"What the hell is this thing, Stroud? And why's it calling you Esruad?" Nathan wanted to know.
"This is a manifestation of the creature, not the actual creature. It's taunting us."
"Taunting us, or you?"
"It's toying with us," said Stroud firmly. "Damned thing is toying with us. It could simply let the zombies kill us now--"
"Then why doesn't it?"
"Because it wants something from me."
"What? What does it want?"
"I don't know, dammit! Not yet, anyway." Stroud sensed that the creature wanted him to return to it, to face it alone, that the creature somehow knew of his special gifts in combating evil, and that, in a sense, the evil thing had thrown down the gauntlet. But how was Nathan or even Kendra to believe or even understand such a concept?
One of the elevator doors opened and the zombies parted to show them that the car was empty. Stroud instantly understood the maneuver and shouted, "Both of you, get into the elevator car now! Now!"
The other two didn't hesitate and Stroud cautiously backed in last. The doors closed on the now fading form of the monster that'd been too hideous to gaze upon for longer than a second.
"Will this elevator take us to the roof?" asked Stroud.
"To a floor below. You'll have to take the stairs from there." Nathan's voice then became agitated, his gun still gripped in his hand, as he asked, "Why, Stroud? Why you? Why'd it spare you and me and Dr. Cline just now?"
"If I could answer that--"
"And why does it call you Esruad?" asked Kendra, her voice shaking with irritation, her breath coming short.
The elevator door opened on an empty corridor and an observation tower. Stroud saw the sign for the roof and he ushered them along the clear path to safety.
"Come on, we're getting out of here," he told Kendra.
She stopped, however, and demanded an answer.
"There's no time now."
"Make time. I want to know what it means: Esruad."
"Back at the museum. It'll all come clear, I promise."
Nathan, too, wanted answers. He swung Stroud around as if he meant to strike out at him and Stroud instinctively pushed his hand away, gun or no gun.
"Answer me, Stroud, why? What makes you immune to this damnable horror? And tell me why I shouldn't blow a hole through you, suspecting you as I do of somehow collaborating with this bloody supernatural beast."
This made Stroud stop and grab Nathan by the lapels, pushing him hard into the wall, Kendra tugging at Stroud to come away. Stroud caught himself up and let go of the other man, who had held firm to his .38 Police Special.
Stroud rushed on, pushing through a glass door and out into the wind that played over the top of the high rise, sending his hair into a wild gyration. He'd taken Kendra by the hand, bringing her along. He shouted back over his shoulder to Nathan, "Goddammit, Commissioner, I don't know all the answers! That's why I need help. I need Wisnewski and Leonard and more time."
"Why did it let us live?" pressed Nathan, running to catch up. He had seen a lot of good men die today, and he wondered why he was not among the dead.
"It wants me to come to it, to freely sacrifice myself, I believe. And when I do, it wants to play."
"To play?"
"Yeah, that's what it's doing with us all, Nathan, toying with us ... playing with our lives ... determining just how much of our civilized veneer it can strip away before we all turn on one another."
"It wants you. Has it wanted you all along? And would that end this nightmare?"
"You don't really believe you can bargain with the Devil, do you?"
Nathan thought for a moment. "No, I suppose not ... but--"
"No buts about it. When I do sacrifice myself, I'll do so armed with a great deal more than I now have, I pray," said Stroud as he strapped himself into the Gordon helicopter he had commandeered. Some police technicians worked atop the roof and had refueled it. All other police choppers were in service.
Kendra was helped into the seat beside Stroud by Nathan, who waved them off.
"Come with us," shouted Kendra.
"No, no, I'll be needed here. But I'll stay in contact."
"Be careful," Stroud called out to him.
"You, too, Stroud, and good luck. I'm sorry about the ... the..."
"Good luck is sufficient!" shouted Stroud, who sent the rotor blades into whirring battle with the wind. As the chopper lifted off, the image of the monster with snakes feeding out of its eyes filled Stroud's vision ahead. He tilted the chopper into the sky streaked with the wretched sight, slicing through it.
