Cole was by the steps leading up to the Heritage Center proper, speaking with two older men in sheriff’s office uniforms. Bill was speaking to Ted and Rob, nodding and jotting things down on a pad of paper as they replied. Toby was sitting alone. Several seats away from him, the girl was curled up on the folding chair with a cheap blanket pulled up to her shoulders and her head on her mother’s lap. She was clutching her doll. The mother was stroking her hair. Kari and Cicely were gone; Kathy assumed they were in the bathroom, but made a mental note to check on them if they didn’t return soon.
Other townsfolk were milling about, discussing the situation in hushed, tense tones or strident, thin voices.
“I don’t know why we can’t just write a letter asking the Door to close and lock itself forever.”
“Uh, because it’s doing the opposite of what we ask it to do now. That would just open the Door.”
“Okay, so write a letter asking the Door to unlock and open itself and set everything in it free on this world.”
“Are you insane?”
“Am I? Maybe it would do the opposite.”
“That’s the stupidest—”
But it wasn’t. It wasn’t.
“Wait,” Kathy broke into the conversation. It turned out to be between the woman formerly of the alien abduction shirt and a man in a baseball cap, both of whom looked startled to see her there. “Wait. He may have an idea there. Well, not exactly like how he said, but…yeah…yeah!”
And the barrier in her mind began to crumble.
She ran back to the office, slamming the door closed behind her in her excitement. Reversion. She had seen those characters before, except now, they were backwards and upside down. The inscription, written in the words of the Travelers, backward…it seemed to fit. She found comparisons, one by one, of each character. But were the words meant to be read backward? Were the sounds of those words meant to be pronounced backward? In many occult rituals, reversal of rites and incantations involved exactly that: words or actions done backward or in opposite directions.
She opened up some files on linguistics from a folder on her laptop.
That was when she heard the scream.
* * * *
Kari splashed more water on her face, patted it dry with paper towels from the dispenser next to the sink, and looked at her red-rimmed eyes in the mirror.
She’d had to get away from that man. Her sitting so close to someone who hurt girls like Jessica and trying to talk to him like he was just like any other human being overwhelmed her with rage and guilt and frustration. It had opened a wellspring of grief in her the likes of which she hadn’t felt since the night of Jessica’s death, and those emotions had surged up her throat until she couldn’t breathe. She could barely see. She thought she might hyperventilate or pass out or throw up right there on Toby Vernon’s shoes.
There in the ladies’ room, though, after rinsing her face a few times with cold water and taking several deep breaths, the room was starting to right itself again. She didn’t like the wild look in her eyes or the way her hands shook as she smoothed a flyaway strand of hair, but she was beginning to feel a little better.
She jumped when the door suddenly opened, but it was only Cicely.
“Just come to check on you, sugar,” Cicely said. “You okay?”
Kari nodded and sniffled. “I just—I had to get out of there.”
“I know,” Cicely said, putting her arm around Kari and giving her a squeeze. “I know. It’s going to be all right. We’ll get through this.” Side by side, the two stared at each other in the mirror. Cicely gave Kari a warm smile. “We’ll get you through this.”
“I just feel so…like I’m drowning, you know?”
Cicely’s smile grew bigger. “I know, and that’s natural—as natural as one can expect in this crazy situation.” Her grip around Kari’s shoulder grew tighter.
“Thanks, Cicely. I really appreciate—”
Cicely’s smile had widened considerably. It now took up half of her face. Her lips, a pale clay color, were starting to crumble from the strain, and her teeth, discolored and filed to sharp little points, were impossibly large. Cracks began to form along the rest of her exposed skin, and from the myriad crevices waved tiny tendrils. Her grip tightened painfully, the long, rotting fingers digging into the skin of Kari’s shoulder.
With its free hand, the Cicely-thing by her side reached up and pulled off its face as if it were just a mask. Beneath it was Jessica’s face, which promptly vomited into the sink.
Kari screamed.
The bathroom door opened and Cicely came rushing in, looking worried. Kari spun around, her wild gaze searching the bathroom, but there was no sign of the thing that had been masquerading as Cicely.
“My God, sugar, are you okay?” Cicely touched her arm and she shivered. “Kari? Kari, what happened?”
“I don’t know!” Kari began to cry again. “I don’t know. You were here, then it wasn’t you; it was some…thing…then it was Jessica, and then it was gone. I don’t know what’s happening to me!” She broke down. Cicely pulled her into a gentle hug. Kari let her, but the bathroom felt too small. She wanted to go back to where there were people.
“Can we go back?” she asked.
“Of course, sugar. Of course.”
Cicely led her out of the bathroom. Kathy, Bill, and Sheriff Cole appeared at the far end of the hall and came running.
“Kari, are you okay? What happened?” Kathy asked, searching her face.
“She saw one of those things. In the bathroom.”
“Is it in there now?” Bill asked.
Kari shook her head. “I don’t know where it went.”
“I’ll go look,” Kathy said to Bill and the sheriff.
