by Brian Hodge
Slowly, his eyes began to take in his surroundings. He lay on the floor of a good-sized room, facing a familiar figure seated in a broad, nearly collapsing wing chair. The last time Copeland had seen him, the chair’s grotesque occupant had been asleep. And before, the walls of the master bedroom had not been completely covered by writhing, metallic-looking vines covered with long, razor-sharp barbs. The alien vegetation—the only term Copeland could think to apply to it—rustled and shifted nervously, as if cognizant of an unfriendly presence. The seated man’s huge, football-shaped head cocked slightly as tiny pig eyes beneath a bony brow studied him intently.
After a time, the lips of the repulsively wide mouth parted, and a paradoxically soft voice came out. “Hello. I’m Amos Barrow.”
“So, awake at last,” he replied in a measured tone, managing to pull himself to a sitting position. “And from the look of your bedroom, I suppose that means there’s no sending your ‘new neighbors’ back where they came from.”
“An interesting point,” the eldest Barrow said. “In fact, you bringing it up is the reason you’re still alive. I want to talk to you.”
“Well, I guess I’m not going anywhere.”
“Not right away, nope. I guess you know that my grandson—my surviving grandson,” he added sharply, “has taken a shine to a young lady of your acquaintance. We had us a nice little talk with her, but we didn’t quite get the answers we’re looking for. Maybe you can do better.”
At the mention of Debra, new apprehension clutched his chest. He stared spitefully at Amos for a long moment and said, “Even if I could, I don’t know that I’d be inclined to offer you a thing.”
“Mr. Copeland, I’ve been something of a businessman all my life. Yeah, not the kind you’d be used to dealing with, but I know business. And I expect we might be able to come to an arrangement, if you willing to be reasonable.”
“Forgive me,” Copeland said softly, “but nothing I’ve seen would give me reason to believe that any of you are ‘reasonable.’”
“Let’s not be judgmental,” Amos said in a paternalistic voice. “About every soul in this town has been judgmental for as long as the Barrow family has lived here—since long before my day. And that particular failing is pretty much why things have come to what they come to.” He stared thoughtfully at Copeland for a minute before continuing, his tiny eyes revealing a surprising depth of intellect behind them. “Some years ago, I lost my boy in a war that he didn’t have no business fighting in. But he went, and…well, that was that. Anyway, we come to find that a comrade of his weren’t like these people we’d known all our lives. This man was thoughtful…and generous. He knew he couldn’t put right what caused me to lose my son, but he wanted to settle up whatever way he could. Least, that’s how it seemed, and for a long time, he was a real help to this family. Even got us through some difficult times. In the end, though, turned out he weren’t no different than them others. Maybe even worse, cause he came with false pretenses. Or let’s put it this way: I like to think he started out right-headed, but then something went wrong. Whatever it was, we believed in him, and then we was betrayed. You knew old Major Martin, didn’t you?”
“Yeah. I did.”
“Tell me about how well you knew him.”
“Well, what can I say? Only in passing, really. I barely got to spend any time at all with him before he…before you…”
“Now, now, Mr. Copeland. I know that he must’ve shared some of his secrets with you. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have known nothing about us. Or our new neighbors.”
“All he did was fill in some blanks. Most of what Debra and I learned, we discovered on our own.”
“Yeah, I’m told you got into this house a while ago. Damn stupid, Mr. Copeland, but I gotta admire your drive. Anyway. It’s them blanks you mention that I’m most interested in. I want to know just how much you know. You may have something that’ll help and you don’t even realize it. If we talk about it like reasonable people, maybe…like I said…we can come to an arrangement.”
“Such as?”
“Such as maybe you won’t have to die like your friends out there—them ones that killed my grandson.” Amos now leaned forward, his jaw working furiously back and forth, one eye gleaming dangerously. “Levi said it weren’t you, which is the only reason you still here to be talking to me. It was them that killed my Joshua, weren’t it?”
Copeland stared fixedly at the other, unwilling to allow his simmering dread to get the better of him. He finally nodded. “Yeah. But I’ll tell you this: if I’d had the chance…I would have killed him. I’d have killed Levi, too. You know that, don’t you?”