Kendra Cline stared down at Nathan, who was fast disappearing behind them. She felt herself still inwardly trembling at the touch of the gun at her temple, and yet she'd have preferred the quick death of the bullet to what the zombies might have done to her. She, like Nathan, now felt strange toward Stroud, that he was somehow different, because he had been singled out by the evil emanating from the pit, the evil with such power to reach out to take what it wanted from them.
Stroud felt her eyes on him now. He realized that she hadn't seen the apparition of the creature in the night sky, that it was meant only for him. He understood why Nathan might feel threatened by him, but now he was getting the same feeling from Kendra, and this he didn't quite know how to deal with.
"You have no reason to fear me, Kendra," he told her.
She breathed deeply, filling her lungs, holding on to her inner emotional turmoil. Her voice broke when she said, "I ... I know that."
He put a hand on hers, but she pulled it slowly away. "Keep it uppermost in your mind, no matter what happens, Kendra, that what I do is for us all. I will not bargain with this thing, not for my life, not for yours, not for any individual."
"I think I understand," she said, then turned to stare out into the surrounding darkness.
Stroud brought the chopper around, searching for the rooftop of the Museum of Antiquities, which he soon found.
As the helicopter lowered over the mammoth rooftop, Stroud steering by streetlamps and intuition, Kendra played out the events of the past few days in her head, but events and actions and words seemed all as confusing a haze as the night's quickly descending fog over the city. The ominous fog swirled and eddied, and it felt like her thoughts. Was Stroud so very different from other men that this evil being in the pit sought him out to play games with? What kind of man was Stroud, she wondered as she stared at the maw of the blacktopped roof. It appeared from where she sat that Stroud was taking her straight down into Dante's Inferno with him, there to abide somewhere between the sixth and seventh rings, she supposed, and she wondered at the dubious honor he had imposed on her, making her his companion in this occult contest. But she was now so tired and weary of thought that she almost welcomed his telling her when and where to move.
The helicopter's whir set her mind to droning with its even, calming sounds, so different from the horror of its mad gyrations before. Stroud, too, was like the machine: one moment loud and rancorous and the next quiet, gentle and caring. Yet, he was all a mystery; a man who seemed to have more than one past, a man filled with the life of the race itself, like some Greek dancing perpetually in the sand of the ages, or a mad cossack doing daredevil feats on the back of a charging horse.
The museum grounds were littered with refuse and white, tumbling things that looked innocent at first glance but took on a sinister appearance when stared at unblinkingly. McDonald's coffee cups, newspapers lost to the wind, sandwich wrappers had become apparitions that walked a ghostly landscape which by light was mere brush and trees and lawn that surrounded the Museum of Antiquities, where, deep inside, by the light of their gooseneck lamps, Drs. Leonard and Wisnewski were working diligently on answers to questions they did not know how to pose.
Kendra only half heard the snap of the seat belt that held her, felt only the warmth of Stroud's powerful arms go round her as he lifted her from the helicopter. She felt cradled, safe, and her mind begged f
or sleep, which Stroud now fostered in her. Complicated, confusing man, she thought, but quietly she allowed herself a moment's peace freeing her mind of questions and fears.
-12-
Abe Stroud found the two archeologists obsessively working, surrounded by half-eaten sandwiches and unfinished Cokes. Stroud asked them how well it was going and they looked up, a little startled, not having heard them approach, with no knowledge the helicopter was on the roof.
"I think we're onto something," Wiz said, "but it's taking time, Abe. Patience ... patience is rewarded."
Stroud worked his big hand across his wide shoulder to the nape of his neck, squeezing, headachy. "Only problem is, Doctors, we have a very impatient audience waiting for us, and worse, an even more impatient demon. Tell me what you've got thus far..." Stroud began looking over their shoulders.
