"No."

"Janey."

"Uh-uh. Honestly."

The planchette jerked again, almost pulling their fingers from it, and skittered to the upper-lefthand corner of the paper..

"Wowie," Nadine said. "Did you feel-"

They did, all of them did, although neither Rachel nor Jane Fargood would talk to her about it later. And she had never felt particularly welcome in either girl's room after that night. It was as if they were both a little afraid to get too close to her after that.

The planchette suddenly began to thrum underneath their fingers; it was like lightly touching the fender of a smoothly idling car. The vibration was steady and disquieting. It was not the sort of movement a person could cause without being fairly obvious about it.

The girls had grown quiet. Their faces all wore a peculiar expression, an expression common to the faces of all people who have attended a seance where something unexpectedly genuine has occurred-when the table begins to rock, when unseen knuckles rap on the wall, or when the medium begins to extrude smoky-gray teleplasm from her nostrils. It is a pallid waiting waiting expression, half wanting whatever it is that has begun to stop, half wanting it to go on. It is an expression of dreadful, distracted excitement ... and when it wears that particular look, the human face looks most like the skull which always rests half an inch below the skin. expression, half wanting whatever it is that has begun to stop, half wanting it to go on. It is an expression of dreadful, distracted excitement ... and when it wears that particular look, the human face looks most like the skull which always rests half an inch below the skin.

"Stop it!" the horse-faced girl cried out suddenly. "Stop it right now or you'll be sorry!"

And Jane Fargood screamed in a fear-filled voice: "I can't take my fingers off it!" "I can't take my fingers off it!"

Someone uttered a little burping scream. At the same instant Nadine realized that her own fingers were also glued to the board. The muscles of her arms bunched in an effort to pull the tips of her fingers from the planchette, but they remained where they were.

"All right, the joke is over," Rachel said in a tight, scared voice. "Who-"

And suddenly the planchette began to write.

It moved with lightning speed, dragging their fingers with it, snapping their arms out and back and around in a way which would have been funny if it weren't for the helpless, caught expressions on all three girls' faces. Nadine thought later that it was as if her arms had been caught in an exercise machine. The writing before had been in stilted, draggling letters-messages that looked as if they had been written by a seven-year-old. This writing was smooth and powerful ... big, slanting capital letters that slashed across the white page. There was something both relentless and vicious about it.

NADINE, NADINE, NADINE, the whirling planchette wrote. HOW I LOVE NADINE TO BE MY TO LOVE MY NADINE TO BE MY QUEEN IF YOU IF YOU IF YOU ARE PURE FOR ME IF YOU ARE CLEAN FOR ME IF YOU ARE IF YOU ARE DEAD FOR ME DEAD YOU ARE The planchette swooped, raced, and began again, lower down.

YOU ARE DEAD WITH THE REST OF THEM YOU ARE IN THE DEADBOOK WITH THE REST OF THEM NADINE IS DEAD WITH THEM NADINE IS ROTTEN WITH THEM UNLESS UNLESS.

It stopped. Thrummed. Nadine thought, hoped-oh how she hoped -that it was over, and then it raced back to the edge of the paper and began again. Jane shrieked miserably. The faces of the other girls were shocked white o o's of wonder and dismay.

THE WORLD THE WORLD SOON THE WORLD IS DEAD AND WE WE WE NADINE NADINE I I I WE WE WE ARE WE ARE WE.

Now the letters seemed to scream scream across the page: across the page: WE ARE IN THE HOUSE OF THE DEAD NADINE.

The last word howled itself across the page in inch-high capital letters and then the planchette whirled from the tablet, leaving a long streak of graphite behind like a shout. It fell on the floor and snapped in two.

There had been an instant of shocked, immobile silence, and then Jane Fargood had burst into high, weeping hysterics. The thing had ended with the housemother coming upstairs to see what was wrong, Nadine remembered, and she had been about to call the infirmary for Jane when the girl had managed to get hold of herself a little.

Through the whole thing Rachel Timms had sat on her bed, calm and pale. When the housemother and most of the other girls (including the horse-faced girl, who undoubtedly felt that a prophetess is without much honor in her own land) had left, she had asked Nadine in a flat, strange voice: "Who was it, Nadine?"

