* * *
“No, no! Don’t hit it straight on. Hit it at an angle, so it goes into the corner pocket.”
After dinner, Camm and Martha had retreated to the pool room so Camm could teach Martha how to play pool, eight ball, to be exact. Not that Camm really knew what she was doing. Compared to Misters S and C, or especially to Granny, Camm didn’t know beans about pool. But, she knew more than Martha, and it was one way to pass the time.
“I’m afraid I’m hopeless,” Martha said in despair. “We weren’t allowed to play pool in Catholic girl’s school, because it’s a betting game.”
Camm snorted, “That’s not a surprise.”
Martha had been released from her legal research prison to stay in the mansion with Camm. Both Camm and Martha had been thrilled. It almost felt like being back at their college dorm.
Granny was out in the night, prowling around town, searching for the rat. He had taken Agent Jeffs with him and had left Agent Peters to look after Camm and Martha in the mansion. Where Agent Peters, their protector, had gone off to, neither had a clue.
Camm had been positive she could find the rat. Either it would come looking for her, as it had threatened, or she would get close enough to make a mental connection with it, as she had done before. For the better part of two days and nights, Granny and she had driven around the empty houses and buildings of Trona, trying to entice an attack or get Camm close enough to feel the rat.
To no avail. No attack. No mental connection. Granny, already skeptical, had finally given up on her, leaving her at the mansion, while he went out hunting in the night his own way.
Martha sighed. “What time is it?”
Camm laid her pool cue down on the table. “About eleven-fifty. Are you getting bored?”
Martha sighed again. “I’ll never be any good at this.”
“Don’t worry. We can do something else.” Camm laughed. “Anything we like.” It felt wonderful to be officially out of hiding and to have her good friend, Martha, at her side again.
Camm flopped down into one of the large green leather chairs near the pool table.
“I really suck at pool, too. Cal always cleans my clock when we play. It’s not fun if you don’t know what you’re doing. It’s just, what else is there to do in this big, stinky mansion?”
“I don’t know. Not much.” Martha set her pool cue down by Camm’s and, with a sigh of relief, dropped into the leather chair opposite Camm. “Can we just talk like sisters? For most of this summer, I would have given anything just to have someone to talk to, especially you. The few chances we’ve had to spend time together have always been so stressful.
“Though, we did have some great times last year. Didn’t we? I just wish this summer was over, so I could get back to school.”
“You and me both, sister.” Camm leaned forward to pat Martha’s hand. “This has been a long, hard summer for me too. Remember those times we stayed up all night in your dorm room talking about anything and everything just so I didn’t have to be alone in mine? I’ve missed you too. So, what do you want to talk about?”
Martha jumped into the opening. “Well, I overheard two of the agents talking about you and Cal. Something about a kiss. Not just a peck on the cheek type of kiss, but a real honest to goodness, lips locked, honey-smackin’ kiss.” Martha raised her eyebrows at Camm expectantly.
Camm sighed, thinking about Cal again and how forces beyond her control kept taking him away from her. “Yeah, I kissed him. And, you’re right, it was a real kiss. I enjoyed it, but in the moment, I couldn’t tell what Cal was thinking. You know, he’s a little slow on the uptake.”
“That’s all you have to say?” Martha leaned forward in anticipation. “Come on, Camm. Why’d you kiss him? What were you thinking? What’s up with you and Cal anyway?”
Camm sighed, blowing air out through pursed lips. “I wish I knew. We haven’t had a chance to talk, you know, not a real chance since the summer started. We’ve been running either after or from one monster thing or another, or we’ve been separated worlds apart. It’s just that, well . . . ”
Camm paused to think how to say it. “I just miss him. I mean, I really, really miss him, and I really, really did not want him to go back to that other world with all the giant predators. He has always been very good at saving me. I just don’t know how good he is at saving himself.