For the first time, Amos looked as if he might rise from his chair and attack him, and Copeland knew there was no way he could fend off even the old man. But Amos’s red-hot eyes slowly cooled, and he relaxed, taking a few deep, noisy breaths. “Looking at you, I reckon you got reason to be angry. What you don’t understand, Mr. Copeland, is that you got yourself into this mess. You blaming the wrong people.”
“Let me tell you something,” he said sharply, infused with a new, angry fire. “The reason I’m here is because your ‘new neighbors’ killed an innocent boy—my nephew. God knows how many others. People who’ve never done a damned thing to you. Don’t tell me about who’s to blame for any of this.” He spat on the floor. Then he said softly. “You know what, you big, fat piece of shit? Let’s forget about any arrangements. Just do what you have to. You’re going to get yours anyway.”
Amos’s face no longer betrayed the slightest hint of emotion. “If you refuse, you know you got nothing to look forward to but a lot of suffering, right? You in a completely different world now. The Lumeras don’t just kill you, Copeland. They slowly consume you, all the way down to your soul. You’ll still be screaming long after me and the rest of the world have all passed on.” He smiled sardonically and leaned forward slightly. “Is that what you want?”
“Guess what, Amos. I’m afraid that’s what you have to look forward to. Do you think you are the master of this world? Why would creatures like those even consider sharing power with you? They only let you live as long as you suit their purpose. You’re awake, but they haven’t vanished. That means you can’t get rid of them now. What happens when they decide they don’t need you anymore?”
“Is this what Major Martin told you?”
Reluctantly, he nodded. “It was his belief.”
Amos grinned broadly. “Of course he would tell you that. He wanted the power all along, but it was too late. He handed us the only means to open the door to the dream worlds, and when he discovered what he had given away, he tried to take it back—and he failed. He was simply a bitter old man.”
“Then why are you so curious about what he might have told me?”
“Because I want to know if there’s an…” The huge figure fell silent suddenly and gave Copeland a thoughtful stare. “No, sir. I don’t believe we’ll be coming to any arrangement.”
“What were you about to say? Are you admitting there’s something you don’t know? You see, Amos, you are vulnerable. Now let me tell you something. If you know any way to send those things back where they came from, you’d better do it now. Because they’re not going to let you to be part of their world for long. They’re going to eat you alive.”
“Your conclusions are amusing. Mr. Copeland, Let me show you just how wrong you are.”
Amos held up one hand, a maestro preparing to conduct an orchestra, and suddenly the living mass of creepers exploded into rustling, writhing motion, some tearing away from the wall and slithering across the floor toward Copeland. One of the barbed cords whipped at him with a metallic snapping sound, and he backed away just in time to avoid a vicious slash across the chest.
“For what I did for them, they’ve promised me my place here. They got their own rules they abide by, Mr. Copeland, which I’ve witnessed firsthand over many years. I’ve walked in their world time and again, and I’ve learned all thei
r ways. I—and my family—got nothing to fear from them. Do you understand? Nothing! You, on the other hand…got everything to fear. Because your time is up.”
The door opened and Levi Barrow stepped inside, blithely disregarding the wicked-looking tendrils creeping within inches of his legs. Amos looked coolly at his grandson and asked, “You still hear it out there?”
Levi nodded. “Yessir, sure do.”
Amos drew a long, contemplative breath and looked back at Copeland. “You got one last chance to save yourself. All you got to do is answer me one question.”
Knowing he could offer nothing of value, he shrugged. “And what would that be?”
“That music out there. Tell me where it comes from.”
Copeland felt his jaw drop. So…Amos did admit he didn’t understand everything. He gestured toward the living creepers. “Something of theirs, wouldn’t you say?”
“No,” Amos said, his eyes turning somewhere far away. “No, it isn’t. So…Major Martin gave you no clue?”
“I’m afraid not.”
“Well, then.” He made a dismissive gesture and said to Levi, “Do what you want with him. Goodbye, Mr. Copeland.”
An iron claw fell upon his shoulder. “Get on your feet,” Levi said, his voice as sharp as a razor. “Either you walk or I drag you.”