"I don't know," Nadine had answered truthfully. She hadn't had the slightest idea. Not then.

"You didn't recognize the handwriting?"

"No."

"Well, maybe you just better take that ... that note from beyond or whatever it is ... and go back to your room."

"You asked me to sit down!" Nadine flashed at her. "How was I supposed to know anything like ... like that would happen? I did it to be polite, for God's sake!"

Rachel had had the good grace to flush at that; she had even offered a little apology. But Nadine had never seen much of the girl after that, and Rachel Timms had been one of the few girls Nadine had ever felt really close to during her first three semesters at college.

From then until now she had never touched one of these triangular spiders made of pressed fiberboard.

But the time had ... well, it had slouched around at last, hadn't it?

Yes indeed.

Heart beating loudly, Nadine sat down on the picnic bench and pressed her fingers lightly to two of the planchette's three sides. She could feel it begin to move under the balls of her fingers almost immediately, and she thought of a car with its engine idling. But who was the driver? Who was he, really? really? Who would climb in, and slam the door, and put his sun-blackened hands on the wheel? Whose foot, brutal and heavy, shod in an old and dusty cowboy boot, would come down on the accelerator and take her ... where? Who would climb in, and slam the door, and put his sun-blackened hands on the wheel? Whose foot, brutal and heavy, shod in an old and dusty cowboy boot, would come down on the accelerator and take her ... where?

Driver, where you taking us?

Nadine, beyond help or hope of succor, sat upright on the bench at the crest of Flagstaff Mountain in the black trench of morning, her eyes wide, that feeling of being on the border stronger than ever. She stared east, but felt his his presence coming from behind her, pressing heavy on her, dragging her down like weights tied to the feet of a dead woman: Flagg's dark presence, coming in steady, inexorable waves. presence coming from behind her, pressing heavy on her, dragging her down like weights tied to the feet of a dead woman: Flagg's dark presence, coming in steady, inexorable waves.

Somewhere the dark man was abroad in the night, and she spoke two words like an incantation to all the black spirits that had ever been- incantation and invitation: "Tell me."

And beneath her fingers, the planchette began to write.

CHAPTER 54.

Excerpts from the Minutes of the Permanent Free Zone Committee Meeting August 19, 1990

This meeting was held at the apartment of Stu Redman and Fran Goldsmith. All members of the Free Zone Committee were present.

Stu Redman offered congratulations to all of us, including himself, on being elected to the Permanent Committee. He made a motion that a letter of thanks to Harold Lauder be drafted and signed by each member of the Committee. It passed unanimously.

Stu: "Once we get the old business taken care of, Glen Bateman has a couple of items. I don't know what they are any more than you do, but I suspect one of them has to do with the next public meeting. Right, Glen?"

Glen: "I'll wait my turn."

Stu: "That's baldy for you. The main difference between an old drunk and an old bald college professor is the professor waits his turn before he starts talkin the ears off your head."

Glen: "Thank you for those pearls of wisdom, East Texas."

Fran said she could see Stu and Glen were having a wonderful time but wanted to know if they could get down to business, as all her favorite TV shows started at nine. This comment was greeted with more laughter than it probably deserved.

The first real item of business was our scouts in the West. To recap, the committee has decided to ask Judge Farris, Tom Cullen, and Dayna Jurgens to go. Stu suggested that the people who nominated each of them be the ones to broach the subject to their own nominees-that is, Larry Underwood asks the Judge, Nick will have to talk to Tom-with Ralph Brentner's help-and Sue will talk to Dayna.

Nick said that working with Tom might take a few days, and Stu said that brought up the point of when to send them. Larry said they couldn't be sent together or they might all get caught together. He went on to say that both the Judge and Dayna would probably suspect that we had sent more than one spy, but as long as they didn't know the actual names, they couldn't tattle. Fran said that tattle was hardly the word, considering what the man in the West might do to them-if he is a man.

Glen: "I wouldn't be so gloomy, if I were you, Fran. If we give our Adversary credit for even a modicum of intelligence, he'll know we wouldn't give our-operatives, I guess one could call them-any information we considered vital to his interests. He'll know that torture could do him very little good."

Fran: "You mean he'll probably pat them on the head and tell them not to do it anymore? I have an idea he might torture them just because torture is one of the things he likes likes. What do you say to that?"

