Zak stood in the center of the diagram, the wraith-like creatures swirling around him as he chanted. Rotating about his filthy body, never more than half there, his friends slithered and hissed as he worked the dark, pulsating incantation from the book of the dead. It was a lot harder than the previous spells he’d uttered, but the diagram was much bigger now, much stronger, and it was working; the words were having their desired effect.
He could feel the entranced thoughts of the boy as he moved closer, coming across the shadowy graveyard after completing his task. As he finished the last sentence of the malignant, power-infected chant, Zak began to laugh. Softly at first, as he watched the agitated writhings of the mystical, snake-like beings, then with more gusto, until he was gibbering and bellowing out in hideous joy. Now his friends would begin to show him new things, more powerful things, and he would be taught the secrets of the tunnels below. He longed for the chance to test his newfound strength and to call to the minions that slunk and hid beneath the graves. They seethed in the darkness, masses of them, awaiting his summons, and he knew that he’d be torn to pieces if he wasn’t ready.
But, he thought with savage intensity, still screaming out his mirth, I am ready. Oh, yes! The power was his and he would soon begin to use it in earnest.
Laughing with a humor far beyond sanity, he spread his arms wide and then whirled around and around the chamber. As he twirled, his cadaverous son scuttled forth from the shadows to chortle and caper about his thin ankles, the mists parting and reforming around them with every passage. His sinuous friends danced with him, their insubstantial bodies swirling through and around him. Soon, they knew, he would set them free.
He would set them all free...
11
Day Four
Saturday, April 30th, 1988
For the sake of convenience as well as personal safety, Terry had stayed with Williams at his small, ranch-style home. After discussing their plans, each had attempted to rest while the other kept watch, but the enormity of the task before them made it difficult. It was their similar yet individual thoughts that plagued them, punctuated by the heaviness of much somber reflection.
As daylight began to stream through the living room windows, Williams sighed. He was sitting in an armchair watching Terry as she slumbered on the low, beige-colored couch. She was lovely, even more so as the thin sunlight played across her upturned face. As if somehow sensing his wistful admiration, she opened her eyes to regard him.
“What time is it?” she mumbled.
“About eleven.”
“Whew!” she exhaled, climbing into a sitting position and running her hands through her hair. “Why’d you let me sleep so long? I thought we were going to get an early start this morning?”
“You looked like you could use the extra rest,” he lied, hoping she wouldn’t suspect that he’d been staring at her. “It’s going to be a long day, and we’ll need all our strength to see this thing through.” Stretching with a huge yawn, she glanced around his sparsely decorated living room, then focused on his haggard appearance.
“You look like you could use some extra shuteye yourself,” she said. “Would you like to sleep a little more before we head out? I could make us something to eat and wake you when it’s ready?”
Shaking his head, he shuddered as dream images flooded back into his thoughts. Resting had been almost impossible for him; demons and graveyards kept dancing through his mind every time he closed his eyes.
“No, that’s okay,” he said, shrugging off the disturbing visions. “Let’s just get going; we can grab something on the way to the store.”
They’d already planned out their approach; after getting some supplies they’d explore the abandoned house from top to bottom. Robin had mentioned that she’d seen someone in one of the upstairs windows, so that seemed the logical place to start. If they were lucky, they wouldn’t even need to go near those damn tunnels. Just thinking about it made him decide something he’d been on the fence about all night.
With a nervous determination, he got up from the chair and walked to the closet at the end of the hall. As he rummaged around on the top shelf, he was acutely aware of Terry watching him from where she sat. Finding what he was searching for, he went back to the living room. With a feigned nonchalance that belied his mounting anxiety, he set the boxes down on the table. Blowing the dust off of the smaller package, he opened it and lifted out a handgun.
“My God!” Terry gasped and asked, “Where did that come from? I was thinking we’d need to purchase something for protection, but I didn’t expect you to have a gun here at your house.”
