eVersion 1.1 - click for scan notes IT LOOKS ALIVE TO ME! Thomas Baum To William, with thanks Most of this novel takes place in The American Museum of Natural History in New York City. Because I love the museum, I've tried to describe it accurately. Readers who have been there may notice that I've added some exhibits and changed the floor plan slightly. I hope nobody minds. Dust thou art, and unto dust shall thou return.—Genesis 3:19 -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Part One—FELKER'S MAKEUP 1 2 3 4 5 6 Part Two—THE SPINELESS AND THE BRAVE 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 Part Three—THIN AIR 14 15 16 17 18 19 Part Four—TO DUST RETURN 20 21 22 -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Part One—FELKER'S MAKEUP 1 "How dumb can you get, man? I can't believe it. I never saw such a dumb thing in my whole life. You know north from south, man? You know right from left?" "Usually," said Burdick, giving his pen a shake. "Then how come you don't know their basket from our basket?" Burdick shrugged. He was sitting on the stone wall at the edge of Central Park, across from The American Museum of Natural History, adding up the columns of tallies in a scorebook. Hirsh and Fennessy were sitting next to him, and Luis Martinez was slamming a basketball against the wall. "I almost died, man. How come you didn't pass off? We screamed at you to pass off." "It could've been worse," said Burdick. "How, man? How? You score the winning basket for them with no time left. How could it be worse?" "I could've scored the winning basket for us" said Burdick. "Then you'd have to put me in another game." Hirsh laughed and patted Burdick's shoulder. "Leave him alone, Luis," he said to Martinez. "The kid's trying to be cheerful." "Just because a person's good in school," offered Fennessy, "don't mean he's got a sense of direction." "I'm good in school," said Martinez, "and I've got a sense of direction. I also got five girlfriends. How many girlfriends you got, Burdick?" "Less than five," said Burdick evasively. He looked past the traffic on Central Park West at the Museum of Natural History. He had lived across from the museum, at 20 West 77th Street, New York City, all his life. In many ways the museum was his favorite place in the world. He wished he were inside it now, but he supposed he had to listen to Martinez. "Anyway," said Martinez, twirling the basketball on his finger, "I heard Burdick wasn't doing so good in school. I heard he flunked one of Felker's science tests." "Really?" said Fennessy and Hirsh, almost in unison, looking at Burdick. "My kid brother told me," Martinez said, spinning the ball. "Burdick the famous brain got a fifty-seven." "Is that true!" said Hirsh, amazed. "What unit?" asked Fennessy. "Ecology," said Burdick, wincing. The tests had been handed back that morning. In his whole life he had never gotten fifty-anything on anything. The murmurs of the class (Felker had read all the marks aloud) were still echoing in his head. "Boy, this wasn't your day," said Fennessy. "You gonna take a makeup?" asked Hirsh. "I remember Felker's makeup tests," said Fennessy. "They were impossible." "The makeup's tomorrow," said Burdick gloomily. "You study yet?" Burdick shook his head. "I was planning to study in the museum." And he nodded across the street. "Does that work?" asked Hirsh. "Can you really learn stuff there?" "Sometimes," said Burdick, who was a little wary of letting people know how much he liked the museum. "It's sort of like a textbook, if you know where to look." "If I had a Felker makeup tomorrow," said Fennessy, "I'd be sure and get sick." Burdick shook his head doubtfully. "My parents are hard to fool sometimes." "Aw, you don't know anything," said Martinez. "Didn't you ever give yourself a fever? Touch the thermometer against a light bulb, that's all. Man, you're naive." He rolled the basketball up his arm. "Quick, genius: White King on QN8, Queen on QR7, Bishop on QB3, Bishop on Q2; Black King on Q4. How does White mate in four?" "You're making that up," objected Burdick. "You gave White two Queen's Bishops." "What I'm saying" said Martinez, "is you're not so smart as everybody thinks. Two guys travel on the same subway train. One guy goes faster. How?" "He walks through the train," said Burdick. "So what? That was easy. Dig it. You're locked in a room with two doors. A lion's behind one door, a broad's behind the other. Both doors have guards. One guard always lies, the other always tells the truth. How do you find the broad with only one question?" "You mean you don't know which guard is the liar?" said Burdick, perking up. "Okay, that shouldn't be that hard—" "Never mind," said Martinez. "You want me to solve it or not?" "Forget the imaginary broads. Burdick, you say you never picked up a girl?" "I didn't say," said Burdick. "But you didn't, right?" said Martinez, and flashed a knowing grin. Coming up the sidewalk behind him were three girls. Two had long straight hair, the third had an Afro. "Watch," said Martinez. With a behind-the-back dribble, he jumped in front of the three girls. "Can you people tell me how to get to Victor's Café?" he said. The girls looked at each other. "No," said the girl with the Afro. "Then we'll show you," said Martinez, hooking his arm around one of the straight-haired girls. The girl with the Afro groaned, and the other two girls laughed, and then the girl with the Afro laughed, too. "Hirsh? Fennessy? Let's go." "Wait," said the girl with the Afro, resisting. "What for?" said Martinez. He touched her hair lightly. "Look, baby. You can say you met Luis Martinez. What can I say?" And he whispered something in the girl's ear. She laughed, and Martinez patted her hair again. Then he tossed the basketball high in Burdick's direction. "That's how it's done, man," he said. Burdick caught the ball on the first bounce. "Take care, Burdick," said Fennessy, jumping off the stone wall. "Yeah, see you later, Burdick," said Hirsh. Martinez pointed to the scorebook. "Type up those stats, scorekeeper." Burdick nodded glumly. He watched Hirsh and Fennessy run to catch up with Martinez, who now had his arms around two of the girls. The whole group moved off toward 77th Street. "Don't study too hard, man!" he heard Martinez call back, but he wasn't sitting on the stone wall anymore. He was walking across Central Park West to the Museum of Natural History. 2 As soon as he was inside the museum he felt better. He left his science book in the checkroom, along with the scorebook and the basketball, showed his membership card to the cashier, and took a preliminary stroll around the Haida war canoe in the 77th Street lobby. There were nineteen Indians in the canoe, which was on its way to a feast. You could win money betting people they couldn't count the Indians—it was easy to miss the medicine man standing in the middle of the canoe, dressed as a bear. Burdick counted them twice, for luck, and walked into the Hall of Biology. Here, beyond the sawed-off heads of man's ancestors and the plaster models of a baby being born, the Transparent Woman was lecturing a school group about her internal organs, which lit up one by one inside her plastic skin. Her voice, which came from a tape machine in her throat, had a Southern accent. Burdick loved the sound of it—earlier that year, he'd studied for a whole Felker biology exam just by listening to the Transparent Woman. " … These are mah breasts," she was saying, as a light clicked off inside her brain and two lights clicked on in her torso. "Inside mah breasts are mah mammary glands. When ah give birth, mah breasts secrete milk for mah newborn child." The school group erupted in giggles, and Burdick, frowning, headed off in the opposite direction. It was late, the museum was closing soon, and he was here to study for his ecology makeup, not visit his favorite exhibits. Breezing past the totem poles in Northwest Coast Indians, past the bookstore and museum shop, he hurried into the Hall of Man and Nature. The road- and bridge-building dioramas were a good place to start—Felker was big on the ravages of civilization. Even better was the underground view of a New York State garden, with its diagram of the nitrogen cycle. Burdick veered toward it, glimpsing, too late, the girl hurrying into Man and Nature from the opposite entrance. They collided head-on—a sketchbook went flying, colored pencils skidded across the marble floor. "Walk much lately?" said the owner of the sketchbook, kneeling down to retrieve the pencils. By the time Burdick bent down to help, she had them all picked up and was standing over him. "Klutz," she said. Burdick glanced up. The girl was staring down at him and smiling. He blinked, once, as though taking a picture of her face, the smile and the stare. When he stood up again, the girl turned sharply, walked a few steps away, and stopped. Selecting a colored pencil, she opened her sketchbook and began to draw. The New York State garden seemed to melt away before Burdick's eyes. The girl who had spoken to him—smiled at him, stared at him, called him a name—was beautiful. She had long dark hair and large dark eyes and tight jeans and a tank top and she was drawing. For an odd, wonderful moment Burdick was sure she was drawing him. But no. She was standing in front of the coal-mining diorama, drawing the shafts and tunnels, drawing the little cars full of ore, drawing the tiny men. He rubbed his forehead. If he didn't speak to her, he would never forgive himself. Probably she was waiting for him to speak to her. Drawing the coal mine was a ruse—it was years since he'd seen anybody even look at it. Or no—that was stupid. She was drawing it for real. For credit. Probably she got all A's. Now she was switching colors. In a second she would be through. Never in his life had he spoken to a strange girl, much less a strange girl who was smart and beautiful and drew with colored pencils. He took a deep breath. Cutting across the aisle, he came up behind her. "Excuse me," he said. The girl spun around, causing her long black hair to whip against her cheek. Talk! "Excuse me, do you know the way to the whale?" "What?" said the girl. "Excuse me—" he said, and stopped. That made three excuse me's. "The way to the whale," he said quickly. "Do you know the way to the whale?" "No. No, I don't." Burdick took another deep breath. "Then why don't you let me show you?" The girl stared at him again. Then she clapped her sketchbook shut, spun around, and started walking away. Burdick, his heart beating desperately, jumped in front of her. "You're making a big mistake," he said. "Oh, really? Tell me about it." It was now or never. "You can say you met Luis Martinez," he said triumphantly. "What can I say? Nothing." The girl stared. Burdick stared back. Then he closed his eyes. For a moment it seemed as if he would never say anything to anyone again. "This is a first for you, isn't it?" said the girl. Burdick's eyes twitched open. "If you really want to help," said the girl, "you can help me get out of here." "Out of the museum?" said Burdick. "Why, is that so unbelievable? I've spent half an hour in this dustbin already. I have to get to the bus stop on Central Park West. Do you think you can show me how, or should I ask a guard?" "Don't call the guard!" said Burdick, lunging toward the archway leading to the Hall of Invertebrates. Once under the giant squid, he looked back. To his amazement, the girl, in all her beauty, was following him. "This is my favorite hall," he announced, a little wildly. "Of course it is," said the girl, with a glance at the case of magnified insects—a fly as big as a suitcase, a daddy longlegs the size of a coffee table, a centipede as long as Wilt Chamberlain. "Scolopendra gigantea," said Burdick, still a bit dazed. "The real ones eat lizards and mice. What's your name?" "I don't have a scientific name," said the girl. "Your English name." "It's not English. It's Spanish-Armenian. It's Lola." "It's nice," said Burdick. "I didn't choose it," said Lola. "Where are you leading me now?" she asked, as Burdick turned up a long flight of white marble stairs. "Asian Mammals," said Burdick. "Next to that is Teddy Roosevelt Hall. That's where the Central Park West exit is. Are you going uptown or downtown?" Lola ignored the question. "You really know the museum by heart, don't you? I bet you come here every day." "Well, not every day," said Burdick. "A lot of days." "I bet you're the museum's number one fan. Don't you think that's a little weird? I do." "I live across the street," said Burdick doggedly. "That's no excuse. What do you like about this place? Really. Tell me." Burdick hesitated. Some girls never stopped, once they got going. "I like it because it's big," he said. "So's Alcatraz." "It's like the Grand Canyon," Burdick persisted. "When I was little, I used to look at the museum across the street from my room and I'd think of stuff being poured into the Grand Canyon, and then hardening, and then being lifted out and flown to New York and set down on 77th Street, and that was how the museum came to be." Lola nodded. "That's far out." "But it's not just that it's big," said Burdick, warming to it, "because you can go all through the museum in a day, if you don't stop to read all the descriptions. And then when you come out and look back at the museum you know you've been everywhere you were allowed to go, in the whole building." "Do you ever write poetry?" asked Lola. "Sometimes," Burdick admitted. "Not that much," he added, to be on the safe side. "You like science better." She sniffed. "You like things to have reasons. Can you empty your mind of everything for ten seconds?" "I don't know," said Burdick. "Probably not." "I didn't think so. I write poetry, too," said Lola, as they entered the ebony darkness of Asian Mammals. "I think museums are a waste of time." "Oh," said Burdick. "It's what's happening right this minute that counts, not a million years ago. If the animals and Indians and everything were alive, that'd be different. I mean free and wild, not like in a zoo. That's what science is—taking the life out of things. Eesh," she said, stopping in front of an Asian habitat group. Behind a wall of glass, four wild dogs were menacing an Asian deer. "It's a sambar stag," explained Burdick. "It's an endangered species. The dogs have just come across it and it's trying to defend itself. Look at the bloody claw-streak down its side." "It's creepy," said Lola. "It looks pretty real," agreed Burdick. "That's what I mean," said Lola. "Museums are for people who want things to look real, not be real. And what's going on here? What's all this noise?" "Beats me," said Burdick, puzzled to see a crowd ahead in Teddy Roosevelt Hall, moving single file behind a rope. The hall itself was bathed in bright light, and inside the rope, men with tape recorders and TV cameras were milling around, shouting to each other and helping to fill the cavernous chamber with shrill, gymlike echoes. "It's strange," said Burdick to Lola, trying to squirm past the line of visitors. "Usually this is the most boring place in the museum. Can we get out here?" he said to the guard just inside the archway. "Where do you want to go?" said the guard, who had a yellow mustache. "She wants to leave," said Burdick, pointing to Lola. "Leave?" said the guard. "Without seeing our moon rock?" Burdick looked where the guard was pointing. In the center of Teddy Roosevelt Hall, under a transparent dome, delicately supported by a pair of silver tongs, sat a tiny piece of black rock. TV lights blazed down on it. Cameras whirred. "What's the matter," said the guard, "don't you read the papers?" "No," said Burdick, stepping out of the way of the crowd. "It's Moon Rock Week," said the guard. "The Museum of Natural History's finally got its own rock from the moon. All the other big museums have had one for years—Boston Museum of Science, Chicago Museum of Science and Industry, the Smithsonian." He beamed proudly. "We got 'em beat, though." "Why?" said Burdick. "Well," said the guard, stroking his yellow mustache, "according to what I hear, that rock there was the first rock Neil Armstrong picked up when he stepped onto the moon. The very first lunar specimen." "Oh," said Burdick, impressed. "Is that why it's under a dome?" "What? No," said the guard. "No, that's to keep it from oxidizing. Air'd rust it to ordinary rock, if we left it out there long enough. Quite a sight, isn't it? Not barely half an ounce, and no larger than a golf ball, but they say we're gonna draw some pretty big crowds." "That's not such good news," said Burdick, who liked the museum best when it wasn't full of people. "Sure," said the guard. "Why else do you think the mayor just arrived?" "He must think it's important," agreed Burdick, whose view of the moon rock was suddenly cut off by people pushing for a glimpse of the mayor. "What about you?" he said to Lola. "Do you think it's important?" There was no answer. Burdick turned around. Lola was gone. On the other side of Teddy Roosevelt Hall was an aisle leading to the Central Park West exit. How could he have been so careless? He fought through the crowd to the revolving door, eyes darting for a glimpse of long black hair. He burst down the steps. There at the downtown bus stop stood Lola. A bus was approaching from 81st Street. He raced it to her. "Lola!" She was counting out her change. "Rule number one: When picking somebody up, keep your mind on your work. Who cares about the moon rock anyway? Don't you know they never even went to the moon? It was all staged for TV in Arizona. You know where they got the moon rock? Here's where they got the moon rock," she said, stooping down and picking up a stone from the sidewalk. It was small and black and no bigger than a golf ball. She dropped it into his palm. The bus swooped to the curb. "But I don't even know your name!" cried Burdick, as Lola jumped aboard. "Femina sardonica," she called back. "That's my scientific name." The door sealed her away. Burdick's heart plummeted. The bus roared away from the curb, dusting him with exhaust fumes. He watched the back window, hoping to see her face, her hand waving, her long black hair, her smile. There was nothing. Not a sign of her. The bus sped into blackness. Burdick clenched his fist around the small, black stone. Lola what? 3 "You just left them there? In the museum? Two books and a basketball and you just left them in the checkroom?" "I forgot," said Burdick, twirling a few beans on his fork. "How could you just forget?" said his father. "That's very peculiar, darling," said his mother. "I came out a different way than I went in," said Burdick. "From," his father corrected. "You came out a different way from the way you went in. That wasn't very bright, was it?" "I got distracted," said Burdick. "Distracted?" said his father. "By what?" his mother asked. Burdick made a pond of gravy in his mashed potatoes. Now that he had let one thing slip out, he might as well tell all. "By a girl," he said. "By what?" said his father, cupping an ear. "He said a girl," said his mother. "That's what I thought he said." There was a long silence. His mother filled her mouth with beans and chewed pensively. His father gulped the rest of his wine and poured himself another glass. "We could call the museum," his mother said finally. "If the curator of dinosaurs is working late, I'm sure he could arrange to have you pick up your books. He'd love to see you again, I'm sure. He always thought you were so remarkable. Remember, darling?" "No," said Burdick. "He used to take you around with him to all the exhibits. What was it you used to call that one dinosaur? The one with the duck bill?" "I don't remember," said Burdick. "Oh, yes you do too. The trachodon. You had a name for it." "Donald Duck dinosaur," his father said. "That was it!" said his mother, delighted. "Donald Duck dinosaur. Marvelous." Burdick poked at his potatoes with his fork. A rivulet of gravy ran out of the pond. "I never saw what was so great about that," he said. "And that day—remember?