by Peter Ponzo
Colby placed the phone on the cradle and smiled. The other three were standing just inside the door.
"Mikey," said Cail in a low voice, "I wouldn't have believed it if I didn't hear it. The top army brass - then the top city official - and she thinks it's her idea - bombing a house with army helicopters - quite remarkable." He paused as though he were struggling over the next words. "And Cassandra? She's in there ... in the house. Shouldn't we warn her?"
"Are you kidding?" said Colby. "Ain't she a witch? She goes down with the house."
"And down with the bones," added Bryan in a whisper.
"She's responsible for a long history of deaths - murders," said Hendricks. "She's been tried and found guilty and now she pays the price."
"But then we're the jury," said Cail. "That's hardly a trial. Maybe there's another explanation for all those deaths. Maybe she's innocent. Maybe we're killing an innocent -"
"She tried to get my twins - tried to take my Marg," said Colby. "And I don't take lightly to nobody doing that to my baby."
"But it was that Sergeant, Jaffre," said Cail. "How can we be sure that Brubacher was -"
"Sam Jaffre was - is - my friend," said Hendricks. "Sam would never do anything like that. He's under her spell. Sam was just doing her bidding. Sam would never do anything -"
"How can you be so sure?" interrupted Cail. "We never saw Miss Brubacher at the clinic - just Jaffre. If she's innocent then she'll get killed - we'll kill her - the army will kill her."
Bryan whispered something.
"What's that Bryan?" asked Colby.
"My wife. She has Liz in a coma. She took Liz's baby - my baby."
"Hear that?" said Colby, raising his voice. "She's a witch! And that goddam New Year's Eve party! Nobody wanted to live in Willow Towers after that. Almost lost my shirt. Cail, you just can't see the truth even when it's staring you in the chops ... just like that time in the bog when you went after the buck on Sparrow Lake. Thought you was going to get all my money. Couldn't see it was a setup."
Cail looked at Colby with a curious frown.
"A setup? What do you mean Michael?"
"You know exactly what I mean," said Colby, gulping down his whiskey. "I lead you guys out to the bog, toss the buck on the lake. You was always making fun of me - of my plans to be rich one day. But there you was, slogging through the mud looking for money. I knew money meant something to you - to you all - Phil and Ronnie and Willy and even you."
"So it was all a lie. You never had any money in the bog. You just - just -"
"Set you up. Right. I set you all up. Never figured on Willy jumping into the lake - stupid Willy. The others, they all ran but you stayed. I always figured you for a sucker. You just walked right into that old lake to get sucked up - trying to save stupid old Willy. When I read in the paper that you graduated from Med School I figured that was just like Cail Vinney all right. Looking out for others. And what did all those others ever do for you? Nothing. When you was in trouble with the clinic did all those others come running with money? Not on your life. Who did you come to, when you was in trouble? Good old Kooky Colby. Right? You bet. And did I turn you away? No. I got the clinic in the black and now look at it - a going concern - in just a few weeks."
Michael Colby banged his glass on the desk and jumped to his feet. "Okay, let's get going! Who's coming out to Dune Road for the fireworks?"
They all raised a hand, then Colby flicked off the lights and they followed him in a single line to the front door.
***
When they had left, a figure walked uncertainly to the phone, stood for a moment in the dark, then dialled.
"Yes?"
"Is that Miss Brubacher?"
"Yes."
"Of Dune Road? Have I the correct number?"
"Yes."
"Oh, good. There are so many Brubachers ... uh, you must get out of your house right away. Please leave right now. They will bomb your house tonight and you must leave - right now."
"Who is this?"
"My name is ... uh, I don't think that's important. Please leave - now. You don't have much time."
Margrit Colby hung up the phone and fell back in the chair, shaking. She had listened to the discussion and gone through the phone book and found a Brubacher on Dune Road. Now it was up to Miss Brubacher. There was nothing more that Marg could do except pray that she had done the right thing. Now she would just wait for Michael to come home.
She jumped when the phone rang.
It was for Michael. She ran to the door and called.
