East against darkening sidewalks, they returned to Christy's
apartment, empty-handed and sullen.
She let him spend the night.
Bertram followed the Oriental woman through a forest
at night. A massive, dark moving wall thundered
relentlessly behind them, consuming trees and hills,
sucking valleys and grassy plains under its veil of shadow -
an unstoppable, black glacier, a hungry, undiscriminating
void...
... that fell further and further behind them with each
leap, each turn. The mysterious woman navigated the forest
like a wild animal - sprinting up sharp inclines, sliding
down invisible ravines, climbing where there was no hold.
And Bertram followed her easily, move for move. Never
did his hand slip or his foot falter. He matched her frantic
pace, and even narrowed the gap between them; he could
almost touch her. They bounded on, side by side, until the
thundering wall was little more than a distant echo...
Bertram touched the dark woman's hand and knew: He
was not running away from the black veil; he'd all along
been running toward this woman. She was the one created
for him at the beginning of time. She was his Anima, his
Eve, his Mother-Daughter-Sister-Lover-Goddess, and he
worshipped her with complete abandon. The newfound
skill with which he'd fought to catch her, the new strength
that surged through him as he'd seen her just ahead, coming
within reach...
The scene changed:
It was still night, but the forest was gone. Bertram found
himself standing in the soft pink glow of a streetlamp,
alone, a cold, drizzling rain slowly soaking through his
shirt. He hugged himself, shivering.
The Oriental woman stepped out of a shadow.