—when you suddenly read off all the names of the objects in the Pharaoh's Tomb. It was the day before your third birthday. We took you to be tested, and within a month you were reading at a fourth-grade level … What's the matter, darling? Don't scratch. Do you have an itch?" "No," said Burdick, looking up from his plate. "Could you tell me, either of you, how to find out somebody's phone number if you only know the first name?" "I don't think that's possible, darling," said his mother. "Of course it isn't," said his father. "Why on earth should you want to do that?" said his mother. Burdick shook his head. "No reason," he said and, excusing himself, walked down the hall to his room, closing the door behind him. The museum stared at him from across 77th Street—he tilted the blinds shut and stretched out on his bed. Parents, as usual, never knew anything. If he was so smart, how come he'd forgotten to tell Lola his real name? What if she was trying to call Luis Martinez right this minute? Should he call Martinez himself, tie up the line? No, that was stupid. That was wishful thinking. He had made a stupid impression and that was that. Why did he have to say the Hall of Invertebrates was his favorite hall? Invertebrates were animals without backbones! There was a knock on his door. "We tried calling the museum, darling. Nobody answers." Both his parents were in the doorway. "You'll get your books tomorrow," said his father. "Which books were they, darling?" "My science book," said Burdick. "Oh well, you just had a test in science," said his father. "Ecology, wasn't that it? You can probably do without the book for one night." "What did you get on the test, darling? I don't believe you told us yet." Burdick shaded his eyes. "Not a hundred," he said. "Oh, well," said his father. "Is that what's bothering you, darling?" "Nobody expects perfection." "Of course not. Remember what the psychiatrist said? That wouldn't be human. That's what Dr. Kleinmann's been trying to get you to see. You mean you were afraid to tell us? Oh, darling. Don't you remember when you brought home that eighty-seven in French? We never said a word." "And that was a report card." Burdick looked up. His parents were standing by the bed. "Don't ever be afraid to tell us anything," said his mother. "That's right." His father patted his arm. "And try to forget about your science book. It'll be there tomorrow in the checkroom, so don't worry about a thing. Everything's going to be fine … " 4 "—Anh," said Burdick, grabbing his leg and opening his eyes. He was lying in bed on his side, with a sharp pain in his leg. When he rolled to a sitting position, the pain went away. He reached in his pants pocket and took out the small, black stone that Lola had given him. How long had he been lying on it? He listened. From down the hall came the sound of the Today show on the kitchen TV. He tilted open the blinds. Across 77th Street, the Museum of Natural History shone in the sunlight. He had fallen asleep in his clothes and slept straight through the night. With a shudder he fell back on his bed. It was the day of Felker's makeup, his science book was in the museum, and he hadn't studied a thing. Nothing had changed. Everything was just the same. He stared at the ceiling, trying to empty his mind. How long had she said? Ten seconds. He tried to empty his mind for ten seconds. One one thousand. Two one thousand. Three— There was a knock on the door. "Time to get up," he heard his father say. The door opened and his father peered in, unshaven. "You're already dressed," he said. "Yes," said Burdick. "Then what in God's name are you lying there for?" "I just woke up," said Burdick. "What do you mean? You slept in your clothes? With the light on?" "What's wrong?" said Burdick's mother, poking her head in. "He slept in his clothes," said his father. "He slept in his clothes?" "With the light on," said his father. "What's the matter, darling? Are you feeling sick?" His mother's hand was on his forehead and his father's hand was on his pulse. Sick! Of course! Why hadn't he thought of that before? "I've got an ache," said Burdick. "Where?" said his father. Concentrating, he rolled on his side, trying to shift the pain in his leg to his throat. "It's not really in any one place," he said. "I'll get the thermometer," said Burdick's mother, hurrying out. "Stick out your tongue," said his father. "More. More. Say ah." "Ahh," said Burdick. "Your throat is clear. Your nose isn't stuffed. You're not sneezing or coughing." "No," Burdick granted. "We'll see what the thermometer says," said Burdick's father. "Put it under your tongue. Farther. I'll be back in three minutes." "I'll make some broth," said Burdick's mother, following her husband out. Burdick watched them go. When he heard the sound of his father's electric razor in the bathroom, he took the thermometer out of his mouth and placed the bulb against the bulb of his reading lamp. From the kitchen came the sound of pots and pans. How long did it take a light bulb to get hot? More than three minutes? Or no—what was he thinking? That wasn't a problem. The light had been on all night. With a small, gaseous puff, the thermometer exploded onto the pillow. Working frantically, Burdick swept the slivers of thermometer glass and the droplets of mercury off his bed into an envelope from his wastebasket. His father's footsteps sounded in the hall and his head appeared in the doorway. Burdick wheeled around, hiding the envelope of debris behind his back. "Well?" said his father. Burdick shook his head. "It's normal," he said, clutching the envelope. "So you're all right after all." "Yes," said Burdick. "He's all right," said his father, as Burdick's mother came in with the broth. "Are we sure?" "His temperature's normal." "He looks pale. You look pale, darling. What's the matter?" she said, as Burdick backed away, hiding the envelope. "Tell us." It was hopeless, but worth a try. "I'd rather not go to school," he said. "What did he say?" said his father. "He said he doesn't want to go to school," said his mother, lips tightening. "Could one of you write me an absence excuse? It would be just this one time." "I don't think so, darling," his mother said hoarsely, almost in a whisper. His father was frowning and backing out of the room. A moment later he heard the two of them conferring in the hall. He heard his mother mention Dr. Kleinmann, and his father ask where the phone book was, and that was all he heard, because the sound of police sirens in front of the museum was drowning out both their voices. 5 There was no choice now but to retrieve his science book from the checkroom and try cramming during the day, before Felker's class. At least that way he'd be late for school, and with any luck he'd be sent down to the office and work in some studying there. With a glance back up at his parents' window, he dropped the envelope of thermometer remains in a trash basket and then hurried down the 77th Street museum steps into the vestibule. Straightaway his heart fell. The checkroom was closed. The attendant was on the other side of the building, helping with the moon rock crowd. "I think I'd recognize him," said Burdick to the cashier. "I really need to get what I left in the checkroom." "Maybe he'll send down the key," said the cashier with a shrug and waved Burdick through. There was no time to linger at the giant Haida canoe, so he walked straight on through Northwest Coast Indians, past the masks and totem poles and the glass case of nineteen miniature Haidas paddling a miniature canoe. This hall and, so far as he could tell, all the other halls on this side of the museum were empty. The museum was not itself, with so many people in one place. As he turned the corner into North American Mammals, the noise of the moon rock crowd echoed down the stairway. Up he went, three stairs at a time. The second-floor corridor was jammed. A man was shouting through a bullhorn—the crowd was surging in several directions. Something was very wrong indeed. Squirming between bodies, he pushed into Teddy Roosevelt Hall. The man shouting through the bullhorn was a policeman—there were policemen everywhere, herding visitors away from the entrance, out of the hall. In the middle of the hall stood the transparent moon rock case, ringed by policemen and museum guards and an unruly group of people with lights and cameras. "GET THESE TV GUYS OUT OF HERE!" ordered the cop with the bullhorn. "WE'LL HAVE NOTHING LEFT BUT PHOTOGRAPHERS' PRINTS!" The transparent case was empty. "COME ON, FOLKS! YOU'VE GOT THE WHOLE REST OF THE MUSEUM TO LOOK AT! NO MOON SHOW TODAY! KEEP IT MOVING!" The moon rock was gone. "BACK! MOVE BACK! ABSOLUTELY NO ONE ALLOWED IN THE CRIME AREA!" Burdick slid along the front of the crowd, gaping at the moon rock case. Gone! The TV cameramen were being shoved back and a police photographer was snapping pictures of the empty dome. The moon rock was gone! Like magicians trying to conjure it back, three men in lab coats were shaking white powder over the entrance doors, the marble floor, the pedestal, the dome, and the silver tongs that had held the moon rock in place. "KEEP IT MOVING!" The crowd fell back. Burdick tried to hold his ground but couldn't and drifted with the current into Asian Mammals. It was like getting a flat tire on the highway—as soon as you got out of the car everything looked different, the sky, the asphalt, the grass along the side of the road, the cars whizzing by. Backed up against a Sumatran-rhinoceros case, Burdick watched the crowd eddy past. The museum was different now, too, because something had happened to it, the moon rock was gone, and there were signs, CRIME AREA, in Teddy Roosevelt Hall. " … It was early this morning. I come in here on my usual rounds and the first thing I see the cover's been pried off and the moon rock is missing." It was the guard with the yellow mustache, holding forth in front of Eld's deer. Burdick edged closer. "Who'd have thought anybody'd try and take it? It's got no precious minerals or anything like that. It's got scientific value, sure, but you can't fence scientific value. Not at any price worth the risk." "Maybe it's being held for ransom," a man suggested. "Maybe it's just a prank," said a woman. "Long way to go for just a prank," said the guard. Glancing left and right and lowering his voice, he added, "They still can't figure out how he got in." Burdick raised his hand. "How do you know it was a he?" he asked. "How do you know it was only one?" The guard eyed him. "We don't, and that's a fact. You look familiar, fella. You were here yesterday, I recall." "I'm here quite a lot," nodded Burdick. "Maybe you're the thief," said the guard, and several people chuckled. "Now the mystery is," he went on, "the windows here are all locked at night. And they're still locked. So the thief, or thieves, couldn't have come up any fire escape or in any window. They had to come in through a regular entrance, or not at all. I tell you it's got the police baffled." "The curators must be awfully upset," a woman said. "Wouldn't you be?" said the guard. "Think of the notoriety! This didn't happen in Boston, or Chicago, or the Smithsonian, or any other museum where they got a moon rock. No, only here—only at The American Museum of Natural History. First moon rock picked up, and first night out it gets pinched. Scandal like this could really hurt us—even make us close our doors." He leaned forward confidentially. "I hear they're offering a big reward." "Really?" said Burdick. "I'm telling you, they're desperate. They'd do anything to get that moon rock back. Now if you folks'll excuse me, the detectives will be wanting to talk to me some more, being as how I discovered the moon rock was missing in the first place. What's the matter, fella?" said the guard, patting Burdick's shoulder. "Excitement too much for you?" "No," said Burdick. Suddenly he was trembling. "You sure? You look white as a sheet." "I'm okay," said Burdick, barely able to speak. He was staring at an exhibit directly across the hall. "Well, okay," said the guard doubtfully. "Got to run, everybody. Duty calls." He gestured toward Burdick. "For a minute there, I thought the kid had seen a ghost." "No," said Burdick, shaking his head. It was something much worse. 6 He walked slowly across Asian Mammals. To his left, an Indian leopard crouched on a rock. To his right, a water buffalo lapped at the edge of a river. Directly in front of him, three wild dogs bent over the sambar stag, devouring it. Devouring it. A shiver went up his spine. A school group, led by a teacher, passed in front of the exhibit, briefly blocking his view. He moved closer, walking slowly toward the glass, heart pounding. The sambar stag, what was left of it, lay in a heap in the dust. Three of the dogs had their jaws around pieces of its flesh. The fourth dog lay twisted in a pile of leaves on the far right of the exhibit, an antler wound in its belly. Burdick closed his eyes. He saw the stag as he had seen it yesterday, and all the days before that, upright, one hoof raised, a single claw mark in its flank, the dogs, all four of them, snarling, about to spring. He opened his eyes. There it was again, the stag dead, the dogs eating. There was no mistaking it. "LET'S GET THE LEAD OUT, FOLKS! KEEP IT MOVING!" "Excuse me," said Burdick shakily, coming up to the cop with the bullhorn. "PLENTY ELSE TO SEE AND NOT MUCH TIME TO SEE IT! CLEAR THIS FLOOR PLEASE!" The cop glanced at Burdick. "That goes for you too, pal. Beat it." "I have something to report," said Burdick. "What is it?" said the cop impatiently. "NO EXIT THIS SIDE! CLEAR THIS FLOOR!" "The sambar stag," said Burdick. "The what? What about it?" "It's different," said Burdick. "What's different about it?" "The stag is dead," said Burdick. "Of course it's dead," said the cop. "It's an exhibit. What are you, a wise guy? Why aren't you in school?" "Please look," said Burdick. pointing. The cop looked. "Bunch of dogs eating a deer," he said. "They weren't eating the deer yesterday," said Burdick. "They were only attacking it." "What's that supposed to be, funny?" "It's not funny at all. Something strange is happening." "Something strange'll happen to you, kid, if you don't get your tail out of here in two seconds. Not that way," the cop said, as Burdick glanced around Teddy Roosevelt Hall, hoping to catch a glimpse of a curator, the mayor, somebody he could talk to, somebody who would understand. "That way. Downstairs. 77th Street exit. That means now!" Burdick backed away. At least he wasn't seeing things. At least he wasn't crazy. What he had seen, the cop had seen, too. His head was starting to swim, but he had to keep calm. There were offices near the 77th Street lobby. He had to find a curator, take him back to Asian Mammals. Down the stairs he flew, through Northwest Coast Indians, the Haida war canoe looming up in the lobby, which was full of people moving toward the exit doors. Outside the museum shop, the checkroom attendant was talking animatedly with the cashier. Burdick looked at them, and then he looked at the canoe, and the hair stood up on the back of his neck. " … That's right," the checkroom attendant was saying. "No sign of forced entry." "You mean the robber had a key?" said the cashier. "Or never had to come in at all," said the attendant. Burdick looked again at the checkroom attendant and the cashier. They hadn't noticed the canoe. Nobody else had noticed. "You mean it was an inside job?" said the cashier. "All I know," said the attendant, "is the cops want us all down at the station, all museum personnel. They're gonna question us one by one." "That's ridiculous," said the cashier. "It wasn't any employee pulled this. No sir. Nobody in this museum would have had the motive, nor the guts. This was no inside job." "You're sure about that," said the attendant. "As sure as there's nineteen Indians in that canoe." "But there aren't," said Burdick. "What did he say?" said the cashier, turning around. "What did you say, kid?" "There aren't nineteen Indians in that canoe," said Burdick, the hair prickling on the back of his neck. "There are eighteen Indians in that canoe. Yesterday there were nineteen. Today there are eighteen. And up on the second floor the sambar stag is dead. The wild dogs killed it last night. Personally, I blame the moon rock, but now the moon rock's missing, and the medicine man has escaped from the Haida war canoe. Look, if you don't believe me! See for yourself! Count the Indians! Don't take my word for it—" "PLEASE PROCEED TO THE EXIT. THE MUSEUM IS CLOSING." Burdick spun around. The cop with the bullhorn was coming right at him. "THE MUSEUM IS CLOSING IN ONE MINUTE. PROCEED TO THE 77TH STREET EXIT DIRECTLY AHEAD OF YOU." Burdick jumped back just in time. The cop had almost seen him. Sticking his head out cautiously from behind the canoe, Burdick looked to see if either the cashier or the checkroom attendant was reporting the missing Indian. They weren't. Both the cashier and the attendant were gone. The cop was herding people out the door, worried teachers were counting heads as kids squirmed past on their way out, the entire lobby crowd was moving shakily toward the exit like vegetables in a trough. "THE MUSEUM IS CLOSED." Burdick pulled his head back, looking up at the canoe. Just to think about it made him dizzy, but there it was—the medicine man was gone, bearskin and all. Where was he now? Northwest Coast Indians was empty, as was the lobby—all visitors had been herded out, and a guard was double-locking the 77th Street exit. He would have to take his chances in Northwest Coast Indians—it was the darkest hall on the first floor, with the safest hiding places. Waiting until the cop with the bullhorn was facing the other way, he backed up, keeping the canoe between the cop and himself. Groping for the case of miniature Haidas, he crouched down just inside the archway. The cop with the bullhorn was going up the stairs to the second floor. Only one guard was left, but he was staying put. There was no choice. He would have to wait him out. He would count off the minutes like the minutes in English class, [tallies]. He would list all the NBA players he could think of, Kareem Abdul-Jabbar through Max Zaslofsky. He would name eight products each for eighty American cities, and spell every word he could remember. Sooner or later the guard would be called away for questioning, or have to go to the bathroom. Then he would go upstairs and search every floor from the fourth floor down. Nobody else knew what to look for. Nobody else knew about the missing medicine man, nobody else knew about the dead sambar stag, nobody else knew that the museum was alive, or wanted to know. It was frightening—more frightening than staying alone on New Year's Eve, or talking into Dr. Kleinmann's tape recorder, or being mugged in Central Park—but he had to do it. Forget school, forget Felker's science test. From a scientific standpoint, there was no place in the world more important to be, at this moment, than The American Museum of Natural History in New York City. The guard's footsteps echoed in the lobby. A, thought Burdick. Aardvark, abacus, actor, adenoids, aerodynamics, afterbirth, agriculture, ahh … Part Two—THE SPINELESS AND THE BRAVE 7 … Valhalla, vertigo, vibrate, vocabulary, vulture, wapiti, wedding, whippoorwill, wildebeest … Burdick poked his head out. It was night. Outside the lobby, 77th Street was black. For the past few hours the guard had done nothing but pace the floor and read his newspaper, over and over. In the glass case behind which he was hiding, nothing had moved, including the miniature medicine man in his miniature bear costume. The nineteen miniature Haidas sat, or stood, stiff as death in their miniature canoe, which hadn't moved an inch. Nothing anywhere had moved. All Burdick had heard, here or anywhere else, was the clicking of the guard's shoes on the lobby floor. … worrywart, wristwatch, wulfenite, Wyoming … As he was about to go through the alphabet again, for the thirty-fourth time, something caught his eye. Finally, something was happening. A cop had come into the lobby and was giving the guard instructions on where to report for questioning. The cop pointed, and the guard nodded, and the guard hurried out the door to 77th Street, followed by the cop, who locked the door behind them. The lobby was empty at last. Burdick stood up. Walking on his heels to soften his footsteps, he crossed the lobby, pausing at the canoe to glance around. So far, so good. No shouts, no alarms, no flashlights, no bullhorns. The museum was silent as a tomb. He moved quickly through the elevator foyer to the foot of the marble stairs. One hand on the banister, he climbed until the second floor came into view. To the left was a gallery of Amazon Indians, under repair and stripped of all but a few exhibits—a Shipibo woman knitting a fishnet, a Conibo warrior aiming a fancy arrow at some imaginary target in the darkness. Nothing moved. Not a feather stirred in Birds of the World, to his right. The eye of the dodo, just inside the wall, was cold as glass. There was no sign of life, and no sign of the missing medicine man. He gazed up the stairs to the third floor, where it was even darker, and gave a shiver. Maybe he did know the museum as well as anybody, and better than the fugitive from the canoe, but this wasn't going to be easy at all. He took one step up the stairs and stopped. A cricket chirped. The dodo blinked. The Conibo's bow creaked. Burdick whirled. The Conibo warrior was no longer facing the darkness of the Amazon Indian gallery. His fancy arrow was no longer pointed at an imaginary target. He had rotated precisely ninety degrees and was staring down the shaft of his arrow straight into Burdick's eyes. A cry of terror stuck in Burdick's throat. The Conibo pulled the bowstring back another half inch. He let go. A hideous twang filled the foyer. Something heavy collided with Burdick's chest, knocking him off his feet, and he hit the floor with a bone-cracking thud. The sound of the bow echoed up and down the marble stairs. I'm dead, thought Burdick. I don't feel a thing. An arrow just knocked me down and I don't feel a thing. I must be dead. I am dead. I start out on a search and the first thing that happens is I'm dead. He waved his hands in front of him and in back of him. Nothing. No arrow. He slapped his forehead, his neck, his chest, his belly, feeling for a hole. There was no hole. If I'm dead, thought Burdick, why am I checking to see if I'm dead? I must be alive. Then what knocked me down? He opened his eyes, getting to his feet. Here was the elevator foyer. Here was the stairway to the third floor. And there, looming out of a patch of imitation jungle, was the Conibo warrior, reaching into his quiver for a second fancy arrow. Halfway to his feet, Burdick dived for the floor. The Combo's arrow whizzed past his ear. From Birds of the World came a gull-like screech and the wild flapping of several pairs of wings. "He's shooting at anything that moves," said a voice. Burdick stiffened. The voice had come from a shadowy recess next to the elevator. Burdick looked up. There, not two yards away, out of the Conibo's line of sight, crouched a man with the head of a bear. "It's you!" gasped Burdick. The medicine man held a finger to his lips. "You knocked me down! You saved my life! You're the nineteenth Indian!" "Kwikluk of the Haidas," whispered the medicine man, flipping back his bear helmet. "Burdick," said Burdick. "Tribe?" "No tribe. I'm from outside," said Burdick. "Outside what?" said the medicine man, and shook his head. "Never mind the explanations. That fellow there means to split my skull." He nodded toward the patch of jungle in the Amazon gallery. The Conibo was poised on the edge, as if deciding whether to descend into the surrounding sea of marble. "He wasn't aiming for you, you realize. No indeed. He was aiming for me." "How do you know?" "Because he tried to kill me last night! If I hadn't knocked into you just now, I'd be