Bellwether

by Jenny Ashford

  Because the way Lily figured it, Mother and Father taking recruitment into their own hands meant that Lily would become unnecessary, even a liability. Her addled mind struggled with the emotion of feeling unwanted, unloved. It was a feeling she was quite familiar with, one that had haunted her since her very earliest memory.

  It was not a feeling she wished to experience again.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chloe shined the relatively useless flashlight at the place where the open doorway supposedly stood. The light outlined nothing but more blackness. Oh goody, a whole new level of nothing, Martin thought bitterly. Can’t wait.

  Chloe edged forward, her hand curled around the invisible doorjamb. She shuffled a few steps, then stumbled, bracing herself to keep from falling. She turned to look at Martin. “It feels like steps down,” she said, sliding her feet experimentally, feeling her way. “I think before we go down we should call back and make sure Olivia and Seth can still hear us.”

  Martin nodded, trying not to think of his next words as his last ones. “Hey, guys,” he shouted into the darkness, aiming his voice toward where he thought the hole in the wall should be, which could be wildly wrong for all he knew. “Can you hear us?” At his prompting, Chloe waved the flashlight beam around. “Can you see that?” he yelled.

  A few seconds of silence passed in which Martin felt as though he’d dropped off the edge of the world and forfeited all hope of returning, but then he heard a voice, very faint.

  “Hello? I can hear you.” Olivia. “I can kinda see a light. What the hell’s going on in there?”

  Martin laughed out loud, relieved, and amused by the indignant tone of Olivia’s voice. In the pale glow of the flashlight beam, he saw that Chloe was grinning, too, her sweaty face smoothed of its worried wrinkles. Well, at least we know we’re still in the same dimension as Olivia, Martin thought. For now, anyway.

  “There’s another room back here,” Chloe shouted. “We’re going to check it out and then make our way back. Any trouble with Ivan?”

  Seth shouted back, a faraway sound, but still comforting. “Not a peep. You guys be careful, okay?”

  Martin fell in behind Chloe again. “Well, you heard the man,” he said. “You sure you don’t want me to go first?”

  “Are you kidding? You’re such a klutz you’d fall and break your other arm and your leg and your neck within ten seconds.” He could just see her smile in the dimness. “Just hang on.”

  “I will. Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

  Moving very slowly and very carefully, they picked their way down steps that felt as though they’d been hewn from hard rock, and descended forever. Martin couldn’t help thinking of all those horror movies with hidden gateways to hell, or that House of Leaves book where the staircase was so deep that the search party had to camp out a couple of times on the way down. He hoped neither situation applied here.

  After about fifteen minutes of stumbling and jostling in the black silence, Chloe whispered, “I think we’re at the bottom.”

  Martin scooted after her, the unseen but flat floor a piece of cake after the perilous dark steps. He guessed they were in another room, but it was just as devoid of light and character as the one above it. Martin wondered if the whole underside of the house was one huge and inescapable maze of invisibility; they’d follow the walls around this room, and then there’d be another door, and behind that another set of stairs down to another room, and then another door…

  Chloe was getting ahead of him, and he rushed to catch up with her. She had quickly found the wall of the room and was busy circumnavigating it. Martin didn’t really see what the point of all this was, but he admired her gumption, if that was the word for it. He just hoped she’d been telling the truth when she told the others they’d be coming back up after exploring this room. He didn’t want to get so far from the surface that there was no returning, ever. An image of two dusty skeletons leaning against an unseen wall came unbidden to his mind; he shuddered and forced it away.

  The space seemed smaller than the room above, and by the time Martin caught up with Chloe and her bobbing flashlight beam, she’d already made a nearly complete circuit. “Nothing here either, huh?” he said as he came up behind her.

  “I guess not,” she said, sounding oddly disappointed. “It’s so weird, I thought for sure there would be—shit!”

