F Paul Wilson - Novel 05

by Mirage (v2. 1)

  The number flashes in red across the front of the desk:

  120,141 . . . 120,141 . . . 120,141_____

  "Let's try another, shall we?" he says. "How about, oh, I don't know: Why don't you compute two thousand one hundred ninety-eight times fourteen?"

  God, you can't think. If you could only see the numbers you might have a chance, but—

  "Got it!" Nathan cries and starts tapping his desktop again.

  The buzzer sounds and the numbers on the clock resume their relentless downward spiral as 30,772 flashes across the desk front.

  "Julie, dear," he says in a solicitous tone that sets your teeth on edge. "You've got to do better than this if you don't want to end up a drooling husk. Let's try a different type of calculation. Compute one million, eleven thousand, seven, hundred and fifty-two divided by fourteen."

  The clock stops again and you try to picture the number in your mind: Fourteen into one-oh-one is seven... into thirty-one is two ... into thirty-seven is another two ... you hear Nathan's keyboard—No! . .. Into ninety-five is—

  The buzzer again—that damn buzzer—and suddenly 72,268 is flashing across the desk front.

  And oh, God, you've got only twenty-one seconds left. A cold, sick sweat is pouring out of you. This sham of a contest is fixed. He knows the answers before he asks the questions. It was always fixed. Never had a chance.

  How can you hope to compete with him? You can't win!

  And that's the whole point.

  "Time for just one more," Nathan says. "Let's see—"

  Fixed. . . even as a kid, you didn't know the real game, what was really being done, as a little girl sitting there, playing the stupid—

  But wait. You're not a little girl anymore. . . .

  Nineteen seconds. Eighteen seconds.

  And he's not even your real father. . ..

  "Wait!" you say. "Stop! This isn't your house—this is my house, my turf. I'm not your little girl, and I don't have to play your goddamn game."

  "Time is fleeting, Julie. You know the rules."

  "Fuck your rules! They don't apply here. In my place you play by my rules, and I don't want to play."

  You rise from the chair and as you do you grow in size, returning to your adult height. Your knees feel spongy, barely able to support you. You look down at him. And you realize that for the first time he looks scared.

  His mouth moves as though he's trying to ask that last question, but nothing comes out. With a surge of triumph you realize that you were right. He's not in control here—you are.

  At that instant the desk bursts into flame and the heat flash drives you back. When your vision clears you see that Nathan's jacket is ablaze. The fire spreads quickly until he's engulfed in flame. You want to turn away but you can't. You watch in horrid fascination as his flesh bubbles, smokes, and hisses, his limbs begin to twist and contract.

  A voice screams from within the flames.

  "Damn you, Julie! Now you've done it! You wanted to see? You've got your wish! I hope you enjoy it. And damn you, Julie! Damn you ... to hell!"

  Seconds later the fire burns itself out and you're faced with a blackened, twisted corpse, an exact three-dimensional replica of the photo you found in the coroner's report.

  You feel your gorge rise, but there's no time to be sick. The fire has spread to the stone wall behind him—and the stone is burning.

  No. Not stone. Canvas. A trompe l'oeil mural that blazes furiously for a few seconds, then sputters out, leaving a pall of smoke . . . and an open passage.

  You stand on the threshold of that passage, aching to flee but knowing it's too late. You've freed the beast and now you must face it—here or in the real world—but you must face it. Now. The memory is uncaged and you have no choice.

  A breeze brushes against your back, billowing the smoke ahead of you. It rises swiftly to a gale, then a howling tempest, propelling you forward, into the smoke, into . . .

  ... the front foyer of the Millburn house.

  Your mother is standing in the center, holding you and Sam by the hand. Your uncle Eathan is hurrying up the stairs. Instantly you recognize the scene. Yes, you were here only this morning. Eathan and Nathan have just had their fight, and Mommy's said she's leaving and taking you girls away where Nathan can never get near you again.

  Suddenly you're no longer watching the scene—you're part of it. You're little Julie again, just as before.