“Well,” he hedged, setting the .44 auto mag down and beginning to load one of the clips, “I didn’t want to mess with the hassles of buying weapons when I knew we already had some. Besides, we probably shouldn’t do anything to alert the police, like trying to get guns quickly without going through proper channels. If we got caught, they’d never believe any of this stuff – they’d probably just try and lock us up.”
Seeing the guarded look on his face, Terry placed her hand on top of his, stopping the methodical loading.
“Barnaby? What is it?” she asked, using his first name for the first time. “Something’s troubling you, I can tell; something besides the obvious, I mean. Where did you get these?” She gestured to the long, unopened box as well as the handgun.
He glanced away in shame as all the monstrous self-doubts of his past surged to the forefront of his mind. He didn’t want to tell her, didn’t want her to know about his painful insecurities. Looking back, though, he saw only compassion in the softness of her deep brown eyes. With some reluctance, he decided that she had a right to know.
“My father gave them to me,” he managed, gazing at the shiny metal of the gun’s barrel as he traced a finger down its length. Clearing his throat, he tried again. “My father was in the army, from as far back as I can remember. He was a hard man, very disciplined. I hated him for it; he treated me like a solider instead of a son, always making me do things the military way. My childhood was filled with endless drills, hours at the shooting range, and countless surprise inspections. He was molding me for the army, you understand. He wanted me to follow in his footsteps someday.”
She could see the deep sadness in his eyes, sense the pain in his every movement as he struggled with the memories. Not taking her hand from his, she nodded for him continue.
“When I was seventeen, I told him that I wasn’t joining the army. I told him that I wanted to help people, not kill them. That didn’t go over too well. He ridiculed me for it – said I was a coward and a traitor. My plans for the medical profession were such a betrayal to him that he redoubled his efforts to break me of the idea. He was... brutal. I finally had to run away. With the help of my grandfather, I was able to attend college. I threw myself into my studies, trying hard to overcome the feelings of uselessness that my father had knocked into me.
“Eventually, I succeeded and began to practice medicine part-time while still taking classes, always moving upward, always striving to show him that I wasn’t a failure. But even after I started becoming successful, he still called me a coward. Said I wasn’t good enough to be a ‘real man’. These guns... they were a parting gift from him – his final attempt at setting me straight. Told me I ought to at least own a ‘man’s tools’, even if I insisted on being a ‘cowardly traitor’. I’ve never even fired them.”
As he spoke, tears had sprung up in his eyes. Moving to sit on the arm of the chair, Terry put her arm around him.
“Well, you’re not a coward in my opinion,” she murmured. “It takes a greater man than most to stand up to a father figure like you did, and to hang on to your dreams without his support. He’d be proud if he could see you now; not many people would choose to do what we’re about to do. Most people would have long since ran from it, fleeing the problem instead of doing something about it.”
“That’s just it!” he cried, gazing up at her. “I have to d
o this! Don’t you see? If I give up now, I’ll become the lowly coward he always saw in me – just another civilian traitor without a spine. I have to finish this, have to prove to myself that I’m more than that. We may be Robin’s only hope of survival and, whatever it takes, even though I’m so scared I can hardly think straight, I have to help her. I’ve just got to!”
Terry pulled him into a half-embrace, resting her chin on the top of his head as she comforted him. After a few moments, she gently disengaged herself to once more perch on the edge of the sofa. Pointing to the longer box, she asked with a hint of her old playfulness, “What’s in the big one, Doc?”
Regaining his composure with visible effort, he opened it.
“This is a 12 gauge combat shotgun,” he replied with a watery grin as he lifted it from the box. “It holds ten rounds and it packs a punch. Or, so I’ve been told.”
Smiling in return, she picked up the 44. “I think I’ll take this one, if you don’t mind; it looks like it might fit much better in my purse.”
With a shared mutter of dark laughter, they continued loading the weapons, checking to make sure that each gun was in good working condition. They took their time at this, Williams going over the finer points of gun safety, neither of them in a hurry to head toward their fated destination.
12
“You had Mark do what?”
