A scream tried to escape her throat, but she stifled it. Danube might think it was caused by something other than fear and try to help her. He had to keep moving. Even if she couldn't make it out of this mass, perhaps he could break free and take Heaven to safety.
She saw that he was nearing the edge of the herd. Holding Heaven protectively, Danube nudged and elbowed his way through the bodies. Each time he pushed a few aside, others stumbled into their places. He was beginning to appear more and more exhausted. Only determination seemed to keep him going.
Gabrielle forced herself to exert the same determination. Using her hands, she pushed at the forms around her, lashing out, twisting and forcing herself through the spaces between them.
"Let me through, you bastards. Let me through." The razzing voices of the Gnelfs followed her. They were weaving through the corpses' legs. That made her work even harder. In a few moments, they would be gabbing her calves, perhaps tripping her so that she could be trampled by the lumbering monsters.
She looked ahead again and saw Danube breaking free if the moving bodies. He had made it, and Heaven was still clutched in his arms.
Ducking, Gabrielle followed, proceeding as quickly as the dead souls would allow. They brushed past her and bumped into her, making her carom about, but finally she was only a few feet behind Danube again.
Her breath rasping, her lungs dry and heavy, she steadied herself only for a moment before moving ahead, now at Danube's side. They hadn't traveled far before she heard the Gnelfs breaking out of the crowd as well. Danube spun around, looking back at the line of creatures as they approached.
Gabrielle turned also, ready to claw at the monsters or whatever was necessary to keep them away from Heaven. She clenched her fists. She had not had a physical confrontation since high school, but she was ready for whatever might happen.
Danube's hand fell against her arm, checking her movement. She realized he had set Heaven on her feet.
"We cannot stop them by force," he said. "There are too many."
"You were fighting them like a madman a few minutes ago."
"That was to hold them back. I thought we could get away."
She jerked her head around toward him, looking at his face for an instant before glancing back toward the approaching crowd. "What do we do then?"
"Heaven has to do it," Danube said.
Gab felt her heart flutter, and she glared at him. "What?"
"They were originally summoned through her. Her thoughts gave them the form they are still using. Only she can banish them."
Gabrielle dropped to her knees at her daughter's side, wrapping her arms around the child to protect her. "What can she do?"
Danube also knelt, dropping one hand onto Heaven's shoulders. The Gnelfs were moving faster, the blades of their weapons swishing in the air.
The one called Gnelf Master moved at the forefront, clutching a pitchfork. His fangs curled over his lips as his grin twisted up his cheeks.
"So little one, you're still here. Didn't we tell you everyone would suffer?"
Grabbing Gabrielle's sleeve, Heaven buried her face against her mother's shoulder.
"Do not be afraid," Danube said. "They have no power over you. They were summoned to torment you, but the spells are gone. Turn to them, rebuke them."
Hesitantly, Heaven eased her face away from Gabrielle's shoulder and looked at Danube. "Tell them you want them to go away," Danube said,
The Gnelfs were pausing but not retreating. They hovered at their leader's shoulder, their heads tilted forward. The anger in their eyes made them look like wild beasts eyeing prey.
"We will destroy you all," Gnelf Master said.
"No," Heaven screamed, anger and defiance in her voice. "Leave us alone. Quit hurting Mommy."
"Little one, you have no say," Gnelf Master warned. "None at all." He jagged the pitchfork in front of him as if to punctuate his remarks.
"Go away," Heaven shouted. "Go away. Leave me alone."
The creature stabbed a finger toward Danube. "You have no sway here. This is our realm."
"Your realm, but you still hold the form you used to come into our world. The form you took from Heaven's thoughts. Enough. The summoning is over. She is not a conduit for you any longer. She has chosen to close the gate."
Nervously the Gnelfs began to grumble among themselves. They were not able to fight his words, and they began to shudder.
"Clear your thoughts of them," Danube commanded. "You too, Gabrielle."
Clutching Heaven against her, Gabrielle forced her mind to go blank. She created a black field and concentrated on keeping it blank.
"Think of something else, baby," she urged. "Think of pretty things. Lace and flowers and bluebirds."