  As Uncle Eathan runs up the stairs, little Julie looks up at her mother. "M-Mommy, are we going on a trip?"

  "Yes. A long one."

  "And Daddy's not coming," Sammi says, not sounding too upset about it. "He and Uncle Eathan don't like each other anymore. I seen them ... I seen them fighting."

  "Why?" Julie asks.

  Before Sammi can answer, Uncle Eathan reappears, struggling with a huge suitcase on the stairs.

  "What's in this? Everything you own?"

  "Just about."

  As Uncle Eathan lugs the suitcase toward the door, everyone freezes at the sound of Daddy's voice.

  "Stop!" he shouts, running from the rear of the foyer. He has a wild look in his eyes. "Don't take another step!"

  Uncle Eathan glances over his shoulder, but doesn't break step or even bother to reply. As he reaches out to push the screen door open, Daddy lurches by Julie and her mother and sister.

  "No, damn it!"

  Julie notices something in his hand. Something with a needle on the end, like one of the shots the doctor gave her at her last checkup.

  Daddy leaps on Uncle Eathan and jabs the needle into the back of his shoulder. Uncle Eathan cries out and drops the bag. The two of them begin to struggle, shouting incoherently, growling like animals.

  "Stop it!" Mommy cries. "My God, Nathan! Please! This won't change anything!"

  Julie is terrified___ Daddy is acting like a crazy man. Uncle Eathan seems to be weakening, gasping for air. Julie screams as Mommy peels her and Sammi off her legs and rushes forward.

  "Leave him alone!" she cries, trying to pull Daddy off Uncle Eathan.

  But Daddy rears up and grabs her and shakes her like a toy. His bared teeth and blazing eyes make him look more beast than human as he hurls Mommy across the foyer with terrible force. She caroms off the wall and tumbles against the stairs.

  The back of her head strikes the edge of one of the wooden steps with a loud thwack, and she goes limp.

  Julie and Sammi scream, "Mommy!" as one and rush to her side. Instinctively Julie cries out to the other most important person in her life.

  "Daddy! Please, Daddy, help her!"

  But even as the words pass her lips she knows that Daddy is not going to help Mommy. Daddy the protector stands panting over his brother, who is now as limp as Mommy.

  Suddenly Julie is close to panic. The foundations of her home, her family, her life, are crumbling. She looks to her sister for help, but Sammi is sobbing uncontrollably with her face buried between Mommy's breasts. She has never felt so afraid, so helpless, so alone....

  And Daddy is coming toward her with murder in his eyes.

  She screams in terror as he grabs her arm and yanks her away from Mommy. He does the same with Sammi and pushes the two of them into the dark living room.

  "Stay here!" he says through tight-clenched teeth. "Don't move until I tell you to!" He pulls the French doors closed behind him.

  Moaning, sobbing, shaking, Julie and Sammi cling to each other in the dark. Through the glass panes of the doors they see Daddy moving back and forth in the foyer.

  A moment later he returns. He grabs Julie's jaw and forces a pill into her mouth.

  "Chew and swallow!" When she doesn't, he smacks her and gives the order again. "Chew and swallow!"

  Julie bites the tablet. Bitter taste floods her mouth as he moves on to Sammi.

  "It tastes awful!" Sammi cries, and Daddy slaps her on her behind.

  "Eat it!"

  When Julie and Sammi have swallowed their pills, he leaves them again. They huddl
e there in the darkness for what seems like forever.

  Suddenly Julie smells something burning. Smoke begins to seep into the living room. Like the fireplace smell, but stronger.

  Sammi screams, "Fire!" and points through the French doors.

  The living room fills with smoke. Julie struggles to her feet, pulling Sammi up with her. They've got to get out of here. She drags Sammi to the French doors. The whole foyer is full of flame. She grabs the door handle. It's hot but she holds on and twists it.

  A blast of heat pushes the doors open, singeing her hair. The flames roar toward them. She turns away, crying—

  They can't escape.

  Suddenly a strong arm wraps around her. She and Sammi are lifted from the ground. It's Daddy! Daddy the protector has shaken off whatever evil spell possessed him and has come to rescue his little girls. He'll save everyone now.

