“All right, Frank, all right. We’ve had men at the school all evening, and we’ve got the press in on this one too. Her picture will be in every paper, and on the television news. We’ve got cars all over the city looking for her. They can cover the ground a lot better than you can, and a lot quicker. Just go home and try to relax. We’ll call, I promise. The first bit of news we get, you’ll know about it right away. It’s tough, I know. But the truth is you’re better off at home. Who knows, Candy may get someone to call you, or she may even call you herself. You should be there, just in case.”
Carveth ran his hands through his hair. The image of Ruth Mayer’s face just wouldn’t leave his mind. It had shown the same signs of vicious attack that he’d seen with Barton. And now Candy was in similar danger.
‘The bad kids took her. The bad kids who hurt Miss Mayer.’
The boy who had found Ruth Mayer had also seen Candy being taken away, walking out of the school, out through the back door and across the yard without anyone trying to stop her.
The only hope Carveth could find, the only straw at which he could grasp, was the fact that the boy who had seen her leave had said she had been walking, not dragged or carried. So at least she had still been alive and apparently unhurt.
The door bell rang, and Carveth quickly looked up. His hope died then, as he remembered that Candy had a key and was quite capable of letting herself in.
He looked out the window, but could see no one. He opened the door, and someone lurched towards him. Carveth put up his hands to defend himself, but the man tripped, and fell into his arms.
It was Michael Trellan, more dirty, more dishevelled than when Carveth had seen him at the nursing home that afternoon.
“Hey, Frank,” he pleaded. “Let me in, okay?”
Carveth pushed him away. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“Got nowhere to go. They wouldn’t let me stay with Hartog. Can’t go back to Somafree. Please. Let me in. I’ll be quiet. I promise.”
“Jesus, Trellan. Not now, all right? Go to a hostel or something. But not here.”
Trellan’s face was shiny with sweat, his eyes glazed like pebbles. “I’ve tried everywhere, Frank, believe me. I can’t stay out all night. On my own. This is the first time I’ve been out of Somafree for months.” He moved forward trying to get around Carveth. “You can’t throw me out. Not you as well.”
Carveth looked at him for a moment. “I’ll make one phone call for you, Trellan. But that’s all. I don’t want the line tied up.” He grabbed Trellan’s arm and pulled him inside.
“Thanks, Frank. I knew I could count on you.”
Carveth pushed him into a chair. “One phone call, all right? I can’t help you more than that.”
Trellan slumped sideways. “Have you got a drink? Have you, Frank? I feel better with a drink. Like I can function again.”
“You want me to call a hostel? Or do you want me to call Raglan? Take your pick.”
Trellan laughed harshly. “Raglan. That’s a joke. He got me into this state. Now he throws me out. Just when I needed him, I mean really needed him.”
“I know all that,” Carveth said impatiently. “He threw you out. All except Nola.”
“Yeah. Nola and the kids. He thinks they’re something special, that the rest of us . . .”
Carveth cut in. “Kids? What kids?”
Trellan waved a hand in the air. “I don’t know. Some disturbed kids he’s got up there. The ones your wife is taking care of.”
Carveth grabbed him, holding his head in his hands. “You telling me Raglan has some kids at Somafree?”
“Hey, Frank, you’re hurting me. Frank.”
“Has Raglan got some kids up there?”
“Yeah. Some. I don’t know.”
“Where, Trellan? Where?”
“In the boathouse, I guess. That’s where he’s keeping your wife.”
C H A P T E R
E L E V E N
Carveth knew he was driving too quickly. On the left-hand bends his wheels skirted the white line, and several times, turning right, he felt the spin of his tires on the loose gravel beside the road, threatening to throw him into a skid. But after the hours of sitting around waiting for news of Candy, the thought of action had been too appealing to resist. It was the release he needed; and as soon as he’d heard Trellan’s news about the kids, he had not stopped to consider or to plan.
