The Long Sleep

XVIII

Two hours later Joel had a working knowledge of the building. It was an inverted pyramid lacking both windows and doors to the outside world. More likely than not, it was a subterranean installation — an enormous one with considerably more than a million square feet of space, perhaps two million. He hadn't been able to cover a fraction of it. Nine of the eighteen levels had been established as living quarters, while the other nine contained laboratories, offices, and storage rooms. At one time the pyramid must have housed in excess of two thousand people, though now there was not a clue to their fate. The top floor, where Henry Galing maintained his “house” and where the fake streets had been built, was the garage. The corridors there were several times wider than those on lower levels, and two huge rooms were parked full of cars, buses, armored military jeeps, tanks, amphibious troop carriers, taxis, pleasure cars, as well as a wide variety of utilitarian shuttles. Only one small segment of the topmost level had been used for the phony streets, the telescoped forest, and Galing's private estate.

Yet, knowing all of this, Joel was still confused. He could find no reason for the existence of the strange building or for his own presence here. It was like the central puzzle of astronomy: man could learn countless facts about the universe without ever grasping the why of it.

Now, Joel lay on a bed of ferns at the edge of the impossible forest. He was watching the rear of the Galing mansion. Once he had learned the basic nature of the building, he knew that he was going to have to go out of it — even if there were danger in that — to get a good perspective on the events of the last couple days. But once he was out, Galing could keep him from getting in again. Therefore, rather than be cut off from her, he had returned to get Allison before he left. And he intended to observe the stage before making his entrance: the house was dark and silent, the lawn dark and deserted. When he was finally convinced that no one had yet missed him, he got to his feet and brushed the leaves from his clothes.

A light came on in the kitchen.

Joel knelt down until he was hidden by the underbrush.

The kitchen door opened, and three men came out of the house: Galing, Richard, and the faceless man.

Joel stretched out flat, snuggling in the shadows.

The three men walked purposefully towards the forest. Each step they took gave them a sudden, impossible growth — one flaw of the illusion that made the lawn seem much larger than it was. In a moment they stood at the perimeter of the trees.

“He could be anywhere in the fortress,” the faceless man said. “That's a lot to cover. More than the three of us can manage. Hell, he could be right here in the woods, as far as that goes, and we could walk right over him without knowing it.”

“We should have foreseen it,” Galing said. He was angry with himself. He spat into the weeds.

“This wasn't part of the program,” Richard said. “There wasn't any way we could prepare for it.”

“His escape from the dungeon mock-up wasn't part of the program either,” Galing said. “When he went out through the drains instead of through the door, we should have know the program was breaking down. We should have taken precautions.”

They were silent for a minute, listening to the recorded calls of night birds in the trees. Then the faceless man said: Maybe this time he'll have convinced himself about the girl.”

Galing laughed bitterly. “Oh, wouldn't that be nice! No more of these damned charades! But you know something? I don't think it's going to be that easy.”

“Neither do I,” the faceless man said.

“It's a lovely thought, though,” Richard said. “No more time in the cold tanks. I dread it more each time he sends us back to those things.”

“At least you haven't been temporarily transformed into a monster!” the faceless man said. “Will you look at me? Just look at me!”

“But as you said,” Galing reminded him, “it's only temporary.”

“You think that makes it any more fun for me?” the faceless man asked.

“We know it isn't fun,” Richard said impatiently. “It isn't fun for any of us. You aren't the only one who's suffering, you know.”

Galing said: “Maybe he'll choose me for the faceless part next time around.”

“You?” the faceless man said sullenly. “Hardly. You're a major figure in this whole affair. You're one of the primary symbols that his psyche can't do without. Not have Henry Galing in one of his charades? Hell, that would be tantamount to not giving himself a role!”

Lying in the dead leaves, his face pressed to the ground, a cloak of shadows pulled across him, Joel was astonished at what they were saying. Did they mean that he was the father of these lies, the master of the illusions? Preposterous! It could only be one more of their tricks. They were talking for his benefit, hoping to draw him out. If he stood up now, thinking he was the master, they'd have him back in the mansion in another illusion within minutes.

“Come on,” Galing said. “We've got to find him. We've got to see what he's learned and figure out how to remedy the situation.”

“I know what to do,” the faceless man said.

“You do, eh?”

“Stop the charade right now.”

“Too easy,” Richard said.

“Now and then, I like things easy.”

“Richard's right,” Galing said. “Besides, he wouldn't like it if we gave up now.”

“Why wouldn't he?” the faceless man asked.

“You know him as well as I do.”

“Sure, sure. But he must be ready to crack up. He must be nearly insane with doubt, confusion…”

Galing sighed and spat again. “Of course he is. Cracking up. Nearly insane. Desperate. And that is precisely what he wants to be, Brian.”

So the faceless man had a name. Brian. It seemed funny that a monster should be given such an ordinary name.

“But it's all falling apart, Henry!” Brian said.

“Then let's see if we can put it back together again, at least for a little while.”

“Won't work.”

“We have to try.”

“Henry's right,” Richard said.

The specter sighed. “Yes, I suppose he is.”

“Or it's back to the cold tanks,” Richard said.

They pushed through the dense underbrush and disappeared along the narrow woodland path.

When he was sure they'd had time to reach the fake street and to begin their search in that direction, Joel got to his feet. He hurried across the lawn, paused at the kitchen door to be sure the room was empty, then went into the house.

He stood with his back to the wall immediately inside the door, listening intently for movement in the house. But there was none.

Keeping close to the wall where his back was protected, he went to the cellar door, opened it, and descended the steps to have a look at the nutrient tanks. The bodies still floated there; Galing had called up none of the reserves, except for the faceless man.

He went up to the kitchen again.

He listened.

Silence.

He went to get Allison.