With difficulty, he managed to pull himself up, his heart racing. Without looking at Levi, he said, “It doesn’t matter what you do to me. It won’t change anything, as far as you’re concerned.”
“It’s not us you have to worry about,” Levi said, tugging him by the collar. “Come on, now.”
Copeland didn’t have the strength to resist as the other led him out of the master bedroom, down the hall, and to the stairway. He stumbled down the steep, narrow stairs, and when he paused at the bottom, he felt something sharp gouge him in the back; Levi was holding a knife. As he allowed himself to be pulled through the kitchen and to the stairs to the cellar, he took a quick inventory of his injuries, his remaining strength, his mental clarity. Every muscle in his body ached like hell, but nothing was broken, and his senses seemed to be gradually sharpening. He was still no match for Levi…but if he could trip him on the rickety stairs, maybe he could gain an advantage.
Levi shoved him roughly through the door, forcing him to go first, which halfway foiled his plan. He tensed one arm, preparing to drive his elbow hard into Levi’s gut, but then the fingers on his shoulder began to dig in mercilessly, and he again felt the knife press into his back. “I know what you’re thinking. You try anything, you won’t even get as far as the bottom alive.” With a silent curse, he relaxed slightly, and two steps from the bottom, Levi shoved him hard. He landed hard on one foot and tottered for a second, but managed to keep his balance.
“Russ!”
By the dull orange glow of the huge Lumera in the far corner, he saw Debra a few feet away, cowering from the creature, which appeared to be keeping watch over her. It slowly turned its skull-like head and fixed its deep-set, glistening sapphire eyes on him. The barbs on its back lifted slightly, and it made a soft clicking sound.
“See, it doesn’t like you,” Levi said with a harsh laugh. “It and me, though, we understand each other. As you can see, it makes sure she don’t do anything foolish while I’m not around.”
Copeland gazed at Levi’s eyes and, just for a second, caught a flash of uncertainty deep inside them.
Yes…he is still afraid of them.
“You all right, Debra?” he asked softly.
She nodded, and he saw that her cheeks were streaked with tears. “Russ, he doesn’t trust those things either. I’ve tried to reason with him every way I can.”
“You’re still thinking about things the old way,” Levi said to her. “Everything’s changed now, and you gonna understand that soon enough. Your friend here, he’s gonna help you. In fact, it’s gonna be the last thing he ever does.”
“Levi…” she began, but he held up a hand.
“I been trying to teach her to look at things in a new light,” he said to Copeland, with cunning civility. “Maybe there’s something we can do a lil less drastic than what I originally thought.”
“The only way I can help you is if you understand that you’ve got to get out of this. You’ve got to send them back.”
“Well, naw, that ain’t quite it. It’s like this. The lil girl is having a hard time understanding why she’s here and how she’s gonna be helping me with Malachi from here on out. Maybe she’ll listen to you, though, since you still appeal to her old way of thinking. Here’s what we’ll aim to do. You make her understand that she’s gonna be teaching Malachi, just like always, but in the new way, the way things are now. She’s gonna stay here, and she’ll be safe with me. Now…you help with this, and I’ll make you a bargain. I’ll cut you loose, and there won’t be nothing more against you. You’ll have to make your own way out there, and there ain’t no guarantees, but I’ll see to it that them ones leave you be. You won’t have to worry bout them no more. What you say to that, mister smart man?”
Copeland gazed at the other disbelievingly. He realized that here, in the cellar, he could feel the deep, rhythmic pulsing beneath his feet. It seemed considerably stronger now. “Let’s just say…for argument’s sake…that I don’t see things your way.”
Levi shrugged. “Then the lil girl’s gonna get to watch that thing do what it does best. To you. Right here. Which just means I have to go about making her understand things in my own way—which I reckon neither of us will enjoy so much.”
With a thoughtful glance at Debra, he drew up his last reserve of courage and said, “Levi, I’d do whatever it takes to see that Debra stays alive and safe. But you know damn well you’d never in a million years let me go free, even if I did exactly what you ask. And again, for argument’s sake…let’s just say you did. It wouldn’t make the slightest difference. As I told Amos upstairs…you’re living on borrowed time. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if, by sundown tonight, your whole family is dead. You, your grandfather…even your son.”