  She stopped cold and with a sudden thud in the darkness. Martin plowed into her, almost sending her sprawling. “Ow! Hey, what is it?” His arm had begun to throb again, and he cursed himself for not bringing a couple of painkillers on this little adventure.

  “I ran into something again.” Her voice was very soft, but her breathing came in great heaving gasps. She was shining the flashlight in front of her, even though nothing was revealed by it, not even dust motes. “Right here somewhere.”

  She reached a hand out, and Martin watched as her fingers—made white and long and alien by the light—explored the space before her. Please don’t let there be another door there, he silently prayed.

  “Here,” Chloe said, as if in answer to his silent plea. “Feel it, I can’t tell what it is.”

  Martin shuffled forward and around her, promptly stubbing his toe on a hard object that scraped and moved a little, but still had weight enough to absorb most of the blow. “It feels like…a piece of furniture. A table or something,” he said, waving his hands around near Chloe’s, almost afraid to touch whatever it was she was touching.

  A second later, his fears were confirmed when she said, “It doesn’t feel like furniture up here.” She sounded strangled and slightly ill.

  “Christ, Clo, don’t tell me,” he muttered, almost to himself, but then placed his hand where hers was.

  His worst fears were confirmed; it was undoubtedly a face. Slack and cold and waxen and unmoving, but definitely a human face. There was no mistaking it.

  In perfect synchrony, Martin and Chloe tore their hands away from the unseen horror, and then stumbled back in the direction they thought the stairs should be. They ran and fell and swore, tripping over themselves and each other. Chloe dropped the flashlight and roared in frustration as she heard it shatter to pieces. Operating now on sheer instinctual desperation, driven by fear and disgust at their horrid find in the dark, the pair of them finally managed to stagger up the stairs, through the door and across the first nothing room, until at last they saw a glimmer of light from the hole in the landing wall. Gasping, limping, and terrified, they climbed through it and blinked in the sudden bright light of the kitchen, their eyes already unaccustomed to visual reality.

  Olivia and Seth stood there, staring at them with astonished faces.

  * * * *

  Ivan, who had fallen into an almost crippling lethargy since being taken from Bellwether, suddenly had his interest piqued by the commotion that ensued when Martin and Chloe emerged from the hole in the wall, blinking like moles and looking as though they’d just experienced the worst trauma of their young lives.

  Ivan sat back on his cot, watching them. Not only would their adventure and the telling of it provide a distraction, Ivan realized, but their story itself might provide him with some valuable information he could pass on after his escape.

  Ivan himself did not know why Mother and Father were so eager to get inside this house. Probably none of the disciples knew. Because Mother and Father wanted it, Ivan wanted it for them, just as any of the other followers would have. He had no idea if the secret room behind the wall had anything to do with their plans, but he felt certain it was the kind of thing they’d like to know about.

  Seth had left his chair near the back door and stepped into the kitchen to listen to Martin and Chloe’s shaky voices as they related their tale. The chair was still propping the door open, but at the moment, everyone’s backs were turned toward Ivan. Keeping his face neutral, Ivan began s
liding his hand back and forth in its silver cuff, trying to work up enough sweat to slip it off. His wrists were thin; he didn’t think he’d have to take off too many layers of flesh. The chain on the handcuffs rattled a little, but no one heard it. They were too busy listening to Chloe. Ivan listened too, but only with half his attention.

  His hand was lathered in sweat now, and maybe some blood; the porch was too dark to tell. Quietly, he strained at his bonds, but the bony hump at the base of his thumb thwarted his efforts. He gritted his teeth and tried again, the pain bad but manageable.

  No dice. He’d have to break the chain somehow.

  He glanced into the kitchen, still listening, but making sure no one was looking at him. No one was. Then he scanned the floor and shelves around his cot, looking for something he could saw at the chain with. There wasn’t much, just some old paint cans and a few rusted nails, nuts, and bolts. Ivan sighed. Maybe if he pulled hard enough, the chain would just snap on its own; these were just cheap cuffs anyway, not police issue ones.

