by L. J. Smith
Dee’s black spandex legging gaped where the thing had cut it. Jenny could see blood.
The being handed the instrument to one of the others, which took it away. If they were talking or communicating, Jenny couldn’t sense it. Certainly nobody tried to communicate with Dee or Jenny.
They were moving around again. One of them—the same one who had cut Dee?—took up a new instrument and went to Jenny’s table. With a swift, deft movement the being touched the instrument to Jenny’s hand. Jenny felt a pinch.
Then the probe went in her ear. Outraged, Jenny tried to roll her head away, but small hands—strong as claws inside mushroom flesh—held her forehead. She felt the probe go in deeper, and she squirmed frantically. It touched her eardrum and hurt like a Q-tip stabbed too deep.
She was completely helpless. Whatever they wanted to do to her, they would do.
Tears of pain and fury trickled out of her eyes, down her temples. They put the probe in her other ear. One of them dabbed at her eye, holding the lid open. Jenny felt the touch of cool metal against her eyeball.
“It’s just a dream,” she called to Dee, almost sobbing, when the probe was withdrawn. “It’s not real!”
She couldn’t hear any answer from the other table.
What kind of game was this, where you didn’t have a chance? Julian had talked about “getting through” the nightmares, but Jenny didn’t think that meant just waiting for them to pass. She was supposed to do something, but she didn’t know what, and she couldn’t move. And she didn’t think she and Dee were going to survive this if they just lay here.
“What do you want from us?” she shouted. “What are we supposed to do?”
There was a shifting among the Visitors. A new kind of being had arrived. Taller than the others, clearly in command, with skin as white as wax. Its fingers were twice as long as a human’s. Although Jenny got only a glimpse of its face, it looked more menacing than the other kind, its features even more exaggerated.
It picked something up from the instrument cart and went over to the far side of Dee’s table. It looked up at Jenny, and she saw its eyes were blue.
Not glittering black like the other beings’ eyes. Blue lakes endlessly deep, deep as a mountain is high. Eyes that looked inside you.
Jenny stared back, her own eyes widening.
Then she saw what it was holding. A needle. Wire-thin, murderously long, longer than the needle for a spinal tap. The tall Visitor was holding it over Dee’s stomach.
Dee’s stomach was heaving wildly in a fight for breath. Her khaki T-shirt was sticking to her body as she writhed in a futile attempt to escape. Her sweat-soaked hair glistened like mica in the light.
“Don’t touch her!” Jenny cried. To watch it happen to Dee was worse than having it happen to herself.
The needle hovered just below Dee’s navel. Dee’s abdomen went concave trying to avoid it. Dee made rocking, shifting motions as if trying to shimmy up the table, but she only moved in place. The light above her intensified, and abruptly her struggles became weaker.
“You bastard! Leave her alone!”
What can I do? Jenny thought. She had to stop this—but how?
The light.
It came to her suddenly. The light above her had dimmed as Dee’s had brightened. Maybe she could move now. And if she could move—
She began to rock.
She had some control over her body. Not much. Her arms and legs were still useless, like huge pieces of dead meat attached to her. But she could move her trunk and her head and neck. Using all her strength, she rocked her weight from one side to the other.
Dee saw her. All the other eyes in the room, all those slanted liquidy black eyes, and the one pair of deep blue, were on Dee’s stomach, on the needle. But Dee’s thrashing head had turned toward Jenny, and just for a moment the two of them were looking at each other, communicating without words. Then Dee began to struggle again.
The harder Dee fought, the brighter the light over Dee. The brighter the light over Dee, the dimmer the light over Jenny.
Fall off this table and you’ll have no way to control it, Jenny’s mind told her. A broken arm or leg, at least, and maybe a broken nose. You’ll smash into the floor facedown.
She kept on rocking. Maybe Dee thought she was just trying to get away, but what Jenny cared about was distracting them. Stopping that thing with its too-long fingers from putting the needle in Dee. If she hurt herself they’d have to come deal with her. They’d leave Dee alone.