back in the canoe!" "I'm sorry," gulped Burdick. He saw the medicine man's point. To get to the stairs meant crossing the elevator foyer between Birds of the World and the Amazon gallery, where, like Neil Armstrong taking one giant step for mankind, the Conibo was lowering a bare foot onto the marble floor. "Quick!" whispered the medicine man, seizing Burdick by the wrist. "Give me your weapon!" "I didn't bring one!" "He sees me!" cried the medicine man, as the Conibo planted his other foot on the solid marble floor. Stepping into the elevator foyer, he reached for his third and last fancy arrow. "Ai-ya!" howled the medicine man, grabbing Burdick by the neck. To his horror, Burdick realized that the man who had saved his life was now trying to use him as a shield. The Indian had one arm around his throat and the other around his waist and was propelling him across the foyer past the Conibo. "No!" cried Burdick, thrashing. "Ai-ya!" cried the medicine man, yelping with pain. Suddenly he was doubled over and Burdick was lunging for the elevator button. The door slid open and Burdick went spinning into the car, pasting himself against the front wall. He pumped the lever and tried to slam the gate shut. It wouldn't go. The door sprang back and there was the medicine man, sprawled in the corner of the car. With all his strength Burdick forced the gate shut. The elevator started down. And immediately stopped. The medicine man gazed around wildly. "Your vessel?" he said to Burdick, and looked up at the ceiling. A half floor above, the Conibo was beating on the door. "Watch your rudder!" cried the medicine man, and Burdick shoved the lever all the way to one side and held it. "Rough water!" cried the medicine man, deathly pale. "Whirlpool! Vortex! We're sinking! Ai-ya!" he howled, and whirled around, cursing the four walls. From the back of his thigh protruded the Conibo's third and last arrow. He gave another shriek and collapsed into Burdick's arms. 8 With a shudder and a thud, the elevator stopped dead. Burdick lowered the medicine man face down. The arrow in his leg waved back and forth, and the blood which had been running down the back of his leg trickled over the sides of his calf onto the floor of the elevator. Please let this day start over, thought Burdick. I'll go to school, I'll flunk Felker's makeup, I'll get F's in everything forever, only let this not be happening. The medicine man moaned softly. He almost got me killed, thought Burdick. I can leave him lying here and nobody would even blame me. He isn't even supposed to be alive. The medicine man groaned. "Kwikluk?" said Burdick uneasily. The medicine man's bear helmet had slipped over his head. Burdick lifted it back by one ear. The Indian's mouth trembled open. "Can you hear me?" said Burdick, kneeling down. Blood was collecting under the medicine man's leg. He placed a finger on his wrist. Unless that was his own pulse, the Indian's heart was going like a hammer. "Kwikluk?" Hurrying, he unbuttoned his shirt and twirled it by the cuffs into a ropelike cloth, and wrapped it around the Indian's thigh. How tight? In hygiene they'd practiced on Leonard Padullo, who screamed if anybody touched him. Too tight, and maybe gangrene would set in. He settled for a double square knot and checked the flow from the wound. "It's stopping," he said into the medicine man's ear. Now what? If only hygiene had counted for college, he would have paid more attention. Clean and dress the wound? How, with an arrow sticking out? For all he knew it was poisoned. He closed his eyes, trying to recall if the sign by the Conibo exhibit said anything about poison-tipped arrows. Click. Click click. Click. Burdick opened his eyes and looked straight up. The clicking noise was coming from directly overhead, echoing in the elevator shaft. On the elevator panel, the number 2 shone plain as day. Somebody on the second floor was summoning the elevator. The Conibo! Burdick sprang to the gate and hauled it open. The car had stopped a full three feet below the level of the floor. He slid open the door, switched off the elevator light, and climbing onto the floor ledge, stared into the darkness. For a second all he saw was a blank wall. Then as his eyes adjusted he made out a lobby, and beyond that a row of tables and chairs, and another row, and another, all the way to the back of a long, low-ceilinged room with glass cases and railings and a turnstile and a cash register and a bin full of trays and silverware. He jumped back into the car. The medicine man lay with his mouth open and blood caking around the arrow. Counting three, Burdick grabbed the arrow by the feathers. It was like pulling a plug out by the wire, something you were never supposed to do. What if the arrowhead stayed in? What if it was designed to? What if— Click click click. Click. He yanked the arrow out, arrowhead and all. He held it a moment, shivering, then dropped it with a clatter onto the elevator floor. The medicine man's eyes opened and he lurched over onto his back. "Where are we? Did we wash ashore?" "Not exactly," said Burdick. He was still staring at the arrow. The Indian sat up. "Is the storm over? What's going on?" "We're leaving the boat," said Burdick. "Where are we going?" "To the cafeteria," said Burdick, pulling the medicine man to his feet. "It's right across there. Can you stand?" "Ai," said the Indian, stumbling against the wall. "Put your arm around my shoulder. Sit here. On the ledge. This is the basement. Swing up." "My leg," complained the medicine man. "It's just a flesh wound," said Burdick. "What else is there? Ow" he said, as Burdick helped him onto the basement floor. "What did you say your name was?" "Burdick," said Burdick, walking the medicine man into the cafeteria. He slid him into a chair. "You're lucky no bones were broken," he said. "I was absent for splints." "You're going to leave me here!" "No," said Burdick, walking up the cafeteria aisle. With a paper-towel core and a book of matches from the cigarette machine he fashioned a torch and explored the area behind the steam tables, returning with gauze and antiseptic from the first-aid cabinet, an assortment of paper-wrapped fruit pies, and several containers of orange drink. "It's mostly water," he informed the Indian, opening one of the containers, and glanced back at the elevator. The car was still there. The door and the gate were still open. Now that they were no longer inside it he felt a little more secure. He had stopped a wound from bleeding and extracted a foreign body from a man's flesh, and without any help or supervision. For the time being they were as safe here, in the dark, as anywhere. Was he wrong or had the clicking stopped? 9 "It's strange," said Kwikluk, his mouth full of glazed cherry pie, "but my memory seems to begin with the canoe. For as far back as I can remember I'd been standing there, in the middle of the boat, surrounded by oarsmen, paddling toward shore. And then suddenly there we all were on land." "This was last night?" said Burdick with a frown. "Last night," said the medicine man. Burdick nodded thoughtfully. "And the moon rock arrived yesterday. So there can't be much doubt about that." "About what?" said Kwikluk. "That the moon rock brought everything to life. The question is how—especially since it only starts working after dark." The medicine man briefly massaged his bandaged leg. "I know nothing about a moon rock," he declared. "Maybe. Maybe not. Go on." "I saved your life, too. Don't forget that." "By accident," said Burdick. "In the Great Beyond," asserted the medicine man, "everything happens by design." "Is that where you think we are?" asked Burdick. "In the Great Beyond?" "Of course!" said the medicine man. "Why else would there be one of every creature, every tribe? Why else would there be labyrinths and sacred halls? Why else a great darkness? Why else this feast?" With a sweep of his hand he indicated the fruit pies spread before him. "I can't think when I've eaten so well." "Help yourself to more," said Burdick, opening a pie for himself. It was a while since he'd eaten, too—about twelve hours, he guessed. Outside the museum, all over the city, people were sitting down to dinner; by now he had certainly been missed. "I didn't mean to interrupt," he said to the Indian, as a picture of his parents on the phone, frantically dialing the school, the police, Dr. Kleinmann, the museum itself, flashed through his mind. "What happened after you saw you were on land? What made you decide to leave the canoe? Weren't you afraid?" The Indian gulped his orange drink. "A medicine man," he said, "is never afraid." "Oh," said Burdick. "That is why my tribesmen sent me forth." "I see. And after you jumped down?" "I wandered," said the medicine man, lifting his palms, "through forests filled with strange creatures—giant cats eating striped horses, hairy men eating yellow fruit, a pack of dogs devouring a deer … " "When did you run into the Conibo?" "I had strayed into a large cavern. It was huge and empty, and full of echoes." "Teddy Roosevelt Hall," said Burdick. "My heart was pounding. I grew dizzy. I broke into a sweat. All at once I knew I had to get back to the canoe. But I'd lost my way. I staggered to the stairway. The Indian was aiming his arrow at a bird—suddenly he was aiming it at me. I couldn't move. I was standing right in front of him—no farther than I'm sitting from you. I couldn't budge, and he couldn't let go of the arrow. We were frozen, the two of us, staring into each other's eyes, with his fancy arrow pointing straight at my heart." "Go on," said Burdick. "What happened then?" "People came," said the medicine man, "by the dozens. They walked right between me and the arrow. Some of them stopped and said things, made silly faces, rapped on my forehead and chest. I was helpless. Then a man came, talking through a pointed hat, and cleared the people away. The light faded. Once more I was left alone with the Indian and his arrow. The blood began to stir in my veins. I saw a fierce gleam creep into the Conibo's eye. I listened for the creak of his bow, the twang that would mark my last breath. Instead, suddenly, I heard footsteps coming up the stairs." "My footsteps," said Burdick. "Your footsteps. The Conibo heard them, too. Suddenly, the arrow was no longer pointing at my heart. I saw my chance. I ran. In my haste I ran straight into you. I knocked you over. The arrow missed us both. When I looked again, the Conibo was aiming his second arrow. You ducked … " "And that's when I saw you," said Burdick. "And that's how we came to meet," said Kwikluk. Burdick brushed some pie crumbs off his lap. "It's a nice story," he allowed. "Except you left out the most important thing." "But it isn't a nice story," said the medicine man. "It's a devilish story! What is this place? Is it heaven or is it hell? Why does the life ebb and flow in my body?" Burdick shook his head. "Nobody knows that yet. Obviously, nobody's ever analyzed this moon rock. It was only for display." "You're talking nonsense," said Kwikluk. "How could it even be a moon rock? The moon is yellow, a yellow light in the sky, and the rock in the great cavern was black!" The Indian broke off suddenly, blushing to his temples. "That clears that up," said Burdick. "What? What are you talking about?" "If you didn't know anything about a moon rock, how did you know what color it is?" The medicine man said nothing. "And if you knew about it," persisted Burdick, "why did you pretend not to? Unless—" he added darkly, "unless you took it." The medicine man looked away. "Did you?" said Burdick. "Did you take it? Where is it? Did you hide it someplace?" "Why? Why is this rock so important to you?" "Because it is," said Burdick. "Because it's unique. There's no rock like it—not in Chicago, or Boston, or the Smithsonian, probably not even on the moon. It's a scientific curiosity, a one-of-a-kind phenomenon, and it belongs to this place we're in now. If the people here don't get it back, they're going to be in all kinds of trouble. Really. They might even have to close … Kwikluk, are you listening to me?" "No," said Kwikluk. "What's the matter? Why are you looking at me like that?" "I'm not," said the medicine man. Burdick swiveled around. "There," said Kwikluk, pointing. "That is where I'm looking." "Oh," said Burdick, and swallowed. He stared beyond the cafeteria entrance. The elevator door was still open, and the car hadn't budged, but suddenly someone was standing out there in the dark. 10 "Get down," said Burdick. He blew out the torch. The cafeteria went black. A pale smudge of light hung in the lobby. "Who is it?" whispered Kwikluk, crouching beside him. "I don't know," said Burdick, "but he's got a flashlight." "Is it the Conibo?" Burdick shook his head. "It must be a guard. I thought they were all gone." "What's a guard?" "To catch you when you break the law. Like when you take something that doesn't belong to you." "Then I have nothing to worry about," said Kwikluk, "because—" "Shh!" warned Burdick. A faint whirring came out of the darkness. He had a horrible thought. "Maybe my parents told the museum to look for me," he said aloud. "Maybe they think I took the moon rock. Oh, boy." "What?" "All this food lying here." "What about it?" "I didn't pay for any of it! Uh-oh." Suddenly the light was inside the door, whirring up the aisle. It was jumping left and right, up and down, as if a dozen flashlights were blinking on and off in sequence. "Get ready to run," said Burdick, handing Kwikluk his bearskin. "But my leg—" "Now!" said Burdick, dashing for the entrance. The jumping light revolved a hundred eighty degrees, splintering through the glass door and across the lobby ceiling. "Come on," said Burdick to Kwikluk, who was hobbling up the aisle struggling into his bear costume, and stopped to drape the Indian's arm over his shoulder. Three-legged, they went up the stairs, Kwikluk clutching the banister. The light jumped below them, gaining. Above was North American Mammals. As Burdick and Kwikluk reached the landing, a glass-enclosed deer family turned, looked at them with glowing copper eyes, and froze, mesmerized by the light climbing the stairs behind them. For a moment Burdick stared back—the entire hall, he saw with a start, was alive behind glass—and then, with Kwikluk hopping at his side, swung abruptly around a corner into Small Mammals. Mice scattered. An otter dived into a pool. It was a dead end. Burdick spun around. Bats squeaked overhead. The light came forward another step and halted. "Where y'all runnin' to?" A badger curled itself into a ball. Kwikluk covered his eyes. Burdick gaped. Hanging in the darkness was a human heart. "It's not a guard," said Burdick softly. "Ah swear ah never seen such crazy behavior," said the voice, whirring. The light jumped, and the heart became two lungs, squeezing and unsqueezing. "Ah'm about out of breath." "It's a demon," whispered Kwikluk, trembling. "It's not a demon, either," said Burdick, as the lungs became two eyes and two lips and two ears and a furrowed light in the skull, and a tracery of white filaments spread swiftly through the darkness. "Mah nervous system helps me see, hear, taste, smell, feel, move, and process information. Who-all are you?" "It's the Transparent Woman," said Burdick. "That's right, sugah. You win the prize." "The Transparent Woman?" said Kwikluk. "From the Hall of Biology," said Burdick. "Right again. You boys gone talk to me now, or just each other? Y'all got names?" "I'm Burdick," said Burdick, unable to keep from staring. The Transparent Woman's red arteries and blue veins were fully lit, along with her reproductive organs and her breasts, which shone like high beams on a dark country road. "And this is Kwikluk, of the Northwest Coast." The Transparent Woman walked once around the medicine man, fingering his furry cloak. "Ah recognize the costume," she said. "Ah seen you through the door, in the lobby. That's all ah ever hear about, is that canoe. What's the matter, honey, cat got your tongue?" "He thinks you're an evil spirit," Burdick explained. "He don't look too bright at that." She sidled up to Burdick. "How about you, sugah? What's your educational function?" "I don't really have one," said Burdick. "Actually, I'm not on display here." "Oh, you oughta be, sugah. You're adorable. You must be one of them notetakers, then." "I'm looking for the moon rock," said Burdick. "Moon rock! Ah declare." "It's been stolen," said Burdick. "Appears like you lost your shirt, too," said the Transparent Woman, running a glassy finger along Burdick's collarbone. "I used it for a tourniquet," said Burdick, blushing as her finger traveled down his chest. "When Kwikluk got hit by an arrow." "Is that what all that racket was? Mah goodness. Ah was so scared ah couldn't get down off mah pedestal." She mimicked a crouch, cradling her illuminated breasts. "By the time ah pried mahself away, nothin' was happenin' up there at all. Just a sad-lookin' Indian with a bow and no arrows. Ah tried to take the elevator back down, and ah kept pressin' the button, but y'all were holdin' it there in the basement. So ah walked down instead." "You knew exactly where to go," said Burdick. Two funnels of light quivered in the Transparent Woman's head. "Just followed mah ears," she said. "And this was the first time you left the Hall of Biology?" "That's right, sugah." "You mean all last night you just stood on your pedestal?" "Ah declare, you are cute. A regular sleuth." She gave Burdick a hug. "Oh, sugah, ain't it good to be alive?" "Yes, it is," frowned Burdick, squirming a little. "Which brings us back to the moon rock." "Well, you don't think ah took it, do you, sugah?" She held her arms high, turning slowly so Burdick could see every inch of her anatomy. "If you want mah advice," she said, lowering her voice suddenly, "you'll keep your eye on the Indian. Ah never saw such a cringin' look of guilt in mah entire life." At this, Kwikluk took a step forward. "Watch what you say, woman." "Well, ah'll be. He speaks!" "You come walking in here, accusing people, exhibiting yourself—" "Well, that just happens to be mah role, honey. That's what ah'm assigned to do." Her eyes blazed. "This is mah body. It is made up of skin, blood, bone, muscle, and nerve. And what rots me is, how a nobody like you can be a lobby attraction. Course, you got eighteen other Indians with you, maybe that explains it. Put just one of me in the lobby, ah'd be top dog around here." Kwikluk stuck his face in front of the Transparent Woman's. "I am not a lobby attraction," he said loudly. "I am a Haida medicine man!" "Stop it," said Burdick, stepping between them. "That's enough. You're neighbors—stop screaming at each other." "Screamin'?" said the Transparent Woman. "Who's screaming?" said Kwikluk. "Who is screaming?" said Burdick suddenly, looking with them down the corridor of North American Mammals. The cry came again, echoing through the next hall. Burdick's heart jumped; he didn't wait for an answer, because, all of a sudden, he knew exactly who it was. 11 As he rounded the bend the smell from Invertebrates hit him like a faceful of rancid leaves. He stepped over the parade of termites passing under the arch and dodged a flailing tentacle of the giant squid suspended from the ceiling. The entire hall was in confusion. Broken glass lay everywhere, in puddles of brackish water, and the floor was sprinkled with spineless animals—worms and beetles and jellyfish and spiders. The smell rose from the puddles and puzzled the flight of a tiny plague of locusts. Butterflies wriggled on pins, a scarab beetle pushed a ball of dung down the stairs to Ocean Life, red ants trailed in and out of an upended trash can. "Lola!" She was standing with her fist in her mouth, frowning at the ceiling. Poised above her on a trembling chandelier was the magnified housefly. "It's following me," she said in a whisper. "Like a fly at the beach." Burdick glanced quickly around. Across the aisle, the giant daddy longlegs was quietly climbing the wall. Of the magnified invertebrates, only the protozoans were still behind glass, clanking in their aquarium like cannonballs. "I want to wake up," said Lola. "You are awake," said Burdick. "I tried pinching myself," she said, eyes fixed on the fly, which was rubbing its legs together. "It didn't work. I dreamed I was pinching myself." "You're not dreaming," said Burdick. "You're really here. You came back!" "Look out, it's taking off!" The chandelier swung wildly as the fly sprang through the air and hit the wall behind them. In spite of its bulk it stuck, turning like an airplane on a vertical runway. Its thorny eyes reflected broken glass. "It won't hurt you," said Burdick, helping Lola to her feet. "It's not a biting fly. It's just a common, ordinary Musca domestica." "You don't say," said Lola, dusting herself off. "All it does is vomit on you." "Wonderful," said Lola. "It's probably as scared as we are. Don't worry, we'll figure out some way to get it." "Any other fascinating advice?" "It flies at five miles per hour and takes off backwards," said Burdick. "So you should always aim a little behind where it's sitting." "Great," said Lola. "Now all we need is a flyswatter as big as a parking lot." "Yes, that's about the size we'd need," agreed Burdick. "A normal fly is about a quarter inch long, a fly-swatter is about four inches square, so four divided by one fourth, times the fly's length, three feet, equals forty-eight feet—" "I'm going to scream again," said Lola. "Go ahead, it can't hear you. It doesn't have an auditory system—" "How can you do science at a time like this? Yesterday, with everything nicely behind glass, you were a nervous wreck." "I was wondering about that myself," nodded Burdick. "I think it's like being afraid of a subway accident, or getting stuck in an elevator, or being jumped in Central Park. Then the thing happens and you're not as afraid during as you were before. Or else not the same kind of afraid. I think it must be some sort of law." He smiled. "Anyway, thanks