He changed down a gear, then pulled out to pass a diesel truck that was labouring up a hill in front of him. An oncoming car flashed its high beams at him, and he quickly swung back to his own side of the road, cutting tightly in front of the truck. The diesel’s air-horn blasted in his ear like a trumpet.
Carveth forced himself to slow. He would get nowhere like this.
The lights of the city had fallen behind him, and for a while he was alone in the night. He was making good time.
As he turned into the Somafree parking lot, he doused his headlights and let the Volvo roll the last few yards with its engine off. There was only one other car in the lot: a white Mercedes.
He climbed out of his car and stood beside it for a moment, listening. In the boathouse, Trellan had said; that’s where he’d find Nola. And the kids.
Carveth looked around him. There were no lights anywhere; not from the main building of the institute, nor from the lecture hall across the lake. It was just as Trellan had indicated. Deserted. Apparently abandoned.
But the boathouse itself was hidden, blocked from view by a grove of trees that ran down to the north shore of the lake. Carveth crossed the parking lot and vaulted over a waist-high wooden fence and started down the slope towards it. There was little moon, and at first he found the terrain difficult to cover. The ground was in shadow and he was afraid he would stumble and twist an ankle.
In the trees he came on a tarmac path, threading its way down to the lake; and although it was darker under the canopy of branches, he was able to make better time. He moved silently, his footsteps muffled by the bed of leaves underfoot.
The path suddenly broke clear of the trees and skirted around the edge of the lake. Carveth broke into a run, moving easily, his eyes focused on the boathouse ahead. He was beginning to wish he had not acted so impulsively, but instead had taken the time to call Markle or at least let someone know where he was going.
The approach he had followed brought him round to the rear of the boathouse, where the ground sloped up towards the roof. He circled round to the other side.
There was a light inside; he could see a pale glimmer from one of the windows. He pressed himself against the wall and edged forward. He was half-way along when a door in front of him was thrown open and a man appeared, silhouetted against the light inside until the door swung shut behind him.
Carveth didn’t hesitate. He ran forward and grabbed the man by the shoulder, swinging him round and slamming him against the wall.
It was Raglan.
Carveth held him. “Where’s Candy?” He demanded. “What have you done with her?”
“Carveth. What are you doing here?”
“Where is she, Raglan? Where did they take her?”
Raglan slowly raised his hands and pushed Carveth away. “What are you talking about? Candy’s not here.”
“They took her, Raglan. Those kids of yours. They came into her school and they killed Ruth Mayer. Then they took my daughter.”
Raglan stared at him. “They killed Ruth Mayer?”
“I want my daughter, Raglan. Right now.”
Raglan shook his head. “I didn’t want to believe it,” he said. “I couldn’t believe it.” He fell back against the wall. “If they’ve taken your daughter,” he said heavily, “then, yes, she may be here.”
“With Nola?”
Raglan pointed upwards. “No. Up there. In the attic.”
Carveth moved to the door. As he opened it, Raglan suddenly reached out and grabbed his arm.
“Wait,” he said. “You can’t go up there. T
hey’ll kill you. They’ll kill you if you try to take Candy.”
“You’re crazy, Raglan.”
“Listen to me. Those kids up there. They’re not just children. They’re . . . they’re Nola’s children, Frank. Your wife’s. But they’re the children of her rage. The physical shape of her anger. You must understand. When Nola got angry with Candy last Sunday—just annoyed, really—the brood beat her. When she got angry with her parents, the brood killed them. Now they’ve killed Ruth Mayer. It could be anyone next. You . . . me . . . Candy . . . anyone who rouses Nola’s anger.”
“What are you saying? We just leave Candy up there?”
Raglan shook his head. “No. But we have to keep Nola calm, keep her relaxed. As long as she’s happy, the brood will be neutral. I can’t talk to Nola. Not any more. I just can’t get through to her. But you’d be able to.”
“Nola won’t listen to me.”
“She will, Frank. If you’re nice. If you’re the apologetic husband, trying to reunite his family. That’s what she wants, the three of you together again. If you can do that, keep Nola under control, then I can go get Candy and bring her out safely.”