She was reminded of a Zen exercise she'd encountered in college. They had been discussing something called a double bind, and the instructor had said, "Whatever you do, don't think of a green elephant."
Of course that was impossible. The first thing the motion-picture screen in the brain did was set off a reel of green elephants. It was the kind of thing radio advertising depended on. In her own head, she fought the images, holding them back from her black field, but how could she help a five-year-old control her thoughts?
The Gnelfs began to inch forward. She could hear their small feet scraping across the dry dust. They were losing steam but not giving up.
"Baby, listen to me," she said. "I want you to picture a big wide field, but whatever you do, don't think of any blue elephants grazing there. Don't think of that at all. You can think of birds or flowers, but not blue elephants."
"Mommy, I can't help it."
The Gnelfs' growls seemed to indicate pain now. They were frightened. They stomped the ground and rattled their weapons.
Danube placed himself between Heaven and the group. He would be able to provide some delay if they charged, but that would not be enough if Gabrielle was unsuccessful.
As she concentrated on maintaining the black field and continued making suggestions to Heaven, Gab realized she hated deceiving the child, even in this situation, but she had no choice.
"Mommy will have to spank you if you think of those blue elephants," Gabrielle scolded. "And I don't want you to picture pink monkeys on their backs."
"Mommy, I can't help it if you say it," Heaven shouted.
"You'd better. Don't think of those elephants. Don't look at them plucking orange sunflowers with their trunks.”
"Mommieeeeeeeeeeee."
The Gnelfs charged, Gnelf Master in the lead. He extended the pitchfork, aiming it at Danube's midsection.
Stepping to the side, Danube grasped the weapon's handle and forced the shaft backward so that the tip struck the Gnelf in its midsection.
The Gnelf was forced into the others, and they all tangled around him, spilling backward.
Angry, the little monster got to his feet and ran toward Danube, preparing to rip at him with his bare hands. Danube caught him beneath his armpits and, lifting him, slammed him to the ground with a loud thud.
Blood showed on Danube's bandages, and he staggered as he braced for the approach of the others. They didn't hurry, but they jangled their weapons and roared, a mob out for vengeance.
Heaven was on the verge of tears. With her eyes closed, she chewed her lower lip, her features twisted as she tried to obey her mother's command.
"Quit telling me," she said. "Every time you say something it comes into my mind before I can help it."
"Green birds aren't perched on the monkeys' shoulders, are they?"
Heaven stomped her feet, struggling to empty her mind. Before Gab could offer another suggestion, she screamed. The sound rose loudly, piercing the dry air, and in the same instant, the Gnelfs began to shudder.
Weapons slipped from their grasps, and their bodies seemed to quiver from within.
Gabrielle allowed herself to stare at them now, even as she continued whispering to Heaven, calling up every form she could imagine to keep her daught
er's thoughts off the Gnelfs.
In the next instant, she saw Danube stepping toward her, pulling something from the folds of his coat. It was charred and black, and at first she wanted to keep him away. She thought he had been struck by some madness and was trying to harm Heaven after all.
He forced her hands aside without speaking and pushed the object he held down onto Heaven's head. It was the reason he had knelt beside Simon's ashes. He had pulled this small metal skullcap from the remains, and now Heaven wore it. It fit loosely, but he held it in place.
"It will protect her thoughts," he said, brushing soot away from the twisted images on the helm's surface. They seemed to be Greek or Hebrew in origin, not evil symbols at all but those that might be found in biblical manuscripts.
"Sorcerers use signs of light to protect them," Danube explained. "This will do the same for her."
With the helm in place, the Gnelfs seemed to melt, their green flesh peeling away and dropping from them like wet clay. When they burst apart, the vision was not something Gabrielle could easily comprehend. They were not without form exactly, but their forms defied her frame of reference.
They were dark things, shadowlike with gleaming eyes; and deprived of their previous shells, they scrambled about wildly. Or were they floating, like thin black veils dropped toward the ground?
The sounds they made were filled with terror, and they seemed to be seeking cover. Some of them tried to dart back toward the crowd of corpses.