  Or maybe he could use one of the nails to pick the lock.

  Ivan felt around with his free hand. The shelf nearest his cot was thick with dust and cockroach turds, but he ignored this and just felt for something small enough to fit into the cuffs’ keyhole. The first nail he found was too big, but the second one looked like it might work. He glanced up again. Still no one checking on him. His luck was really holding out.

  After only a few minutes of fiddling, the cuff popped open with a satisfying snick. Ivan smiled to himself, freeing his wrist and turning it back and forth, flexing his fingers to get some of the circulation back.

  Very slowly, he eased off his cot, taking care to avoid the creakier boards beneath his feet. His best bet would be to make a break for it now, before one of the crew remembered to turn and look at him, but he wanted to hear some more of what Martin and Chloe had to say. He’d just have to risk it for a few minutes.

  Again, his luck held, and Ivan started to think that perhaps some divine providence was at work here. Not one of the four people in the kitchen thought to check on him as the intrepid adventurers spoke, and Ivan was able to hear pretty much the entire story. He was intrigued by the description of the invisible chambers, and the discovery of what could possibly be an invisible corpse as well. He was sure Mother and Father would want to hear about that. Ivan felt a tremendous surge of satisfaction knowing that he would be the one to tell them about it.

  Martin and Chloe were still talking, their voices mingling together in their eagerness to get the details out. Ivan thought he heard enough. He’d better get going before someone noticed him. Moving very slowly, trying to calm the rapid hammering of his heart, Ivan edged toward the back door. It creaked a little when he opened it, and he winced, but a quick glimpse over his shoulder reassured him that no one else had heard it. Once outside, he would have to run for it. His car was still parked at the strip mall where he left it. Maybe he could hide in the trees near the road until he could catch a ride back to Bellwether. He had no doubt that the others would come after him as soon as they’d discovered he was gone, but he hoped he’d at least be able to inform Mother and Father about the new developments before another battle ensued.

  Maybe this time, we can win it, Ivan thought.

  He closed the door gently behind him, tiptoed down the back steps with their new wooden risers, and then tore off into the night.

  Ivan got to the road without hearing anything behind him; he went through the trees, stopping every few steps, listening for any sounds of pursuit. Nothing.

  He got a ride almost immediately, which again made him suspect that some supernatural providence was at work. A man he knew vaguely from the music store hunted in the woods past the end of the street. He stopped his car when he saw Ivan trotting down the deserted roadside with his thumb cocked.

  The man’s name was Ralph or Roy or something Ivan didn’t quite remember. He told the man to drop him off in front of the music store, and then said nothing else. Ralph or Roy didn’t ask any questions; from the smell of him, he’d had a few drinks, and was probably feeling pleasantly buzzed. Ivan rode in silence, resisting the urge to turn around and see if he was being followed.

  In less than ten minutes, Ivan was standing in front of Bellwether, watching the hunter’s taillights retreating into the distance. As soon as the car had completely disappeared, Ivan stepped inside the church and headed straight for the back room.

  The other followers seemed subdued, but he paid little heed to them. The sole exception was little Lily, whom he saw out of the corner of his eye as she jumped out of her chair with a look of delighted surprise lighting her crooked features. Ivan felt bad for ignoring her, but he had an important message to deliver, and the wolves could be at the door at any second. He breezed past Lily without so much as a glance in her direction.

  Father turned toward him when he entered. Mother seemed to be looking at him, although with her face covered it was hard to be sure. Ivan flinched a little at the sudden, intense scrutiny; although Father at least looked relatively ordinary, a sense of power and authority radiated from his pores, making him seem enormous, godlike. His eyes shone like two chips of black diamond.