Kelly was thrilled by the incredulity on Marilyn’s face. She’d been waiting to tell her so she could savor the moment. It was too perfect! Sitting up straighter on her four-poster bed, she grinned at her friend.
“I asked him to set up a scavenger hunt for us at the house on Graveyard Hill!” she repeated. “Robin’s been having all these weird dreams lately, and I thought it’d be fun to spend the afternoon in a creepy old house searching for stuff and spooking each other out. It’ll be great; you’ll see! In fact, that’s why Rob and he skipped school yesterday. They’re going to call us when everything’s set to go.”
“But, Kelly,” Marilyn said, flashing her a sidelong glance. “They should have called by now, right? The day is half over already.”
Glaring, Kelly stifled the urge to strangle her. Marilyn Benson stared right back with dark, innocent eyes, the expression on her olive-hued face one of doubt with just a hint of scorn. That’s Marilyn for you, thought Kelly, always the skeptic. Well, soon enough Shana would show up with her boundless enthusiasm, and then Marilyn would have to fall in line. Of course, they’d be forced to put up with Shana’s childish babbling all day, but it was a small price to pay for free transportation. Shana had the only car, and besides, she always went along with Kelly’s plans no matter what the cost. It was really kind of pathetic, but she was ridiculously loyal that way.
As if summoned by thoughts alone, Shana Fletcher came bounding up the stairs. Dressed in her blue and gold cheerleader outfit, she sprang into the room, her tanned, well-toned legs flexing as she assumed an open, athletic stance. Her bleach-blond ponytail swayed a little as she tilted her head to the side, her chest threatening to burst through the material of her shirt. It was that push-up bra again. Everyone could always tell when she was wearing it; it was so obvious! But Kelly had never been able to find a diplomatic way to tell her friend how tacky it looked. And in any case, there was no sense pissing her off – she actually felt kind of sorry for her.
“Hey, guys!” Shana gushed, “You’ve got to see this new routine I learned!”
Oh, no! Kelly groaned inwardly, she’s going to make us watch another stupid cheer! It wasn’t as if they didn’t appreciate their friend’s ability, it was just that her repetitiveness was so... annoying. Watching Shana work her way through the intricate moves and gyrations, Kelly tried not to appear too uninterested. Risking a glance at Marilyn, she could see by the helpless expression on her roundish features that she was feeling the same. Sighing, she turned back to watch Shana complete the cheer.
Finishing the stunt with a spirited shout, Shana slumped to the floor, folding her long legs up underneath her. “Well,” she asked, somewhat out of breath, “what do you guys think?”
“That’s great,” Kelly said, trying hard to find enthusiasm.
“Yeah, real good, Shan.” Marilyn added.
“Well, it’s not as easy as it looks; it took me eight tries to get this first part right, and that ogre Jerry keeps dropping me during our big finale! He’s just not very good at it. I wish they’d let us switch partners, then I could get someone like Phil or maybe Neal. They’re both amazing and super-hot –”
“Speaking of good-looking guys,” Marilyn broke in, “guess what Kelly’s got planned for us today?”
Kelly threw her friend a sour look; she’d been hoping to spring the news herself. Oh, well, at least the announcement stopped what would have soon become an all-too-familiar, one-sided conversation about the cheerleading squad. For that, at least, Kelly was eternally grateful.
“What’s up, Kel?” Shana asked.
Relating the story once more, Kelly went into greater detail as she warmed to the topic. As she explained how Robin had given her the idea by pointing out a person that she imagined seeing in the window of the deserted house, Shana became as excited as she’d hoped, instantly cutting off any further naysaying from the pessimistic Marilyn.
After a few more minutes of animated discussion, their conversation returned to the subject of boys. Marilyn’s current lover was in college, and he’d given her a golden locket with his picture inside. Shana was instantly jealous, even though she was practically dating the whole football team, and much of the talk between the two of them soon revolved around dating in general.
Turning back to Kelly, Marilyn eventually asked, “Why aren’t you and Mark a thing yet? Everyone knows how he feels about you.”