Glen: "I guess there's not much I can can say." say."

Stu: "That decision's been made, Frannie. We've all agreed that we're sending our people into a dangerous situation, and we all know that making the decision sure wasn't any fun."

Glen suggested that we agree tentatively to this schedule: The Judge would go out on August twenty-sixth, Dayna on the twenty-seventh, and Tom on the twenty-eighth, none of them to know about the others and each to leave on a different road. That would allow the time necessary to work with Tom, he added.

Nick said that, with the exception of Tom Cullen, who will be told when to come back by means of a posthypnotic suggestion, the other two must be told to come back when their own discretion advises them to, but that the weather could become a factor-there can be heavy snow in the mountains by the first week of October. Nick suggested that each of them should be advised to spend no more than three weeks in the West.

Fran said they could swing around to the south if the snow came early in the mountains but Larry disagreed, pointing out that the Sangre de Cristo chain would be in the way, unless they swung all the way down to Mexico. And if they had to do that, we probably wouldn't see them again until spring.

Larry said if that was the case, perhaps we ought to give the Judge a headstart. He suggested August 21, day after tomorrow.

That closed the subject of the scouts ... or spies, if you prefer.

Glen was then recognized, and I am now quoting from the taped record: Glen: "I want to move that we call another public meeting on August twenty-fifth, and I'm going to suggest a few things that we might cover at that meeting.

"I'd like to start by pointing out something that may surprise you. We've been assuming that we've got about six hundred people in the Zone, and Ralph has kept admirable, accurate records of the number of large groups large groups that have come in, and we've based our population assumption on those figures. But there have also been people coming in by dribs and drabs, maybe as many as ten a day. So earlier today I went over to Chautauqua Park auditorium with Leo Rockway, and we counted the seats in the hall. There are six hundred and seven of them. Now does that tell you anything?" that have come in, and we've based our population assumption on those figures. But there have also been people coming in by dribs and drabs, maybe as many as ten a day. So earlier today I went over to Chautauqua Park auditorium with Leo Rockway, and we counted the seats in the hall. There are six hundred and seven of them. Now does that tell you anything?"

Sue Stern said that couldn't be right, because people had been standing in the back and sitting in the aisles when they couldn't get seats. Then we all saw what Glen was getting at, and I guess it would be appropriate to say the committee was thunderstruck.

Glen: "We don't have any way of accurately estimating how many standees and sittees we had, but my memory of the gathering is fairly clear and I'd have to say that one hundred would be a terribly conservative estimate. So you see, we really have better than seven hundred people here in the Zone. As a result of Leo's and my findings, I motion that one of the items to go on the big meeting agenda is a Census Committee."

Ralph: "Well, I'll be a son of a bitch! That's one on me."

Glen: "No, it's not your fault. You've got about a dozen irons in the fire, Ralph, and I think we'd all agree you've kept them turning nicely-"

Larry: "Boy, I'll say."

Glen: "-but even if we've only been getting four loners a day, that still adds up to almost thirty a week. And my guess is we're getting more like twelve or fourteen. They don't just run up to one of us and announce themselves, you know, and with Mother Abagail gone, there's no one place where you can count on them going after they arrive."

Fran Goldsmith then seconded Glen's motion that the committee put a Census Committee on the agenda for the meeting on August 25, said committee to be responsible for keeping a roll of every Free Zone member.

Larry: "I'm all for that if there's some good, practical reason for doing it. But ..."

Nick: "But what, Larry?"

Larry: "Well ... don't we have enough other things to worry about without hacking around with a bunch of diddly-shit bureaucracy?"

Fran: "I can see one valid reason right now, Larry."

Larry: "What's that?"

Fran: "Well, if Glen's right, it means we're going to need to hire a bigger hall for the next meeting. That's one thing. If there are going to be eight hundred people here by the twenty-fifth, we'll never cram them all into Chautauqua Auditorium."

Ralph: "Jesus, I never thought of that. I told told you guys I wasn't cut out for this work." you guys I wasn't cut out for this work."

Stu: "Relax, Ralph, you're doing fine."

Sue: "So where are we going to hold the goddam meeting?"

Glen: "Wait a minute, wait a minute. One thing at a time. There's a goddam motion on the goddam floor!"