Others tried to sink into the gray powder, but from above the flutter of leathery wings sounded. Danube looked up, and ducked abruptly as one of the winged things swept down. It was not after him, however. It swooped over him and dipped, snatching at one of the dark things in its claws before beating its wings to gain an upward lift.
Quickly, Danube peeled his coat off and held it in front of him the way a matador might hold a red cloth. Cautiously, he then crept back to Gabrielle's side.
She was hugging Heaven now, clutching her tightly against her breast and cooing to her.
"Everything's all right, baby," she said. "Everything's going to be all right."
More of the winged creatures came down, ear-piercing screeches raking from their beaks as they snatched even more of the veils.
"Makes sense that they wanted to venture to our realm," Danube said. "The torment for all beings is continuous here."
"Will they hurt us?" Gab shouted.
"We don't belong here. For a while they'll ignore us." He draped an arm around Gab's shoulder and led her down to the shore.
The boatman waited in front of the gondola. His ragged hand stretched slowly forward for Gabrielle's arm, and he helped her aboard.
The trip back across the gulf seemed to take an eternity, but gradually the agonizing cries from the shore faded. Gabrielle concentrated on comforting her daughter.
Heaven was crying, but she appeared relieved, and with each sob, more tension seemed to flow from her body. When they reached the far shore, Danube helped Gab from the boat, then hoisted Heaven into his arms.
"Was that real?" Gab asked. "Or some nightmare from that bastard's conjuring. Did we imagine it?"
"Is anything real?" Danube responded.
"Is the path to reality still open?" Gabrielle was still tense.
Danube nodded, then eased Heaven into Gab's arms where she seemed to want to be.
They walked a short distance, moving to the edge of the infinite darkness. Gab looked past the entrance they were about to take. Another path diverged, curling upward toward a blanket of light.
"You could go there now?"
Danube paused, his shoulders sagging with weariness. He turned his face toward the golden glow, and a gentle breeze seemed to emanate from it, sweeping back his hair and ruffling his beard.
"I could," he agreed. For a moment, he continued to look toward the bright blaze, but then he took Gabrielle's arm and guided her into the void.
Chapter 25
Gab's head felt heavy as it lay on her pillow, her eyes peering through the darkness at the small digital clock on her night stand. It had been a gift from Dave one Christmas, its face always too bright, glowing like a college-football scoreboard.
At one time, she had kept it turned face down so that the numerals didn't blaze into her consciousness if she inadvertently shifted her face in their direction in her sleep.
Now she watched them, watched the colon between hour and minutes blink with each passing second, watched the minutes click past.
12:45
12:46
12:47
…
1:25
…
2:31
…
2:45
She always knew what was coming, and did not really reed the clock. Watching it only occupied her thoughts as she waited. She never knew the exact moment, only that it was on its way. As that moment drew nearer, her heartbeat quickened. It was harder to draw breath, and nothing could quell her anticipation.
3:00
3:01
3:02
3:03
And Heaven screamed, the sound piercing the night. Gab always rushed up when she heard the sound, flipping back the covers and hurrying down the hall to her daughter's side.
Sitting on the bed’s edge, she held Heaven's hand and stroked her hair. She touched her shoulder, noticed the slope of her cheeks and the way the braces on her teeth made her lips protrude.
No matter how much she urged her daughter to relax, and no matter how much counseling they sought, the dreams always returned. And with them the fear.
Heaven could not stop dreaming about the Gnelfs. In sleep she was vulnerable to whatever her subconscious trotted out, and they both lived in fear that at some point the dreams would be enough to bring them back.
EXCAVATION
By Steve Rasnic Tem
For Melanie, with special thanks to Dan Simmons and Ed Bryant
Chapter 1
Again the bear awakened with his muzzle sunk in huckleberries. He snorted once and inhaled them. Growled deep within his throat and raised up. Stiffened and scented the air. Nothing. But something bothered him, just on the edge of his awareness. He could not smell it, or hear it. He lumbered off toward the trees, leaving even this vague awareness behind.
He recognized the kind of tree where he could get the acorns. It was important to get them now, before they fell; otherwise the deer would gobble them all up. He sniffed the air, then let his ears do the searching for him. Nothing. Propelled by his hind legs, he shinnied up the tree, circling the rough bark in a spiral. Then he stopped. Smelled the air. Nothing.