for noticing." "You're welcome. I think it's worse when things happen. For instance, this. I was wrong, you were right. The museum's better off dead. Or is this still your favorite hall?" "Not if you hate it," said Burdick gallantly. She was a person who remembered things. That was good, he supposed. Still, he had reason to be careful. "Why didn't you tell me your last name?" he asked. "Why did you say yours was Martinez?" she retorted. He frowned. Did that mean she had tried to call him? It was almost too much to hope for. "Why did you come back?" he asked cautiously. "Not to see you again," she said, but the color rose quickly to her cheeks. Blushing! She was blushing! And running a hand nervously through her hair. "Why are you grinning at me like that?" she said, red-faced. "No reason," said Burdick. "I saw the cop cars outside. That's why I came back. Okay?" "It's okay with me," said Burdick. "Actually, I'm glad." "Besides," said Lola with dignity, "I had to finish sketching the coal mine for my science project. I got distracted yesterday." By me, thought Burdick happily. "Me, too," he said. "Right away I noticed all the coal had been mined overnight—the miniature miners were just leaning on their pickaxes. Then I heard the moon rock had been stolen. I hid near the New York State garden and fell asleep. Where did you hide?" "In Northwest Coast Indians—behind the miniature Haidas," said Burdick. "The dogs had killed the sambar stag. And the medicine man was missing from the giant canoe. Nobody else noticed." "No. Everybody thinks it was a guard that took the moon rock. They're all down at the police station." "So I heard," said Burdick. "We're the only outside people here." "Apparently," he said. "I mean it's an incredible opportunity," said Lola. "Yes," said Burdick. "Scientifically speaking." "I meant the reward." "Yes," said Burdick. "That, too." "Personally, I don't think it was a guard at all. Do you?" "No," said Burdick. "Probably not." "I think it was somebody in one of the exhibits. Of course, I'm not positive. Did you run into anybody suspicious?" "Why?" said Burdick evasively. "Did you?" "I asked you first." Her dark eyes danced. "Well—" he began. "And while you're thinking up an answer, what happened to your shirt? By the way." "Shirt?" "Yes. You know, the thing you tuck into your pants?" "Yes. My shirt. Well, you see—" he said, but broke off. Above them, the fly was rubbing its legs together again. "Look out," said Lola, moving closer. Her long black hair grazed his bare shoulder and her bare arm touched his arm. The fly stopped taxiing. "Here it comes," said Burdick—nervously, though grateful for the interruption. With a sound like rubber darts coming unstuck, the fly jumped from the wall and landed neatly in front of them. In the several thousand facets of its eyes Burdick saw Burdick and Lola, Burdick and Lola, Burdick and Lola, Burdick and Lola … "The trash can!" cried Lola. Roaches of many lands scurried out as Burdick picked up the wire-mesh basket, waist high, circling behind the fly. The fly held its ground without a twitch, as though spellbound by the dark-haired girl reflected in its eyes. "Now!" said Burdick to Lola. She stamped her foot in front of the fly. It shot up—Burdick slammed the litter basket a yard behind it. The fly tried to take off again, but only collided with the ceiling of its prison. It butted the mesh, but the basket refused to budge. It stared out helplessly, turning in a circle. "What do you know," said Lola. "It actually took off backwards. Congratulations." "You, too," he said, shaking her hand. "I would never have thought of the trash can." "We make a good team," she said. "Yes," said Burdick, suddenly embarrassed. It was stupid to be so secretive. Just because she wouldn't tell him her last name? He stopped pumping her hand and let it rest in his. It felt soft, warm, firm. Her dark eyes widened; her hand squeezed back. Would it be good strategy now to switch to his left hand, her right? Or should he just pull her close? "Oh, wow," said Lola. She had been staring past him, not at him. He turned. "Isn't that—" "The Transparent Woman," he said quickly. She was just entering the hall. Her adrenal glands were flashing like caution lights. "What's she doing here? Why is she walking backwards?" "Good question," said Burdick. "And who's that with her?" "That," said Burdick sheepishly, as Kwikluk limped in backwards on his injured leg, tourniquet flapping, "is the medicine man from the canoe." "Looks like he found somebody's shirt," said Lola. "It's mine," said Burdick. "Do tell." "Yes. Actually, I gave it to him. See, I bumped into him, or he bumped into me, and then we both bumped into the Transparent Woman." "That's an awful lot of bumping," said Lola. "Funny you didn't mention any of it before." "I was going to," said Burdick, chagrined. "The medicine man saw the moon rock and said he didn't, and the Transparent Woman's been wandering around, too. Really, that's all I know. Either one of them could have taken it." "Maybe they both took it." "No, they just met. They're sort of rivals." "They look pretty chummy to me," said Lola, nodding toward the entrance. The Transparent Woman and Kwikluk were holding on to each other for dear life, staring up at the archway through which they had come, backing up together—backing up very, very slowly. 12 Weaving like a Chinese dragon, the seven-foot centipede burst out of the darkness into the Hall of Invertebrates. Its red fangs glistened and its black feelers lashed the air. With a long shiver of its magnified body, it reared back and smashed through the case of protozoans. "Kwikluk!" cried Burdick. Dripping with pond water, the medicine man scrambled back toward Burdick and Lola, crouching, along with the Transparent Woman, against the wall. Above them, like a broken umbrella in a high wind, the daddy longlegs whirled off, looking for a dark place to hide. "It has us cornered," said Kwikluk, as the centipede thrust its forty legs forward, cleaved a pile of broken glass, and came to a dead stop in the middle of the hall. With its feelers it batted the remains of the glass case it had shared, until recently, with the daddy longlegs and the fly. "Sugah," said the Transparent Woman, "what do we do?" Burdick shook his head. It was as if nothing else counted suddenly, not hiding in the museum or getting shot at or binding a wound or trapping a fly. He felt as if he were suspended in a block of ice the shape of his own body. "Say something," said Lola. "Scolopendra gigantea," he murmured. It was amazing he could even speak. "A Central American predator. Poisonous. Nocturnal. No eyes, so I don't think it can see us." "Well, he sure knows we're here," said the Transparent Woman. "When he came shootin' out of the corridor, ah thought ah was a goner." "Can it hear us?" asked Lola. "He don't have to," declared the Transparent Woman. "He's got us right where he wants us while he works up a little appetite." "Please," Lola shivered. "What do such demons eat?" asked Kwikluk. "Insects," said Burdick. "Slugs. Earthworms. Other centipedes. The twelve-inch ones eat small mammals." "Let's send out for some big mammals, then," said the Transparent Woman. "Mah goodness!" "Maybe it'll eat the fly?" said Lola hopefully, watching the centipede nuzzle the wire mesh of the trash basket. The fly gazed out, not daring to move. The centipede nudged the basket a foot or so across the marble floor, then turned away. "It doesn't want the fly," said Lola. "Perhaps it ate already," said Kwikluk. "Then why's he still sniffin'?" "It's sniffing us," said Burdick. "Our scent is what's holding it. That's how it knows we're around." "We can't just sit here," said Lola. "Kwikluk?" said Burdick. "No, we can't," agreed Kwikluk, who was rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "But perhaps we can split up?" "Like Russian roulette?" said the Transparent Woman. "He only gobbles one of us? Thank you, honey, but ah'm stickin' with the group." "What are you suggesting?" said Burdick to Kwikluk. Kwikluk pointed toward the centipede. "Do you see the cage it smashed before?" "The glass case? Yes." "The broken stick? With the sharp point?" "The nail? Yes, I see it." The medicine man thrust out his jaw. "You three will stay here. Your odors will distract it. I will creep up behind it. So." And he pantomimed a ferocious hatchet blow. "With a little old piece of wood? Honey, come on" "Kwikluk," warned Burdick, "those fangs could puncture a bank vault." "But if the demon has a vulnerable region … " "Does it?" Lola asked Burdick. Burdick shrugged. "I never studied the anatomy. Behind the head?" The centipede slid toward them another yard; it was so close now they could feel the breeze from its feelers. "All right, then," nodded Kwikluk, flipping down his bear helmet. "I will try." He started off toward the pile of debris. "Honey, this is crazy. You just gone get yourself killed!" "Careful," said Lola, crossing her fingers. The medicine man bent down to pick up the broken stick, while the centipede's antennae waved toward them, responding, perhaps, to the sweat crawling down Burdick's chest, or Lola's rapid breathing, or the hint of styrène in the Transparent Woman's hair. Now Kwikluk started forward, running his thumb over the nail in the stick. He came as far as the centipede's forelegs and stopped; he raised the stick above his head. The centipede's antennae swung back. Kwikluk froze. "What's he waiting for?" said Lola. "Kwikluk!" shouted Burdick. The medicine man didn't move. He was staring at something, hypnotized—by what, they couldn't see. Then, suddenly, he dropped the stick, which glanced harmlessly off the centipede's head. Red legs wriggling, the centipede reared up. It turned. It sniffed. It gave an angry shrug, a concertina-like motion of its entire body. There was no one there. Kwikluk's galloping footsteps, fading in the darkness of Small Mammals, echoed through the Hall of Invertebrates. "He tricked us! He took off! That rascal, he used us as decoys! Oh mah God and here it comes! Headfirst! It's gone eat us headfirst!" Her screams filled the hall. The centipede rippled toward them. Up went its head. Its fangs opened. In horror Burdick and Lola and the Transparent Woman stared up at the greasy, quivering mouth parts of Scolopendra gigantea. Down came the three pairs of jaws, down came the head and wildly wriggling forelegs, down came the antennae with a clatter like the branches of a falling tree. With a thwock the red fangs struck marble. A drop of yellow liquid exploded like a flower at their feet. Gasping, they all looked up. From the centipede's head jutted the handle of an ancient dagger, huge and black and gleaming and carved in the shape of a cat. Yellow liquid bubbled over the hilt. A hand seized the dagger, and yanked it out, and drove it in again. The hand was wrapped in bandages. So was the arm attached to the hand, and so was the body attached to the arm—dirty bandages from head to foot. The bandaged hand drew out the dagger and plunged it in and drew it out and plunged it in, again and again and again, until the yellow liquid stopped bubbling up and the red legs stopped wriggling and the black feelers drooped toward the floor. 13 In all his trips to the museum, Burdick had never before seen the mummy up close. The Pharaoh's Tomb, brought over stone by stone from Egypt, was located on the third floor in Man in Africa, separated from the public by two railings and a gate. Now here was the Pharaoh himself, standing over the dead centipede, wiping his cat-handled dagger on his arm. Shreds of cloth, smeared with the centipede's fluid, drifted down to his dusty, bandaged feet. "When my pyramid was built," the mummy said casually in a bandage-muffled voice, "I lost a dozen slaves to centipedes." No one volunteered a response. The Transparent Woman was still gaping at the centipede, praising God in a barely audible whisper. Lola was looking at the mummy, but her face was, if anything, paler than before. "Naturally," the mummy went on, undaunted by their silence, "they weren't this size. Are you still frightened of it? Or is it my appearance?" "Your appearance," Burdick spoke up, with a glance at Lola—she looked ready to scream again. "Don't be afraid," said the mummy. "I am neither monster nor phantom. I am Ramses the Fifth, King of Egypt." "Third floor, Man in Africa," said Burdick. The mummy bowed gently from the waist. "Correct." "That dagger's from your tomb," said Burdick. "Correct again," said the mummy. "Which also contains mummified fruit, mummified fowl, the royal sarcophagus, a ceremonial urn, and precious jewels." "All correct," said the mummy. "Am I one of your favorite exhibits?" "Supposedly I learned to read from your sign," said Burdick. "So my parents always took me to see you." "How nice," said the mummy. "But I never really saw you," said Burdick. "Naturally not. I was in the royal sarcophagus." The mummy trimmed a shred of bandage from his thumb. "And these others?" "This is the Transparent Woman," said Burdick. "She's from the museum." "So I gathered. And this lovely creature?" "This is Lola." said Burdick. "She's a little scared." "Charming," said the mummy, looking Lola up and down. "In my day, I was surrounded by beautiful women—morning, noon, and night. The earth is more populated now, no doubt, but you, my dear, must rank among its treasures." Burdick felt a pinch. "Make him stop," Lola whispered. "She doesn't really," Burdick said helpfully. "Rank among its treasures, I mean." "In any event," said the mummy, "she finds me repulsive." "It's not that," said Burdick quickly, feeling a twinge of pity for the three-thousand-year-old Egyptian. "Actually, we're sort of in a hurry. Not that we're not grateful for what you did." "Of course you're grateful," said the mummy. Oddly, his voice sounded now as though he was smirking under the bandages. "So if you'll excuse us … " said Burdick. The mummy stepped in front of them. "What's your hurry?" "We have to find the moon rock," said Burdick uneasily. "A rock from the moon," mused the mummy. "Of course, it had to be something like that." "Somebody stole it," said Burdick. "Stole it? What on earth for?" "We don't know," said Burdick. "But we're trying to get it back." "The two of you. And the lovely young girl." "Yes," said Burdick. "So we really have to get going—" "A dangerous and important undertaking," said the mummy with, again, the hint of a smile. "Naturally, you will not want to waste any time. But if you could spare a moment, before you go, to grant an ancient relic a favor … " "No," said Lola, with a violent shake of her head. The mummy gave a muffled chuckle. "The young woman has anticipated my request." "Let's go" said Lola to Burdick. "A simple favor is all I ask. In return for slaying the dragon, as it were. A moment is all it will take to unwrap me. Then all three of you can be on your way." He extended his arm toward Lola, inviting her to take hold of the loose bandage dangling from his wrist. Lola shrank back in disgust. The mummy turned to the Transparent Woman. "Pass," she said. "Ah, well," shrugged the mummy. "I had hoped to accomplish this neatly. But if I must, I must … " "Wait," said Burdick suddenly, as pictures of human corpses, in various states of decay, flashed through his head. It was too late. Grasping the dagger firmly, the mummy made a long incision in his wrapping, starting at the top of his head. Dust squirted out, layers of cloth spiraled down with tornado-like speed. Again the mummy held out his frayed arm. "Pull," he commanded. Burdick obeyed. The mummy's arm came off. He was holding it in his hand. The mummy was coming apart before their eyes! Or no. This was only his wrapping, a hollow cast. Where was the Pharaoh? A cone of dust rose from the floor where he had been standing a moment ago. There was a glint of gold, a flash of silver, a glimpse of bronze, and suddenly out of the cloud of shreds and flakes and fibers stepped Ramses the Fifth. Lola covered her mouth. "You're not decayed," said Burdick. "Anythin' but!" said the Transparent Woman. Down floated the last strip of bandage. There, above the mummy-shaped pile of wrappings, stood the Pharaoh. His skin shone like metal, his muscles bulged; his eyes were black and piercing, his jaw dimpled, his hair neatly barbered. Around his neck he wore a fanlike ornament of silver, on his feet jeweled sandals, and around his biceps bracelets of gold. "You're … gorgeous" Lola blurted. Burdick's heart sank like a stone. "Why, he ain't that much older than you, sugah," said the Transparent Woman. "Are you, honey?" "You see me now as on the day I died," said Ramses to Lola, whose face had suddenly regained its color. "I was not yet nineteen. To be sure, lives were shorter in ancient times—consequently, we grew into men and women earlier, in body, mind, and spirit. But why are you blushing, my dear?" "I'm … I'm not," said Lola. "Am I?" "Just now I spoke of my women. I spoke too quickly. You would have put my queens to shame." "Really?" said Lola, turning crimson. "We don't have kings and queens anymore," objected Burdick with a frown. "And this isn't Egypt. It's The American Museum of Natural History in New York City." "I call it most unnatural," said Ramses. Lola giggled. "Oh, that's funny." She turned to Burdick and the Transparent Woman. "Did you hear what Ramses said?" "I heard it," said Burdick sourly. "And what is his name?" said Ramses to Lola. "Your gloomy friend." "She doesn't know," said Burdick. "Ah, then he is not your friend," said Ramses with a dazzling smile. "It's Burdick," said Burdick, and glanced at Lola. At last he'd told her his name, and now she couldn't care less. "And the fellow who ran?" asked Ramses. "An Indian named Kwikluk," said the Transparent Woman. "He's the one stole the moon rock. He's got it hid someplace. That's why he ran." Ramses stroked his dimpled chin. "I wonder," he said, "what this Indian plans to do with this moon rock." "Good question," said Lola. "Because as I'm sure you'll all agree," said Ramses, "none of us can relax until this moon rock is recovered. It was bad enough, I can assure you, being dead in this place. Now, it's like living in a chamber of horrors." "A Museum of Unnatural History," suggested Lola. "Exactly." Ramses laid a bronze hand on the centipede's flank. "Poor devil—it didn't ask to come alive." "Neither did you," said Lola. "That's true," smiled Ramses. "I'm glad you did," said Lola. "So am I," said Ramses, smiling at Lola, "now that I've met you." "Let's find the moon rock," said Lola. "Yes. By all means. To make sure I stay alive—to make sure we stay together. Where should we start looking?" "Take the stairs to the top floor?" suggested Lola. "Fine," said Ramses. "Check out the dinosaur halls and work our way down." "Splendid," said Ramses. "And if we miss any rooms, what's-his-name—Burdick—can tell us. He's practically the mascot of the museum." "Then we're off," said Ramses, sheathing his cat-handled dagger. He offered Lola his gold-braceleted arm. "I'm so sorry I frightened you." "You were really brave," she said. "You were brave. I was merely skillful." "Did you know Cleopatra?" asked Lola. "I've already forgotten her," said Ramses with a smile. Under the archway they went, into Man and Nature. "Lola?" said Burdick. She didn't turn around. "Weren't you the Pharaoh the Jews ran away from?" called Burdick, but neither Ramses nor Lola was listening. Deep in conversation, they started up the stairway. "Never mind Handsome and Gretel," said the Transparent Woman consolingly, coming up beside Burdick. "You still got me, sugah." She patted his arm. "Think of all you been through already. Indians and insects and what have you. Cheated death twice and weathered all kinds of surprises." "Not this one," said Burdick. "You'll weather this one, too, wait and see. Remember," said the Transparent Woman, as they rounded the corner into the foyer, "it's better to have loved and lost, than never to have lost at all." "Sure," said Burdick listlessly. The Transparent Woman tousled his hair. "That's a joke, sugah!" "I've heard funnier," said Burdick, and with a heavy heart pushed the button for the elevator. Part Three—THIN AIR 14 "Well, look here," said the Transparent Woman, stepping out of the elevator into the fourth-floor corridor. It was long, slippery, and dark, with a stairway at the other end. Halfway down the corridor an archway opened into Jurassic Dinosaurs; Burdick could hear the voices of Ramses and Lola coming from deep inside. "Look where?" said Burdick. "Not there, sugah. Here," said the Transparent Woman, pointing to a pair of black, bodiless, marble heads opposite the elevator. "Joseph Leidy," she read. "Othneil Charles Marsh." A light skipped across the surface of her brain, dropped into a crevice, and went out. "Never heard of 'em," she said. "Not many people have," said Burdick. "You'd think they'd show off somebody famous." "They're paleontologists," said Burdick. "Friends of the curator, ah suppose." "No," said Burdick, starting off grimly in the direction of Lola's voice, "they're dead." "That's a fact," said the Transparent Woman, waving a hand in front of the scientists' eyes. Neither Joseph Leidy nor Othneil Charles Marsh blinked. The Transparent Woman tweaked their nostrils. Nobody sneezed. "Which makes sense," she remarked to Burdick, as they rounded the corner into Jurassic Dinosaurs, "since they're busts. No bodies, just heads. Like that Indian's cloak was just a dead bearskin. See here? These dinosaur skeletons ain't livin' neither. They're only just fossils. Which suits me fine," she added, glancing up doubtfully at the brontosaurus' neck, arching above them like a gateway to a ghost town. All of Jurassic Dinosaurs—the peaceful stegosaurus, the predatory allosaurus—was just as it had always been. Not a tooth, not a claw was out of place. "Means we can relax awhile." "Mmpf," said Burdick, watching Lola and Ramses search the cases on the far side of the brontosaurus; Lola's hand was on Ramses' gleaming upper arm. Burdick