It was voted 70 to put the Census Committee on the agenda of the next public meeting.

Stu then moved that we hold the meeting on August 25 in Munzinger Auditorium at C.U., which had a bigger capacity-probably over a thousand.

Glen then asked for and received the floor again.

Glen: "Before we move on, I'd like to point out that there's another good reason to have a Census Committee, one that's a little more serious than knowing how much dip and how many bags of chips to bring to the party. We should should know who's coming in ... but we should also know who is leaving. I think people are, you know. Maybe it's just paranoia, but I could swear that there have been faces I've gotten used to seeing that just aren't around anymore. Anyhow, after we went out to the Chautauqua Auditorium, Leo and I went over to Charlie Impening's house. And guess what? The house is empty, Charlie's things are gone, and so is Charlie's BSA." know who's coming in ... but we should also know who is leaving. I think people are, you know. Maybe it's just paranoia, but I could swear that there have been faces I've gotten used to seeing that just aren't around anymore. Anyhow, after we went out to the Chautauqua Auditorium, Leo and I went over to Charlie Impening's house. And guess what? The house is empty, Charlie's things are gone, and so is Charlie's BSA."

Some uproar from the committee, also profanity which, while colorful, does not have any place in this record.

Ralph then asked what good it would do for us to know who is leaving. He suggested that if people like Impening wanted to go over to the dark man, then we should look at it as a case of good riddance. Several of the committee applauded Ralph, who blushed like a schoolboy, if I may add that.

Sue: "No, I see Glen's point. It would be like a constant drain of information."

Ralph: "Well, what could we do? Put them in jail?"

Glen: "Ugly as it sounds, I think we have to consider that very strongly."

Fran: "No, sir. Sending spies ... I can stomach that. But locking up people who come here because they don't like the way we're doing things? Jesus, Glen! That's secret police stuff!"

Glen: "Yes, that's about what it comes down to. But our position here is extremely precarious. You're putting me in the position of having to advocate repression, and I think that's very unfair. I'm asking you if you want to allow a brain-drain to go on, in light of our Adversary."

Fran: "I still hate it. In the 1950s, Joe McCarthy had Communism. We've got our dark man. How wonderful for us."

Glen: "Fran, are you prepared to take the chance that someone may leave here with a key piece of information in his pocket? That Mother Abagail is gone, for instance?"

Fran: "Charlie Impening can tell him that. What other key pieces of information do we have, Glen? For the most part, aren't we just wandering around without a clue?"

Glen: "Do you want him to know our strength of numbers? How we're getting along on the technical side? That we don't even have a doctor yet?"

Fran said she'd rather have it that way than start locking people up because they didn't like the way we were running things. Stu then motioned that we table the whole idea of locking people up for contrary views. This motion was passed, with Glen voting against.

Glen: "You better get used to the idea that you're going to have to deal with this sooner or later, and probably sooner. Charlie Impening spilling his guts to Flagg is bad enough. You just have to ask yourself if you want to multiply what Impening knows by some theoretical x x-factor. Well, never mind, you've voted to table. But here's another thing ... we're elected indefinitely, did any of you think of that? We don't know if we're serving six weeks, six months, or six years. My suggestion would be one year ... that ought to take us to the end of the beginning, in Harold's phrase. I'd like to see the one-year thing on the agenda for our next public meeting.

"One last item and I'm done. Government by town meeting-which is essentially what we have, with ourselves as town selectmen-is going to be fine for a while, until we've got about three thousand people or so, but when things get too big, most of the people who show up at the public meetings are going to be cliques and folks with axes to grind ... fluoridation makes you sterile, people who want one sort of flag, things like that. My suggestion would be that we all think very hard about how to turn Boulder into a Republic by late next winter or early spring."

There was some informal discussion of Glen's last proposal, but no action was taken at this meeting. Nick was recognized and gave Ralph something to read.

Nick: "I'm writing this on the morning of the nineteenth, in preparation for the meeting tonight, and will get Ralph to read it as the last order of business. Being mute is very difficult sometimes, but I have tried to think of all the possible ramifications of what I'm about to propose. I'd like to see this go on the agenda for our next public meeting: 'To see if the Free Zone will create a Department of Law and Order with Stu Redman at its head.' "