“I’ve always known Cal was my best friend, but I didn’t know, until this summer, how strong my feelings were for him. Faced with the possibility of me losing him forever, well, I couldn’t bear that. I didn’t know I felt that strongly about him until I thought he was gone forever. So, before he left again, I gave him a real kiss and made him promise to come back. I hoped it would give him a little more incentive to come back to this world, to come back to me.”
Camm raised her eyebrows as she gave Martha a weak smile.
Martha rolled her eyes. “Come on! Have pity on me. You know I’ve never kissed a boy. Tell me what it was like—don’t leave anything out. Did you lick your lips? Did you kiss him with your mouth open or closed? I want to know all about it!”
Before Camm could tell her more, Martha sat up straight and waved her hand in front of her face like a fan. “Holy moly, was that you?”
Camm straightened also, but with terror in her eyes. That smell wasn’t hers. She knew that odor and where it came from. Grabbing a pool cue off the table, she signaled with a finger to her lips for Martha to remain silent.
As she did so, the temperature in the room, which had been seasonably hot all day, dropped to freezing cold. She could see her own breath as well as Martha’s. She knew what that meant: The mansion was beginning a dimensional transition.
Both she and Martha jumped involuntarily as the clock downstairs resounded with a loud DONG! The clock was chiming on its own. It was midnight! This was not a planned transition.
* * *
Granny climbed onto the roof of what passed for a grocery store in Trona. The position gave him a wide perspective. It must be near midnight, he thought. He scanned the surrounding area from his high perch with a pair of infrared binoculars, looking for anything with a large heat signature.
Agent Jeffs, standing in the parking lot below, cupped his hands to his face and in an extraordinarily loud whisper asked, “Do you see anything?”
Granny rolled his eyes, replying in a normal voice, “Why don’t you get a loudspeaker to broadcast our position? Would you please shut your bleedin’ mouth?”
It was more of a command than a question. But the answer was no, he did not see anything with either a large or small heat signature. It had become very frustrating to look for the stinking, green rat. Granny wouldn’t have believed it existed if he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes.
All he could see now were stars and the lights burning brightly at the plant. And, of course, the lights that shone from the windows in the mansion.
Suddenly, as he watched, all lights in the mansion blinked out. It was now as black as the residential buildings in the rest of the town.
Granny felt a sudden panic rise inside him.
“Oh bugger,” he said as he hurried down off the roof. He knew he didn’t have long.
* * *
DONG! With the second chime of the clock, all the lights in the mansion blinked off. Martha grabbed Camm’s arm in alarm. “What happened to the lights? Why is it so cold in here?”
Camm took Martha’s hand and shushed her. Except for stray light from the plant shining through the windows on that side of the mansion, there was no other light source.
Gradually, Camm’s eyes adjusted to the dimness. There was no doubt in her mind they both were in mortal danger. The rat had to be inside the mansion now.
It had once escaped from its dungeon prison using a secret passage the agents had never been able to find. The rat must have used that same secret pass
age to get back inside.
DONG! The rat was the mansion’s guardian. Could the clock somehow be responding to the rat? From deep beneath them, a sound of stone scraping against stone could be heard. The stone door of the rat’s deep prison was opening into the wine cellar. Then, she heard the familiar scratch of sharp claws clicking up the stone steps from the cellar to the main hall. Martha grabbed Camm with both arms, hugging her tight. “I hear something!”
DONG! Had the rat initiated the transition? Was that possible? The small door from the wine cellar into the main hall abruptly came alive, its hinges screeching as it opened.
Coming. Kill you, an angry voice said clearly in Camm’s mind. None save you now!
Camm had not felt the rat’s thoughts when she and Granny searched for it, but now she could. It was reaching out to her, making its intentions very clear.
DONG! Camm jumped, a shiver simultaneously sliding down her spine. This time there were no noises downstairs, but Camm imagined the rat, now on the floor of the main hall, sniffing the air, finding their location. Smell you. Know you here. Coming, kill you. Coming, eat you.