  She sees Mommy still slumped by the stairs and Uncle Eathan still on the floor. Daddy steps over their inert uncle and carries them into the cool, clear night air.

  He carries them safely away from the heat and smoke and deposits them in the damp grass.

  "Stay here," he says. "I'm going back for your mother."

  And so they wait, watching the flames move through the house, waiting for Daddy to save their mommy and bring her to their side.

  And suddenly they see him, barreling through the flames at the door with a wet towel wrapped around his head. He's carrying something in his arms. . .. Yes, something—

  But it's not Mommy. It's a duffel bag and an armful of books. The same books he threw down in the foyer a few moments ago. Important books, like his important papers. He trots up to the twins' side and places the books on the ground nearby. Then he turns and stares at the fire.

  "Where's Mommy?" Julie asks. "Didn't you save her?"

  But Daddy doesn't answer, doesn't even glance her way. He seems entranced by the fire. He walks away, moving closer to the flaming house. He stands with his hands on his side and watches the flames.

  Suddenly Julie sees movement in one of the side windows near Daddy. Movement. .. and someone is there, pounding against the screen. A woman—her dress is smoldering, her hair ablaze.

  "Mommy!" she screams and Sammi joins her. "Mommy!" They stand up, screaming. Mommy's there, she's okay, she's getting out.

  Daddy sees her too. Her weakening efforts manage to knock the screen out of the window frame. As it topples to the grass she sags against the sill, half in, half out, reaching toward him, pleading for help, for rescue.

  Daddy quickly looks around, rushes to the edge of the garden, and returns with... the hoe. He braves the heat and stretches it up to her.

  Julie holds her breath. Daddy can do it! Daddy can save her!

  But as Mommy reaches for the hoe-Daddy rams it against her body and Mommy topples back into the flames.

  Julie and Sammi wail their horror into the night. Won't somebody come to put out the fire? Won't a fireman come save their mommy?

  But only the unblinking face of the full moon is witness.

  Daddy waits by the window a while longer, and when Mommy doesn't reappear, he starts toward them, a black form silhouetted against the flames, coming closer, looming larger, blocking out the house and the fire until there's only the fire-lit trees and the moon and his shadow.

  The fire colors everything.

  Even the moon ...

  No. This makes no sense. This isn't what happened.

  You tear free from little Julie ... and watch.

  Dazed, numb with shock and horror, you see Nathan scoop up the hysterical twins and toss them like so much baggage into the backseat of Eathan's car. Then he retrieves his journals and the duffel bag and places them in the front seat.

  A siren begins to wail in the distance as he speeds away.

  You don't absorb much of what follows. You see him take the girls to the basement of Eathan's home. He forces more pills into them while they cry. He flashes lights in their eyes and tells them over and over to imagine their father running back into the house and never coming out... running back into the house and never coming out... telling them they will remember nothing of tonight except their daddy carrying them to safety, Daddy telling them he's going back for their mother, and then running back into the flames.

  Somehow, the girls stop crying.

  And then Nathan reappears, only now he's wearing a beard exactly like his brother's, and telling the girls over and over that they will call him Uncle Eathan from now on, only Uncle Eathan, and all they will remember about tonight is...

  It goes on and on, but then he begins adding a new twist to the message:

  If they ever remember anything else other than what he has said, they will die.

  They will die. The memory will kill them, so if they wish to live, they must never, ever remember what happened tonight.

  And then he's driving them into the woods, walking them in among the trees, and leaving them with only the man in the moon as guardian.

  They huddle together, cold and miserable, wondering how they got here....

  Suddenly the scene goes blank. More than blank. Dark. No blue screen, no button bar, readout. Dead. A system failure. You grasp your headset and—

  Thirty-Five

  Quintilius: "A liar should have a good memory."

  —Random notes: Julia Gordon

  Julie pulled her head free and looked around. Night had fallen but someone had turned on the room light. She looked toward the monitor. Dead. The VCR too—no power. For a minute she'd thought she was trapped in there, in her own mind. But it was okay, only a—

  She started to rise from the recliner, and a hand gripped her shoulder.