glanced at his own arm, made a muscle, let it go. It was like going to the store and finding they were out of the advertised special, it was like sending twenty valentines and getting back none, it was losing a spelling contest to somebody who didn't even know you were supposed to win. She wasn't even looking to see if he was jealous. Maybe because peeking would spoil the effect? Or no. That was absurd. Obviously, she didn't even care. "For two cents I'd leave," he murmured. "Say somethin', sugah?" Was that the answer? Just turn around and walk out of Jurassic Dinosaurs and down the stairs and out of the building? Because he could do that. He had a right. He was tired. Exhausted! And hungry. And his parents probably frantic. "Sugah, you talkin' to yourself?" "No." Of course he couldn't do that. If he left now, she would get all the credit. The reward, all of it. A handshake from the curator. A citation from the mayor. A lifetime pass to the museum. And what would he have to show for his trouble? A month's detention for cutting school, and the chance to watch her being interviewed on the Today show. "Quick! You two! Come here!" The Transparent Woman nudged him with her elbow. Lola and Ramses were leaning over a large glass case, and Lola was waving at them. "The moon rock! Ramses found it!" Slowly, Burdick walked over to the case. Inside, on a bed of plaster mud, sat a hard, black object the size of a golf ball. "Isn't that terrific?" said Lola. "What amazing eyesight! Quick, Ramses, get it out." "I wouldn't do that," said Burdick. "Hurry!" "Patience, my dear." Unsheathing his dagger, Ramses tapped the cat-shaped handle against the glass. "I wonder how it got in there," said Lola. "Harder, Ramses." "I don't recommend this at all," said Burdick. "Just ignore him," said Lola to Ramses. "He's mad because he didn't find it first. There!" she said, as a web of cracks shot through the glass. Ramses poked with the point of his dagger, scraping out a hole the size of his arm. He reached into the case, up to his shoulder. "Careful," said Lola. "This is very stupid," said Burdick. "You've got it!" said Lola, as Ramses drew his arm out again. In his hand was the small black object. "I can't believe it. After two minutes! And they were hunting for over an hour." "It's not the moon rock," said Burdick. "Of course it is. Look." Lola took the small black object from Ramses and thrust it at Burdick. "It's an egg," said Burdick. "What are you talking about? An egg. It's not an egg—" Burdick chipped off a piece of shell, showing it around. "It's a saltopus egg," he said. "What sort of puss?" said Ramses suspiciously, fingering his cat-handled dagger. "S-A-L-T-O-P-U-S," spelled Burdick. "A small, early, carnivorous dinosaur. Go ahead, feel." Ramses crumbled the shell experimentally between his fingers. He looked at Lola. "He may be right." "I'm right," said Burdick. "Nice try, honey," said the Transparent Woman. Lola curled her hand around the egg, glowering at Burdick. "You think you're pretty smart," she said. "I just happen to know the museum, that's all," said Burdick modestly. "And I really suggest you put the egg back." "Why?" said Lola. "Ah think ah see why," said the Transparent Woman, glancing suddenly toward the exit. Tail whipping like a car aerial, the dinosaur in the doorway took three steps into Jurassic Hall. "Speak of the devil," said the Transparent Woman. "Saltopus," nodded Burdick, as the dinosaur darted its small, toothy, blue head left and right. Its beady eyes picked out the intruders gathered around its glass-walled nest at the far end of the hall, and its blue jaws snarled open. "Oh, wow," said Lola. "But where'd it come from?" said the Transparent Woman. "Some things they have models of, too," said Burdick, carefully replacing the saltopus egg in the saltopus nest. "Funny how it's blue, isn't it? In the dinosaur books the dinosaurs are always green or brown or gray. Which makes you sort of wonder if the books are all wrong. For instance, what if all the land dinosaurs were really water dinosaurs? If they looked at your skeleton, how would they know you could swim?" "Ah can't swim," said the Transparent Woman. "So there you are," said Burdick. "Could we all please stop talking and get out of here?" said Lola. "Honey, that little old saltopus ain't gone hurt you. Look how slow she moves." "Her joints are frozen," explained Burdick. "She's used to a world where everything's boiling hot." "Poor dumb thing," said the Transparent Woman. "You can't even be sure of that," said Burdick, as they backed out into the corridor. "Maybe dinosaurs were really smart, with a whole secret civilization that got wiped out by volcanoes. Maybe—" "Maybe," said Lola, "we should start looking in the other halls for the moon rock." "Any time he's ready," said Burdick. He jerked his thumb at Ramses, who, suddenly and without warning, had dropped to his knees, bowing low until his shiny black hair fell over his face and his bronze forehead touched the marble floor of the corridor. "Ramses?" said Lola with alarm. "He's not listening," said Burdick. "Ramses, what are you doing?" "He's praying," said Burdick. "That's what he's doin', all right," said the Transparent Woman, as Ramses' head snapped back and his eyes glazed over. "But what's he prayin' to?" "To the tiger," said Burdick. They all looked down the corridor in the direction of the elevator. "Oh, God," said Lola. "Yes, God," said Burdick. "To a cat worshipper, anyway. They don't have tigers in Egypt, especially not tigers with huge curved teeth, so Ramses must really be having a mystical experience—" "It's a saber-toothed tiger!" "That's what it is," said Burdick. Crouching at the far end of the corridor, opposite the elevator, the tawny, yellow-fanged beast gazed back, lazy and watchful, like a primitive man having his picture taken. Ramses' forehead kissed the floor again, and his lips formed words in a strange language. "And it's a dead language, too," said Burdick, cocking an ear. "Which is sort of peculiar when you think about it." "Ramses, please get up—" "You know what would be funny? If the saber-toothed tiger was really gentle, in spite of his teeth. Isn't that why all these prehistoric animals became extinct, because they had all this useless equipment?" "There you go with your theories again," said Lola, exasperated. "Just because you think a thing doesn't make it true. Ramses, are you all right?" "I'm fine," said the Pharaoh, getting slowly to his feet. "Are you sure?" "It's a sign," declared Ramses, stroking his cat-handled dagger. "The tiger is a sign." "It is?" said Lola. "What does it mean?" "It means we have to take the stairs instead of the elevator," said Burdick. He shook his head contemptuously. "Animal worship. Boy." "You shouldn't make fun of a person's religion," said Lola, glaring at Burdick. "You know what people who don't like animals can't do? Show their emotions. It's a psychological fact." "You've got it backwards," said Burdick. "The more animals you see on a Rorschach test, the more of a little kid you are." "And I'll bet you know all about Rorschach tests, too," said Lola. "You probably have to take them all the time. You're weird enough." "The only weird thing I ever did," said Burdick, "was to think I liked you." Ramses drew his dagger. "Oh, come on!" said Burdick. "Put the cutlery away, honey," said the Transparent Woman. "He didn't mean nothin'." "It's okay," said Lola, patting Ramses' arm, "I can defend myself against him." "I'm sure you can, my dear," said Ramses. "But you see," he added gravely, pointing with his dagger down the corridor, "you are not the one who needs defending." 15 There was a tiny crash, a smoky hiss, and a light rain of broken glass, as the globe light at the end of the corridor went out. Just beyond the elevator, its trunk swaying hugely above the saber-toothed tiger, stood a giant elephant with twelve-foot tusks. "Mah goodness," said the Transparent Woman. "What is that?" "A mastodon," said Burdick. "A mastodon! Good gracious … " "Or a mammoth. I never could tell the difference." "Would you stop," groaned Lola. "Actually, I think it's a mastodon. A mammoth would be woolly." "Who cares! Would you once and for all shut up!" A sudden trumpeting split the air. The Pharaoh gripped his dagger. "Ramses?" said Lola. Tusks lowered, the mastodon advanced on the tiger. The Pharaoh's jaw went rigid. "Keep back," he said. "Ramses, what are you going to do?" "What do you think he's going to do?" said Burdick. "He's going to save the tiger." "Ramses, no. It's just a tiger, a prehistoric tiger, how can it be God?" "I feel it in my bones … " "Well, your bones are wrong!" "I'll come back for you shortly—" "Please, Ramses, no—" "My dear, I must—" "Well, go if you're goin'!" cried the Transparent Woman. "Mah goodness, will you look what's comin' now!" "Oh, boy," said Burdick, peering down the corridor. The area beyond the elevator was filling up with prehistoric creatures: a duck-billed dinosaur, an Eryops, an ancient tortoise, all moving rather stiffly, like people in tuxedos entering a subway car. Except for the mastodon and the tiger, the two mammals in the crowd, none of the animals was paying much attention to anything but the act of locomotion, and only one shape was moving toward them, inching slowly along the wall. "Sugah," said the Transparent Woman, "do you see what ah see?" "Yes," said Burdick. Staring away slightly, he could make out the slowly moving shape more clearly: a bald head, an immense white beard, and a long black scholar's gown. "It's some wino from Central Park," declared the Transparent Woman. "They drift in when the weather turns. Poor old boy must have been sleepin' it off up here." "It's no wino," said Burdick gravely, and suddenly jumped. "Look out!" he cried, as the tiger's paw shot out. The old man's sleeve jerked back, torn from elbow to wrist. Up went the mastodon's trunk. "Ramses!" cried Lola. The Pharaoh, who had crept several yards down the corridor, waved her back and sprinted past the old man. "Run!" "Watch out, here he comes! Sugah, grab him!" Tripping on his academic robes, the old man lurched out of the shadows. "Hold him up!" Burdick caught the old man's arm. His face was white as stone, his eyes like two caves under a shelf of forehead. "Thanks, old boy," he breathed hoarsely. "Dreadful calamity, what?" "Yes," nodded Burdick. "Things coming to life from nothing. No adaptation. No selection. No survival. It's bloody appalling!" A shiver of recognition went up Burdick's spine. "It's the moon rock's fault," he said, gaping at the old man. "The moon rock. God help us. Oh, I say!" "Mah goodness!" Colored dots rose and fell in the Transparent Woman's spinal column, like arrows on an elevator control panel. Fangs bared, the saber-toothed tiger came loping toward them out of the crowd of prehistoric creatures. "Ramses," said Lola, "help!" In the forest of prehistoric legs, there was a flash of bronze. "He can't help," said Burdick. "He went after the mastodon. That's all he cares about." "That's not true!" "Then where is he?" "I don't know! He was just there—I can't see a thing! Ramses!" The tiger stopped ten yards away. It crouched. "Honey, will you come on?" The tiger growled. It sprang. "Look out!" As though the floor had rippled like a rubber mat, Burdick felt himself flying through the air, the railing of the stairway shooting up through his hands like a rope being yanked away. For a moment, all was confusion—legs, arms, colored lights, the folds of the old man's gown—as they all slid past each other down the stairs, past the landing, heading for the third floor. Grabbing for the newel post, Burdick swung around and looked up the stairs. The saber-tooth's head appeared in the archway. For several seconds the tiger stood there, looking down the stairs. Then, with a twist of its tawny neck and a large yawn, it stretched out, sentrylike, across the top step. "He's stayin' there," whispered the Transparent Woman, looking up. "He's not comin' down." Burdick nodded. "He's making sure we don't come back. Are you okay?" he said, a little shyly, to the old man, who was leaning against the wall across from African Mammals, wiping his forehead with a silk handkerchief. "He thinks he's havin' the DT's," insisted the Transparent Woman, and waved a hand in front of the old man's face. "It's all right, gramps," she said loudly. "You ain't seem' things. That's a real live tiger sittin' up there." "He knows," said Burdick quietly. The Transparent Woman looked from Burdick to the old man. "You mean he belongs here?" Burdick nodded. "You used to be in Primates. Until they moved the whale." "Primates. Quite." "Then they put you up there on the fourth floor, across from the elevator—next to Marsh and Leidy. Even though you're much more famous than they are." "Will y'all quit playin' twenty questions? Lola, honey, who is this gentleman?" Lola, who had been glancing nervously up the stairway for a glimpse of Ramses, now stared at the old man. "Of course." "Yes," Burdick nodded. "The beard," said Lola. "The bald head. The eyes … " "Exactly." "George Bernard Shaw!" The old man's brow furrowed. "I beg your pardon?" "Close," said Burdick, "but no cigar." He turned to the old man. "It's okay, Mr. Darwin. Lola's a little preoccupied—" "Darwin! Charles Darwin! Oh, wow, I'm sorry—" "—and the Transparent Woman didn't evolve." "Darwin?" said the Transparent Woman, a dull cloud of recollection swirling in her brain. "Charles Darwin," nodded Burdick, with a little shiver of awe. "This used to be a museum of natural history? He discovered the history of nature." The bearded scientist bowed lightly. "And you are?" "Burdick. No discoveries yet. But I'm on the track of one," he added. "And the chap with the bracelets?" Charles Darwin looked at Lola. "Not Hannibal, by any chance?" Lola shook her head. "Ramses," she said anxiously. "An Egyptian Pharaoh," said Burdick. "Indeed. Well, he certainly had a way with elephants," said Charles Darwin, glancing back up at the fourth floor. "You mean the mastodon?" said Lola, brightening. "He scared it away?" "Terrified it, I should think." "You saw that? You mean he got away safely? Are you sure?" "Well," said Charles Darwin, "my powers of observation may have declined somewhat, along with my reputation. Still … " "Yes. Oh, I know—they're terrific. Your powers of observation and your reputation. I was so worried about Ramses I didn't recognize you," said Lola. "Really, I've read everything you ever wrote. The Origin of Species and The Descent of Man and The Voyage of the Beagle—" "Don't forget Pygmalion," said Burdick. Charles Darwin stroked his beard. "Then my books are still … " "Best-sellers?" said Lola. "Oh, definitely." "Of course," said Burdick, a little testily (he felt like someone who'd had his hand up for five minutes without being called on), "your competition is still doing better." "My competition?" said Charles Darwin, puzzled. "He means the Bible," said Lola. "That's his way of being funny." Burdick glared briefly at Lola. "On the other hand," he said to Charles Darwin, "scientists have discovered all kinds of things proving you were right—things about RNA and DNA and the amino acids in monkeys and lots of other facts. You're still up there with the all-time greats." "Marvelous," mused Charles Darwin, shaking his head. "And to think my parents said I'd never amount to anything." "Did they really?" said Lola. "Oh, how awful." "Why awful?" said Burdick. "Maybe if his parents had expected him to be great, he would've turned out to be a failure. What I want to know, Mr. Darwin," he said, quickly changing the subject, "is how come people in the future are supposed to have giant mutant heads and no toes?" "Are they indeed?" said Charles Darwin. "Of course they're not," said Lola. "Which comic book gave you that idea?" "I didn't say it was true," said Burdick, trying to remember which comic book it was, "I said that's the way people picture it." "It doesn't appear to follow from my theories, does it? But then," Darwin added sadly, "nothing does anymore." "Well, that's just the point," said Burdick, with sudden eagerness. "We won't know that until we can study the moon rock." "That's right," said Lola brightly. "That's why Ramses and I were looking for it." "Oh, really?" said Burdick. "Since when did you care about anybody's theories?" "Since always," Lola said, with a quick smile in Charles Darwin's direction. "You could have fooled me," said Burdick. "And what's this Ramses-and-I business? I was doing fine till you two came along." "Oh, sure. I suppose you could've coped with that centipede alone." "I handled the fly, didn't I?" "You did?" said Lola. "What about me?" "You!" said Burdick wildly. "You couldn't find your way out of the museum by yourself!" "Oh, yeah?" said Lola. "How much you want to bet I find the moon rock before you?" "You and who else?" "What do you care?" "I don't care!" cried Burdick. "I don't need any three-thousand-year-old lifeguard helping me. I'll find it all by myself!" It was out. He had said it. He couldn't take it back. "Good!" said Lola. "Then it's settled." "Right," said Burdick. "We split up." Burdick looked at Charles Darwin. "Right," he gulped. "We split up." "What?" said the Transparent Woman. "I hope you enjoy yourself," said Lola. "I hope you do." "Y'all lost your heads? Y'all crazy?" "No," said Lola. "Sane." "Just to spite each other? Lord, this place is one big booby trap! Charlie?" "Are you absolutely sure, old boy?" "Of course," said Burdick, "if you and the Transparent Woman feel you need protection … " "Alone!" said Lola. "You said alone!" "That's right," admitted Burdick. "I said alone." There was silence. Nobody moved. In African Mammals, an oryx glanced up from the edge of a waterhole. "All right," said the Transparent Woman at last, "if that's the way y'all want it." "That's the way I want it," said Lola. "That's the way she wants it," said Burdick, adding quickly, "and so do I." His heart was beating in his throat. Why wasn't Lola moving? Was it some kind of test? Maybe she wanted them to stay together, maybe she didn't care about Ramses after all. Already her lip was twitching. She was getting cold feet. Her eyes widened. She was trying to say something. She was scared to go! "Sugah!" Or no, he thought. That was ridiculous. He was the one who was nervous. That's what it was. He was scared, not Lola. Eyes on the floor, he walked under the archway to African Mammals, wondering, too late, why the Transparent Woman had called out to him, why Charles Darwin was running frantically in his direction, why Lola was suddenly nowhere to be seen, as he turned to deliver his parting shot: "See you at the press conference … " But he never got it out. 16 When he saw the bull elephant in the archway, a blade wobbling behind its ribs, he thought at first it was the mastodon. Then he noticed what he ought to have spotted as soon as he walked into African Mammals—the empty elephant island in the center, and the muddy elephant tracks leading from the island across African Mammals into the corridor. So he stopped looking around for Ramses, who wasn't there, and then his thoughts went off like a radio as the elephant let out a deafening shriek of pain. For Burdick, it was like walking through a cemetery and having a brass band blast up behind every gravestone. The elephant thrashed toward him, ears flapping like rubber maps of Africa. In the exhibits along the wall, antelopes raced back and forth, monkeys leaped from tree to tree, a leopard clawed at a painting of Mount Kilimanjaro. The next thing Burdick knew, the elephant was looming over him, with the spear shivering back and forth, and before he could duck, the handle of the spear had struck the side of his head. Light exploded behind Burdick's eyes; his hands flew up of their own accord, groping for the spear handle, which flailed around like something alive. He gave a wild yank, and a gray wall of flesh fell toward him—he let go, and the elephant crashed to the floor, driving the spear all the way into its belly. An enormous spasm passed through its body: Its bowels emptied, and the huge head smacked the marble floor. The elephant lay still, its trunk twitching like a garden hose. "I say," said a voice. Burdick's heart beat as though it would burst. Behind him, Charles Darwin was blotting his face feverishly with his silk handkerchief, staring at the elephant. The trunk gave a last jerk and lay as still as the rest of the body. "I tell you, old boy," said Darwin, shaking his head, "my system can't take much more of this." "Where did the others go?" said Burdick, stunned. "Lola? The Transparent Woman?" "God knows. As far away as possible, I should think. I must say, had I known the beast was going to turn in here, I would have joined them. Wherever did that spear come from?" "I don't know," said Burdick. "It was just hanging from the elephant's side when—" He broke off. "Oh, I say," said Charles Darwin. Together, they stared toward the hall of Man in Africa. Just beyond the entrance was a dense circle of trees defining a dark clearing in a forest. The clearing was empty, and coming toward them, single file, was a small band of potbellied little men, in loincloths, none over five feet tall. Every man, down to the last one in line, was carrying a spear. "Good Lord," said Charles Darwin in a stricken whisper. "Savages!" "Pygmies," corrected Burdick softly. "Mbuti pygmies. That's their forest there, in Man in Africa." "Oh, my." At a command from the lead pygmy, the line of hunters had come to a halt alongside the dead elephant. "What do you suppose they want?" "Tembo!" cried the head pygmy, with a shake of his spear. "Tembo tembo tembo!" cried the other pygmies, climbing onto the elephant carcass. The head pygmy thrust his hand into the elephant's side, giving the fatal spear a twist before pulling it out. Up from the elephant's belly spurted a geyser of hot, murky water. The head pygmy then turned and, taking a machete from one of the others, slid down the dead elephant's backside. The blade