  Since Father didn’t say anything, and only stared fixedly, Ivan opened his mouth to speak, his throat dry. “I’ve got some news about the house,” he said, rushing his words so that he wouldn’t stammer and make a fool of himself in front of his masters. Mother and Father still said nothing, so he went ahead and launched into his story, telling them what Martin and Chloe had discovered behind the landing wall. It only took a few minutes to describe it, but it felt as though he was talking endlessly, and he was on edge the entire time, one ear cocked toward the parking lot, waiting for the inevitable sound of a car engine. Surely, Martin wouldn’t just let him come back here and stay…?

  There was no sound, and even though Mother and Father had not moved, Ivan could tell that his news interested them. Father’s eyes glittered ever more fiercely, and a tiny hint of a smile appeared at the corner of his lips. Mother was leaning forward, her ancient hands twisting in her lap. After a long moment, Father glanced toward Mother, then gazed at Ivan and said, “You’re sure about this?”

  Ivan nodded vigorously. “I saw them come out of the hole in the wall myself, and I heard them talking about what they’d seen.”

  Father turned to Mother again, and a strange silent current seemed to pass between them. Then he focused on Ivan. “Will they be coming after you?”

  Ivan felt sure they would, but it had been at least a half an hour since his escape—surely they would have shown up by now. “I don’t know,” he said truthfully. “I would have thought so.”

  Father nodded. “Well, if they do come, we’ll just have to be ready to meet them.” He thrust a finger at Ivan. “Go tell the others to ready themselves for another possible attack. Don’t alarm them, but don’t play down the threat either.”

  Ivan nodded and went to do what he was told. He could sense the masters’ gazes boring into his back as he left the room.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “I was watching him!” Seth folded his arms across his chest, his purple hair seeming to spike from his head in indignation. “We both turned around when you guys came out of the hole…”

  “We were supposed to watch him every second,” Olivia said, wringing her hands before her. “Man, we stayed up all night to guard him, and it was all for nothing.”

  Martin raised his hands for quiet. “Take it easy, you two. If Ivan were that dead set on escaping, he would have gotten away sooner or later. To be honest, I wasn’t sure what we were going to do with him long term anyway, short of building a cage on the back porch.”

  “Sounds like a good idea to me,” Seth said under his breath. “Sneaky bastard.”

  Chloe sipped her coffee. “So, are we going back to get him?�
��

  “I don’t think we should,” Olivia said. She glanced around at the others. “I’m just saying.”

  “I agree,” said Martin. “I mean, I know we all want him back, but he’s clearly not the person he was, and he very clearly doesn’t want to be here with us. We can’t even get him inside the house, for fuck’s sake.” He shrugged and scratched at his unshaven cheeks. “Whether or not we’ll be able to ever get him back to normal remains to be seen, I guess. In the meantime, I think it’s too dangerous to go back there to get him. I don’t want any more of us falling victim to the Zombification Lightning Fingers of Doom over there.”

  The others chuckled.

  “So what are we supposed to do now?” Olivia said, tugging at her sleeves in frustration. “What are we supposed to do about that?” She jerked her finger toward the hole in the wall.

  Martin couldn’t suppress a twinge of resentment at the question, implying as it did that he knew all the answers. I don’t know any more than any of you do, he thought. I’m flying blind here, just like you. Luckily, he was saved by Chloe, who spoke with little enthusiasm, but at least some measure of decisiveness. “I think we should find out everything we possibly can about this house,” she said. “I know we looked up that stuff before, and that helped, but I guess other shit intervened and we didn’t really get around to doing any more. It’s getting down to the wire, I think. We have to find out something.”

  “We should probably see what we can find out about that church, too,” said Olivia. “Mostly about those people who run it.”

  “How are we supposed to do that?” Seth asked. “Does anyone even know their names?”

  “If Ivan was still here, maybe we could have gotten him to tell us,” Olivia said.

  “How, by torturing him?” Seth was only half joking. He shook his head. “Man, that guy’s not even Ivan anymore.”