Elijah twisted his lip in acknowledgment. “Well. I’m confessing it anyway. We know about that ritual chamber you have under the school. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but we were in there, we know about it. We’re going to have to go in that way to get Elisha—”
“It isn’t there anymore.”
Elijah stared at him. “What do you mean?”
“It isn’t there anymore. I took all that stuff out and burned it. It’s history.”
“But the passageway—”
“I caved it in!”
That hit Elijah like a spear through the heart.
Mr. Harrigan had to try two different routes employing three different stairways to avoid spiders and reach his classroom. With advancing spiders only a few doors down the hall, he finally burst into the room, almost knocking over a model of a human skeleton, and rounded the corner into the supply room.
Tom Gessner was already there. “Mr. Harrigan! I was looking all over for you!”
And there, sitting next to the rabbit, snake, and mice cages, was Norman Bloom, his head in his hands, weeping.
Harrigan was impressed. He told Gessner, “Looks like you and I had the same idea.”
Gessner only shrugged. “Well, I was actually trying to find you because I thought you could help me find Norman. This was the last place I looked.”
Mr. Harrigan approached Norman and put his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “This has always been Norman’s little world back here, the one place where he feels safe. Am I right, Norman?”
Norman didn’t look up but only said, “Just leave me here. Please.”
“Can’t do it, Norman,” said Mr. Gessner.
“The spiders are moving up the hall,” said Harrigan. “We have to get you out of here.”
“You should let them kill me,” the boy replied.
Mr. Harrigan stooped low and made eye contact with him. “Norman. I’ll come right out and say it: We should have been looking. We should have been there for you. The stuff you’ve gone through shouldn’t have happened and we’re partly to blame. But we’re here for you now, and we’re not going to leave you here.”
Norman looked away. “It’s too late—”
Mr. Harrigan grabbed his chin and turned his head forward again. “Norman. You left somebody under the building, and I think you know what it’s going to take to save her life. Now yes, we owe you, but you owe her.” Norman’s eyes dropped. Mr. Harrigan followed and made even closer eye contact. “You owe Elisha, a gal who was a friend to you. What’s it going to be, Norman?”
Norman looked back at Mr. Harrigan for a moment, then nodded. “I was scared.”
“But you’re still here. I think you want to do the right thing, so come on. Here’s your chance.”
He wiped his eyes, sniffed, and then said, “I need my coat. It’s right over there.”
“We have to hurry.”
“NO!” said Nate. “NO, NO, NO!”
“Elisha!” Sarah called. “Are you still there?”
A faint voice came back. “Still here. Where are you?”
She couldn’t give an encouraging answer. She, Nate, and the firefighters had reached the hole that led to the passageway, but stones and rubble now blocked the old opening. They wouldn’t be going in this way.
“Dad!” Elijah hollered, running through the bushes with Ian right behind him. “Ian knows another way inside!”
Nate and Sarah took only a split second to adjust to Ian’s new appearance, and then Nate said, “Lead on.”
Ian led them out of the brush and then farther around the building to an old Dumpster. He pushed on the Dumpster; they all helped, and the Dumpster rolled aside to reveal a sheet of plywood covering an opening in the concrete slab. To anyone who didn’t know better, the plywood appeared to cover a grease pit and nothing more. But when they lifted it aside, they found a concrete stairway underneath.
“This wasn’t on the plans!” Nate remarked.
“Ah, I’ll bet this is a Barton!” said the fireman named Al.
“A Barton?”
“Barton was the old building inspector,” said the fireman named Larry. “He probably made the contractors put this in after the building was almost finished.”
Al the fireman laughed. “It’s got to be a fire exit for the old basement. Barton was always requiring extra holes and tunnels and vents.”
“I think the county fired him before the town decided to hang him,” Larry added.
The two firefighters shared a laugh.
“Well, God bless him!” Nate countered.
“Got that right.”
“Come on,” said Ian. “I’ll show you what I can.” He started down the stairs and the others followed.
Algernon was on the cell phone in the Holy Roller, the Yellow Pages open in front of him. “Yes, that’s right. Tricanol. It’s an insecticide.” He stuck a finger in his ear to block out the ambulance sirens. “Check your lawn and garden department, and if they don’t have it, check the paint department, particularly the wood preservatives. If you have it, bring it.” He hung up, somewhat satisfied, then picked up a glass jar containing live specimens, crawling and scratching against the glass. “Ah, me. Your beauty is in your terror.” He looked toward the school. “Be careful down there.”
Elisha rose slowly, ever so slowly, to her feet. There had to be a way out of here. She scanned the room, rotating slowly like a lighthouse. The spiders didn’t seem to like it. She stopped moving until they calmed down. The door Norman had looked through wasn’t an option; it was unreachable. Were there any other doorways or exits? It was so dark it was hard to tell without moving her light around, which meant she had to move her head.
She felt a tickle on her neck, and fear jolted up her spine.
