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And then she reached the cervix； the throat of the uterus； felt the elastic ring of cartilaginous muscle that must dilate for the child to emerge。 Her fingertip slid over the os； expecting to find an aperture some ten centimeters around。
Instead； she found a pinhole； not even a centimeter wide。
What？ she thought； fingers checking again。 It didn't make sense。 Even normally； it would have been at least two centimeters wider than this。 It was as if the muscle had irised shut intentionally； as if refusing to allow the baby to be born 。。。
Get away from her NOW； Bob…Ramtha roared。
And Micki had one final moment of disorientation； a second too long。 She looked at Gwen's face； saw the eyes rolling back； got a very brief flash of her life in poignant retrospective。
She started to withdraw her hand。
Just as Gwen's water broke。
She began to die from the moment it first sluiced between her fingers； pooled in her palm； trickled down her wrist。 The blood of the New Earth soaked into her pores； raced down her conduits； tended the little black seed in the pit of Micki's belly。
She was pletely unaware that Gary had entered the room； had no idea that Gwen was dying； too。 For her； these last moments were a total obsession that lasted entirely too long。
You can't run from the devil in your own back pocket； sang that anonymous voice in her head。 Unchained at last； the black seed bloomed； throwing off the chains she'd kept locked for so long。 The cancer burned through her； raiding cells； inciting riots； mandeering the myriad systems in her body； lymphatic； nervous； digestive； reproductive。 Telegraphing one simple； fatal message。
The vines were inside her now； too。
Micki watched in horror as they rose up； swelling beneath her skin； sprouting tendrils and thorns； a thousand black needles impaling her from within and emerging； puckering from the riddled surface of her skin。
Micki looked past Gwen； past the circle to the wall。 The Faery Queen was there； watching impassively； not real at all but paint on plaster； the vines gouging her surface even as the wasps bored holes and laid eggs in her face。 And Micki knew that the balance had forever shifted； that the tables had been turned。 The benign monarchy was overthrown by a muscular new regime。
Nature herself was banished； in exile。
And the world she knew would never heal。
The barbed…wire knot of panic became hideously literal then。 Micki choked on her own bristling esophagus； felt a gallon of tumorous curds tear loose from within her intestinal tract； spewing vile gobbets from her nostrils and mouth。
The thorns encircled her brain like a crown； punctured her eardrums from the inside； snaked out along the optic nerves to skewer her eyes like cocktail onions； blinding her forever。
And Bob…Ramtha's voice called out to her； but he could not get through。 It was like she was no longer tuned to his station。 Harsh static enveloped and took him away。
And then she was gone as well： not liberated by death； but merely subsumed。 The black seed thrived in its new location； set down roots and claimed her； her substance and spark； reduced to raw fertilizer for the next wave of earthly Creation 。。。
。。。 and Gwen was still screaming when Gary threw himself at the last line of defense； hacking at the vines that entwined and enmeshed the circle； slicing his way to the last spirit door。
A buzzing filled his ears。 He ignored it； concentrating on the angry tendrils that he sawed in half as they desperately tried to free themselves from the entanglements they had chosen。 Black liquid spritzed。 It burned where it landed。 He ignored it as well； driven by adrenaline and love。
Gwen called out his name as the first red stringy wasp…thing rose from the rotting fruit pulp on the floor。 It poked a hole in the soft flesh beneath his left eye； injected agony。 He grabbed the wasp…thing before it could pull out； felt the satisfying squish of it between his fingers； and grabbed another vine。 Gwen shouted something else； more weakly； but he couldn't hear it over the sound of his own bellowing pain。
He sawed into a stout vine； its blunt； blind head swung back like a mace； thorns punching holes the size of tenpenny nails in his side as it smashed his ribs。
Gary fell face…first through the fissure he'd carved in the ring of thorns。 His head cleared。 His shoulders followed。
Something grabbed ahold of his leg。
〃NO！〃 he screamed； slashing back with the knife。 The resulting gush of acid sap ate into the back of his knee。
By the time he pulled himself fully inside； time had slowed down dramatically for him。 He could savor every twitch of his St。 Vitus spasms； isolate every last trill of her tiny dying sounds。 A nerve…dead numbness had settled over him； trading all his other pain for simple； searing cold。
He could not stop shaking。
But he could not stop struggling； either。 He had e all this way to be with the woman he loved…to die with her； if need be…on the very last day of the only world they'd known。
That was the only thing he cared about in the poisoned world it had bee。
The air seemed to grow warmer in the circle； the vines exuding a foul chlorine…cholorphyll scent。 He crawled to her； dizzy； and looked into her eyes。 He saw the faint spark there； his presence fanning it like a breath on glowing embers。
She tried to smile； could not。 The spark faded。 A single tear leaked out； too weak to fall。 He nodded； touching her face； her hair。
〃I'll see you on the other side； darlin'；〃 he whispered。 She nodded her head； but barely。
And God did he hope it was true。
Then she shuddered； and her light winked out。
Forever。
Leaving him alone on this fucking godforsaken world； with no hope and no possible reason to go on。 Leaving him alone with only her dead lips to kiss； trying to imagine a reason on earth for hanging on。 His side was numb and bloody； his leg a twisted stick。 He leaned against her belly； searched his eyes for tears and found none there。
The knife in his hand felt like a shortcut on the road he was already on。 There was nothing else to do。 He wiped the sticky blade on his pants leg and pulled back his sleeve； placed its edge trembling against the skin of his wrist。
And the baby kicked。
Gary lurched and sat up； astonished。 He'd felt it clearly； an audible thump。 He whirled； pressed his ear fully against Gwen's dead belly。
Deep in the stillness； something stirred。
The baby was alive。
〃Oh； God；〃 Gary croaked。 He looked at Gwen； but there was no doubt： her skin was gray and cooling； her eyes gone milky opaque。 The Gwen he knew and loved was gone for good。
But the baby 。。。
Time was critical。 There was no other way。 He had to do it； he told himself。 He had to do it now。
Gary knelt before Gwen's body； pulled her dress back to reveal the swell of her womb。 This is not my Gwen； he told himself over and over； fighting down the revulsion。 This is not my Gwen。 He placed the knife against the firm mound of flesh just over the rise of her pubic mound； and pressed。
The first cut was too hesitant； separating the dermis but scarcely