But something was wrong. He stared at the acorns for a long time but did not eat them. He needed to be full; the cold would come, the snow, and he needed to be full. Acorns and pine seeds and roots and carpenter ants, grasshoppers…He needed filling. He was empty, had nothing but night hollow inside, cold hollow, and needed to be filled. But somehow he knew these usual things would not fill him this year.
Something was different. He could not be sure if it was the things outside or the things inside him, but something had changed. He did not stay in this part of the woods. It had been a long moving to get here, a moving he could not remember, and there were no others of his kind here.
He saw an old house inside him, and humans, when these things were not there. And he knew he used to live in that house and act like one of those humans.
It hurt to have these things inside. He was used to having many things inside: insects, roots, stems and berries, the woods, the air and the dark; he had had all these things, but he had never had these human things inside before. He descended the tree tail first, landed on his rump, rolled over, and ambled off.
Something was different. He should be filling himself, but he could not fill himself. He should be ready for the cold, but somehow he knew he might not get ready this year. He might stay here, going back and forth through the woods even when the cold came. Something new inside was making him do
this. This thought frightened him.
He stopped, pulled his ears back. Staring. This thing…he had never seen, never heard or smelled this thing before. Sniffing the air then staring ahead, eyes not moving. This new thing not moving.
He slapped the ground with both front paws. He gave a loud huff, blowing air and dark and smell of what he’d eaten. This new thing not moving.
He gnashed his teeth. Not moving. He began snapping his jaws rapidly while popping his lips together. Not moving.
He charged. Wind and ground and woods rushing.
The new thing did not move, did not seem to know he was charging. Was he charging? He no longer knew. He roared in fear.
At the last minute the bear veered off and ran away, thinking of the old house inside him, the humans, knowing he must see this place.
Chapter 2
It was an early fall Saturday in Denver, a day that started out cool and windy and pleasant, but Reed knew it could easily flash back into midsummer in the afternoon, before giving them an icy taste of winter that evening. It made his cold worse; his nose had been running for weeks now, his thoughts congested. He had thought he was through with colds—hadn’t had them in years. But now it was worse than ever—felt as if his nose were being worn away. He hadn’t slept properly in days.
He had always thought of Colorado as a land of transformations, an open country of wide sky and empty plains and seemingly bare mountains, ready to be manipulated by the imagination that was large enough. What kind of imagination it was that would be so fickle with the weather he had no idea. Surely a powerful, youthful, arrogant one.
When he had first decided to be an archaeologist, he had an old, romantic professor. Dr. Simms had the uncanny ability of wearing suits that, although only a few years out of date, looked virtually Victorian on him. Most of his students wouldn’t have identified the look so specifically, merely thinking the professor “old-fashioned,” but Reed knew Dr. Simms looked very much the Victorian gentleman, recently stepped out of an old engraving in The Police Gazette. The Victorian gentleman of lower class, he guessed, since Reed liked to think of Dr. Simms as a crusty, eccentric old chief of detectives from that period. His suits were usually a coppery brown, with darker brown pinstripes. The pants seemed too wide at the hips, almost like riding breeches. He wore a vest of the same material, covering an almost nonexistent chest, and a belly that seemed swollen only because his chest was so narrow. He was balding, had a pencil-thin mustache, wore old shoes with the leather cracking but never so badly he had to replace them. But what most made him seem like an old-time detective, besides a permanent and unidentifiable scent of tobacco smoke and your conviction that his clothes were spotted with mysterious oil-like stains throughout (even though when you examined him carefully the stains weren’t there) was his attitude. He questioned everything. “Nothing, nothing, my friends, about a building or a locale or ruin, is as it seems!” He’d say that at least twice a week, gesturing nervously with his hands like a palsied symphony conductor. “Our first impressions are illusion! You must dig, dig deeply, to discover the hidden faces of a place…” Then, when it was late in the semester and he thought his students were ready for it, he’d add, “…or even the hidden faces of a human being. Remember that, young friends, and friendship and marriage will be kinder to you!”
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