flashed; a puddle of blood flowed across the floor. "Tembo tembo!" "Tebe ara tembo!" Gulping, Burdick backed away. The head pygmy was coming straight at him, holding the bloody spear in one hand and something else—Burdick couldn't make it out—in the other. "Njobe, nde Mbuti, wa tebe muzungu!" he said ferociously, staring up at Burdick. "No," said Burdick, glancing helplessly at Charles Darwin. "I didn't do anything—" "Njobe wa tebe muzungu!" insisted the little man, lunging at Burdick. Trembling, Burdick stumbled backwards, colliding with the glass of the antelope exhibit. "Njobe, king of the pygmies, hails the courage of the white hunter!" Slapping the bloody spear into Burdick's hand, he stood on tiptoe and in a twinkling knotted the something in his other hand around Burdick's neck. Burdick looked down. A tuft of bloody hairs was grazing his chest. With a start he realized it was the elephant's tail; without thinking, he started to lift it back over his head. "No! Stop!" cried Njobe, seizing Burdick's wrist. "You must not! Otherwise, the next elephant the gods send you will trample you to death." "Even though it was an accident?" said Burdick anxiously, thinking the gods ought to hear this aloud. "Accident?" said the pygmy king, pointing to the elephant lying before them on the marble floor. "You call that an accident? I have hunters looking everywhere for game"—he gestured toward the corridor—"and what they have not even found, you have killed. No, no. The muzungu is ba nde port. A true man of the forest. Is it not so?" he said, turning to the hunters standing behind him. "Ba nde port," agreed the pygmies. Burdick looked at the spear he was holding. "But this isn't even my—" he began, and felt an elbow in his ribs. Charles Darwin was frowning at him, rapidly shaking his head. "Don't try to reason with them," he whispered. "But—" "They don't understand cause and effect. You'll just make them angry." Njobe's head swiveled toward Charles Darwin. "Is that so! Who are you? What do you know about the ways of the Mbuti?" Putting the bloody spear down, Burdick stepped between the pygmy king and the scientist. "He does know a lot of things," he said diplomatically. "Not necessarily about pygmies," he added, with a glance at Darwin. "Actually, he's one of the wisest men who ever lived." "Indeed," said Njobe doubtfully. "Perhaps, then, he can tell us where to find the nganya who has bewitched the forest." "Nganya?" said Burdick. "Where is this sorceress who wants our bellies to be empty? Who has put the game in cages, so our spears cannot touch them?" Burdick glanced around at the glass-walled exhibits. "I see what you mean," he said. "Actually, a witch didn't do this. It's a long story. See, we've been looking for this rock—" "Rock?" said Njobe suspiciously. "From the moon," said Burdick. "From the moon?" said Njobe, as several of the other pygmies began to giggle. "Muzungu, are you making fun of me?" "No. What? No." "A pygmy loves laughter," said Njobe, "but not at his own expense." "I wasn't," Burdick assured him. "Really. There is a moon rock here, somewhere. Somebody's stolen it, and we have to find it." Njobe nodded toward Charles Darwin, who was frowning. "Your wise man doesn't seem so sure." "Well, of course," said Burdick, turning to Darwin. "Otherwise, how will we ever figure out the scientific explanation?" Charles Darwin looked from the elephant to the pygmies and then back to Burdick. "Is there one, do you think?" "But there's got to be," said Burdick passionately. "There's a scientific explanation for everything. Isn't that what life is all about? Isn't that what your books are all about? Isn't that why you became a scientist in the first place?" "I was beginning to wonder," said Charles Darwin. "But go on, old boy. Have you devised a working hypothesis about this moon rock?" "Well," said Burdick, taking a deep breath, as though about to deliver an oral report, "haven't people always said the moon has weird effects? I don't mean just the tides—I mean people acting crazy and turning into wolves and that kind of stuff. What if this one moon rock, the first one picked up by the first moon explorers, is the answer to everything like that?" Charles Darwin nodded, fingering his beard. "A missing link, so to speak. By Jove, I never thought of it that way!" "Why not? Why couldn't it be? I know one thing," said Burdick. "If we do figure out this moon rock, I'll never have to take another science test again." He turned to Njobe. "And you won't have to worry about antelopes and leopards behind glass. And you—" He smiled eagerly at Charles Darwin. "You might even get a Nobel Prize!" Charles Darwin smiled through his whiskers. "I'm awed by your enthusiasm, old boy. And your scientific flair." "So am I," said Burdick, tingling. "Awed by you, I mean. That's really the greatest compliment I've ever had. So is it okay?" he said, turning back to Njobe. "You're all professional hunters—you'll probably find the moon rock in no time. Will you help us? In return for killing the elephant. I mean, Mr. Darwin and I couldn't possibly eat it all by ourselves. Since you're so hungry, you could even have dinner before we set out—although there really isn't that much time to lose. Okay? Njobe?" "Nganya," said Njobe. "Excuse me?" said Burdick. "Nganya nganya nganya!" cried all the pygmies suddenly, pointing toward the corridor. Burdick turned in confusion, as angry pygmy-buzzing swiftly filled the hall. There, coming toward them, was the Transparent Woman, escorted by two pygmy hunters whose spears were pointed at her back. Alarmed, Burdick started toward her, and then stopped dead in his tracks. "Oh, no," he groaned. 17 The groan was for Lola, who was also being led into African Mammals, although her pygmy captor, being without a spear, had to content himself with poking her in the ribs with his finger. Under different circumstances, Burdick might have been glad to see her—glad she had been captured, anyway, and before finding Ramses—but there was a funny look on Lola's face he didn't care for at all. It was her suspicious look, brought on, apparently, by the sight of the dead elephant. The Transparent Woman was trying to get a glimpse of the elephant, too, but the pygmies had formed a fence around her with their spears; Njobe was staring her up and down with an expression of high outrage. "Uba nganya?" he asked her captors, who still had their spears pointed at her back. "Nganya pugo," they answered in unison, pointing to the corridor. "Sugah," pleaded the Transparent Woman, "help!" "It's all right," said Burdick, placing himself between the pygmy king and the Transparent Woman. "She's not what you think she is." "What do you mean?" said the Transparent Woman, and gazed around at the pygmy band. "What do y'all think ah am?" "A witch," said Burdick. "A witch!" said the Transparent Woman. Her heart jumped. The pygmies all gaped at it. "You cannot tell me," said Njobe, pointing at the light throbbing in the Transparent Woman's chest, "that the gods created this woman. She is the work of a devil!" "No. She's nice. Believe me, I know her—" "She was sent to cast a spell upon the hunt!" "No," said Burdick. "You're wrong. Although I see how you could get that impression. She's transparent, and the glass in front of the animals is transparent, too. But that's just a coincidence. Like when the elephant almost fell on me." Njobe shook his head. "You're confusing me, mu-zungu." "See, one thing doesn't have anything to do with the other. You're jumping to conclusions," he said uneasily, as out of the corner of his eye he saw Lola staring at the elephant's tail around his neck. "Mr. Darwin? Help me explain." "Oh, you're doing fine," said Lola, stepping past him and giving the tuft of elephant's hair a little flick with her finger, "muzungu." "And who is this?" said Njobe, looking from the Transparent Woman to Lola. "Is she a friend of yours as well? Is she also a witch? Uba mepe kola?" he called out to her spearless captor, who had squatted down beside the dead elephant and was studying it with a suspicious frown. "Tembo pugo," the hunter called back. "Tebe zozo." "What did he say?" asked Burdick. "He says this one"—Njobe pointed to Lola—"promised to lead them to a giant elephant." Burdick made a face. "The mastodon. That figures." "Tembo jo?" asked Njobe. "Ka jo," answered Lola's captor, nodding absently toward the ceiling—he had left off examining the elephant and had picked up the bloody spear lying on the floor beside it, turning it over slowly hi his hands. "A giant elephant in the sky," said Njobe, shaking his head. "I see. Thank you, no. We don't need imaginary elephants here. The muzungu has already provided a real one." "What?" said Lola suddenly. "Are you kidding?" "Oh, mah goodness," said the Transparent Woman, staring at the elephant carcass. "Sugah, you're a hero!" "Let me get this straight," said Lola. "You mean he actually told you he killed that elephant?" "I didn't tell him anything," Burdick said hastily. "Wait," said Lola. "Did he by any chance mention a rock?" "Yes," said Njobe. "What of it?" "Was he going to ask you to hunt for it?" "Yes. In fact, he did. Why?" "What a cheater," said Lola. "Talk about needing help! What did he say he killed the elephant with, karate?" "No," said Burdick, and pointed to the spear Lola's captor was examining. "That's what killed the elephant." "But that spear doesn't belong to Burdick," said Lola. "That spear belongs to him," she said, turning to her captor. "Right?" "Tembo go nde Asi," said the pygmy, nodding vigorously. Holding the bloody spear aloft, he mimed a thrust in the direction of the dead elephant. "Nde Asi," he repeated, pointing proudly to his own chest. "So that's where the spear came from," said Charles Darwin. "We rather wondered." "The elephant was badly wounded," explained Burdick to Njobe, whose face was beginning to twitch violently. "All I did was throw my hands up. I said it was an accident." "He was trying to trick you," said Lola, "so he could get the moon rock. He wants the reward money. That's all he cares about." "You mean that's all you care about," said Burdick. "Cheating shows," said Lola. "Never goes." "Takes one to know one!" "Quiet!" roared Njobe, and his voice resounded through African Mammals. He glared at Burdick. "You've told me untruths, muzungu." "No," said Burdick. "Maybe half truths—" "You claimed to offer help. Yet you yourself keep company with witches." "I never saw her before yesterday!" said Burdick, looking angrily at Lola. "I don't even know her last name." "You're a liar, muzungul." "I don't!" "Tara!" cried the pygmies, crowding closer. "I'm not!" "Tara!" The pygmies shook their spears. "Away with him!" "Wait. Oh, boy. You can't do this." "Tara tara tara! Away with the witches! Away with the wise man! Away with the false hunter!" "Please," said Burdick, "Njobe—" "You deceived us," growled the pygmy king. "You exposed us to ridicule." With a twist of his wrist, he yanked the elephant's tail from around Burdick's neck and whirled to face his subjects. "Ubu ma dho?" "Ma dhoso Kufo!" cried the pygmies. "Ma dhoso Kufo!" echoed Njobe. "To the cave of the Dead One!" "Cave?" said Burdick. "What cave?" "Sugah!" "What Dead One?" cried Burdick, as two dozen hands swept them kicking and squirming into the air. The archway reeled past and Man in Africa slid into view, first the empty forest of the pygmies, and then, looming beyond it, the great stone room with the two railings and the gate across the front and the sign by the entrance which he didn't have to read because he knew it by heart, having learned to read by reading it— "Ma dhoso Kufo muzungu!" "Sugah!" Horizontal above the pygmies, the Transparent Woman waved her hands. "Sugah … what's muzungu?" "We are," cried Burdick, pointing to his face, as the ceiling tilted back and the railed-in door swung up before his eyes. In the darkness beyond he saw the royal jar of poultry and the royal figs and the royal jewelry draped over the edge of the empty royal sarcophagus. "Hey, no! You pygmies—hey! Listen here! Ah'm not white, ah'm transparent!" A roll of thunder drowned her out. Prodded by spears, they all stumbled forward, spinning around in time to see Njobe toss the elephant's tail away. Burdick lunged at him. "Njobe?" His hands struck shuddering stone. Njobe was gone, all the pygmies were gone, the lights of Man in Africa were gone; suddenly they were all by themselves in pitch darkness, on the wrong side of a rumbling wall—sealed away, in the Pharaoh's Tomb. 18 For a long time no one said a word. Lola leaned against the wall, Charles Darwin fidgeted with his beard, and the nerves of the Transparent Woman lit up like a pale white fern in the darkness. The rumbling died away, and the tomb of Ramses the Fifth was silent. Casually, pretending it didn't matter if it moved or not, Burdick pushed at the stone that had just rolled across the entrance to the tomb. It didn't move. He hooked his fingers into the groove between the entrance stone and the stone above it, and pulled. His fingers scraped down the wall. He sucked them briefly, and put his shoulder to the stone. Nothing budged. "This won't be hard," he said, as calmly as he could. He hadn't a clue what to do next. "It isn't movin', is it?" said the Transparent Woman. "It'll move," said Burdick. "But not from the inside." "It'll move," Burdick repeated. He was very scared. "It's just a matter of time." "Time till what?" "Until we figure it out," said Charles Darwin. "Ain't nothin' to figure out." The Transparent Woman's skull flickered with restless light. "Ain't nothin' we can do to move it. We're stuck here. We're trapped. We're—" "We're in good shape" Burdick insisted loudly, with a frightened glance around the tomb. "We can see. We're not in total darkness. We have light to work by," he said, moving behind the sarcophagus to demonstrate. The Transparent Woman's eyes followed him, illuminating the bowls of fruit, the jar of ancient poultry. "We have food." "It ain't fit for the livin'!" protested the Transparent Woman. "It's midnight snacks for dead folks!" "We're not going to die!" Burdick shouted back, and checked himself. There were times to show you were upset, but this wasn't one of them. "The tomb can't be airtight." "But it's a real tomb?" "Yes, but—" "Brought over stone by stone from Egypt?" Charles Darwin laid a hand on the Transparent Woman's shoulder. "They wouldn't bother with every detail," he said. "Ah'd like to believe that, Charlie. Ah really would." A cloud of worry swirled in her head. "Oh, sugah, why'd you ever let us split up?" There was a sigh from the back of the tomb. "Oh, don't blame Burdick for that." Wiping back a lock of hair, Lola stepped into the Transparent Woman's light. "He didn't know what he was doing." "Wait a second," said Burdick. "Who says I didn't?" "This is all my fault," said Lola. "What do you mean? It wasn't all your fault. Stop trying to take credit for everything." "That's just it," said Lola, and sighed again. "I always have to be the center of attention. That's exactly what Dr. Kleinmann's always telling me." Burdick jumped. "Dr. Kleinmann?" he said. "With two n's?" "Yes. Come on. Don't pretend you never heard of going to a shrink." It was all Burdick could do to keep from hopping up and down. "I go to Dr. Kleinmann," he said. "Really?" said Lola. "My parents send me," said Burdick, "whenever they're feeling nervous about something." "Oh, wow. Mine too! Oh, that's so funny. I mean, it's awful—he's awful, isn't he? Don't you hate Kleinmann? With his tests and his tape recorder and that stupid microphone right where you sit?" "He's supposed to be good with smart kids," said Burdick. "He's not very good with me. I'm more self-centered now than when I started. Can you clear your mind of everything for ten seconds? Oh, that's stupid, I asked you that already." "It's still an interesting question," said Burdick. "I don't think so. Not yet. Not right this moment." "Neither can I. Neither can Kleinmann, probably. I hate his office worse than anything. I can't think of any place I'd less like to be." She cast a shivery glance around the tomb. "Oh, God. Except here." "Don't think about it," said Burdick. "At least Kleinmann's office you can leave." "Think about something else," suggested Burdick. "How can we?" "We just were. We were thinking about Dr. Kleinmann. We can think about a lot of things. We can think of words from the dictionary. We can do problems. A person is trapped in a room … Never mind." "That's okay. Go on." "All right. Behind one door is a man who will kill anybody who tries to get out. Behind the other door is a harmless guy. One always tells the truth, the other always lies, but you don't know which is which. How do you get out of the room asking only one question?" Lola frowned hard. She looked up. " 'If I ask if you'll kill me, will you say no?' " Burdick thought this over a moment. "That's right. That's the question. If he says yes, that's the door you go through; if he says no, you go through the other door." He shook his head. "That's amazing." Lola smiled. "It worked. I don't feel scared anymore." "Neither do I," said Burdick. It was true. He looked at Lola, still shaking his head. "Dr. Kleinmann," he said. "Isn't it strange? Like finding out we're related." "Yes," said Burdick. "Or … " "Or what?" The darkness whirled about his head. He would never have a chance like this again. "Or this," he said hoarsely. Leaning forward, he kissed her. "Oh, wow," she said. Their lips stayed together. Hers tasted warm and salty. He paused for breath; she smoothed back her hair. "You did that on purpose," she said. "So I'd have to tell Kleinmann about you." "Does that matter?" said Burdick. "No," she said. "Not to me, either," said Burdick. He leaned forward again. She stopped him. "Wait." She nodded toward the front of the tomb, where Charles Darwin was helping the Transparent Woman tap at the stones. "They can see us. Come on." "Where?" "In here." She pointed to the empty sarcophagus. Joining hands, they stepped over the side and crouched down, out of view. He kissed her. The sand on the floor of the coffin made a crackling noise as their legs slid side by side. Her hair fell over her cheek and her eyes were large in front of his. "I am sorry about what happened," she said. "That's okay. So am I." "It's getting hard to see, isn't it? Don't do that." "What?" "Roll your eyes back in your head." "Was I?" said Burdick. "I didn't mean to." "It's probably passion, but it makes you look like Dracula. Do you mind when I'm sarcastic?" "Sometimes I like it," said Burdick, "and sometimes I don't." He kissed her again. The walls of the tomb seemed to fall away, and they were at the center of a dark, spinning sphere. Then the tomb was back. He heard smacking noises. "This dumb sand," said Lola, wriggling. "For a second I didn't even feel it. Did you?" "No," said Burdick, listening to the smacks. "It was like we weren't here for a second." He poked his head up. The Transparent Woman was going along the inside of the tomb, slapping at all the stones. He breathed in, feeling his chest tighten alarmingly. Concentrating, he tried to steady himself. "Your eyes are rolling back again," said Lola. "What's the matter?" "I'm trying to empty my mind for ten seconds." "Is it working?" "Sort of. I started to think about the moon rock." He looked at her. "I was picturing you and me in Puerto Rico, spending the reward money." Lola abruptly sat up. "It's getting much darker in here," she said with a frown. "What's the matter?" said Burdick. "You looked mad for a second. Did I say something?" Lola adjusted her tank top. "Go ahead. You were pretending you found the moon rock … " "Not just me. Both of us. I was thinking you could use it for your science project, instead of the coal mine." "No, I couldn't," said Lola. "Why not?" "Because they'd say I only helped you find it. To get equal credit, girls have to do twice as much work." "Then why were you looking for the moon rock with Ramses?" "That's different," said Lola. "What's different about it?" Lola hesitated. "Well," she said vaguely, "he's three thousand years old." "He's three thousand years old? Or he looks like a movie star?" "No!" said Lola angrily. "That's not the reason." "Oh, yes it is. That's the reason. Oh, boy," said Burdick, "you were probably pretending I was him just now!" "Stop it. That's disgusting." "You talk about wanting all the credit, but you know what you really are? A groupie!" Lola reddened. "Oh, wow," she said, standing up. "You are going to be really sorry you said that." "Why don't you just forget about Ramses?" said Burdick in desperation, stepping out of the sarcophagus after her. "Don't you realize the dinosaurs got him?" She spun around. "They didn't! You don't know that!" She started across the tomb. "Mr. Darwin, have you figured a way out of here? I don't think I can stand this another second. Transparent Woman?" "Honey?" "Where are you? Where'd you go?" "Sugah?" "Turn on your lights," said Burdick. "Ah can't." The Transparent Woman stepped out of the corner, pulsing feebly. "It's happenin', Charlie," she said to the scientist. "What y'all said wouldn't happen." "Something is, by Jove," agreed Darwin, loosening his collar. "We're suffocatin'," said the Transparent Woman. "Don't be silly," said Lola. "Look at me—ah'm pale as a ghost! Look at mah lungs!" They looked. The Transparent Woman's lungs were like two bunches of pale grapes. "No!" said Lola. She inhaled. She shook her head dizzily. "No. No. It's our imagination. We're panicking." "It's a fate worse than death!" The Transparent Woman trembled with light. She rushed at the wall, running her hands over the entrance stone. "Death, don't waste your time!" "Stop it!" Lola was trying to hold the Transparent Woman's arms down. "Listen!" she said, looking suddenly at Charles Darwin. They all looked at the entrance. From the other side of the wall came a hollow tapping sound. "It ain't no use! We're in here for good and you can't have us ever. Death, quit knockin' at our tomb!" 19 As