They hadn’t thought about what to do if the cops showed up before they could get away. They hadn’t had time to talk about that. The only time the subject came up, Gregg had waved the question aside and said, “We’ll wing it if it happens.”
Don hoped they didn’t have to wing it too much.
“Well?” Gary asked.
Don glanced at Gary, who was sitting in the passenger seat. He nodded. “Let’s go,” he said.
“Jesus fuck, let’s get this over with,” Ray said, shivering. He looked nervous and scared as Gary climbed out of the car.
Don got out and reached into the backseat for the axe. The two men glanced at each other, then at the house across the street.
The darkened house was still.
The neighborhood was silent.
It was just after ten-thirty p.m.
“Let’s go,” Don said.
They started across the street. Don’s heart beat hard in his ribcage and he felt his limbs shaking. Gary darted ahead of him and around the side of the house, moving stealthily as they made their way to the porch. Don reached out and gripped the doorknob with one gloved hand and turned it.
The door was unlocked just as Gregg had planned it.
They stepped inside the dark living room.
Silence.
Illuminated somewhat by the streetlight outside, they were able to make out the living room. Gregg had drawn out a crude map of the layout of the house back at the motel room, and they both immediately glanced where the master bedroom lay. They crept further inside and Don saw the half-opened door to the master bedroom at the end of the short hallway. About twenty feet from the threshold of the master bedroom, positioned on the hallway ceiling, was the square outline of the attic door. Gary grabbed a chair from the dining room and placed it under the door, stood on it and hooked his finger around the lock, pulling it down. Don moved the chair away as the ladder unfolded down and stood guard, hefting the axe as Gary quickly climbed up into the attic.
Don’s nerves were twitching with fright, his blood cold with ice as he focused his gaze on the half-opened bedroom door. He could see the flickering glow of candles emanating from within. It was hard to hear anything even in the stillness of the house, and for a moment he let his imagination get away with him at the thought of Diana Marshfield (Lisa) suddenly appearing behind him, her naked form standing before him, a smile on her perfect lips. He felt the skin along the back of his neck rise up and he almost risked a look behind him, almost bolted out the front door because he didn’t know if he was going to be able to go through with this, but then he heard a scraping sound and it was so sudden, so loud in the still silence of the house that he jumped and almost dropped the axe. His heart leaped into his throat and he looked back down the hallway, almost certain now the sudden loud noise of Gary in the attic would wake her up and she would creep down the hall, leaving Gregg’s lifeless body in the bedroom where she’d been feeding and she would instantly ensnare him with her look and he’d be unable to run, unable to escape, and Gary would come down bearing Mary’s body, unaware of the danger that was now right below him and—
He saw Gary’s feet trudging carefully down the wooden steps, then he saw the dangling, limp hands of a child. Don sprang forward to help as Gary emerged from the gloomy attic. He was carrying Mary in his arms, carefully making his way downstairs. Mary’s body was limp, her skin pale, her eyes closed. Don didn’t know whether she was dead or alive; she could have been either. She was dressed in white and pink pajamas that were streaked with dirt. Gary looked at Don and mouthed, “She’s alive.”
Don nodded and gripped the axe. The minute Gary reached the living room floor he headed toward the front door with Mary. Don turned toward the master bedroom, gripping the axe firmly.
Please God, give me strength.
He hadn’t prayed to God in years, since Lisa had been taken from him. He said a quick prayer now, took a deep breath, and forced himself to walk down the short hallway toward the master bedroom before he lost his nerve.
He nudged the door open and stepped into the bedroom. The shades were drawn across the windows, and if it weren’t for the dozens of candles glowing from candelabras perched on the dresser and end tables the room would have been pitch dark. Despite the fact the light from the candles hadn’t been seen from outside, they illuminated the room perfectly.
The bed’s large oak headboard was set up against the far wall and the first thing Don saw was Gregg lying on his back, motionless. His eyes were closed, he was naked, his right arm flung over his head as if he had just fallen into bed. The sheets were thrown back and attached to Gregg’s left side and spilling out over the other end of the bed was a mass of seamless flesh.
