Kerren kept heading deeper, toward where she sensed some essential remnant of Glenda still was, but it got progressively harder the further she pushed into the denser medium of the brain stem. It had no physical analog, of course, but mentally it felt like trying to dig down through snow that kept getting heavier and slushier. To maintain contact, she kept repeating the fading woman's name:
Glenda?
Yes? came the response each time, as if by rote, the only reasonable response when a person's name is called.
I'm here. It's Kerren. And Dale is here. Do you remember Dale? He's with you.
For once, he response sounded puzzled, as if struggling to fit the disparate information together. I remember Dale, Glenda finally answered. His eyes are beautiful. I like the way they look at me.
Kerren tried to keep her composure. There was so little time left, and she entered Glenda's mind with no clear plan of how to utilize it. He's holding you now, Kerren said. He hasn't stopped holding you since you were hurt. It wasn't exactly true, but she didn't see the point in trying to explain.
I remember the hurt, Glenda answered, and the pain in the memory was evident. I didn't like that. It's what is taking me away.
Kerren found she wanted to reach out to her, for once realizing the few deficiencies in communicating without bodies. I know, was all she could say. And I'm so sorry.
But the hurt is over, Glenda said. Feeling better. Feeling... less.
Kerren had to get to what she had come for. Dale, she said flatly. I need your help with Dale. He won't leave you, but we need him. He has to come back to us. You have to let him.
Dale? Glenda asked, as if he were being mentioned for the first time. I know Dale.
Yes, Kerren repeated, trying not to let her panic show. Every second, she could feel the connection continuing to deteriorate, becoming ever harder to maintain. We need Dale's help, but he won't leave you. Can you help me tell him that it's okay to let you go? She hadn't realized how hard the words would hit her until they were out.
A long pause, and then Glenda replied, fainter than ever, Okay. But first...
For a moment, Kerren was worried she had lost her forever, but then more came floating back along the weakest of mental tethers. My boys.
That was right. Someone had mentioned that Glenda had three sons at home. Yes? Kerren asked, fully aware that if she had corporeal form, she would have been unable to physically speak the words through sobs. What do you want to tell them?
Tell them... Glenda began, and seemed to really be making mighty effort to think about it before saying, They're so good. They're my best things. But they need to help each other. They fight too much. Less fighting. Then they will be okay. Tell them. Please.
I will, Glenda. I will.
And Dale, the desk clerk went on without prompting. Tell Dale. Thank him, for loving me back. But he's a helper. He has to help. I don't want to be the one to stop him.
Okay, Glenda. I will tell him. Thank you.
The spellbinding weight of this responsibility suddenly felt like too much, and Kerren wondered if she would be able to bear it when she drifted back to her frail, injured body. How would ever be able to convey to Dale what she saw when Glenda spoke about him, the multi-faceted fireworks of love, desire, and friendship that erupted from the woman's dying consciousness? And beyond that, how could she ever tell three young, grieving boys about the all-encompassing glow of warm maternal awe of their existences that she saw when their mother spoke her last words of them? Was this the sort of thing that could ever be communicated, or was being inside someone's mind the only way to know? Kerren wondered if what Harmon had taught her could be given to just anyone, or if there were some kind of special connection that had to be present.
Hello? Kerren had assumed that she had heard the last she would from Glenda.
Yes? she replied, barely able to see the final flicker that had been Glenda's light sliding away, far below her. She gave one last push, and just managed to hear a final phrase as it died out entirely.
Tell him, it's not his fault.
Suddenly, Kerren found herself surrounded by more nothing than she had in her entire life. There was not even the slightest glimmer left, nothing but structures that served only to outline the voids that lay within them. Glenda's mind suddenly seemed like a haunted place, and Kerren wanted to be out of there as soon as she could manage.
Come on, child, Harmon said from somewhere nearby, as if he had been there the entire time. His inner voice was resonant with new understanding. I'll lead you back out.
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