"I'm going to call the hospital," Kendra called out from Wiz's office.
Stroud grimaced. He'd hoped she might sleep. He wondered how she was doing. But he must turn his attention back to Wiz and Leonard.
Inside Wisnewski's office, Kendra contacted colleagues at the hospital. "We're going to require as much biochemical weaponry as we can get from you, Karl," she was saying when Stroud poked his head in.
Stroud said, "Wiz has found something very interesting in the literature--amazing really. Can you come?"
"Be with you in a minute."
She joined them soon after. Wisnewski called her to sit beside him. He was saying, "Just a primitive drawing, not much more than a cave drawing of a behemoth with gnarled fangs and snakes crawling from its eyes, but it was given a name--Ubbrroxx--and further, this name was found by Leonard as well, on the parchment brought from the ship."
"Ubbrroxx," said Stroud, repeating the strange name several times.
"Careful," said Kendra, "careful not to unwittingly invoke it."
"Yes, well..." began Wiz, sensing some tension between them. "Abe's told us what happened at Nathan's building. In any event, it would appear that if we do not soon go to it, Stroud, it will come to us. Is that not right?"
"That's my belief."
"What was this ... this Ubbrroxx to the Etruscans? A deity?" asked Kendra, agitation dappling her pupils with fear.
"A dark deity, a god of the underworld, much as our Satan," said Leonard, wiping clean his glasses. "Here is a photo of a cavern wall drawing discovered in Tuscany a few years ago."
"My God," said Kendra, "it's ... it's..."
"What we saw at One Police Plaza, I know," replied Stroud.
"It is also what I saw," said Wiz, "the day I hefted the pick at you, Stroud. It ... it somehow became you in my mind--all a jumble. Seeing it like this again, it all came back to me. It leaped out after you, was on your back when you were blacked out. I went to strike it, but it seemed to be inextricably mixed with your own tissues, and when I hesitated ... well..."
"This thing is so vile," said Leonard, trembling.
"Stroud's blackout no doubt saved him from the menacing of the creature," said Kendra, trying to understand it all, but deciding that she would never be able to do so.
"Good," said Stroud, putting a firm arm around Kendra, "good!"
"What's good? We've got a crude picture of it is all!" said Wiz.
"We now know its name, and we know what it looks like."
"Don't think for a moment you know what it looks like, Stroud," said Leonard. "This is very crude, and besides, if you look on the real thing you'd be blinded by its sheer ugliness, according to the written word. Most likely, this was drawn by a blind man, giving directions to an artist."
"Perhaps that wizard you spoke of, Leonard," Wiz said.
"Wizard?" asked Kendra.
"The author of the parchment. Very astute man."
"What does he tell you?" asked Stroud.
"The creature can take many forms, control many lesser beings, including men."
"Creating instant zombies," said Wiz with a snort.
"He tells us that the true nature of the beast is so vile, so ugly, that it would burn out the human heart and soul to behold it in its natural state."
"Only what we might expect from an underworld deity," added Wiz.
"Then it is a shape-changer, a chameleon?" asked Stroud.
"Of a sort, but not in any usual sense. It controls and distorts the forms of lesser beings; turns some into ghouls and gargoyles and hounds and rats at its pleasure. At least," continued Leonard, putting aside his glasses now and rubbing his tired eyes, "at least, this is what the Etruscan writer believed."
"Then it can literally control anything it comes into contact with?" asked Kendra. "Insects, rats--"
"Worms, grubs, maggots," added Wiz.
"So, in that sense, it takes any shape it wishes, you see, Stroud?" asked Leonard.
"Yes, I begin to see. And I suppose it can take a pleasant form as well?"
"Exactly, and Leonard failed to tell you that. He also has some notion that the demon wants not 500,000 souls, but five million, Stroud."
"What?"
Leonard turned and rushed back at them with a resounding "Yes, yes, it wants five million this time."
Kendra repeated the staggering figure aloud in a whisper that filled the room.
