainly seemed so.

With a lightened heart, he put the car in gear and headed home.

Strange, how things worked. Had Ernst not sided with Jack last week, Szeto would still be alive. The One’s remarks this morning had made it clear that he’d called Szeto first and, were he alive, Szeto would be ferrying the One around today instead of Ernst.

Always trust your instincts, he reminded himself. And right now his instincts told him to stay as far as possible from Jack.