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Then he lost control； jaws clamping down hard until the blood squirted hot across the roof of his mouth。
Overmind let him taste it。
Then it asked him what he thought。
And Austin Deitz began to cry； fat tears rolling nowhere； formed inside his soul alone。 His face refused to collaborate in the expression of his agony； his boundless despair。 It mocked him： crazily crossing the eyes； black…red lips contorting in a bloody； toothy grin。 Smiling on the outside； crying on the inside。
My body。 Desperately。 Bitterly。 Mine。
But even he didn't believe it anymore。
A tremor passed through him。 The master； whistling to its dog。
Then； slowly； Deitz's body began to rise and pull itself free。
The corpse was impaled； a thousand times over： a thousand wet； rank violations of the flesh。 Overmind seemed not so much indifferent as mildly amused by the damage； the sensations of sickly rot and pain and transformation。 But Deitz…the tiny spark of soul…identity that still remained his own…felt every razored gash and sliding； still…inserted blade of grass in intimate detail。
Deitz's body sat up； slowly。 It braced itself with one hand on the living bed of nails； lost the middle finger just above the second knuckle； felt the severed digit drop into the bifurcated palm and rest there like a charm。 Then it got to its knees； its feet； felt the soles impale deep and slide loose again； rising。 Over and over。
As it walked toward the bridge。
At the edge of the river of pus that had been Toad Road； a crust had formed。 It was enough to support the dead weight。 Deitz's body followed it； plodding on wobbly stick…legs； chest arrhythmically recycling its rancid； humid fumes。 Stumbling like a bum on Sterno； random blades of razored grass hanging off the mangled back like porcupine quills。
The Deitz…thing dragged itself up the steepening incline： a deep…sea diver； knee…deep in the sloshing； self…contained ocean of itself。 It sealed its own ruptures as it walked； plugged its own leaks in the outer skin； let the boil…in fluids continue to rise。 The roar in its ears was the sound of Creation…the primordial； protean； plasmic pool…raging and churning on either side of the blind； visored mask it wore。
And the roar grew louder； as it crested the hill。 It turned。 The roar grew louder still。 The Source lay directly ahead； now； Deitz felt himself shudder before its astonishing power。 It flooded his senses； overwhelmed his spark with an alien longing； far stronger than love。
Lookie lookie lookie lookie 。。。
Deitz tried again to shut his eyes。
They simply opened wider 。。。
。。。 and watched； in helpless horror； as the condensation on the inside of his visor parted like a curtain： the tiny beads of liquid rolling off to either side； waggling their little moist tails like sperm like eels like baby snakes。
Returning to him his sight。
At the heart of Black Bridge。
And the New Creation。
Hell unfolded before him。
There was a whirlpool at the center of the creek： a vast liquid aperture； a hundred feet across； like a gaping mouth on the surface of the water。 It roiled around the perimeter； bubbling madly； then settled into a winding； almost stately corkscrew as it spiraled down into abyss 。。。 。。。 only no； not exactly； the opposite； in fact： corkscrewing back and heavenward to dredge up the darkness； vomiting barrels and black slime from the belly of the earth。
The quagmire spread the breadth of the creek； bubbling muck that oozed like a lava flow and hardened。 Its skin cracked open in a thousand places。 Suppurating sentient toxic slag。
Things moved in the scum： the unfortunate indigent fauna of the water and woods； caught in a squeeze play of the new order。 A doe； trying to escape the carnivorous plants； had gone headlong into the bank。 It spasmed in the sucking mud； eyes rolling white in its head as the killing vines probed and planted seeds beneath its tawny hide。
Rabbits； raccoons； squirrels； and chipmunks had also fled and were subsumed。 They flailed pathetically in the mire； wiggling like bait for the flippered monstrosities that belched forth from the hole。
Something thrashed directly beneath the bridge： six…foot…long carp； garbage…eaters throwing themselves into the shallows； their scales rupturing even as the first vestigial limbs sprouted from their sides。 They moved toward the trapped mammals with long mouths snapping； sucking in the new air and dreaming of flesh。
The trees that rimmed the water were bowed under the weight of the strangling vines。 Several had nests in their boughs； enormous conglomerates of mud and twig； riddled with softball…sized holes。
The nests were humming。
An insectile shape emerged from one of the holes； feelers busily probing atop its teardrop head。 It was puppy…sized； and its segmented body bristled with short； deadly…looking spines。 Wasp； Deitz thought； although the name no longer fit。
Wasps had always terrified him。
He hadn't known what terror was。
More of the insects appeared； crawling around the tortured trees； new wings unfurling in the sun。 The drier ones lit from their perches； testing their wings on the hot still air。 Their stingers were long as bayonets； their buzzing like the whine of a hundred ripsaws cutting through the roar of the abyss。
Several took off； lightning…quick； skimming the surface of the creek。 They zigged and zagged against the current； heading upstream and far beyond。
And there was more。 There was more。 It spanned the horizon； overrunning the water and landscape for as far as the eye could see。 Unnameable shapes； violations of form； wild new species of untraceable origins thrashed and wailed and spawned there。
At the center of the only Hell that mattered。
The Hell that Mankind had created on Earth。
The thought descended upon him then； a branding iron burning hundred…foot…high letters into his brain。 And all that was Deitz reeled from the impact as Overmind spoke； the simplest expression of the infant god's greed。