“I’ll come with you,” Bill said, and they moved off toward the bathroom.
The sheriff and Cicely led Kari back to the main area of the basement. They sat on some folding chairs toward the back of the room. A few minutes later, Kathy and Bill returned to join them.
“Nothing in there now, or in the rooms nearby,” Kathy said.
“How could they have gotten in?” Sheriff Cole asked. “I’ve got deputies at all the doors.”
“Well,” Kathy replied, “remember, these things are not always solid. They’re not tied to the same laws of physics, nor do they necessarily exist in the time-space structures that we understand. Those deputies, they’re mostly buying time. But that’s all. Our best safety precaution is sticking together. Going forward, we should remind these people to move in groups wherever possible. Pairs, if nothing else.”
“Okay,” the sheriff said, standing. “I’ll spread the word to everyone.”
To Kari, Kathy said, “You okay? Can we get you anything?”
Kari, whose sobs had settled down to sniffles, said, “I’m okay.”
“Okay, well, I’m just about finished with what I’m working on, and I hope to have answers soon. If you folks need anything….”
“Sheriff Cole and I are here,” Bill said. “We’ll keep an eye on things.”
“Thanks, Bill,” Kathy said, and headed back to the office.
Bill moved off to check on the others around the room, and once again Kari was left to wait with Cicely.
“I don’t think I can do this,” she said to Cicely. “I can’t take it anymore.”
“I know,” Cicely said. “I imagine it’s natural in this situation.”
Immediately alarmed, Kari’s head snapped in the older woman’s direction.
Cicely looked at her questioningly.
“Is it you?” Kari whispered. “Are you really you?”
“Sugar,” Cicely said, patting her hand. “It’s me. Really, it’s me.”
“Okay,” Kari answered, but it took a long time for the tension in her chest to uncoil.
*
* * *
Kathy had just packed up her files and her laptop when there was a knock on the office door.
“Come in,” she called.
The door opened and Bill leaned in. “You have to come see this,” he said, breathless.
She came around the desk and followed him out the door.
In the main area, the crowd was buzzing anxiously near the door, which Sheriff Cole stood blocking. Next to him was a young man in a sheriff’s department uniform, breathing heavily and bleeding from a gash on his forehead. Ted was arguing with them about something.
“We have the right to know!” he was shouting.
Sheriff Cole held up a hand. “Easy does it. No one’s going out there until we know what we’re dealing with.”
“You can’t keep us here indefinitely,” someone shouted.
“Is it them?” a voice in the crowd asked. “Are they trying to get in?”
“They took three of your officers,” Rob Sherman said. He was a nice-looking man, well-built and well-dressed, though a little too polished for Kathy. His voice, though soft-spoken, struck her as having the kind of confidence built from being used only when the man had something to say. “We just want to know what we’re up against. We’re just looking for information, that’s all.”
Sheriff Cole spotted Kathy and Bill and waved them over.
“What happened?” Kathy asked as she reached the edge of the crowd.
With a glance at the others, the sheriff said to her, “We want you to come take a look at something. Outside.” To the rest of the crowd, he said, “Yes, they took three of our deputies. That means they have moved past only attacking people who have used the Door. For the listening-challenged, that means every single person in this room is in danger if we go out there. So please, allow us to consult with Ms. Ryan about the situation before you leave this room, okay?”
There was some grumbling, mostly from Ted’s corner of the crowd, and some worried chatter, but ultimately, the crowd stepped back to let Kathy and Bill by.
“Stay here,” Sheriff Cole told the crowd in that voice that did not invite comment, and then turned and led Kathy and Bill upstairs.
They moved through three rooms of shadowed interior where exhibits like old photographs, old books and ledgers, letters under glass, paintings, architectural artifacts from the homes and businesses of prominent families, pamphlets, and gift shop memorabilia were displayed in cases or on the walls. There was even a painting of the Door, though it offered no other explanation or description other than the title Gods and Monsters. There were no photographs of the Door, which didn’t strike Kathy as particularly odd. Often, such interdimensional oddities negatively affected digital and film media.
They moved out into the lobby, a spacious foyer-style room with large front windows. The heavy wooden double doors at the front of the building were closed. One of them was horribly scratched…on the inside. It looked to Kathy like someone or something had been clawing at it before being dragged or drawn back outside.
Sheriff Cole led them to one of the windows. “Here. Look outside.”
Kathy did so, but saw nothing stranger than she’d seen upon coming in. The front lawn, which separated the building from the street, hadn’t changed. Its modern art sculptures, primarily arabesques and asymmetrical geometries made of brass and copper, continued to line the walkway. What she could see of the parking lot and the cars in it didn’t strike her as anything unusual, either.
“What am I looking at? I don’t see anything.”
“Keep looking,” Bill said.