She swung her torso harder and harder, like a beetle trying to upend itself. Dee was fighting madly, yelling out insults to keep the aliens’ attention. The light above Jenny dimmed further, Jenny surged violently—and felt her momentum take her over the edge. For a moment she teetered there, balanced on her side, then the deadweight of her arms and legs decided the issue, and she felt herself begin to fall.
There was a burst of startled movement from the aliens, and the light flamed into brightness above her. It didn’t matter in the least. It wasn’t her muscles that were in charge, it was the law of gravity. Something nobody could argue with.
Jenny thought.
Searing illumination was reflecting off the white floor, and Jenny shut her eyes as that floor seemed to come up to meet her. She flinched away from the moment of impact. When the impact didn’t come, she opened her eyes.
She was floating, facedown, an inch or so from the floor. Suspended. Paralyzed. The aliens were scuttling around hysterically, as if they weren’t programmed to deal with this. As if they were as surprised by her midair arrest as she was.
The painful reflection on the floor softened. Jenny was still floating. It was a very strange sensation.
The small aliens were still moving around in consternation—Jenny could see by their feet. A bunch of them crowded between the tables and lifted Jenny back to hers.
She was positioned too high—she felt her ponytail hanging over the edge of the table. And the light above her was dimmer. Maybe somebody who hadn’t been staring up at it for half an hour wouldn’t notice, but Jenny did.
The blue-eyed alien with the needle was beside her.
She expected it to touch her, but it didn’t. It just looked down, and Jenny looked back.
Why didn’t you let me fall? she thought.
Abruptly the tall alien turned away. It motioned to the others, then walked out the octagonal doorway of the round room. Several of the small ones followed it, pushing the cart. Several others came and poured green liquid into Jenny’s mouth.
It tasted like sugar and iodine. Jenny spit it out. They restrained her head and poured her mouth full again. This time she shut her lips, holding the liquid inside her mouth, doing her best not to swallow any. She could have struck out at them—she could feel her fingers again—but she pretended she couldn’t move.
And then, blessedly, they went away.
Jenny turned her head and spat her mouthful out. Her lips and tongue were numb. She saw Dee doing the same.
They looked at each other, then at the lights.
“Both dimmer,” Jenny whispered. Dee nodded.
Then, eyes on the doorway, they squirmed and rocked themselves off the tables. It wasn’t easy, but with the lights this dim, it was possible.
Jenny, with no training in how to fall, bruised her arm and knee. But Dee was already pulling her up, out of the influence of the white light. Outside its circle, Jenny could move freely.
“Look,” she said, seizing Dee’s arm.
It was a door, concave, set in the wall that had been behind Jenny’s head. It looked like an airplane door, which Jenny recognized because she’d once spent five hours studying one when her family flew to Florida on vacation.
And which was absurd, Jenny thought fretfully. Why should aliens have airplane doors? Dee wasn’t worrying about it—she was moving levers and things. The door swung away outward.
Jenny shrieked.
She’d never liked heights, and this was much highe
r than she’d ever been in the open air. She could see clouds below.
But we both went for the door instinctively, she thought. It must be right. We went into Dee’s room and the door disappeared. This is the first door we’ve seen since. It’s got to be the way out.
She still felt faint when she looked down.
“I don’t care; I’d rather die than stay here. Besides, I always wanted to skydive,” Dee said, grabbed Jenny’s hand, and jumped.
Jenny really screamed then.
Whistling wind slapped her face. Jenny’s eyes screwed shut against it. Everything was icy cold around her. She felt weightless, but she knew she was falling.
If this is flying, I don’t think I like it—
She didn’t exactly faint then, but things got very confused. She couldn’t see or hear anything until she hit an ocher-painted door with a thud, Dee tumbling behind her. From their direction and velocity they might have been thrown through Dee’s bedroom window by a giant fist. The door opened as she struck it, and she and Dee both fell into the hallway.