MINE！ it said。 MINE！ MINE！ MINE！ MINE！ MINE！
And it was true。 The war had been lost； irreversibly and forever。 Deitz could see it now； see it all too clearly。
His mind snapped like a twig。
Suddenly； the program clicked into place。 An instinctive knowing； clear…cut and unquestioned。 Suddenly； he understood how a bee felt in the hive。 pletely plugged in to the schematic。
pletely at One with the higher plan。
And there was a terrible peace there； in giving in to Overmind。 A terrible burden removed from one's shoulders。 The burden of doubt。 The burden of shame。 The burden of responsibility and individuation。
In the mind of God； all things are possible； and all can be forgiven。
But Austin Deitz could not forgive。
Not even dead。
Not ever。
No。 A primal response； preceding thought。 No。 Beyond denial。 No no no。 A gut reaction； pushing back against the program。
Overmind blinked； uncertain。
No no no no no。 A slowly mounting groundswell of power； forming at the base of his will。 No no no no NO。 Building； in pressure and size。
He felt his fingers clench； and knew that he had caused it。
NO！
Confusion shuddered through the Overmind； in the contained universe that was Deitz。
NO NO NO！！！ He relished the power； refused to give in to the satisfaction。 The trade…off was control： seeping back into his dead limbs； the muscles and bones that powered and framed them。 Already； he could turn his head； wipe the hideous grin off his dead； bloated face。
He could even close his eyes； if he wanted to。
He no longer had the desire。
MINE！ The word belonged to him now。 The concept belonged。 To him。 MINE！ It could have the rest of the fucking world。
MINE！！！ It could even turn him into a monster。
But he would be his own monster。
MINE MINE MINE！！！
Then he turned； heading back in the direction he'd e； negotiating the crusty bank of his own plete volition。 The lifeforce that spawned him held back in awe； stunned and shunted out of the driver's seat by the astonishing； presumptuous fact of free will。
My way； he said。
And became； in that moment； the first fallen angel of Overmind。
His men were rising up from the depths as he returned； crawling out from under the abscessed surface of Toad Road。 Their faces were barely visible through the coagulant slime that had swallowed them； the afterbirth that sluiced them back out into the world。 Beckett； Burroughs； Hooper； Franklyn： essentially faceless now。 Taken over。 Drones of the One True Faith。
Deitz's suit had filled； as well； the boiler bag had risen to the brim。 He found that he lived now as much in the fluid as inside of the skin that had once defined him。 It was not a problem to see through the inch of opaque liquid； his eyes drifted out of their sockets； pressed against the Plexiglas faceplate that framed the bounds of his new flesh。
The trucks were rising； too。 Deitz wondered if the others would pose a problem。 He was being far less Deitz than thing； a malformed union of the two。
With a purpose； he found； that would not be denied。
Pyle； still in the lead truck； turned toward Deitz as he approached； his Barney Rubble bonhomie long since expired。 His eyes were flat； and the color of gelatin； his open mouth worked endlessly； producing no sound。
It didn't matter。 Deitz already knew what he had to say。
My turn； he said； eyeing the empty driver's seat。
And waiting for his moment to arise。
When the road reformed beneath them； the HazMat team regrouped as well。 It was an unexpected addendum to the original script； but Overmind was nothing if not flexible。
It gave the first heretic his first wave of followers。
And waited to see what it got in return。
Thirty…One
In the handful of minutes since two； a net of sons had begun to form： confused； scattered； mounting。 Across the county； like light pins winking on across an electronic map； a pattern of pandemonium emerged： overloading phone circuits； jamming call…lines； feeding the rumor mill。
And spreading 。。。
A very frustrated Kirk sat behind the wheel in the PennSupreme parking lot； listening to the ticking doom…clock in his head and weighing his options。
A pay phone stood before him： utterly useless； every signal a busy signal； every line jammed。 The two…way radio sat under the dash； its mike still in his hand。 The mike was dead。
Not an accident。
Because to turn it on would be to invite the wrath of Laura； who would ream him out before he could get a word in edgewise。 But to spill his guts enough to win her over would tip his hand to every other reporter in the tri…county area； thereby guaranteeing a blown scoop。
And there； as they say； lay the rub。
Because Kirk needed some input。 Kirk had just returned from Paradise Waste； where his little journalistic blitzkrieg had e to a grinding halt with the discovery of one big fat dead Harold Leonard； cooling on his office floor。
Leonard did not look like he went gently into that good night。 His eyes were screwed shut tight and his tongue protruded in a horrible yechh face； little white flecks of still…moist spittle caked the corners of a mouth that was torqued into the most miserable grimace Kirk had ever seen。 Harold Leonard had gone out with a terrible secret on his lips。
bined with the clutch of rifled documents； it spelled out a knowledge that Kirk was not entirely sure he wanted to hear。
And even less certain he could afford not to。
Kirk eyed the radio。 〃Aw； screw it；〃 he muttered； and flicked it on。
The car filled with harsh white noise。 〃Ouch！〃 Kirk winced； thumbing back the squelch control。 He toggled the mike switch。
〃Laura；〃 he said。 〃e in； Laura。〃
Nothing。 His voice seemed to echo weirdly； the wave of noise shifting and modulating as if it were trying to form the words。 〃Laura； e in 。。。 〃
Kirk listened； as Laura's voice came up from under the hiss。
〃Kirk 。。。 ？〃 it began。
At the sound of his voice Laura crossed the room in record time。 〃Kirk！〃 she demanded； white…knuckling the handset。 〃Kirk； where the hell are you？〃
〃I can't tell you