CHAPTER 36
to Dune Road
"Tell 'em I'm busy! We got work to do!" Colby was shouting at his wife who stood in her nightgown on the front steps. But she waited, and they all waited, then Colby stalked angrily back to his study. "What is it?" He shouted into the phone, at the same time sliding into his chair. The others filed back, peering through the door to his study. Colby was listening, carefully. Then he slowly rose to his feet, standing straight, an arm stiffly at his side.
"Yes, General, I understand perfectly. Certainly General. I only wanted to ... yes, Mayor Saunders insisted, but I said ... yes, I understand." There was a long pause, then Colby placed the phone carefully on the hook and slumped into his chair. "Bastard!"
"Mr. Colby?" said Bryan. "Is something wrong?"
"Yeah, something's wrong." Colby pushed himself wearily to his feet and leaned on the desk, staring at the floor. "We ain't goin' nowhere tonight. It's all off." Then he slid back into his chair. "Bastard General."
The others waited, then looked at each other and at Colby sitting, dejected, at his desk. After several minutes of silence they slowly backed away from the door and quietly left the house.
Outside, it was Cail who spoke. "Guess even Kooky Colby can't command the army to drop napalm." He seemed almost pleased. "I think we should go home." He looked at Bryan and Bill for a moment, then turned quickly and headed to his car without another word.
"But, what do we do now?" Bryan watched Cail's car drive off. "What can we do now?" He looked at Bill Hendricks. Bill shrugged, then moved slowly toward his car. Bryan watched him go, turned in time to see the light go off in Colby's study, then just stood there in the dark. His hand was throbbing, it was always throbbing, and his head was aching and he was tired.
When he got home he fell into bed fully dressed, tossed and turned uncomfortably for what seemed like hours, then finally fell into fitful sleep.
It was almost 1:00 a.m. when Michael Colby called. Bryan fell from his bed and half-crawled to the phone. He didn't have time to say "hello", Colby began talking immediately. Bryan wasn't sure what was happening, but when the phone went dead he knew that he was to be in the parking lot, waiting, within five minutes. He shook his head, looked about for his clothes, saw that he was already dressed then left immediately.
***
It was just after 1:30 a.m. when the long black Cadillac pulled off the sideroad about a quarter-mile up Dune Road from the Brubacher house. There was a full moon and they could see the house rising darkly against the moonlit sky, dominated by the giant willow tree.
Colby looked at the digital clock on the dashboard and grunted. "We've got time. Let's have a drink." He pressed a button and a small door dropped from the dashboard revealing an array of glasses and a whisky bottle. "Laker, do the honors."
Bryan was now wide awake, but frightened. Was Colby frightened, too? Why the delay? Did he need a drink to screw up his courage? That thought made Bryan even more nervous.
"I don't really think this will work, Mr. Colby," he said. "You can't just shoot her. I mean, you can't just barge right in and ... and shoot her. It might be better, safer, if Bill Hendricks had come. And the tree. What about the tree ... and especially the bones?"
Colby pulled two glasses from the tray and poured the drinks.
"Look, kid, if there's one thing I learned it's you gotta do things yo
urself if you want it done right." He took a long drink. "Bastard General." He refilled his glass and swallowed it in a single gulp. Bryan hadn't touched his. "Okay. Let's go."
Colby popped open the glove compartment, removed the oversized hand gun and slid out the door. " Laker, you comin'? It's just you and me now. They got your baby ... tried to get mine ... we don't stand for such crap." He waved the long gun barrel in the air. "Let's go."
Colby didn't seem frightened in the least, but he did seem somewhat inebriated. Perhaps that was good, the part about not being frightened. Being drunk? That wasn’t good.
Bryan peered through the front window of the car. Several lights had come on in the Brubacher house and now the whole house seemed to glow in the dark.
Colby looked at the watch: 1:53 a.m. Why was the time important? Did Colby do everything by the clock? Maybe he had decided that 2:00 a.m. was the time to attack. Yes, of course, that was the time the army helicopters would have come in - wasn't it? Bryan couldn't remember.