the Transparent Woman toppled backwards, Charles Darwin seized one of her arms and Lola the other, and they dragged her away from the entrance. The light from her body was so faint they could hardly tell one stone from the next, but the tapping was coming from directly in front of them. "Who is it?" said Lola to Charles Darwin. "It sounds like some kind of animal," he said. "What kind of animal knocks on doors?" "Picas viridis," said the scientist. "The green woodpecker." "That ain't no woodpecker!" cried the Transparent Woman. "That's the Grim Reaper!" Burdick put his cheek against the entrance stone. "You," he said loudly. "Whatever you are. We're in here and we're running out of air." There was no reply. "It can't hear us," said Lola. "It can't understand us," said Charles Darwin. "Help!" said Burdick, as loudly as he could. The tapping stopped. "Oh, mah goodness," said the Transparent Woman. "What if it's the pygmies?" "What would they want us for?" said Lola. "Dessert!" A low, whooshing sound, like thunder played backwards on a tape recorder, quivered through the wall. "Good Lord," said Charles Darwin, taking a step back. "Quick," said Burdick, spinning the Transparent Woman around so that what little remained of her body light fell on the objects surrounding the sarcophagus. Picking up a ceremonial urn by the neck, he flattened himself against the front wall to one side of the entrance stone. The stone slid forward. Air trickled in. The Transparent Woman's lungs ballooned with light. "Get back," Burdick whispered, waving for the Transparent Woman to duck down behind the sarcophagus. He gripped the urn. The entrance stone swung toward them. A stripe of yellow light fell across the floor of the tomb. Holding his breath, Burdick raised the urn. Into the stripe of light moved the shadow of a bear. "Ai-ya!" Burdick dropped the urn. "Ai-ya! Ai-ya!" Brandishing his bear claws, the medicine man leaped sideways into the tomb. "It's the Indian!" "Kwikluk!" "Ai-ya!" he cried, diving past them. He thrust his nose into the jar of poultry, his hand into the jewelry box, his whole head into the sarcophagus. He overturned the royal boat, dumped the royal figs on the floor, and sorted through them wildly, flinging them aside like hot coals. He picked the urn off the floor and shook it and held it upside down. "It isn't here!" cried Kwikluk, gaping. He sat down suddenly on the sarcophagus. Covering his face, he howled into his hands. "The moon rock isn't here!" "Kwikluk … " "How could I have been so wrong?" "Kwikluk, stop it. You're acting crazy. Stop crying." "Why did you think the moon rock was in here?" asked Lola. " 'Cause he hid it in here," said the Transparent Woman. "And that's why he ran when the mummy showed up. Ain't that obvious?" "Not to me," said Lola. "Come on, Kwikluk," said Burdick. "You might as well tell us everything." Kwikluk shook his head miserably. "I can't." "Why can't you?" said Lola. He looked up at Burdick with tears in his eyes. "Because there's nothing to tell. That's what I tried to say all along, and you wouldn't believe me. I didn't take the moon rock. I never had the moon rock. Somebody else got to it first!" "You mean," said Burdick, with a look around the tomb, "you thought Ramses had hidden the moon rock in here?" "Yes," said Kwikluk. "But I was wrong." "Did you see Ramses take the moon rock?" asked Lola eagerly. "No," said Kwikluk. "But he was hanging around Teddy Roosevelt Hall," suggested Burdick. "Yes," said Kwikluk. "Well, so were most of us, one time or another," said the Transparent Woman. "Mah goodness, have y'all forgotten? Ramses was helpin' us look for the moon rock!" "Perhaps to throw you off the scent?" suggested Charles Darwin. "Horsefeathers," said the Transparent Woman. "Why would he go to all that trouble? Just 'cause Kwikluk didn't take the moon rock doesn't mean Ramses did." Kwikluk nodded. "I thought he did. I hoped he was the one. As a magician, I was desperate to find that magic rock. Even after I searched the Pharaoh and found nothing—" "What?" interrupted Lola. "You did what?" "Believe me," Kwikluk said, "I did a very thorough job. I must have looked through his remains for hours." Burdick's heart gave an acrobatic leap. "See?" he said, turning excitedly to Lola. "I told you. The dinosaurs did get him!" "Dinosaurs?" said Kwikluk, puzzled. "Yes," said Burdick. "On the fourth floor." "The Pharaoh? On the fourth floor?" Kwikluk shook his head emphatically. "Oh, no." "What do you mean?" said Burdick. "He was!" "No, no. The centipede—the centipede finished off the Pharaoh. All his vital juices had been sucked out, his arm was in one place, the rest of his body in another. It was ghastly." "Kwikluk," said Burdick, as his heart rank, "that wasn't the Pharaoh." "What are you talking about? Of course it was. Who else could it be? As for the fourth floor, there was someone who came down while I was sifting through the bandages—he kept walking back and forth in the next hall, as though he was sure the moon rock was there. Of course at the time I thought the Pharaoh had the moon rock, so I didn't pay much attention. He was quite young—nineteen or so, black hair, prime of life"—he chuckled—"no resemblance to a mummy at all. But what's the matter all of a sudden?" "Oh, mah goodness—" "Lola!" "What's wrong? What's going on?" 130 "Lola!" "Where's everybody going? What's happening? Why did the young girl run off like that? Will somebody please tell me what I said?" Part Four—TO DUST RETURN 20 By the time he had ducked out of the tomb and dashed under the archway to African Mammals, she was long gone. He raced angrily toward the corridor, past the carcass of the bull elephant, past a dying fire and leftover slabs of elephant meat and the tribe of pygmies sleeping off their dinner. The corridor was empty and he churned down the stairs, trying to make his legs go faster though he knew it was probably too late, swung past the second-floor foyer, past the Conibo sitting in his patch of jungle, jumped to the landing, skidded, caught himself, and descended on tiptoe to the first floor. The 77th Street lobby was silent; so was Northwest Coast Indians. At the archway to Man and Nature he halted. From the marble distance of Invertebrates came the blurred echo of a voice. Two voices. He crept forward into the dark hall, crouching behind the New York State garden. Clenching his teeth, he peered through the double pane of glass. There they were—fifty yards away—inside the entrance to Invertebrates, under the giant squid. Lola was listening intently to Ramses, whose body was shiny with sweat. "Pssst!" Burdick stiffened. Glancing back over his shoulder, he saw the Transparent Woman blinking in the entrance to Man and Nature, and Kwikluk and Charles Darwin coming down the stairs behind her. Backtracking, he waved them forward. "Where are they?" whispered the Transparent Woman, kneeling beside him. "In there," said Burdick, pointing toward Invertebrates. "Has he found the moon rock?" said Charles Darwin. "He's sure been tryin' hard enough—he's sweatin' up a storm." The Transparent Woman's vessels bubbled faintly, like Christmas lights. "What's she pattin' his arm for? See how she's strokin' his arm?" "I see it," said Burdick bitterly. "Boy, have I been stupid." "She must be askin' him where he's looked so far," said the Transparent Woman. "Oh, that makes mah blood boil. After y'all were so cozy in the coffin? Don't that make you see red?" "A bull sees red," said Burdick. "And you feel like you been the goat." "I feel like an idiot," said Burdick. "I knew what I was getting into. I knew all she really cared about was royalty—that, and beating me to the moon rock. Boy," he said, clenching his fists so hard his arms trembled, "I hate having to hate her!" "Then what are you sittin' here for, sugah? What are we wastin' time for?" A pale parabola leaped in her skull. "If the moon rock's here, let's look for it. Oh, mah heart!" "Shh," warned Burdick, his eyes fixed on Lola and Ramses. They were just visible beyond the body of the centipede, and turning in a small circle. "Come on, we'll get the jump on 'em!" whispered the Transparent Woman. Her chest sputtered like a broken neon sign, briefly lighting up the road-building and bridge-building dioramas. "No wonder the Pharaoh's been hangin' round down here. We're sittin' on top of it, ah can feel it." She lurched past the New York State garden; her heart glowed feebly, like a flashlight through a fingernail. "Help me. It's here. Ah know it." "Then where is it?" said Kwikluk. "Charlie? Sugah? Come on, people, ah'm doin' mah part!" "Wait!" said Burdick suddenly. Over the echo of the Transparent Woman's voice came the slap-slap of sandaled feet. "Oh mah goodness." "They heard us," said Kwikluk. "Come on," whispered Burdick, grabbing the Transparent Woman's arm and waving them all back through the archway to the foyer. "In here," he said, opening the glass door to the museum shop. Easing it shut, he crouched in front of the Transparent Woman to block any telltale nicker from her heart. They all stared out into Man and Nature. "Here come the lovebirds," said the Transparent Woman, as Ramses and Lola appeared, hand in hand, beyond the double glass of the New York State garden. An odd chill went halfway up Burdick's spine. There she was, the girl who had smiled at him, stared at him, called him a klutz, the girl with whom he had captured a fly and shared the floor of a sarcophagus, the girl who had run out on him three tunes, the girl he despised!—and now, because she was in the very spot where he had first watched her, day before yesterday, in her jeans and tank top, with her notebook and her colored pencils, suddenly it was as though he had never talked to her at all. For an instant he was back watching her again, with the New York State garden melting away before his eyes, watching her draw the shafts and tunnels, the little cars full of ore, watching her draw the little men— "Oh, hell," he said. "Sugah?" "That's where it is!" He squeezed his forehead. In Man and Nature, Lola was waving excitedly to Ramses. "She's found it. Oh, boy. How stupid." "Where?" The Transparent Woman glanced around. "Sugah, where'd you go?" "I'm here," said Burdick, searching along the shop counters for binoculars. "It was right there in front of our noses," he said, fishing out a pair and focusing. "Boy, were we blind." He took a quick glance, nodded, and held up the binoculars for the Transparent Woman to look through. "See for yourself." "Where? Ah don't see nothin'." "Look again. Straight ahead." The Transparent Woman looked. "All ah see is a bunch of teeny little men … with little hats, with lights on 'em … and little teeny pickaxes … and a teeny little black pebble … " She broke off. She lowered the binoculars. "Ah'll be damned!" "That's right," said Burdick, passing the binoculars to Kwikluk. "It's in the coal mine!" "You see the ore car?" said Burdick. "It's full of dust," said Kwikluk. "Moon dust! They been minin' it—the coal miners!" "And you see the hole in the sky, above the mine?" "Oh, I say," said Charles Darwin. "That's where the thief punched his hand through," said Burdick. "And dropped the moon rock in." "But who?" said the Transparent Woman. "And why? What would anybody want with a bunch of moon dust?" "I don't know," said Burdick, his heart starting to pound. "But Lola's got it now." There was a flurry of movement at the coal mine; he raised the binoculars. Focusing, he saw Lola leading Ramses to a nearby bench. The Pharaoh's face was pale, pouring sweat; he was shaking his head. "Sugah, what's wrong?" "I don't know. Ramses is upset about something. They're still sitting right there." "Oh, mah goodness. Charlie, you're a great thinker, think great thoughts!" "If only," said Kwikluk, "we could talk to the miners." "With Ramses ten feet away? You know who he's gone side with." "Once a Pharaoh," said Burdick, "always a Pharaoh." Kwikluk sighed. "You're right. We'd have to sneak past him and inside the mine." "And how we gone do that?" Kwikluk shook his head. "Impossible. We'd have to be three inches high." Burdick suddenly lowered the binoculars. He stared at Kwikluk. "But you are," he said. "What? Sugah, what are you talkin' about?" "Come on," said Burdick, going swiftly to the shop door. Again he stiffened: In Man and Nature, Lola had Ramses' hand in her own and was stroking it softly. "Hurry," said Burdick, leading the others through the foyer. Keeping the giant war canoe between himself and Man and Nature, Burdick crossed the lobby into Northwest Coast Indians. "There," he whispered, pointing to the case of miniature Haidas just inside the entrance. "Ah never!" "You see? This is where I hid behind yesterday." "Pygmy Indians!" whispered the Transparent Woman. "Perfect miniatures," said Charles Darwin. "How extraordinary!" "And there's the little bitty you," said the Transparent Woman to Kwikluk. Below, the tiny Indians had pulled in their paddles and poles and were sprawled inside their miniature canoe—all but the little medicine man, who was on his feet, tiny bearskin drawn up around his shoulders, tiny beads of moisture on his face and chest. "Look there, he's even perspirin' like you." "But will he recognize you?" said Charles Darwin, mopping his own face with his silk handkerchief. "He'd better," said Burdick firmly, with a glance back at Man and Nature. "Come on," he said to Kwikluk, motioning him to the other side of the glass case. "Lift up the cover. Slowly." The medicine man gripped the edge of the case. His knuckles turned white. He shook his head. "What's the matter?" said Burdick. "I don't know," said Kwikluk. "For a second, I felt dizzy." "Ah know what you mean, honey," said the Transparent Woman, her voice whirring like a blender. "Ah ain't feelin' too hot mahself." "What's wrong with everybody?" said Burdick, looking at Charles Darwin, who was slumped against a totem pole. "It's nothing, old boy," said the scientist, blotting his lips with his handkerchief. "Carry on." "I'm tired too, you know," said Burdick impatiently. "Come on"—he turned to Kwikluk—"let's try it again." He raised his end of the cover; Kwikluk took a deep breath, lifted the glass, groaned, and let it slide with a thud to the floor. From the case came tiny screams, like cricket chirps. The little canoe rocked back and forth. "We frightened them," said Burdick, and stepped back cautiously into the 77th Street lobby to see if Ramses and Lola had heard anything. They hadn't; Lola was too busy smoothing Ramses' hair. Burdick made a fist, steadying himself—nothing was going to stop him now. He leaned over the case again. The tiny Haidas were clustering around their medicine man, imploring him to explain the giant figure towering above them, the giant hand reaching down to pluck their boat from the water, the giant voice droning from beyond the stars. "Tell them not to be afraid," whispered Burdick, handing the canoe carefully to Kwikluk. Kwikluk lifted the canoe in front of his face. The tiny screams intensified, the Haidas clinging for dear life to the sides of their craft like balloonists caught in a thunderstorm. "They think I'm a demon," said Kwikluk. "Show them you're human," said Burdick. "Take off your mask." Kwikluk flipped his bear head to his shoulders. In the tiny canoe the chirps of terror clicked off, one by one. The tiny Kwikluk gazed in awe at the gigantic Kwikluk. "Monotheism," sighed Charles Darwin, "is born among the Haidas." "Tell them you have a mission for them," said Burdick, frowning toward Man and Nature. "Tell them they have to recover a stolen rock—a sacred rock, containing the power of life itself, which several men have been converting into dust. You don't know why they're doing it, or for whom, and neither do the men, but the crucial thing is to get the dust and bring it back." Kwikluk nodded. "I'll try," he said. Raising the canoe to eye level, he began to whisper very softly. "The little one's noddin'," said the Transparent Woman. "He understands." "All right," whispered Burdick. "Now everybody come this way." He turned and, with the others following, walked quickly behind the canoe and through the lobby, shutting his ears to the soft, infuriating murmurs coming from Man and Nature, until they were all inside the museum shop again. Kwikluk lowered the canoe, angling it so his tiny counterpart and the other miniature Haidas were facing the coal mine. "Tell them that's where the sacred dust is," whispered Burdick, holding open the glass door. "Tell them on their way they'll pass two demons, one male, one female. The female demon is busy cooing at the male demon, but she's fickle and sarcastic and they can't take any chances." He paused to clear his throat. "When they get to where they're supposed to go, they'll see a hole. Tell them to climb up and collect the dust and not to leave any behind." "What are they gone bring the dust back in?" asked the Transparent Woman. Burdick glanced quickly around. "In this," he said, taking Charles Darwin's silk handkerchief. Knotting it to form a pouch, he handed it to Kwikluk, who gave it to the tiny medicine man. "And tell them to hurry!" whispered Burdick, as Kwikluk tilted the miniature canoe and the Haidas jumped down. With the tiny Kwikluk in the lead, stumbling under the weight of the handkerchief, the miniature Indians padded off single file into Man and Nature. Burdick closed the shop door. "It's gone take all their strength," sighed the Transparent Woman. Like a lamp responding to a sudden drop in current, her whole body dimmed, and she sank down against the shop wall beside Kwikluk and Charles Darwin. "How you doin', sugah? Ah never seen you so fired up." "I'm okay," said Burdick tensely, searching out the last few Haidas filing past the New York State garden. Above, where the glass of the coal mine began, he could make out a tiny bear head, as the miniature Kwikluk pulled himself level with the hole in the diorama. Quickly he panned over to Ramses and Lola. Lola was caressing Ramses' cheek, talking to him in a low, soothing voice. The Pharaoh's face was a pale green color, and he was sweating so much his body looked greased—like a seasick Mr. Egypt, thought Burdick. "What do you suppose they're talking about?" said Kwikluk. "Their future, probably," said Burdick. But you won't get away with it, he thought fiercely, panning from Lola to the coal mine. The miners were helping the Haidas dump the moon dust from the ore car into Charles Darwin's silk handkerchief. Burdick held his breath. Out of the hole in the sky came the handkerchief, bulging with moon dust. Burdick looked back at Ramses. He was staring at his hands, which were trembling. Burdick panned back. The Haidas were starting to haul the sack of moon dust across the floor. They dragged it a foot, two feet, and stopped. Burdick stood up. "Sugah, what's wrong?" "I don't know," he said numbly, staring through the binoculars. Two of the miniature Haidas had fallen to the floor in dead faints and the rest were ministering to them, chattering in tiny insect voices. He threw open the shop door. He could hear the voices clearly. "Get up," he whispered prayerfully. The fallen Haidas looked stiff as toy soldiers. A third Haida swooned. One by one they were falling, while the sack of moon dust sat. "Get up!" "Sugah, somethin' awful weird's happenin'—"' "Ramses hears them! Come on!" "Ah can't." The Transparent Woman's heart sputtered darkly. "Ah'm too weak!" "Kwikluk? Mr. Darwin?" "If you can manage to distract him," said the scientist, an asthmatic rattle rising in his throat, "I might be able to reach the sack—" "Come on!" said Burdick, pulling Charles Darwin to his feet and racing out of the shop into Man and Nature. The tiny Kwikluk struggled to his knees, and fell again. The sack lay open, a tiny trail of moon dust winding back toward the coal mine; like someone just waking up and groping for the phone, Ramses lurched toward it. "Stop!" cried Burdick. Ramses stumbled to a halt in the shadows. Burdick whirled around, looking for the sack. "There!" He pointed. Charles Darwin bent down. "I've got it," he breathed. "He's got it!" cried Lola. "Ramses!" "I'm right here, my dear," said the Pharaoh. "Sugah," cried the Transparent Woman from the foyer, "watch out for his knife!" The point of the Pharaoh's dagger glinted in the darkness; it was all Burdick could see of Ramses. "Don't do it!" he cried. His heart raced. There was no other way, and nothing else mattered now. "Ramses, I'll make you a deal!" "A deal? Sugah, no!" The dagger trembled. "What sort of deal?" said Ramses. Burdick swallowed. "It's a good deal. A great deal. You'll forget you ever knew Lola. You'll be able to go back to Egypt. You'll be king of the world again." "Sugah, have you gone clean out of your mind? Charlie, hold on to that sack!" "You have nothing to lose, Ramses. Lola for the moon dust. Straight deal. No strings attached." A dry cough came out of the darkness. "You would do this?" said Ramses. "Just to keep her from winning?" "What does that matter?" "Or," said the Pharaoh with a peculiar cackle, "is it to keep her from me?" Burdick held his ground. "That's my business." "A girl who has given you nothing but trouble, and you're ready to give up the moon rock for her?" "If you want to put it that way," said Burdick hotly, "which I don't. Now is it yes or no?" "Burdick," said Lola softly, "do you have any idea how ridiculous you sound?" "No, no," protested Ramses, with another strange chuckle. "This is true passion." "Oh, wow," said Lola, shaking her head. "Even if he wanted to, how could Ramses go back to Egypt? You're so mad, you can't see straight. Burdick, don't you understand? Can't you see what's been happening all around you?" Her voice broke as she took Ramses by the hand, leading him into the light. "Burdick, for God's sake, open your eyes!" 21 With an icy shudder, Burdick stared at Ramses the Fifth, wanting more than anything not to but unable to avert his gaze. Standing before him, one bony hand enclosed in Lola's, was a man without fat, flesh, or age. He wasn't 19 or even 91 ; he could be 111 or 999; with another shiver, Burdick realized the figure was probably closer to 3,000. Wrinkles were spreading over his face like railway lines across a map of the Middle East. As Burdick watched in cold horror, the folds of his neck darkened and the bracelets slid down his thinning arms like jugglers' rings. "You see now?" cried Lola. "Oh, God," said Burdick. He looked at the Transparent Woman. A pale mist shrouded all her organs. At the archway, Kwikluk was leaning against the marble wall like a manikin, slowly closing and unclosing his hands. "That's what's been going on all this time. You're all … you're all reverting!" "Everythin' is!" said the Transparent Woman. "Listen!" From the floors above came bleats and gasps, the sound of claws scraping across marble, the desperate beating of a thousand pairs of wings. "The whole museum's dyin'!" "But how?" said Burdick, bending down. Cradling the tiny, lifeless Kwikluk in his palm, he picked up a few grains of spilled moon dust, rubbing them between his fingers. Dying! The museum was dying! But outside it was still night, pitch-black, and here was the substance that had brought it all to life, divided into thousands of tiny particles— He stood up. "Oh, boy." "Sugah, what is it?" "Lola's right. I was stupid. Completely blind. Oh, boy—" "Burdick, say it!" "Remember what the guard told us—the one with the yellow mustache? About why they were keeping the moon rock in an airtight dome?" "To keep it from rusting," said Lola. "Oh, wow—to keep it from turning slowly into an earth rock—" "Slowly—that's right. But now—don't you see?