Carveth hesitated. “I don’t trust you, Raglan.”
“You’ve got no choice. It’s got to be my way.” He studied Carveth for a moment, then pointed through the door to Nola’s suite. “She’s in there, Frank. Go see her. And remember, if Nola gets angry, the brood will too. And it won’t just be me who’ll be taking a risk. There’s Candy too.”
Carveth stepped into the boathouse. To his right, he could see the stairs leading to the attic. He glanced up them, then turned to face Raglan.
“Go on,” Raglan said. “Get in there. Go talk to Nola.”
“If anything happens to Candy . . .”
“I know. So be nice, all right?”
Carveth looked at him for a moment, then opened the door to Nola’s suite and went inside.
Nola was sitting cross-legged on the couch, eyes shut, rocking gently backwards and forwards on her heels. She did not look around as Carveth closed the door behind him.
“Hal? Is that you?”
Carveth took a couple of steps into the room. Nola seemed different, changed, and for a moment he was unable to pinpoint the reason. But then he realized it was Nola’s expression, her demeanour. She no longer looked pained, troubled by some inner conflict. Instead, for the first time as long as Carveth could remember, she seemed strong. In total control.
“It’s me, Nola,” he said. “It’s Frank.”
Nola turned slowly towards him. She was wearing a long white gown, like a tent dress, but as she turned he could see that it was slit up the front like a robe.
“Frank, what are you doing here?”
“I wanted to see you. See how you were.”
“I’m in isolation, Frank. You shouldn’t be here.”
He shrugged, deliberately off-hand. “I came anyway. We’ve been apart too long, and I want us to be a family again. Like before.”
Nola smiled at him. “That’s nice, Frank. I knew you would come.”
Raglan balanced his gun in his hand as if trying to gauge its weight. He wasn’t sure how much protection it would provide, but at least the feel of it gave him a measure of confidence.
He waited a moment or two to give Carveth time to divert Nola’s attention. Then slowly he began climbing the stairs to the attic.
Nola’s smile had vanished. “I don’t see how you expect me to believe you want us to be a family again. Not when I know you’re involved with another woman.”
Carveth spoke softly, his voice reassuring. “Nola, there’s no other woman. No one else in my life except you. That won’t change and you know it.”
“I wish it were true. God, I really wish it were true.”
“We’ve lost touch, Nola. That’s all. But we can be a family again. The three of us.”
“Not if you try to take Candy.” Nola’s voice was sharp. “Not if you try to take her away from me.”
“I would never do that. Candy’s your daughter too, a part of our family.”
Nola turned away and was silent for a moment. “It may be too late,” she said finally. “Strange things have been happening to me. Too strange for me to share with anyone from my old life.”
“Then make me a part of your new life. Show me. Involve me. I want to be a part of it, Nola. I’m ready now. I wasn’t before. But I am now.”
Raglan stood at the top of the stairs and listened. There was no sound from the attic, no hint that anything was in there.
He pushed open the door. It. was dark inside. He felt for the light switch on the wall beside him and flicked it on. A storeroom was on his right. He glanced into it. Empty.
Then he moved forward into the room beyond.
The attic had never been properly finished, but two rows of bunks had been constructed along the side walls. Raglan ducked under a beam in the ceiling, and, as he straightened, he saw the child-creatures resting on the bunks, some propped up on their elbows, or leaning on the bed posts; others sitting with their backs against the walls. He could hear breathing all around him.
The creatures watched him, following his progress. There was no emotion in their faces. But he could sense a latent hositility, see it in their eyes. They stirred restlessly as he moved from bunk to bunk, searching for Candy. He caught a sudden movement out of the corner of his eye and realized there were more of them at the far end of the attic. He hesitated a moment, then forced himself to go on.
Candy was lying on a lower bunk by the window. Two of the creatures watched over her, one sitting at the head of the bunk, the other curled beside her.