Ian and Elijah led the way through a tunnel up to a steel door. The lock on the door had been broken long before and the door swung open easily. On the other side was a room of the old basement, cluttered with fallen steel and concrete.
Since he was wearing a protective suit, Elijah went in first, shining his light in every direction, looking for spiders. Carefully, they continued into the weird maze of rubble and scrap, ducking, sometimes crawling, eyes wide open for any dark spots or blotches that might move.
“See through there?” Ian asked, pointing down a narrow space between slabs of fallen concrete. “That’s the way to the ritual chamber.”
“So how do we get to the furnace room?”
“I don’t know.”
Elijah stopped and looked at him. “You don’t know?”
Ian shrugged. “I’ve got a confession, too.”
“Yeah?”
“I knew about the old stairway under the Dumpster, but I don’t know where this goes.”
“You don’t—!”
“I’ve only used this passage to get to the ritual chamber. I haven’t explored the rest of it.”
Nate came up behind them, followed by the firefighters. “Problem?”
“Not yet,” said Elijah.
They got moving again.
Elisha drew short little gasps of air, each one quavering with fear as she felt a tingle here, a rustle there, a tickle moving across her skin. They’d crawled up under her hood, she didn’t know how many. Should she move? Should she stand still? A trickle of sweat ran down from her forehead, down her cheek. Her face shield was fogging up.
“Dear Jesus, please help me,” she prayed, barely moving her lips.
Wait. She heard something. Movement, some thumping and scraping. Voices muffled by earth, walls, and concrete.
She spoke into her radio. “Mom? I think I hear something.”
“Yes, honey,” her mom came back. “Your dad and brother are on their way in. They have some firemen with them—and Ian Snyder, too.”
Then she heard a muffled voice from above. “Elisha! Elisha!” Her dad.
She decided she would answer. She didn’t know how loudly, but there was no way on earth she would remain silent. “Hello!” It
was a weak little sound. She could hardly hear it herself. “Hello!” The spiders tensed. She could feel their legs gripping her skin. I’m going to faint.
“Elisha!” Her mother’s voice came to her over her radio.
She drew a breath and answered. “They’re getting close, Mom. I can hear them above me.”
Then her dad came over the radio. “Call out to us, honey. Let us know where you are.”
She called out almost loudly. “I’m in here!”
She heard the voices somewhere above, muted, but growing stronger. “I heard her.” “Over this way.” “Look out! There goes one!”
This time her brother called, “Elisha!”
She called out boldly. “Help! I’m in here!”
Someone rattled the door above, the one Norman had used. It didn’t open. “Okay, stand back,” a stranger said.
“No!” she cried. “Don’t make a disturbance!”
BANG! CRUNCH! The door flew open from the blow of a sledgehammer, slammed into the wall, then fell from its hinges and into the room. Spiders went scurrying outward as from an explosion. An old nail pinged off Elisha’s head and she flinched.
She felt a bite on her shoulder and screamed.
Another bite, on her neck.
A warm feeling began to radiate through her skin. The poison moving.
13
veritas
Now the beams from several flashlights began to sweep about the room, and that upset the spiders even more. There was no time to worry about care and caution. Elisha called out desperately, “Please get me out of here! The spiders are biting me!”
From above, they could see her standing in the center of the room, one lone, frightened figure in a sea of swirling black, cowering, shaking, a lone beam from her headlamp creating a yellow cone in front of her.
The firemen backed away, chilled by the sight.
“It’s going to take a rope from here,” said Al.
“But . . . what are we going to do about the spiders?” asked Larry.
Nate countered, “Just get the rope down there!”
Larry had a rope clipped to his belt. He unclipped it and got ready to toss it down.
Nate called through the doorway, “Elisha! Can you make it to the wall? We’re going to throw a rope down.”
She didn’t move from where she stood. She was trembling.
“Elisha!”
“Daddy . . . ,” she muttered in a dopey voice, “wha’d you say? I can’t hear you.”
“We’re losing her,” he whispered. “Lower the rope. I’ll go down after her.”
Larry held one end of the rope and tossed the rest through the doorway.
“Look out!” Elijah cried, stomping on some spiders coming through the opening.
Al brandished a can of Raid and saturated the area around the opening, clearing it for the moment.
“Awww!” Spiders were scurrying up the rope toward Larry’s hands. In a panic, he let go.
His end of the rope fell through the doorway and into the darkness.
“No! NO!” Nate cried.
Ian backed away to a safe distance—and saw another beam of light moving toward them through the dark maze. “Hey! Somebody’s coming!”
“Nate,” came Sarah over the radio. “Tom Gessner and Mr. Harrigan are here with me. They brought Norman.”
Nate was looking at his daughter, surrounded and covered by black spiders, and it took him a moment to check his anger and respond. “I don’t suppose Norman has any help he can offer?”
“He knows another way down there. He’s on his way right now.”
“It’s Norman!” Ian exclaimed as Norman Bloom came through the clutter, wearing his old jacket and carrying a flashlight.
