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coming as swiftly as those on this side. If he did not act fast,
he would be knocked down or entangled before he could
leap through the square. They would pass through that side
of the gate unharmed and prevent him from coming through
on his side.
He threw the torch over the square. It spun in an arc and
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struck the lead kamanbur. It shied away, and others ran into
it. The whistling was deafening.
Ore did not look behind him. A delay of a second might
be fatal. Then again, it might be just the time he needed for
success.
Yelling, he ran up to the gate, then stopped. He lifted his
arms and held his legs as straight as he could. He was
hoping that the kamanbur behind him would not get to him
in time to knock him through the gate. Without pausing or
taking enough time to check that his body attitude was as
vertical as possible, he rose up on his toes.
He gave another yell as he hopped forward.
That was too much for Jim Grimson.
He had been striving to tear himself loose from Ore. Ore
might make it; he might not. Jim did not want to chance it.
If Ore died, he might die, too. Though he had risked all the
dangers up to now, he could not face this one.
Abruptly, he was flashing through a lightless space. He
could feel nothing except a vague sensation of speed. But he
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could hear whistles.
Then he was back in his room. The clock indicated that
he rather, his astral soul or whatever it was had been
gone for two hours and three minutes.
767
CHAPTER 2 1
I HOUGH JIM'S LIFE as Ore had been exhausting and peril-
ous, it was surrounded by a light different from the light of
Belmont City. The suns of the other universes shed a soft
and golden light. Earth's was still gritty and harsh.
If only he were not so tired, he would have returned at
once to Ore. Should he fail to get into him, he would know
that Ore was dead. That meant that he would have to choose
another character with whom to integrate and to become. If,
that is, he then chose to continue therapy. With Ore gone,
what was there left for Jim Grimson?
It did not matter that other patients were now using Red
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Ore as their personae. Their Ore was the fictional Ore. He
had been in the brain of the real Ore, son of the real Los and
Enithannon.
What most delayed his return was his fear that Ore had
been cut in two.
Would Ore have allowed that to stop him from going
back if he were in Jim Crimson's skin? No!
168
RED ORC'S RAGE
Jim's birthday came. The only ones who celebrated were
Jim and his fellow patients, with Doctor Porsena showing
up briefly during the muted festivities. His mother and Mrs.
Wyzak sent cards and phoned him. His mother could not get
away from her job to visit him. The cake that Mrs. Wyzak
said she had left in the lobby got lost somewhere along the
delivery route. Just his luck, Jim thought. And he was still
too depressed and still too fearful to attempt reentry into
Ore.
Two days after his birthday, he was called out from lunch
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in the dining hall. Gillman Sherwood, officer of the day,
said, "It's your mother."
"Now?" Jim said. "She's supposed to be working."
Sherwood raised his eyebrows as if the thought of a
mother who had to work was surprising.
Jim's heart was beating hard when he entered the visitors'
room. Only very bad news would bring her here at this
time. It had to be a death in the family. His sister? His
father? If it was his father, his son was feeling far worse
about Eric's death than he had imagined he would. He
should not have such distress, a pang of terrible loss. But,
after all, whatever had happened between them, Eric was
his father.
By the time he had reached the entry, be was convinced
that Eric Grimson had died. Booze? Accident? Suicide?
Murder? Any of those was possible.
Eva Grimson rose from a chair as Jim strode through the
doorway. She was in a print dress which fitted far too
loosely and was too thin for cold weather. Her face had
become more gaunt and lined. The darkness around the eyes
was blacker. Though her worn brown cloth coat hid the
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thinness of her body, her birdlike legs showed that she must
have lost weight everywhere. But she smiled when she saw
her son.
769
PHILIP JOSE FARMER RED ORC'S RAGE
Jim took her in his arms as he cried, "Mom! What's
wrong?"
Eva began weeping. Jim felt even worse. He had seen his
mother weep only a few times. "Is Dad all right?" he said.
She pushed herself away and sat down in the chair. "I'm
sorry, Jim," she said. "So sorry. But your father ..."
She began sobbing. He got down on his knees by her and
put his arm around her heaving shoulders. "For God's sake!
What is it?"
"Your father ..."
"He's dead!" Jim said.
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She looked surprised. Instead of answering immediately,
she took a handkerchief from her handbag and dabbed at her
eyes. Jim had the irrelevant thought that her tears would not
destroy her makeup since she never used it.
After sniffling, she shook her head. "No. Is that what you
thought? In a way, it might be ..."
"Be what?"
She must have meant to say "better." But she would not
allow herself to continue to have such thoughts, let alone
voice them.
"Nothing. Your father ... he insists that we move to
Dallas! You know, in Texas!"
It took Jim several breaths before he could think clearly.
His chest still felt tight. Then he said harshly, "He might as
well be dead then! You, too! You . . . you . . . you're
deserting me!"
She took his hand and pressed it against her wet cheek.
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