As the rat touched her mind, Camm suddenly saw herself lying on the floor, the rat standing on her chest as it ripped out her throat, blood spraying everywhere.
DONG! Camm hugged Martha back. “It’s coming! Listen!” She heard the sound of padded feet moving toward the stairs with the unmistakable clicking of claws on the hard-slate floor. All of the malevolent intent of the rat’s stinky heart poured like a flood into Camm’s mind. She felt its hate, pure hate, too intense for words. Under the onslaught, Camm gasped.
“Camm!” Martha whispered urgently.
“Shhhh!” Camm hushed her, trying to think of a plan. “Let’s move the . . . ”
DONG! Now the rat could be heard climbing the stairs to the second floor. Only seconds and it would be on them. The only weapons they had were the pool cues and balls. They had nowhere to run.
“Quick, shut the door.” Camm gently shoved Martha towards the door. “We’ll push the pool table against it to hold it closed.” In the dark, Martha found the door and slammed it shut. In an instant, she was back at Camm’s side, helping her push against the table.
DONG! Adrenaline coursing through their veins, the two girls threw themselves against the impossibly heavy pool table. Slowly, it scratched across the hardwood floor towards the door.
DONG! The rat padded along the thick carpet down the balcony toward the pool room. Close, close, close to you now. Kill you. Eat you. Eat you alive! Eat other too!
An image flashed through Camm’s mind of the rat ripping out Martha’s throat.
Camm leaned into her work, shoving for all she was worth. “Push, Martha, push!” She could smell Martha’s sour panic as she strained next to her. “Only another foot. Push!”
DONG! The sound of the rat’s approach could no longer be heard over the screech of the pool table’s legs scraping across the floor as the table slid inch by inch toward the door.
Here! Here me. Here you. You die. Me eat.
Now Camm saw an image of the rat tearing strips of muscle from her leg.
With the table only inches from the door, the handle slowly turned and the door flew open, banging into the table. The table stopped it from opening more than a few inches.
DONG! Camm and Martha continued pushing against the table, but now the door was pushing back, pushing against the table from the other side. Thoughts from the rat grew in intensity, in hatred. No stop me now. No! Kill you. Eat you. Kill other. Eat other.
An image filled Camm’s mind of her and Martha lying in a tangled pile of flesh and innards.
Camm’s heart was now beating so fast it seemed ready to explode out of her chest. Even with all their effort, all their weight pushing against the table, the forward movement of the table stopped. The door now pushed back against them, moving the table back.
DONG! How Camm hated that clock! For a moment, the force pushing against the two girls waned, as if the rat had given up. Once more, the pool table resumed its slow slide forward against the door. The door was close to latching when, with a loud thud, the rat flung itself against the door, driving the table with a sudden jerk back again several inches in the wrong direction.
Again, in spite of all their effort, strength, and combined weight pushing against the table, it shoved them backward. Slowly, the width of the opening increased.
Soon. Soon. Soon! The rat seemed to be gloating.
In mere moments, the opening would be wide enough to allow the rat entry.
It occurred to Camm that if only she had thought of the pool table sooner, the door would have been shut and latched with the table under the handle to keep the rat from turning the doorknob, but what could she do now. Were there other options?
The stench of the rat poisoned the air, making it almost unbreathable. In the dimness, the silhouette of a pointed snout with dripping fangs became visible. It would be on them in seconds.
Even as she despaired, another hateful thought invaded her mind.
Hungry. Much hunger. Eat you! Eat other!
* * *
Granny had been doing his recon by foot, which made it necessary for him to run back to the mansion. Agent Jeffs could not keep up and fell quickly behind.
The old men had given Granny a full briefing on the rat, or as much as they knew. Still, there was a lot that even they did not know. Nevertheless, it angered Granny that he had been caught off guard, allowing the rat to enter the mansion while he was so far away. Clearly, this creature was smarter than anyone suspected.