The willow tree was silhouetted against the bright moonlit sky. It seemed to raise its branches and become larger, more sinister. The base of the tree was illuminated from below as though bright lights were shining up into the branches.
"See the tree?" said Bryan. "It's alive. I told you."
"I gotta see this," said Colby, striding confidently down the dirt road, his hand holding the revolver swinging at his side. No, Colby certainly wasn't frightened. Bryan slid reluctantly from the car, held his hand to his chest and followed the gunslinger.
When Colby was almost across the road from the Brubacher house he saw the figures dancing beneath the tree, luminescent, shimmering. The branches of the willow were raised like a great umbrella, shaking against the sky. Now he could hear humming. It was growing louder. He pushed the revolver into his belt and lit a cigar. He was obviously enjoying this.
"Mr. Colby?" whispered Bryan. "Stay back. It's dangerous. The tree, it can kill. I know."
Then they heard the humming grow to a shriek and the glowing shapes rising from the base of the tree. Michael Colby was standing across the road from the house with back arched and a hand on his hips, the large cigar sticking out from his face, his bald head glinting in the moonlight, his gun waving back and forth as though he intended to spray the entire area with gunfire.
There was someone standing before the tree, a dark figure against the glow. Brubacher? It was Cassandra Brubacher! Her hands were raised above her head, waving. The luminous shapes were rising from beneath the tree.
Colby's mouth opened; his cigar fell out. This was unreal. He began to mutter in a low voice, still waving his gun. "Come on you bastards."
Cassandra turned slowly, her eyes blood-red and flaming, staring out from under the willow tree, staring across the road at Michael Colby. The glowing shapes drew about her. The branches of the great willow drew about her. Cassandra pointed to Colby and the branches rose and the figures began to move across the lawn toward the road.
Colby was now shouting, cursing, waving his gun. Cassandra walked slowly toward him, the shimmering figures just in front of her.
Colby stopped shouting when he saw Cassandra standing across the road, her hands raised above her head, the shimmer of ghostly bodies to either side, her hair rising in disarray. He lifted his gun to fire, backed up to get a better shot, stumbled and fell into the culvert by the side of the road. The luminescent figures immediately rose, quivered in the air above Cassandra Brubacher, then streaked across the road. Colby pointed, fired once, then began to cry out as the figures descended. He could hear Bryan shouting. He staggered to his feet and began shooting, wildly. The figures still came. He fired again, and again, then fell forward, enveloped in an unearthly glow.
Then, as suddenly as they had come, the shapes vanished and the dark figure of Cassandra Brubacher was standing above the prostrate body of Michael Colby.
Bryan stood beyond, silent, shaking. Michael Colby lay without moving.
"You've ... you've killed him," Bryan moaned.
Cassandra turned slowly to face the cringing figure.
"Mr. Laker," she whispered hoarsely. "Do come in." She wheeled about, her long gown swirling, her long hair rising unruly above her.
Bryan wanted to turn and run, but couldn't. He wanted to back away, to drive away, to go to Michael Colby. He could do none of these things. Instead, he followed the dark figure of Cassandra Brubacher, ponderously, mechanically, to the porch, to the door, into the dimly lit room.
Cassandra went immediately to her chair, black and malevolent, spun about and watched Bryan march slowly, methodically to the center of the room. She sank into the tall chair and held out both arms.
"Come to me," she sighed, and Bryan came, his eyes fixed on hers, his arms limp by his side. She took his hand, his bandaged hand, lifting it to the dim light. There was a noise, a banging, at the wall and she smiled, her teeth even but yellowing. "So, my Willow," she said, "you did this thing." She let his hand fall lifelessly and gazed with glossy eye at the stiff figure before her.