The sight of it almost sent Don into a heart attack. He felt the skin along the back of his neck crawl. His stomach did a slow flip-flop in his abdomen as he stood in the bedroom, bearing the axe, gazing down at the monstrosity feeding on Gregg.
Is he alive? Is he dead? Does that thing know I’m here? Oh God I think it’s moving—
Don stepped forward, raised the axe over his shoulder and then brought it down with all his strength on the mass of flesh on the right side of the bed with a sickening, wet plop!
There was a tension in the air, as if something invisible exploded. It was very faint but it cast a warm, damp feeling around the room. Don ignored it, knowing that if he paused for just an instant he would give the thing a chance to slip into his mind, and he pulled the axe out of the fleshy thing. It felt like he was pulling the axe out of thick Jello or slime. There was a moist sucking sound and the sudden waft of rot and decay but he barreled past that, raised the axe over his shoulder again and swung it down a second time, hard. The axe blade sank deeper into the shapeless mass, and this time the change in the air was immediate.
It was waking up.
Shit! Don pulled the axe out and brought it down again, harder. The blade sank into another spot, up near the top of the bed where he hoped Diana’s head would have lain. He glanced quickly at Gregg and saw no movement. The thing was still attached to him. He pulled the axe out of the thing with a wet sound that resembled pulling a booted foot out of mud, and quickly nudged Gregg’s shoulder with his left hand. “Gregg!” he yelled. “Wake up!”
He could feel the tension building as the stink rose. The stench was overpowering, and now he could swear he could make out faint movement from the thing on the bed, as if something was beneath the skin swimming beneath the surface. He nudged Gregg again with the axe handle, poking him hard in the ribs. “Gregg! Wake up, come on, come on, wake up!”
Gregg was still.
Another quick glance at the thing sent his heart trip hammering again. It was definitely moving now.
“Goddamn you, motherfucker!” Don raised the axe high over his head and brought it down with all his strength in the center of the thing.
The blade sank into the mass of flesh. Something warm, wet, and stinking of a cesspit spattered Don’s face.
And the shapeless mass of flesh on the bed, the same mass that was attached to Gregg like a big cancerous tumor, began to undulate and shift.
WHEN RAY SAW Gary dash across the street carrying Mary, he quickly got out and opened the door to the backseat. Gary slid her in quickly. “Put a blanket over her and keep that engine running,” he said.
Gary raced back to the house, thinking if Don was using the axe he would immediately assist in bringing Gregg to consciousness. He thought he heard Don yelling, and when he breasted the entrance of the master bedroom he saw Don bring the axe down on the bed. Gary paused briefly, taking the scene in quickly, then moved to the edge of the king-sized bed where Gregg lay and shook him roughly. “Gregg!” he shouted. “We gotta get out of here!”
“Die you motherfucker!” Don screamed, bringing the axe down again.
Gary grabbed Gregg’s arm and pulled. The room was pungent with the intermingling scents of garbage, rot, and jasmine. He pulled Gregg halfway off the bed, saw the t
hing was still attached to him, and shook Gregg’s face. “Wake up!” he yelled into Gregg’s face. He slapped Gregg’s cheeks, as if he were trying to sober him up. “Wake up, fight it off man!”
“Die, die, die motherfucker, die!” Don panted as he raised the axe and then swung it down again and again.
Gary caught movement out of the corner of his eyes and looked up. The thing was waking up. “Shit,” he muttered.
“No!” Don screamed.
Something shot out of the mass of flesh and grabbed Don’s arm.
Gary watched, momentarily stunned, as Don struggled with the thing. It had a firm grip on Don’s right arm. He still clutched the axe in his hands and Gary immediately grabbed Don around the waist and pulled him back. “Let go!” he yelled.
“You fucking bitch!” Don screamed. Gary felt him struggling as he fought to tear himself away from the thing.
Gary reached for the axe and Don released it into his grip, the trade off happening so quickly it was as if they were linked psychically, as if Don knew what Gary was thinking. The thing still had a firm grip on Don’s forearm, and it was now beginning to build into a shape as it gathered itself up on the bed. Gary got a firm grip on the axe and swung it down hard into the growing mass of flesh.
