Fear the Abyss: 22 Terrifying Tales of Cosmic Horror by Jack Ketchum, Tim Waggoner, Harlan Ellison, Jeyn Roberts, Post Mortem Press, Gary Braunbeck, Michael Arnzen, Lawrence Connolly Page B
Authors: Jack Ketchum, Tim Waggoner, Harlan Ellison, Jeyn Roberts, Post Mortem Press, Gary Braunbeck, Michael Arnzen, Lawrence Connolly
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hollows."
He sat up, both legs moving freely beneath the quilt. The manacle was gone.
She fingered the dulcimer. "It was never our intention to harm you, only to cleanse you of the terrible things you brought with you. We can't be around them. We've come too far to let such things back into our lives."
"What're you talking about?"
"Why, your phone for one thing. That was the most obvious danger."
"And my clothes?"
"A not-so obvious danger. You might not even be aware of what's being woven into fabrics these days. Even before I left the university, designers were already including magnetics in their weaves, supposedly to help detect knockoffs. But there were other motives." She tuned the dulcimer, plucking softly, working the pegs. "It's the same with processed food and water, which is why we had to clean you out, for our sake as well as your own."
"The kid who took the buckets said something about nannies."
"Yes. Nano transmitters. The components are microscopic, added to drinking water and processed grains. They assemble over time, lodge in the gut."
"And do what?"
"Transmit data. They're used for tracking people. If we hadn't gotten them out of you, the signals would have led the agents right to us."
"What agents?"
"The ones who are looking for us." She spoke as if it were common knowledge. "We've been eluding them for years. They think they ought to be able to find us in these hills, but there's more land here than you'd think by looking at a map. Take a few acres of mountains and valleys, flatten them out, and you've got miles of country. And there are always places to live, houses and towns abandoned by folks wanting to live closer to the grid. We move in, take up residence for a while, then move on."
"But why?"
"Because they're looking for us."
"But why are they looking for you?"
"Because we're off-grid. Can't have that, you see. Not in a world where everyone must be connected and accounted for." She turned toward the tray of food, seeming to stare with unblinking eyes. "You should eat. It'll all seem clearer when you're not so empty."
He sniffed the slice of fruit.
"It's just food this time. Go on. Trust it. Trust me."
He took a bite. It was cool and sweet, nuanced with earthy tones. He took some more.
"There you go."
He tried the milk: warm and silky, with traces of grass and clover.
"Clean food, Kevin. Filling food. Just what a hollow man needs. We'll teach you to eat right if you stay."
He finished the milk. "Stay?"
"Maybe. If you like."
"And if I don't."
"Then you don't. We aren't about kidnapping."
"So I can go?"
She opened her mouth as if to laugh, but only sighed. Then she straightened up again, hands braced against the dulcimer. "You don't see it, do you? What brought you here wasn't a desire to take pictures of some old mining town. You might have thought that was it, but there's more. You're a hollow searcher. I knew it the moment I saw you." She tapped her temple as if to indicate a vision behind her dead eyes. "I saw it and knew. And something else. I knew even then that you'd decide not to stay. Not right away. The pull of the hollow world is too strong."
"Hollow world?"
"The world you came from. A hollow world of hollow people, each one a human hole, drained from years of living on the grid. That's what we fear, Kevin. That hollowness. And although you might not know it yet, it's that same fear that led you to us. The fear of the human abyss, the immeasurable cavern that once held your soul." She moved her hands, sliding one into position on the dulcimer's neck, the other resting on the bridge, perched like a bird claw.
Kevin thought of what she had said about working at a university, about how her students had followed her into the wild. He believed that. There was still something of the academic about her, a quality that reminded him of a poem whose title he couldn't recall.
A damsel with a dulcimer
In a vision once I saw:
It was an Abyssinian maid,
And on her
He sat up, both legs moving freely beneath the quilt. The manacle was gone.
She fingered the dulcimer. "It was never our intention to harm you, only to cleanse you of the terrible things you brought with you. We can't be around them. We've come too far to let such things back into our lives."
"What're you talking about?"
"Why, your phone for one thing. That was the most obvious danger."
"And my clothes?"
"A not-so obvious danger. You might not even be aware of what's being woven into fabrics these days. Even before I left the university, designers were already including magnetics in their weaves, supposedly to help detect knockoffs. But there were other motives." She tuned the dulcimer, plucking softly, working the pegs. "It's the same with processed food and water, which is why we had to clean you out, for our sake as well as your own."
"The kid who took the buckets said something about nannies."
"Yes. Nano transmitters. The components are microscopic, added to drinking water and processed grains. They assemble over time, lodge in the gut."
"And do what?"
"Transmit data. They're used for tracking people. If we hadn't gotten them out of you, the signals would have led the agents right to us."
"What agents?"
"The ones who are looking for us." She spoke as if it were common knowledge. "We've been eluding them for years. They think they ought to be able to find us in these hills, but there's more land here than you'd think by looking at a map. Take a few acres of mountains and valleys, flatten them out, and you've got miles of country. And there are always places to live, houses and towns abandoned by folks wanting to live closer to the grid. We move in, take up residence for a while, then move on."
"But why?"
"Because they're looking for us."
"But why are they looking for you?"
"Because we're off-grid. Can't have that, you see. Not in a world where everyone must be connected and accounted for." She turned toward the tray of food, seeming to stare with unblinking eyes. "You should eat. It'll all seem clearer when you're not so empty."
He sniffed the slice of fruit.
"It's just food this time. Go on. Trust it. Trust me."
He took a bite. It was cool and sweet, nuanced with earthy tones. He took some more.
"There you go."
He tried the milk: warm and silky, with traces of grass and clover.
"Clean food, Kevin. Filling food. Just what a hollow man needs. We'll teach you to eat right if you stay."
He finished the milk. "Stay?"
"Maybe. If you like."
"And if I don't."
"Then you don't. We aren't about kidnapping."
"So I can go?"
She opened her mouth as if to laugh, but only sighed. Then she straightened up again, hands braced against the dulcimer. "You don't see it, do you? What brought you here wasn't a desire to take pictures of some old mining town. You might have thought that was it, but there's more. You're a hollow searcher. I knew it the moment I saw you." She tapped her temple as if to indicate a vision behind her dead eyes. "I saw it and knew. And something else. I knew even then that you'd decide not to stay. Not right away. The pull of the hollow world is too strong."
"Hollow world?"
"The world you came from. A hollow world of hollow people, each one a human hole, drained from years of living on the grid. That's what we fear, Kevin. That hollowness. And although you might not know it yet, it's that same fear that led you to us. The fear of the human abyss, the immeasurable cavern that once held your soul." She moved her hands, sliding one into position on the dulcimer's neck, the other resting on the bridge, perched like a bird claw.
Kevin thought of what she had said about working at a university, about how her students had followed her into the wild. He believed that. There was still something of the academic about her, a quality that reminded him of a poem whose title he couldn't recall.
A damsel with a dulcimer
In a vision once I saw:
It was an Abyssinian maid,
And on her
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