"But I saw the figure. You said it was 500,000, Wiz." Stroud pointed at the Etruscan numbers.
"Yes, well, a mathematical equation worked out with the help of Esruad--"
"Whoa, Esruad? Esruad?" repeated Kendra, hearing the name come up in this new context.
"He was the writer of the parchment, his signature is here," said Stroud, directing her eye to the name in Etruscan.
"Then that thing out there thinks you are..."
Stroud finished for her. "Esruad, yes."
"And that may work to our advantage," said Wiz.
"What advantage is it against such a power?" asked Leonard. "At any rate, Esruad predicted the increase to five million should the demon rear its ugly head again. It appears as a warning near the end of the document."
"The matching document found in Tuscany almost two years ago, Stroud, has been held in ridicule as superstition and gibberish since its disclosure by Dr. Uri Ulininski."
"That would be logical in this most illogical scenario, yes."
"God," said Kendra, pushing back her long strands of hair, "it sounds ... sounds like Satan."
"One and the same, it is logical to assume," said Wiz. "Or a very dear cousin of the Fallen Angel."
Leonard quietly agreed. "It may well be what we have traditionally referred to as Satan. It may be the ultimate evil power on the planet. And we may be fools for even contemplating confronting it, Stroud."
The room had become cold with silence until Wiz said, "And to think, Satan is a New Yorker ... has been for some time."
"Christ, Wisnewski, how can you joke about this?" Leonard said, tossing a book down and stepping away from the others, obviously distraught over their findings.
"Now, look here," Wiz retorted, "I've done some unearthing of my own, and I've come up with a few facts as well, Stroud. We can continue without Leonard's input if we must."
Wiz pushed an archeological journal into Stroud's hands with some photos of a recent dig in Tuscany, and then he gave Stroud a magnifying glass. "Look closely at the parchment in Ulininski's hands."
"It ... looks like a reproduction of the one we have."
Stroud knew of the great Russian archeologist's work. Tuscany seemed far afield for him. According to his words in the article, he had been drawn to the location, almost as if by a spirit voice.
"Are you saying that Esruad knew that in time this evil would come again?" asked Stroud.
"He says so, yes."
"Amazing ... that he should predict it."
"He predicted it would occur amid the dwelling places of millions; amid giant girders that reached the clouds--our skyscrapers. And that a man flying in the belly of a machine would go into battle against the creature."
"That'd be you and your
helicopter, Stroud," said Kendra.
"He said all that?"
"Yes," said Wiz. "I would have to say that this evil springs from the same source as all evil in the world, an eternal river of evil that flows beneath us all and from time to time infects whole populations."
"How can we dare oppose it, Stroud? How?" asked Leonard, returning to the circle.
"Dr. Cline's people are working on--what, Kendra?--something in the way of a biochemical deterrent to this thing?"
"So far, all we know is that it works on the zombies," she replied. "Whether or not it will work against the source is anyone's guess, but yes ... we're fashioning darts and a gaseous form of the substance."
"Then we are not completely without armament," Stroud tried to sound reassuring.
"I have ... some fears," said Leonard. "An awful fear."
"But we have a weapon," replied Stroud. "Dr. Cline has developed something for us."
Cline explained, "Using what we learned in reviving you, Dr. Leonard, we have developed a biochemical projectile laced with the stimulants that revived you. This was being tried on the many coma patients, until they began to attack us. We had upped the dosage given you to ... to create the killing poison."
"It stops what it hits," said Stroud.
"The same substance which brought me out of coma is being used now to kill other victims of this thing?" asked Leonard. "This is somehow backward and sounds like madness in itself, Dr. Cline."
"We've had no choice in the matter. They're out there, on the streets," said Stroud, defending her. "They attacked us and would have dragged us into that pit headfirst if we hadn't fought back."
Wiz and Leonard exchanged a worried glance. Wiz said, "Even if we could get near the pit, nothing will stop the mother of this evil, nothing."
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