The blade bit deep into the flesh, releasing a wave of putrid air and a splash of something wet that spattered him like warm raindrops. The blow relaxed its grip on Don, who stumbled back violently, crashing into the dresser and sending the candelabras to the floor.
The carpet caught on fire. A second candelabra that had fallen down beneath the window caught flame below the heavy velvet drapes.
Don immediately lunged forward and grabbed the axe from Gary. “We’ve got it! Get Gregg the hell out of here!”
Gary grabbed Gregg’s arm, pulling him with all his strength. His body slid across the bed and he saw the thing that had been seamed to his side began to pull away with a wet separation of flesh. Don brought the axe up and down on the thing again as the flames began to rise higher, spreading rapidly up the velvet curtains.
The room grew quickly hot and became dark and smoke-filled as the flames raced up the walls, burning the wallpaper. Once they reached the roof the house would be engulfed. “We’ve got to get out of here!” Gary yelled.
“Die!” Don screamed, swinging the axe down again.
Gary tugged on Gregg’s arm again and this time he felt something give way from the thing clutching him. He shook Gregg again. “Goddamn it, wake up!”
“You cocksucking bitch, die!” Don said, his voice raspy and sobbing as he swung the axe down on the thing again.
Gary gave another ferocious tug on Gregg’s arm, as if he were pulling a drowning man from a raging river, and this time the thing’s grip was let go completely and Gregg stumbled back, his naked form falling over him in a crumpled heap. Gary quickly scrambled to his feet, grasped Gregg under the armpits and hoisted him up. “Come on man,” he shouted. “Fight it!”
The room was growing hotter and the smell of smoke was now getting thick, baking the stench of rotting flesh into a thick, impenetrable thing. Gary stood up, Gregg slumped against him, and he thought he could sense Gregg stir slightly. “Don!” he shouted.
The flames that had been fanning their way up the walls of the master bedroom, feeding on the carpet and the dresser, suddenly rushed up to the roof of the house. Don felt the heat move over the walls and roof and he knew any minute now the entire bedroom was going to be engulfed in an inferno. He hoisted Gregg to his feet and shouted again: “Don!”
And then the shapeless mass of flesh that had been moving suddenly took shape. It gathered up from the bottom, like some shimmering CGI animation effect from a horror film, merging into a distinct shape. Female. Naked. Standing beside the bed, facing him.
Diana Marshfield.
The smoke was getting thicker and it was hard to breathe. Gregg was stirring to consciousness quickly and he leaned against Gary, coughing. Gary shouted again one last time: “Don!”
If Don heard him he gave no indication. He faced Diana and threw the axe down. Gary took a step toward the bedroom door, dragging Gregg with him, unable to tear his gaze away from Don and Diana. Don was sobbing, and as the flames picked up in their intensity, the heat stifling now, he thought he could make out Don’s sobbing voice. “Lisa...Lisa...”
Diana Marshfield locked eyes with Gary, ignoring Don completely, and he knew then she had him marked. Gregg stirred suddenly, as if he had been given a jolt of electricity. He was suddenly more conscious, more aware, and Gary immediately sensed Diana still had a hold on him and was trying to use her newfound strength to get a hold on him as well. “No!” he shouted.
Gary could feel Diana tense up, could see the intense hatred and lust for him in her eyes. He could tell she was about to pounce; was about to leap across the room at them, utilizing whatever supernatural powers she had to capture her prey, when suddenly Don screamed, “Lisa!” and leaped at her.
The force of Don’s leap knocked Diana down and it snapped Gary out of his temporary paralysis. He bolted out of the bedroom door, dragging Gregg with him just as the flames mushroomed, engulfing the entire bedroom in a fiery inferno.
Together they ran through the house and burst out the front door, feeling the heat chase them out. Gary was still clutching Gregg, pushing him out as he ran, and as the bedroom behind them was engulfed in flames he heard the screams of anguish and pain coming from the bedroom. He wasn’t even aware of the blisters breaking out on his skin from the intense heat of the flames.
The sound of the screams made him run faster and Gregg almost fell against the car when they reached it. Gary fumbled for the back door and shoved Gregg inside and slammed the door. He ran around to the passenger side and dove in and barely got the door closed as Ray peeled away from the curb, away from the burning house, away from the nightmare.