—now that's happening like crazy. All the little particles—they're all rusting." "Like an ice cube when you crush it … " "Exactly. It melts faster. So all that time we were hunting for the moon rock … " "It was losing its properties. Oh, wow," said Lola. "And now it's too late. No moon rock. No reward. Nothing. It's over!" "Sugah … " said the Transparent Woman, light struggling up through her larynx, "it can't be too late—" "But it is! Oh, boy"—Burdick whirled toward Lola—"do you realize what this means?" "What?" "Whoever took the moon rock gave it to the miners on purpose. He knew exactly what would happen. That was his whole plan. He wanted to destroy the moon rock." "But who?" said the Transparent Woman. "Somebody who wanted you back the way you were," said Burdick. "But how could he have known what would happen?" said Lola. "You and I were the only ones who heard the guard talking about oxidation. Unless you think the guard … " "No," said Burdick. "No. It can't be." "Then who? Breaking the moon rock into pieces—that wouldn't occur to just anybody." "She's right," said the Transparent Woman. "You'd pretty much have to know your science." "The thief certainly knew his," said Burdick. "He was probably sitting back somewhere laughing at us," said Lola. "Knowing we'd never get to the moon rock in time." "But we got to it, didn't we?" said the Transparent Woman. "Couldn't we try salvagin' what's left? Put it back in the dome, maybe, or Ramses' tomb? Someplace airtight—least till y'all have a chance to study it. Kwikluk? Ain't it worth a shot? Come on now, ain't no sense givin' up. Where's that moon dust? Ramses?" The Pharaoh's hands shook. "The bearded gentleman had it," he said. "He was the one who picked the sack off the floor." "That's right, Charlie. You're the one's got it." The Transparent Woman turned around. "How about it, Charlie? You want to come along? Or you gone throw in the towel, too?" There was no answer. "Charlie?" What light remained in the Transparent Woman's body climbed swiftly up her spine, bunching at the base of her brain. "Oh, mah goodness," she said in a horrified whisper. From the 77th Street lobby came the sound of a door unlocking. "Charlie!" Like a fish squeezed out of a fist, Burdick shot into the foyer. Behind him came the others. The Transparent Woman's eyes suddenly glowed, throwing a bearded shadow on the lobby wall. "There he is!" cried Kwikluk. He was standing by the lobby door, looking out at the dark street. Kwikluk, first to reach him, grabbed his lapels and spun him around. Beneath his stony forehead, Charles Darwin's eyes stared out at them like molten coins. "Where is it?" said the Transparent Woman. "Charlie, where's the sack?" With an apologetic shrug, the scientist spread his gnarled hands. They were empty. "He hasn't got it!" "Charlie, oh good gracious, where's the moon dust?" He nodded toward the street. Burdick pressed his face against the glass door, looking. "There!" he said suddenly, pointing. All eyes swiveled toward the sidewalk beyond the door. In the glow of a streetlight, a knotted silk handkerchief was floating up on a gust of wind. It rose and rose, shedding a trail of tiny particles. The particles scattered, and the handkerchief flew higher and higher. "Oh, Charlie," said the Transparent Woman, in a voice soft with shock. "Oh, Charlie … " The handkerchief, the particles, were gone. "Oh, my God," said Burdick, staring in disbelief at Charles Darwin. "Oh, my God." It was like having your pocket picked, it was like finding out you'd been walking around with your fly open, it was like hearing somebody insult you behind your back. In his whole life, he had never felt so cheated. "All that time," he said, "you knew." The scientist nodded sadly. "Quite." "You stole the moon rock," said Lola. "It was you who gave it to the miners. You were the one who destroyed it." "Yes," admitted Charles Darwin. "All true." A bird shrieked. A tiger roared. Far-off tribal sighs merged with prehistoric gasps, like the hiss of steam from a dying volcano. "But why?" said Ramses, in a parched voice. "Why should you have wanted to see us all dead?" The Transparent Woman's eyes flickered redly at Charles Darwin. " 'Cause we didn't evolve, like other folks. We just sprang to life. Ain't that the reason?" "Of course that's the reason," said Burdick angrily. "The moon rock was making everything survive, not just the fittest. You had to get rid of it. You couldn't just hide it, because that way the museum would still be alive. You had to fix it so there wouldn't be a moon rock." "You didn't care if you or anybody else lived," said Lola, "so long as your theories didn't die." "The greatest event in the history of science," said Burdick. "Maybe even the key to life itself. And you didn't even want to figure it out." Charles Darwin passed a hand across his pale, chalky forehead. There was nothing he could say. "I'm sorry, old boy," he offered, with a deep, unhappy sigh. "I guess I'm just too old for new ideas." "You," said Burdick, "one of the greatest scientists who ever lived … " "Ah guess scientists ain't no better than the rest of us," said the Transparent Woman. "When the chips are down, they can act just as selfish as anybody else." Burdick nodded, looking at Lola. "That goes for me, too," he said. Sighing, Lola looked at Ramses, at his cracked and yellowing skin. "And me," she said sadly. "Now don't y'all go feelin' sorry for yourselves," said the Transparent Woman. "So what if the moon rock's gone? So what if you can't explain it? You can still tell the world what Charlie did to it." "That's right," said Ramses to Lola. "And perhaps even collect the reward." A faint static filtered through the lobby, like a radio station going out of range. Lola shook her head. "No, we can't," she said. "Why not? They'll listen to you, sugah. They know you 'round here." Burdick shrugged. "Would you believe it? I wouldn't. Statues and dead people and stuffed animals coming to life? It sounds like something a crazy person would make up." He glanced at Lola. "Two crazy people. How could we ever prove it?" "By the centipede!" said the Transparent Woman. "And the fly, and the tiny Haidas, and the dinosaurs upstairs, and the elephant, and the pygmies, and—and the broken glass everyplace!" Burdick and Lola looked at each other; they both shook their heads. "They'll just say some vandals went berserk," said Lola. "That's right," agreed Burdick. "That's what they'll say." "So they'll keep on huntin' for the moon rock. And they'll never find it. And the museum'll still be in trouble!" "No," said Burdick firmly. He turned to Charles Darwin. "We may not be able to do anything else, but we can make sure other people don't get blamed for what you did. I may not be awed by scientists anymore," he said, digging in his pants pocket, "but I'll never stop liking the museum." He opened his hand. "Oh, mah goodness," said the Transparent Woman. There, in Burdick's palm, sat a small, black, jagged stone. "Oh, wow," said Lola. "Ah'm seein' things!" "It's the moon rock!" said Kwikluk. Burdick shook his head. "It's not the moon rock," he said. "It only looks like the moon rock." "It's the stone I picked up off the sidewalk," said Lola, examining it. "Two days ago, before the bus came … " "It's just an ordinary earth rock," said Burdick. "Lola gave it to me, and it's been in my pocket ever since. But the museum won't know that. They'll be so glad to have something under that dome again, they'll think whoever took the moon rock brought it back. And so will everybody else." "By Jove," said Charles Darwin, stroking his beard. "That's right," said Burdick. "So your famous reputation is safe. Nobody will ever know what you did. And nothing like this can ever happen again." There was a sudden, awful silence. Kwikluk and the Transparent Woman looked at each other. "We'll come see you, of course," said Burdick, with a glance at Lola. "Oh, sugah—" The Transparent Woman turned away, hiding her flickering heart. "I guess it's time," said Ramses, turning to Lola. She leaned to kiss his withered cheek; Burdick felt Charles Darwin touch his shoulder. "You do understand, my boy," he said. "Whatever I did, I never meant to shake your faith in science." Burdick looked at Lola, who had her arms around Ramses. "It wasn't you who shook me," he said, turning away. He heard a muffled sob, and when he looked back again Lola was drying her eyes and Ramses was starting up the stairs. "Are you coming?" said the Pharaoh to Charles Darwin. "You and I have a long climb, you know." Charles Darwin paused at the foot of the stairs. "If I don't make it all the way back up … " "It's all right, Charlie," said the Transparent Woman. "You'll fit in most anyplace." "It's kind of you to say so," said Darwin. "After all I've put you through." "It's okay, Charlie. You're forgiven." "No hard feelings?" The Transparent Woman shared a look with Burdick. "A few," she said, the light waning in her eyes. Charles Darwin's footsteps echoed on the stairs, sharper and less like footsteps, until he and the Pharaoh were out of view. From the Hall of Invertebrates came the sound of the squid slapping a listless tentacle against the ceiling. Then silence. When Burdick turned again, Kwikluk was standing in the canoe, unwinding the shirt from around his leg. "I guess I won't be needing this," he said. "Please keep it," said Burdick. "Okay? As a souvenir." "Okay," said Kwikluk. He straightened. "Good-bye, woman. Despite our difficulties, it has been a pleasure to spend this time with you." "Likewise, neighbor. Spite of everythin'." "Having known you all … it will make it much easier now … up here. You will not think of me as a failure?" "Of course not," said Burdick. "Or a coward?" "You never were," said Burdick. Reaching up, he gripped Kwikluk's hand. "Watch out for Conibos," said the medicine man, flipping down his bear helmet. He stepped into the middle of the boat and gazed at the horizon. "Good-bye," said Burdick. There was no reply. The Transparent Woman gave a sigh. "He was a caution," she said, "wasn't he?" They walked side by side into the Hall of Biology. Nobody was looking at anybody else. "Didn't we have ourselves a time, though? When you think about it." "Yes," said Burdick. "We did." The Hall of Biology was perfectly still. "Ah guess this is where ah belong," said the Transparent Woman, standing before her pedestal. There was a pinpoint of light in each of her tear ducts. "Y'all quit bickerin', hear?" "We'll try," said Lola. "Y'all deserve to be happy—two kids as brave as you. Sugah?" "Yes?" said Burdick. "You won't forget me now, just 'cause Lola's around? You will come visit me now and then?" "Every day," said Burdick. "Ah'll be lookin' for you." "I'll never forget you," said Burdick. "Ever." "Aw, sugah." She hugged him. Burdick held her tightly. A light flared in her heart and went out. The Transparent Woman lay cold and rigid in his arms. 22 Side by side they walked through Northwest Coast Indians, past the empty case of miniature Haidas, past the totem poles, through the halls of North American Mammals and Small Mammals. Not a single hair stirred behind the panes of glass. Everything in the cases was silent. The only sound was their footsteps echoing up the stairs and through Asian Mammals toward Teddy Roosevelt Hall. "Maybe it's better this way," said Lola wistfully. "Maybe," sighed Burdick, juggling the small, black stone. "I mean, what if there wasn't a scientific explanation? What if no one could have figured the moon rock out?" "We'll never know," shrugged Burdick, "so what's the use of talking?" Lola looked at him. "I thought that was your big love in life—explanations." Burdick looked back at her. "I thought all you ever worried about was winning." Their eyes stayed locked a moment. "Would you really have made that deal for me?" said Lola. "I offered it, didn't I?" said Burdick. Lola glanced away, pondering. "Winning isn't everything," she said, "but neither is science. Will you at least admit that now?" "Nothing is everything," said Burdick, stopping under the archway to Teddy Roosevelt Hall. His gaze wandered sadly over the marble walls, coming to rest on the empty moon rock case. "Come on. We'll put the stone under the dome and that'll be it. Here," he said, handing it to her. They walked up to the empty dome. Burdick lifted the cover. "Wow," said Lola. "My hand is really shaking." "Take it easy. The worst is over. What could possibly happen now?" He watched as she inserted the stone between the silver tongs. "It's a little bit bigger than the moon rock was," she said, stepping back. "They'll never suspect," said Burdick, replacing the dome. He started toward the exit. "Burdick—" Lola touched his arm. "What?" "I think I heard something." "Boy, you're really jumpy, aren't you? Come on, if we're leaving, let's leave." "No, listen." He listened. "You're right," he nodded. Footsteps were approaching from the corridor. "It's the guard with the yellow mustache," whispered Lola. "And the cashier." "They're coming in. They'll see us. Come on," whispered Burdick, turning on tiptoe. Together they hurried back through the archway to Asian Mammals, ducking into an alcove next to Eld's deer. The guard and the cashier came into Teddy Roosevelt Hall, talking loudly. They walked past the moon rock dome and into Asian Mammals, past where Burdick and Lola stood holding their breath, past the sambar stag, and out into Small Mammals. Their voices faded. Lola let out a sigh of relief. "You were right," she said. "They'll never figure it out. They didn't even notice the moon rock was back." She stepped out of the alcove. "We'd better go," she said. "They'll all be coming back now." Burdick didn't move. "Burdick?" said Lola. There was no answer. "Burdick!" Lola pulled at his arm. It swung up and stayed in midair, motionless. His eyes stared without blinking. "Burdick, what's wrong?" "The moon dust … " he said feebly. "Part of the museum now … " "Oh, my God." " … Here too long … " "Oh, God! No!" " … Please … before I … can't hear anymore … your name … you never told me your name … " "I'm going for help—" " … No … too late … your last name … please … Lola … " "Agajanian! It's Agajanian! Oh, God—" " … And your phone number … " "What?" "Never mind," said Burdick, starting toward the exit. "It's probably in the book." "Burdick!" He opened the door to Central Park West. "Burdick, you idiot!" "It took a while," said Burdick, "but I finally found it out. Boy, are you gullible." "You moron. I'll never forgive you for that. I thought you were dying!" "I know. It was nice of you to get upset." "Nice! You mean you were testing me?" "Yes. Oh, boy, will you look at that?" he said, as the museum door clanged shut behind them and a November breeze blew across the park. The sun was coming up, and several cars were going along the avenue. High above was the gray New York sky, and across Central Park West, the gray tangle of Central Park trees, and behind them now, glowing pink like the Grand Canyon, The American Museum of Natural History. "Amazing," he said with a shiver. "It's like we've been in there for weeks. It's like the first day out after the flu. Isn't it? Don't you feel weird?" "Don't talk to me," said Lola. "Oh, come on. It was just a joke." "How could you do it? After saying good-bye to those people. It was sick!" "Now look who loves the museum," said Burdick, crossing 77th Street. At the sidewalk he turned. "You know, Ramses didn't really die. You don't have to look at it that way." "Oh, stop being so technical all the time." Burdick stopped under an awning. "Look, I'm upset, too. You think you're the only one with feelings?" He opened the door to the vestibule. Ahead was an open elevator. "You may not believe it, but I was looking forward to Christmas in Puerto Rico." "It's just as well," said Lola, following Burdick into the elevator. "We'd have probably spent the whole time listening to you describe the flora and fauna of the island." "Who's we? I thought you didn't want to come along." "I didn't. I don't." "Oh, really? Then why are you here now?" The elevator rose. "Lola Agajanian. No wonder you didn't want to tell me. Didn't your parents ever hear your first name shouldn't end with the same letter your last one begins with?" "No," said Lola as the elevator opened, "and if I knew as many useless facts as you, I'd resign from the human race." "Is that so!" He spun around in the corridor. From the doorway behind him came the sound of the Today show on TV. "For your information, if it wasn't for what I know, we'd both still be in the museum—dead." "Oh, would we? Who found the moon rock first?" "What difference does that make? What good did it do you?" "No good at all. So?" "So nothing," said Burdick. "That's right. So nothing. It was all a big waste of time. Your parents'll probably send me right home and mine'll pump me for a month—not to mention Dr. Kleinmann. And what'll I be able to tell them?" "That you met Burdick." "You're not funny." "Neither are you." "Stop throwing things back." "Stop telling me to stop things." "Then don't do them in the first place." "I shouldn't have talked to you in the first place." "I wish you hadn't." "Why don't you drop dead?" "Why don't you?" The door opened. They turned. There in the doorway stood Burdick's parents. They looked from Burdick to Lola and then back at Burdick's bare chest. "Where," said Burdick's father, in a fierce whisper, "have you been?" Burdick stared at his parents. Their eyes were red and baggy, and they were both wearing yesterday's clothes. They looked stuffed. "Out," he said. "Out!" "Yes. All day and all night. I know. I couldn't call. There wasn't time. Don't ask me why because you'll never believe it." "Darling, how could you do this to us?" "Your mother was frantic!" "I know. I'm sorry. It hasn't been easy for us either," said Burdick. "We've been through a lot of things and just because you heard us yelling out here doesn't mean we don't get along occasionally, because we do. We're also pretty tired, so we'll probably go to bed now." "What did he say?" said Burdick's father. "He said they were going to bed. Darling, is it something we did? Something we said?" "Not really," said Burdick. Taking Lola's hand, he stepped past his parents, heading for his room. "We'll be seeing more of each other, too, probably, so it would be a good idea to get used to it. Also to my not getting such great marks for a while. I flunked Felker's science test and I missed the makeup." "You mean that's all it was?" Hurrying up behind him, Burdick's mother gave an anguished groan. "That's what made you run away? A test? Oh, dar-ling—" "That's okay," said Burdick, avoiding her embrace as he opened his door. "You don't have to hover anymore. And the test doesn't even matter, because once you've killed an elephant and made love in a sarcophagus, you realize there's more to life than science." "I didn't hear that," said Burdick's father. "He said he killed an elephant." "Yes. Don't worry about it, please, it'll just drive you crazy. And don't bother looking for the thermometer, either—I broke it yesterday morning trying to give myself a fever. I think that covers everything." He stepped into his room, pushing Lola ahead of him. "Oh right, I'm sorry, I almost forgot. This is Lola. She doesn't go in much for last names, but it's Agajanian. Lola Agajanian, this is my mother and father." He closed his door. Instantly he heard his parents whispering outside, and then the phone being dialed, and his mother talking, and the name of Dr. Kleinmann, and then his father hurrying back down the hall to the kitchen extension, and then their two voices, alternately, with periods of worried silence in between. He pulled down the shades and sat down on his bed next to Lola, who stretched out with her hands behind her head, looking at him with a peculiar smile. The phone clicked off in the hall, and the extension slammed down. His parents were whispering outside his door again, but it didn't matter. Burdick had made up his mind. For the next ten seconds, nothing was going to bother him at all. Version History Version 1.0 17 jun 2003—scanned by MollyKate. 17 jun 2003—proofread by Wizard3. Version 1.1 17 jun 2003—Invalid HTML corrected, title corrected (added "!"), table of contents added, and first edition date added. Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 75-25401 Trade ISBN 0-06-020403-6 Harpercrest ISBN 0-06-020404-4 First editition: April 1976