The Haunted Mansion hallway. Dark as a crypt. Jenny stared into the golden glow of Dee’s bedroom—
—then the door whisked by her nose and slammed shut.
She and Dee lay panting while their eyes gradually adjusted to the dimness. Dee leaned over and slowly, deliberately punched Jenny in the biceps.
“We did it, killer,” she said. “You saved me.”
“We’re alive,” Jenny said wonderingly. “We got through. Dee—do you realize what happened? We won.”
“Of course,” Dee said. She poked her fingers into the hole in her leggings, and Jenny saw that the cut was still there, the blood drying. Then Dee flipped up her shirt. Jenny could count ribs under the velvety night-dark skin, below Dee’s dark blue sports bra. But there was no mark above the navel.“I told you, you saved me. That was my worst nightmare—those things poking at me, and me not being able to stop them.”
“We both did it—by using our brains,” Jenny said. “Anyway, now we know what to do in the nightmares. Once we’re inside we look for a door—any door. Hey, what’s that?”
A scrap of paper showed white against the black carpet. Jenny smoothed it out and saw it was a drawing, done in crayons. A black thing like a bowler hat was hovering above stick trees, with rays of scribbled light around it.
“I never could draw very well,” Dee said. “But you get the idea. Now what do we do?”
Fear of the aliens had left its mark on Dee’s face, but she also looked exhilarated, triumphant. Ready for anything.
Jenny was suddenly very grateful to have this beautiful, brave girl on her side. “We find the others,” she said. “We look for another door.”
She dropped the crumpled paper on the floor and stood, offering Dee a hand up.
An unseen clock struck eleven.
Jenny stiffened. “That’s it—the clock I heard in the parlor. It’s counting off the hours. He said dawn was at six-eleven.”
“Seven hours and change,” Dee said. “Plenty of time.”
Jenny said nothing, but her little fingers tingled. She couldn’t explain it, but she had the feeling Dee was going to be proved very wrong.
CHAPTER 7
The hallway seemed to stretch forever in both directions. The stairway had disappeared.
“It’s changed,” she said. “It keeps changing—why?”
Dee shook her head. “And who knows which way to go? We’d better separate.”
Jenny nearly objected to this, but after what they’d been through—well, she should be able to handle a hallway alone. She started down it and immediately lost sight of Dee.
It seemed almost normal to be walking down an impossible black-carpeted hall like something out of a horror movie. I guess you can get used to anything, Jenny thought. After the blinding-white sterility of the alien ship, this dim place looked almost cozy.
There were no doors. Even the monster one, which should have been somewhere back this way, had disappeared. The tiny flames of the candles went on endlessly ahead. As Jenny stopped under one to rest, she thought suddenly of the riddle she’d pushed to the back of her mind earlier. If it would get one of them out of here, she ought to try to solve it.
I am just two and two. I am hot. I am cold.
I’m the parent of numbers that cannot be told.
I’m a gift beyond measure, a matter of course,
And I’m yielded with pleasure—when taken by force.
What could it possibly mean? Two and two, hot and cold—it was probably something childishly simple.
“How do you like the Game so far?” The voice was like silk-wrapped steel.
Jenny turned fast. Julian was leaning against the wall. He’d changed clothes again; he was wearing ordinary black jeans and a black T-shirt with the sleeves rolled up.
Seeing him suddenly was like the first moment in the morning when the shower flicks on, a shock of cold awareness.
“Was it you?” she said. “In the ship up there?”
“That would be telling,” he said, but for an instant his eyelids drooped, heavy lashes coming down.
“Why didn’t you let me fall?”
“Did you know your eyes are dark as cypress trees? That means you’re unhappy. When you’re happy they get lighter, they go all goldy-green.”
“How would you know? You’ve never seen me happy.”
He gave her a laughing glance. “Is that what you think? I’m a Shadow Man, Jenny.” While Jenny was trying to figure this out, he went right on. “Cypress eyes and sun-glowing skin . . . and your hair’s like liquid amber. Why do you wear it back like that?”