  She gasped and looked up.

  "Eathan!"

  No—not Eathan. She knew that now.

  Nathan.

  A tsunami of rage surged through her, overpowered her, Punched her at him, clawing at his face, reaching for his eyes.

  Roughly, he shoved her back into the recliner.

  "Stay right where you are, Julia."

  He restrained her until she realized that he was heavier and stronger, and had enough leverage to hold her in place indefinitely.

  She stopped struggling and lay there panting, glaring at him as he moved around and sat on the edge of the recliner, facing her. His eyes were cold, his expression unreadable behind the beard. But he knew where she'd been, knew what she'd seen. She was sure of that.

  But she could find no hint of remorse in his face.

  She closed her eyes as bile surged into her throat. What he did, what he did! Murdered her mother, and her real father. And all these years pretending to be the brother he murdered. And she all these years loving and respecting and admiring that.

  She was going to be sick. No. She couldn't be. Not in front of this man. She swallowed, waited for the nausea to pass, then opened her eyes and stared at him.

  God, the sight of him repulsed her. And the thought of being alone with him terrified her.

  "Help!" she shouted. "Nurse! Help! Get in here!"

  "Don't bother," Nathan said. "The cook and the maid are gone for the day, and I fired the nurse."

  "You're lying."

  "No. I found her sitting outside the door, made a big scene about abandoning her patient, and fired her on the spot." His, smile never got near his eyes. "I'm a most concerned uncle."

  "You're a monster."

  "I believe we've already had that conversation. It bored me the first time."

  "You'd better get used to boredom," she said through her teeth. "You're going to spend the rest of your days behind bars. I only wish New York had had the death penalty then. I'd love to see you fry!"

  Nathan laughed. "Oh, I don't think so."

  "I've got evidence. I remember now. I know who you are. I know what you did. God, I've even got it on tape!"

  Nathan shook his head slowly, and something about the ease of gesture sent a bolt of cold fear through Julie. He was too relaxed, too confident for s
omeone who'd just been exposed as a double murderer.

  He said, "Sorry. That tape won't exist by the end of the night, and—"

  "There's another in New York," Julie said, blurting the lie and hoping he'd buy it. "Dr. Siegal saw everything."

  "Julie, Julie." Nathan sighed. "You're a brilliant young woman—and you shouldn't forget how much of that brilliance you owe to me—but I've been ahead of you all the way. If I'd let you rummage through the bird's nest of wires and cables you've got behind the cabinet with the monitor and the VCR, you'd find a small RF video transmitter. The receiver is in the basement, hooked up to my own VCR."

  Another chill rattled through Julie. "So you've been watching all along."

  "Not all along. Only since before my London trip earlier in the week. I became suspicious when you said you'd ‘forgotten’ to record a session. That wasn't like you. So I decided to install my own safeguard against any further lapses in memory. It came in quite handy today. By the way, I never did get to London today. I called cook a little while ago and told her I'd be late and not to fix you dinner—I was taking you to the Bay Hotel. But I came back as soon as she left and reviewed the tape. I can't tell you how relieved I was when I saw that the blocked memory was destroyed, how you failed to reconnect Samantha. I thought I was home free. But I've got to hand it to you, Julia: You are one persistent little devil."

  "I'm not the devil here."

  "Whatever. As for the missing tape, I eventually learned its contents from Alma. I do wish I'd known sooner. I could have headed off this nasty scene."

  "Alma told you?"

  "Yes. She was an exceptional woman. She'd gained a handle on the imagery of Samantha's memoryscape, reading into things I'd seen but thought nothing of. She thought Samantha was suffering from a delusion that Nathan was still alive. That concerned me no end, because I feared Alma would begin talking this up, and between the two of you, and with more information from the memoryscape—especially all that recurring hack-from-the-dead imagery—you might determine that it wasn't a delusion. That perhaps Nathan had somehow risen from the ashes."

  "You killed her!" ;