As fast as a bullet, Levi’s hand came up and struck him across his cut cheek. The sudden pain floored him, and he didn’t even feel it when his head struck concrete. All he knew was another explosion of stars in his vision, an arc of agony from his skull to this toes, and this time, he thought, he wasn’t getting up again. He heard Levi mumbling something unintelligible, followed by a metallic clicking sound.
Levi was directing the Lumera to attack him.
Beneath his hands, he felt the throbbing pulse in the earth, now so deep and powerful that it felt like something trying to thrust its way up through the concrete floor. When the chattering voice of the Lumera began to rise, he knew that it was not in response to Levi’s summons, but to something else altogether. He desperately shook his head, trying to clear his vision; and when he finally saw the madman standing before him, face ashen and eyes raised to the ceiling, he knew that something new—and totally unforeseen—was affecting the creature.
The door at the top of the stairs flew open, and Malachi’s voice drifted down. “Daddy, you gotta see this. Come up now! Hurry! Hurry!”
Copeland glanced at the Lumera, which had lifted its head toward the ceiling, its focus no longer on any of them. Its mandible hung open, and hot, viscous fluid leaked slowly from its maw and dripped, steaming, to the floor. The barbs on its back had extended fully.
Levi started toward the stairs, scowling disgustedly at the Lumera; but then he stopped and turned to Copeland, raising his knife menacingly. “Know what?” he said softly. “I got no more time to waste on you. The hell with you and everything about you.”
Copeland managed to roll onto his back and raise his arms as Levi came at him. The heavy body dropped upon his, the knife working its way through his defense and lowering to his throat. Levi’s knees on his shoulders prevented his hands from reaching the weapon, and one arm came down on his forehead, pressing hard to keep his head immobile. The blade bega
n to press against his adam’s apple.
“Yeah, I’m gonna cut your head right off. How you like that?”
Then, with a shocked cry, Levi tumbled away as something hit him with great force. The knife went flying and clattered to the floor halfway across the room. Levi’s head made a grotesque thudding sound as it struck the concrete.
Debra now lay atop him, her fingers viciously encircling his throat, her long nails digging deeply into his flesh. Realizing the Lumera was no longer watching her, she had launched herself at him and taken him by surprise. Levi tried to throw her off, but as lithe as a cat, she clung to him tenaciously, one leg locked around his. She managed to lift his head once and smash it against the floor; but now, infuriated by the indignity and swearing boisterously, he thrust his torso upward and dislodged her. Then, scrambling quickly back to her, he threw himself on top of her, pinning her beneath his weight.
At the sight of Levi’s escape, Copeland somehow found the strength to pull himself to his knees…to his feet…and to take a step forward.
Levi raised a hand to strike Debra viciously across the face. Copeland deftly caught it and twisted.
With a roar of surprise, Levi pitched away from her and quickly rose to counterattack. Copeland lunged forward, catching the other in a fierce stranglehold, and with every remaining ounce of energy, hurled him toward the craning Lumera, whose body had begun to glow a bright, fiery crimson. With a shocked cry, Levi crashed into the ten-foot horror, sending the worm-like body toppling heavily to the floor.
The gigantic skull head quickly rose, its eyes briefly flashing like jewels, then dove forward and reappeared with Levi’s head clamped firmly between its great jaws. Muffled screams trickled out from the great maw, and Levi’s legs thrashed furiously as he fought to disengage himself. But his struggles seemed to spur the creature on, for it now it vomited a stream of vile, reddish fluid over his upper body, and his screams grew more intense, his flailing limbs wilder. Levi’s clothes began to ooze smoke, and the exposed skin of his arms quickly blackened and swelled, like marshmallow beneath a blowtorch. His struggles gradually weakened, but his cries gurgled forth unabated—and Copeland noticed that, with Levi’s every agonized scream, the Lumera’s eyes pulsed brightly, as if the thing were deriving pleasure—or nourishment—from his very pain.