Granny cursed. This was not a mistake he would make twice.
He carried a sawed-off, semi-automatic Weatherby eight-gauge shotgun in one hand and a .44 magnum, long barrel revolver in a holster at his side. Extra clips were loaded and attached to a belt hanging over his shoulder. How he wished he had a Smith & Wesson 500 like Agent Kline’s. He had used it when he had saved the girl on the dirt bike, but Agent Kline now had it on the other side. Granny would just have to make do. His free hand was ready to create some serious light.
After what seemed like an eternity, he arrived at the mansion and bounded up the steps to the massive oak front doors, hardly noticing that the steps were covered in sand. He burst through the doors into the main hall. Making as much noise as he could, he slammed the doors behind him, hoping to draw attention to himself. Breathing hard, he took a moment to get his bearings.
In a split second, he realized he was in the alternate mansion. Everything about this version was decayed, dirty, and trashed. Why had the mansion gone through an unplanned transition?
He was also having trouble breathing, because the stench of the rat was so overpowering.
“Camm,” he hollered in a loud rasp, “are you alright?”
“We’re up here. Poolroom,” she yelled back, the stress in her voice evident. “The rat is pushing its way through the door. It’s almost on us!”
Granny raced across the main hall, peering up towards the poolroom on the second floor. He saw a large, dark form just outside that door. Reaching into one of the many pockets in his khakis, he pulled out a military-grade, battlefield-ready magnesium flare. Igniting the flare expertly with one hand, he threw it to the slate floor to his right, and then ignited a second, throwing it to his left.
The flares would not ignite the hard, stone floor of the main hall, but if he threw one up on the balcony, it would start a fire, possibly burning down the whole mansion. Igniting a third flare, he held this one in his left hand, keeping the shotgun ready in his right.
For the second time, Granny got a good look at the giant green rat. Bloody hell, he thought.
The rat squatted on the second floor balcony, rearing up on its hind legs, pushing against the pool room door. The rat had been trying to get in, but the white-hot light from the battlefield flares distra
cted it. It recoiled in horror from the brilliance of the blinding-bright light.
Granny recoiled from the sight of the rat. It was hideous. As tall as a horse, but heavy like a bear, its soiled green fur was matted and putrid. How it stank! Olive-colored slime dripped from protruding fangs. Pure hate poured down on Granny as it glowered at him. Its glowing red eyes were intelligent, communicating emotions both intensely and immediately.
The few seconds that the light distracted the rat were all Camm and Martha needed. With a final desperate push, the door to the poolroom latched securely shut with the pool table wedged under the doorknob, holding it rigid and immovable.
At that moment, Agent Peters, the guard who had been left to protect the girls came running into the main hall from the dining room. “What’s happening?”
Without taking his eyes off the rat, Granny responded, “The rat has the girls trapped in the poolroom. Stay across the hall from me. We’ll try to get it in a cross fire, but don’t shoot me!”
The rat glared fixedly at Granny, or was it glaring at the flare in his hand?
Granny figured, as had Cal, the rat would have a harder time putting out an actual flame, especially one burning magnesium at over 5,000 degrees Fahrenheit. Each flare was designed to last for several minutes, but the one in his hand seemed to be going out before the other two.
Tossing the flare in his hand to the side, he pulled another from his pocket, igniting it. He figured the more flares he lit, the harder it would be to extinguish them. The rat seemed to concur and with a large leap began vaulting along the balcony away from the stairs.
Running along with the rat, maintaining his first floor position below, Granny cocked the eight-gauge with one hand. At the rear of the hall, the rat stopped to look over the balcony. Placing its front claws on the railing, it bared its teeth at Granny and let out a loud half-hiss, half-screech.
Granny walked calmly toward it. When he was almost directly below, still holding the flare in his left hand, and using only his right, he fired the shotgun. It was a direct hit in the chest, there was no doubt about it. The rat screeched in pain and anger. Granny re-cocked the shotgun.
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