Kathy scanned the full panorama visible from the window. The night seemed cloying, almost tangible, as it had even back at the Kilmeisters’ house, but—
Then she saw it. The motion lights on the lawn had been triggered, and the play of light and shadow on the sculptures had changed. As her eyes adjusted to the discovery, that chiaroscuro resolved itself into the beginnings of faces, yawning mouths and closed eyes. Kathy even thought she saw them breathing.
“The sculptures,” she said. She turned to Cole. “They attacked your deputies?”
“Carried off Franks, Morgan, and the rookie kid, McCoy. They’re gone.” Sheriff Cole looked genuinely worried, and rightfully so. If his men were with those things out there, it was likely they were dead already.
As if noticing the trio watching them from inside, there was a blur of coppery skin and a thump against the window that made them all jump. Before them, with just inches of glass between them, was a face, a shrieking mask of agony that sank into the mottled mass that suspended it above the ground. Another face surfaced, growling and glaring at them with unadulterated hatred before sinking back into the body again. They watched the mass twist and stretch and snap back, forming tentacles that slapped the glass. One of those, Kathy thought, might make a good show of noise, but a few of them might be able to crack the glass. The whole lot of them could break it down.
“Franks told me something.” Cole watched the sculptures as he spoke. “He said he thought those things could cause mutations if they wanted to. Like that thing in your toolbox, maybe. I think it’s how they kill people, or one way, at least.”
“It’s possible,” Kathy said.
“They’re strong,” Bill said as one tentacle rattled the glass in front of him.
“Do you…do you think those deputies are already…uh…?”
Kathy didn’t want to say what she thought, and Cole really didn’t need to hear it. Instead, she asked, “How’s the surviving deputy?”
“Pretty shaken up,” Cole said. “I left him downstairs with the others. He’s a tough kid and he knows his training, but he’s still pretty new to all this. Hell, we all are, except you.” He turned on Kathy. “They’re right, you know. Those people downstairs. We can’t keep them here forever. You know as well as I do that it’s just a matter of time before those things out there get in here. We need to do something. I will not watch these things pick off everyone I know.”
“I know,” Kathy said. She knew Cole was feeling responsible for those officers and their families, and therefore probably both angry and sad. She also suspected Cole was not a man easily in touch with such feelings. He wanted answers and he wanted action. She said, “I have a solution. It’s not one you’re going to want to hear, but it’s the only answer.”
“The only answer you could come up with?”
“The only answer that will work.”
“So let’s hear it.”
“I’d prefer to tell everyone at once.”
Cole considered that, then walked away, back toward the basement. Bill and Kathy exchanged glances, then hurried to catch up to Cole. He said nothing as he led the way through each of the rooms and down the stairs. When he reached the basement, however, he shouted, “Everyone, listen up. Kathy Ryan has something to say.”
The nervous crowd, who had been milling about the basement trying to walk off or talk out their nervous energy, gathered around Kathy.
She cleared her throat. “Okay, well, here is the situation. I’m not going to lie and I’m not going to sugarcoat things. This is what we’re dealing with. First, one of your fellow townspeople had an artifact from the other side of the Door.”
This was met with astonished murmurs from the crowd.
“What is it?” Kari asked.
“Is it here? In the room with us?” Cicely looked around.
“It’s secured in this building, yes,” Kathy said. “Now, listen. This artifact had an inscription. Most of what I was trying to figure out was the translation of that inscription, and then further, how to properly pronounce it. And after some study and consultation with a few people I know, we’ve come to the conclusion that it is, in fact, an incantation, and we are in agreement on how it should be pronounced. Also, the object, we believe, is a key. Together, both the object and the inscription can be used to fo
rce the creatures from beyond the Door back where they came from, and to relock the Door so that this doesn’t happen again.”
“Okay, so what are you waiting for?” Ted asked. “Say the inscription or whatever and get rid of these things.”
“It’s not that simple,” Kathy said. “And here’s the bad news. For starters, we need to take this key out to the Door and perform the incantation there.”
“What? Are you crazy? Go out there? With those things?” someone shouted.
“Didn’t the sheriff say there were a bunch of them outside?” the alien abduction woman asked. “How will we get past them?”
“There are a number of those creatures out there—creatures that have already taken three deputies, yes. I believe we can hold them at bay with weapons, but we will need to move quickly.”
“Why do you keep saying ‘we’?” Ted asked, his face a pudgy grimace of suspicion. “Don’t you mean you?”
“No,” Kathy said. “That’s the other piece of bad news. To complete this reversal incantation, I’ll need eight other people. I need a circle. I’ll need volunteers.”
“Obviously, I’m going,” Bill said, and Sheriff Cole chimed in, “Me too.”
“What about the rest of us?” the girl’s mother asked. “Where will we go?”
“I think the creatures will be more interested in following us,” Kathy said, “than in bothering the rest of you in here. Even if a few stay behind, the nine of us can do what we have to, I believe, before the lot of them can work their way in here. Yes, it’s a risk, but it’s a calculated risk, and my expert opinion is that the rest of you are better off here.”
Behind the Door Page 20