Constantine - The Novelization - Whoa is (Not)

Insects. He'd had a nightmare about insects when he'd pulled the car over to rest, on the wayto Los Angeles. He had been a ghost standing by his own dead, naked body, which was lying ona metal table in an overlit room. There were men in white masks there, surgical masks coveringall of their faces but their eyes, and they were laying out instruments. Planning to cut him open.No, Francisco had said. Don't cut that body!He had tried to hit them but his arms had felt like boneless things, rubbery, unable to exert anyforce. They didn't pay any attention to him. They simply selected tools and began cutting. Hecould feel the cutting as a thin distant sensation. Then one of them took out an unusually largesurgical tool, made of steel but shaped like the iron spike. And he pushed it into Francisco's righteye, pressed down hard, and turned it exactly like turning a key in a lock. The top of Francisco'shead flipped open, like one of those trash cans you opened by stepping on a lever, and inside itwas overflowing with insects, crawling, chewing bugs....And the insects, all together, chewing and gnashing and swarming, were making that noise,that exact same collective eating sound that he heard in his mind when he touched the iron spike.Just a bad dream, Francisco; it meant nothing...Now hurry - to your right, down the hall, then down a stairs, to the left, and the first big door...You will have to force the door - there's a heavy lock.Francisco grabbed the security guard's body by the ankles and dragged him to a custodian'scloset, wedged him in beside a mop and a bucket. Good thing he'd strangled the man; that left notrail of blood. He closed the closet door, putting a hand on the iron spike in his coat pocket - andpaused, listening.He heard it again, that swarming chewing sound, as he touched the spike. He shrugged, andcontinued along the hallway, going down the stairs, to the left, coming to big double doors with apadlock on them. One hard swing of the spike and the lock burst, the doors swinging open.He found himself in a big, unoccupied underground room containing many bathtubs. The tubslined the walls; there were pipes everywhere, and still a lingering steam trailed near the mold -streaked green ceiling from the room's use a little while earlier.How odd. Was this like the steam rooms, the homosexuals' baths they had in Chihuahua, thatone of his customers had taken him to when he was a boy whore? He didn't like to think of thatplace, because the man had shared him with another, a fat sweaty bald man, and they'd used himtill he'd bled.The room made him shudder, but walking through it - and reflecting that it was a hospital - hedecided that it was some kind of therapy room. He saw a sign, and touched the iron spike so hecould read it. Hydrotherapy. Water therapy.In the center of the room there was a big pool of warm water, like a swimming pool but notvery deep. He walked toward it; looked into its chlorine-blue waters.What was he doing here? He should be finding the dark side of town, where he could set uphis syndicate.You must wait here, in this hospital, Francisco. Glory is coming. A woman will come to youhere. A beautiful woman.A mental picture came to him, transmitted, somehow, as clearly as an image from a televisionscreen. Was this the woman? She was lovely. There was a strength in her too that he liked. Sothat was what the iron spike was bringing him here for? This woman? What was her name; whowas she?Her name is Angela. As for the rest - wait, Francisco. And all will become clear. Gloryawaits you.--Her name was Angela....And Constantine was leading her toward the elevators, in the heights of the BZR building."He hurt you," she remarked. "Your neck... "