the squeaking, sloshing aperture. As his hips passed through, he
tumbled to the floor and everyone breathed sighs of relief. They were
small breaths, of course, and all through their mouths.
Unfortunately, Bidden knew what horror lurked down there and
had taken measures to contain it. Had he not hermetically sealed the
frothing primordial cauldron it would have spread through his
pristine mansion, quickly turning it into a teeming jungle of putrid
muck. To this end he had long ago built a solid steel door, airtight
and soundproof, to separate Colin and his petri-disaster from the rest
of the house. The door had long since been deadbolted shut. There
was no way for them to break it or jimmy the lock or break the door.
“Didn’t anybody bring any cool tools?” Colin said, “Like a mini-
welder or plastic explosive or XG-17 or a bobby pin?” They all
shrugged. It was not easy finding secret agent materials on such short
notice.
“Let’s look around the room and see what we can find,” Sprout
said, somewhat reluctantly. The others nodded mournfully and
began picking through the waste of Colin’s adolescence. They were
surprised at what they discovered. Among the comic books and
porno, Heck found Hegel and Kant and Yeats and Irish poetry and
the bible. Among the guitars and heavy-metal tapes Izzy found
notebooks of Colin’s own compositions: touching ballads of love and
heartbreak and despair. Among the old bongs and beer bottles
Sprout found photographs of Colin and his friends, looking younger
and hopeful and sweet. But it was Colin himself who was the most
surprised of all. Under the dilapidated couch he found what he took
to be the ashes of Ellie Bidden, sealed in a pristine golden receptacle.
Colin silently signaled for Sprout to come look.
“How do you know they’re hers?” she said quietly.
“Whose else would they be?” he replied.
“Your mother?” she replied.
“She was buried. I was there. And anyway, look at this beautiful
thing. He wouldn’t have sprung on an urn like this for my mother. He
never loved her.”
“But who would put the ashes of someone he loved in a place like
this?”
“Someone who didn’t want anyone to find them. They’d be safe.
Gold is incorruptible.”
Sprout looked him in the eye. They were both thinking the same
thing. “If only we could prove that this was Ellie,” she said.
ABYSSINIA
302
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