"Ahriman has not been good to us," she said, quietly. "He has ignored our offerings, resisted our supplications, defied our demands." Her voice grew in strength, in pitch. "The Prince has refused us, rebuked us, berated us." She shrieked at Bryan. "And the King of Light tolerates this abuse and does nothing! But, this day, the Prince of Darkness shall have another offering, another body born of sin, yet cleansed of the misdeeds of man! Another soul, tainted then purified! A soul mature, a soul retained by the King of Light! And it shall be offered up to Ahriman by Willow!" She pointed with thin finger at Bryan. "Willow shall have you!"
Cassandra rose smoothly from her chair, her arms held before her, her hair rising, her eyes beaming red in the dim light.
"Ahura-Mazda," she wailed, "beware, for we shall take from thee a soul and cast it to the Prince, to my sister, to Willow."
Then ghostly figures appeared at the window and they filled the night with their radiance and the room was bathed in an eerie glow. A single dark branch also appeared at the window, a silhouette, and it knocked gently and the window slid open as though by an invisible hand and the branch entered the room and moved to Cassandra, caressing her waist, fondling her neck, kissing her cheek.
"Yes, my sister," she said, her voice low and hoarse, "You shall have him," and she glided to the door, the hairy limb slipping from her shoulder. She turned, beckoned, and Bryan followed.
Together they walked to the door, and out, and the giant willow rose like an octopus, its branches black and twisted against the moon. They walked to the tree and the branches parted revealing an inner sanctuary glowing with ghostly forms. Together they entered and the branches fell behind them.
"Willow, my sister," Cassandra moaned, "he is yours."
A single grotesque limb shuddered and reached out, coiling about Bryan's waist.
"Take him, his soul, and seek not the favour of Ahura-Mazda, for this soul is clean."
Bryan's body was lifted with infinite care, rising in the dimly lit cavern beneath the tree.
"Willow, my sister, do not beseech the Prince for he has lost this soul long ago."
The branch shivered, coiled, and Bryan's body was limp.
"Willow, my sister, do not beseech the King, for he has cleansed this soul long ago."
Bryan hung motionless, his eyes staring glassy at the figure of Cassandra, her hair flaring, her arms extended.
Cassandra shouted. "Willow, my sister, take to thyself this soul and rise from the cold ground and we shall rejoice in our union!"
Bryan shuddered at the outcry, shook his head as though he had heard for the first time.
"Wait ..." Bryan looked down, began to struggle. "No, wait! My God, wait!"
Cassandra squinted, her eyes slits of fire. "Do you summon Ahriman?" she whispered. "Do you summon Ahura-Mazda?" Her voice crackled, rising, now shouting. "Do you appeal to your God of Love? Let him defy me! Let him defy
us!"
The bough tightened, spinning about him and Bryan screamed in agony. The twisted branch was joined by others until his body was enclosed in a seething mass of gnarled and hairy limbs covered in fine green-black leaves, and he cried out, but in vain.
Then, there was a noise from beyond the tree.
Cassandra raised her hand and the ghostly figures rose to her side. She turned and the branches parted. She slid from the gloomy sanctum into the light of the moon.
There, at the road, two brilliant eyes, lights beaming across the lawn. A car. And beside the car, two figures bent over the body of Michael Colby. Cassandra roared hoarsely and the luminescence leaped from the vault beneath the tree and glided swiftly to the road.
"Jesus Christ! What's that?" It was Cail Vinney.
Bill Hendricks jumped to his feet. A gun leapt into his hand. A sharp report, another, and the ghostly figures rose and descended.
... and Cassandra fell to the ground.
The figures rose once more, hovered. Cail Vinney sunk to his knees, his hands covering his head. Bill Hendricks fired again - but the glowing shapes wavered, faded and then, suddenly, were gone.
Within the tree, Bryan struggled to free himself. He could barely breathe. It seemed hopeless. Then the branches parted and he fell gasping to the ground. The black limbs spun up, agitated, then leaves withered and fell dry and shrivelled to the ground.
Someone called his name. He crawled to the edge of the void within the tree, scrambled under the hanging boughs, out to the dank grass and onto a body - the body of Cassandra Brubacher and he gazed into her violent eyes, fire-red, and he was straddling her thin body and he gasped and held his hand to his mouth.