In the back seat Gregg was talking to Mary, crying. “Mary! Mary, are you okay? Oh God, Mary...”
Gary leaned back in his seat, trying to catch his breath. His skin was bathed in sweat.
“What happened?” Ray asked as he drove through the neighborhood too fast. “Holy shit, man, you okay. Christ, I think you’re burned, man!”
“Slow down!” Gary said, coughing.
Ray slowed down and Gary closed his eyes, trying to catch his breath.
In the back seat Gregg was shaking Mary. “Mary, Mary, Mary...”
“She’s okay,” Ray said. “I checked her, she’s breathing, she’s okay.”
A soft cry from Mary, as if to confirm this.
Gregg: “Mary!”
And as Mary struggled from a sound sleep, a sleep induced by the gradual sapping of her soul and life-force, Gary leaned back and closed his eyes and tried to tell himself the second voice he had heard screaming in pain along with Don Grant’s had been human.
EPILOGUE
IT HAD BEEN a warm day, slowly building up to the intense dry desert heat New Mexico was known for, but Gregg Weaver didn’t mind. He welcomed it. He was tired of the hot humid summers of Central Pennsylvania.
He was standing on the back deck of the house he had bought earlier this spring just outside Albuquerque, looking out over the backyard. Eric and Mary were in the garage, teetering around on bicycles and skateboards, and hearing their laughing voices made him smile. It was nice to hear them laugh like that. It was great to hear them play, let down their guard and just be kids. He didn’t think he’d ever be at a place to where he could hear that again.
The sliding glass door that led to the kitchen opened and Gregg turned around. Brad Campbell came out, bearing two bottles of ice cold Molson. “Here you go, bro.”
“Thanks,” Gregg said. He took a deep swig. Cold beer, warm desert heat. Paradise.
“You picked yourself out a nice place, man,” Brad said, stepping to the edge of the porch and looking out over the patchy backyard. Gregg’s yard ended at the edge of a ridge that overlooked the valley below, which displ
ayed a breathtaking view of the city. If he turned to the north he had a breathtaking view of the high desert and the mountains beyond, which was even more beautiful. “What made you decide to settle in New Mexico?”
“I don’t know,” Gregg said. A warm breeze ruffled his hair. “When I decided to sell the house in Lititz, I asked Eric where he wanted to go and he said he wanted to go somewhere far away from Pennsylvania. I didn’t want to go back to Los Angeles. Too smoggy, too crowded. So we picked somewhere in between. Plus, I’ve always wanted to live in the desert and Elizabeth always loved it.”
“It’s nice out here,” Brad said. He leaned against the polished oak fence that straddled the deck, admiring the view of the valley. His hair, which had been cropped short for Elizabeth’s memorial service, was now a shoulder-length mullet.
“Yeah, it is.”
“How the kids like it?”
“They love it.”
Gregg had hoped the kids would adjust and they had. In the two months following Mary’s drastic rescue from her father’s former house, he didn’t know what the future was going to hold. He had to take a leave of absence from his job just to deal with taking care of Mary and the surmounting legal and financial maze, and Brad had helped out with Elizabeth’s literary estate. In fact, Elizabeth’s literary estate was one of the reasons he had flown Brad out to Albuquerque. He had some serious business to discuss with him, stuff he didn’t want to discuss over the phone.
“How’s Gary doing?” Brad asked.
“He’s doing good,” Gregg said, taking a drink, his gaze taking in the view. “His burns are completely healed.” In addition to a rash of second-degree burns, Gary Swanson had suffered a third-degree burn along his left arm. Likewise, Gregg had suffered a lot of second-degree burns all across his body.
Ray had been quick thinking enough during the frantic drive to escape Diana’s clutches to pull over about a mile away from the development and call the police. By then neighbors had already called 911, and in the ensuing quagmire that followed that evening, Gary and Ray were questioned by Lancaster County Detectives and the Pennsylvania State Police, and Gregg was questioned extensively after being discharged from the hospital after being treated for his burns, as well as dehydration and smoke inhalation. The three of them had all stuck to the basic story they had come up with earlier that afternoon during their planning, and it went something like this:
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