Raglan shifted his gun to his other hand and gently shook Candy’s shoulder. Behind him, he heard some of the other creatures stirring from their bunks and jumping to the floor.
“Candy.” Raglan’s voice was little more than a whisper. “Candy, wake up.”
She shrank away from his touch, then suddenly sat up, blinking sleep from her eyes.
“Daddy?”
“It’s Dr. Hal, Candy. You’re Daddy’s downstairs. He wants to see you. Come on. He’s waiting for you.”
He put his arm around her and lifted her from the bunk, holding her close to his chest. The two creatures beside her rose to their feet.
Slowly, Raglan began to move to the door.
Nola’s face showed her disbelief. “I don’t think you want us to be together again, Frank. I think you hate me, despise me.”
“Nola, I want to be with you. Wherever your new life takes you, I want to be there too.”
“Do you, Frank? Do you?” She stared at him with a fierce intensity. “You wouldn’t understand me. Not any more. I’ve changed too much.”
“You’re still my wife, Nola.”
She watched him carefully, here eyes never leaving his face. “Then look, Frank,” she said. “Look at me now.” With a wide sweep of her arms, she lifted the sides of her robe, holding them out like the wings of a cape. “Look. This is me. This is me inside.”
“Oh, God, Nola. No.”
Nola’s body under her robe was naked. But her skin, no longer pale and smooth, was covered with angry swellings criss-crossed with dark, venous lines. The largest was an amniotic sac, the skin so distended it was almost transparent. A small, blood-red cord was all that joined it to her body. Carveth stared at it. What horrified him was not just its size but the shape he could see in the serous fluid inside. Ill-formed limbs, undifferentiated, but nonetheless clearly recognizable as those of a developing foetus.
Nola gently lifted the sac, feeling its shape with her hands. Then suddenly it ruptured, the serous fluid spilling into her lap, and as Carveth watched in horrid fascination, she leaned forward to pull at the sac, tearing away the skin, exposing a live, struggling child of her rage, which she held wrapped in the folds of her robe.
Carveth shrank from her, involuntarily moving away.
“This is me, Frank. This is me.”
> She looked up, studying his face. And slowly her expression changed. The defiance, the challenge with which she had revealed herself gradually gave way to anger.
“I disgust you, don’t I, Frank,” she said. “I sicken you. You didn’t come here because you love me. You came to take my daughter. You came to betray me.”
In the attic, Raglan heard Nola shout and realized he had lost. He risked a glance over his shoulder. The faces of the child-creatures were no longer impassive, now they were swollen with rage.
He set Candy down on the floor. “Quickly,” he said. “Quickly.” He pushed her forward towards the door.
A hand suddenly reached out from one of the bunks and one of the creatures raked its nails across his face. He turned and fired point blank, instantly killing it. Another grabbed at his leg. He kicked out and the grip was momentarily relaxed. But then another held him. He couldn’t shake them off, couldn’t make them let go.
He dragged himself forward pulling the weight of them with him. Then suddenly the rest of the creatures attacked him, coming at him from all directions, punching, kicking, biting and scratching, trying to bring him down. In the tight space between the bunks, he was unable to manoeuvre. He couldn’t turn round to face them, couldn’t strike out. He fired again, blindly, hitting two more of the creatures. But there were too many of them now, jumping on his back, tugging at his hair, and throwing him off balance. He lunged then, hurling his weight forward as far as he could, trying to get to the door. But they held him back, grappling at his legs, his ankles, pulling him down and sending him sprawling full length on the floor.
Candy was in the doorway. She turned as Raglan fell, as the brood swarmed over him, beating him with their fists, attacking him in a frenzy of anger. She saw him rise once, forcing his way to his feet, groping desperately for support from one of the bunk posts. He managed to take one step forward towards the door. But the creatures held onto him, renewing their attack, climbing onto the bunks and jumping on him, pulling him down, punching, biting, kicking, until finally he sank back to the floor buried under the weight of their uncontrollable rage.
David Cronenberg's The Brood Page 12