“Because Tom likes it,” Jenny said reflexively, her standard response. “Look, what did you mean—”
He shook his head, clicking his tongue. “May I?” he said politely, straightening up. His tone was so normal, so solicitous, that Jenny nodded automatically. She was still intent on her question.
“What did you—no, don’t.”
He had pulled the elastic band out of her ponytail. Jenny felt her hair fall about her neck, and then his fingers were in it.
An almost imperceptible shudder went through Jenny. “Don’t,” she said again. She didn’t know how to deal with this situation. He wasn’t being rough. He still looked solicitous and friendly. It didn’t seem appropriate to hit him in the gut as Dee had taught her to do with guys that annoyed her.
“Beautiful,” he murmured. His touch was as light as the soft pat of a cat’s paw, and his voice was like black velvet. “Don’t you like it?”
“No,” Jenny said, but she could feel the heat in her face. She was backed against the wall now. She didn’t know how to get away from him—and the worst thing was that her body didn’t seem sure it wanted to. His cool fingers moved against her warm hair roots, and she felt a trembling thrill.
“Have I told you about your mouth?” he said. “No? It’s soft. Short upper lip, full lower. Just about perfect, except that it’s usually a little wistful. There’s something you want, Jenny, that you’re not getting.”
“I have to go now,” Jenny said in a rush. Her standard stuck-with-a-jerk-at-a-party response. She was so confused she didn’t care if it didn’t make sense here.
“You don’t have to go anywhere.” He seemed unable to take his eyes away from her face for a second. Jenny had never held anyone’s gaze for this long—and she had never even dreamed of eyes like his.
“I could show you what it is you’ve been wanting,” he said. “Will you let me? Let me show you, Jenny.”
His voice seemed to steal the bones from her body. She was aware of shaking her head slightly, as much in response to the new feelings as to his question. She didn’t know what was happening to her. Tom’s touch made her feel safe, but this—this made her feel weak inside, as if her stomach were falling.
“Let me show you,” he said again, so softly she could barely hear him. His fingers were so gentle as they laced in her hair, urging her
to tilt her face up toward him. His lips were bare inches from hers. Jenny felt herself flowing toward him.
“Oh, stop,” she said. “Stop.”
“Do you really want me to?”
“Yes.”
“All right.” To her astonishment, he stepped back, fingers trailing out of her hair.
Jenny could still feel them. I almost kissed him, she thought. Not the other way around. In another minute I would have.
Tom. Oh, Tom.
“Why are you doing this?” she said, her eyes filling again.
He sighed. “I told you. I fell in love with you. I didn’t do it on purpose.”
“But we’re so different,” Jenny whispered. She was still feeling weak at the knees. “Why should you—want me? Why?”
He looked at her, head tilted slightly, quizzically. “Don’t you know?” His eyes moved to her lips. “Light to darkness, Jenny. Darkness to light. It’s always been that way.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” And she didn’t. She wouldn’t let herself understand it.
“Suppose the devil was just quietly minding his own business—when he saw a girl. A girl who made him forget everything. There’ve been other girls more beautiful, of course—but this girl had something. A goodness, a sweetness about her. An innocence. Something simple he wanted.”
“To destroy it.”
“No, no. To cherish it. To warm his cold heart. Even a poor devil can dream, can’t he?”
“You’re trying to trick me.”
“Am I?” There was something oddly serious in his blue eyes.
“I won’t listen to you. You can’t make me listen.”
“True.” For just an instant Julian looked tired. Then he gave his strange half smile. “Then there’s no choice but to keep playing, is there? No choice for either of us.”
“Julian—”
“What?”
Jenny caught herself up short, shaking her head.
He was crazy. But one thing she believed, he really was in love with her. She knew, somehow, that it was true. She also knew something else about him—she’d known it since that instant when she’d looked into his eyes and seen the ancient shadows there. She’d known it when he’d humiliated Tom and terrorized Dee.