“I don’t know,” Kelly said, fidgeting, “I guess because he’s a little too nice. I want someone who’ll add a little spice to the relationship. Mark is way too predictable; flowers and walks in the park are fine for some girls, but I like a man who can surprise me.”
Her forthright statement caused a sudden, heated debate about the virtues of men and what made them so appealing. At some point during the conversation, Shana thought to ask Kelly why Mark hadn’t called them yet.
“I don’t know,” she confessed, twining her fingers together as she stared down at her hands. “He should have called last night. He and Rob probably got bombed out of their skulls while they were setting it all up – You know what potheads those two can be!”
A voice drifted up from the bottom of the stairwell shouting, “Phone!” Flashing her companions a triumphant smile, she got up to go answer the call. The talk continued while she was away: a dissertation on relationships in general that was so engrossing they both were startled when Kelly marched back in and slammed the door shut behind her.
“What’s up, Kel?” Shana gasped, her eyes going wide.
“Yeah, who was on the phone?” Marilyn added.
“I’ll tell you ‘what’s up’!” Kelly fumed, her anger barely contained as she paced back and forth. “That bonehead Mark ruined the surprise – he’s already told Robin all about the scavenger hunt! In fact, that was her just now on the phone. She sounded kind of funny, you know, like she gets when she’s already pissed off? She said she was going over there right away, and I bet she has some surprises of her own in mind. We’d better get over there right now or we could miss out on everything! When I see Mark, I’m gonna kill him! He was supposed to call me, not go and blab to her!”
They got their stuff together in a hurry and left, jumping into Shana’s small MG and racing off toward the graveyard. Low black clouds scudded across the sky as they drove. True night was still hours away, but the darkness that crept along the streets, filling it with menacing shadows, seemed to flicker and expand with a life of its own. It leapt and raced after and around the speeding car as if it knew that twilight would soon claim them all, but the girls took no notice of its ominous warning.
13
&nbs
p; It was around six p.m. by the time Williams pulled up to the graveyard and the clouds had long since turned the sky an unpleasant grayish-black color, roiling and churning with the threat of imminent rain. And with the uneven grave markers lurking beyond the crumbling, vine-encrusted walls, the house itself had taken on an added air of foreboding, crouching in the semi-darkness like a predatory animal tensing for the kill. Scanning the unwelcoming landscape, Williams swore in a soft undertone, wishing they hadn’t taken so long to get the supplies. With his resolve quaking, he glanced at Terry to see how she was holding up.
She turned and regarded him steadily, her lips set in a thin, determined line. Then, holding his eyes with her own, she lifted the .44 auto mag and clicked off the safety. There was no turning back now; they were going into that house and they weren’t coming out again until they found some answers.
The wind howled and moaned around them as they got out of the car, tearing at them with elemental claws and chilling them with more than just a drop in temperature. Together, they fought their way to the trunk, popped it open, then they lifted out their packs. Terry paused long enough to dig out the large, tactical flashlight that they’d duct-taped onto Jarrod’s moldering wand. She studied it with lips curled in involuntary disgust, then, glancing over, raised a questioning eyebrow. Shrugging with feigned indifference, he shouldered his pack, then grabbed the shotgun and pumped a cartridge into the chamber. Taking that as a sign of readiness, Terry flashed the light ahead of them and led the way through one of the gaps in the wall, moving into the outer rows of overgrown headstones.
Following after, Williams glanced up at the abandoned structure. He imagined he could see an aura about it, a nimbus that surrounded the ancient dwelling with an almost imperceptible air of menace. He winced as he stared at it. It was a veritable monolithic presence, jutting up from the ground with its archaic ramparts reaching to the sky in timeless ferocity. Clenching the shotgun tightly, he scanned the area as they moved across the field of ancient death. He could sense the presence of something watching them from the deep, enveloping shadows, something that seemed to surround them on all sides with a supernatural awareness. Swallowing hard, he drew courage from their strength of arms, their unwavering resolve, and the confidence that comes with a sureness of purpose.
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