Nate’s eyes burned through his face shield. “Young man, do you have any usable suggestions?”
Norman was plainly afraid and intimidated, but he replied, “There’s another way down there. I’ll get her out.”
“I can do that,” said Nate.
Norman stepped forward, his voice trembling but bold. “Sir, you have to let me do it. The spiders won’t bother me.”
Everyone stared at him. He had no protective clothing. He was just a skinny kid in jeans, tennis shoes, and an old jacket.
“That’s my daughter down there,” Nate seethed.
“They’re my spiders—sir!”
Nate weighed that for only a moment, then backed off. “All right. But hurry. She’s been bitten and she’s fading.” Norman turned toward a black void between two fallen concrete slabs, and disappeared as if the void had swallowed him up.
“Can you get us another rope?” Nate asked Larry.
The fireman named Larry turned and headed out immediately.
“Elisha, hang on! Norman’s on his way down there.”
“We hope,” said Ian. They looked back at him. “I trusted him, and look where that got me.”
They heard Elisha’s faint voice from below. “Daddy . . . I can’t stand up . . .”
They shone their lights into the room. The small, orange-clad girl far below was teetering, weakening. Her protective suit was alive with dark little shadows.
Nate couldn’t linger another moment. He called into his radio, “Where’s that rope?”
“On the way,” came Sarah’s voice.
“Look!” said Al. “Will you look at that!”
A dim light appeared in the far corner of the furnace room. There was a metallic grating sound. A piece of fallen furnace duct rumbled aside, and Norman Bloom, a vague shadow in the dark, emerged from a passage behind it. Immediately, the spiders shied away from his feet like a wave receding from the shore, leaving a circle of bare concrete around him. He started inching his way toward the center of the room, toward Elisha. The circle of clear concrete moved along the floor with him, the spiders always maintaining an even distance.
Tom Gessner’s voice came over the radio. “Mr. Springfield. Is Norman there? Did he make it through?”
Nate was transfixed by the sight below him. “He’s here, Mr. Gessner.”
“Is he of any help?”
Nate continued to watch as Norman kept moving slowly, the bare floor around him resembling a dim spotlight that followed him inch by inch. “He’s helping, Mr. Gessner. He’s definitely helping.”
Norman kept moving slowly, giving the spiders time to retreat. “Try to keep still, Elisha.” He called to the men above, “Please put out those lights. You’re upsetting the spiders.”
“Better do it,” said Nate.
They extinguished their lights, and the nether world under the school fell into eerie, cavelike blackness. Below them, the old furnace room became a deep, soot-black well with only two lights visible: the light in Norman’s hand illuminating Elisha, and the light from Elisha’s headlamp, the beam wavering, sinking as she continued to weaken. Norman kept moving slowly, steadily, drawing closer to her, the spider-free circle moving with him, until its boundary crossed Elisha’s feet.
Elisha began to whimper. She couldn’t help it. The whole room seemed to be closing in on her, about to crush her. She felt the floor rocking like a ship in rough weather. She could only breathe in quick, little gasps.
“Hold still,” said Norman. “I’m going to get you out of here.”
She tried to hold still, but her image of Norman was getting fuzzy, unstable, and the closer he got, the more afraid she felt. It’s the poison, she kept telling herself. Hold still. The spiders were reacting to Norman’s approach. She could feel them scurrying over her skin, trying to find a way out of her clothing. Two shot out from under her hood and dropped on web lines from her shoulders to the floor. Those on the outside raced down her legs and hurried across the floor, vanishing in the darkness beyond the flashlights.
“Ohhh . . . help me . . .” The room began to move crazily. The ductwork above their heads came alive, pulsing and flexing like huge aluminum pythons.
She was afraid. Afraid!
Don’t believe it! she
told herself. Don’t give in! “I’m not afraid,” she tried to say, but it came out, “I no fear to me.” A hand grabbed her arm and she tried to jerk away. “NO! It’s no me in the manner, me nothing nothing!”
“Come this way,” came a voice.
She looked and saw a face. Norman’s face? It looked so strange, so dead and white . . .
“Go with him,” came the voice of her father, but even his voice sounded evil.
“ ’sokay, Elisha,” came a slow, garbled voice that could have been her brother’s.
“No . . . ,” she cried, and her own voice sounded so slow, so far away . . .
The face before her, once Norman’s, wavered, decayed. Now she saw a rotting skull, a broken and crooked neck, a hawk on a bony shoulder.
Abel Frye! He was pulling her into hell!
She lashed out at him, struck at him. Her arms moved slowly, a blur before her eyes. They may have contacted something, she didn’t know. She thought she screamed, thought she may have tried pulling away, but everything slowed down, slowed down, faded away, went out of focus . . .
Blackness. Silence. Sleep.
“Elisha!” Nate cried out as he saw his daughter’s body go limp. Larry returned with another rope and threw it through the doorway. Nate grabbed it and was about to climb down when Al took hold of his arm.
“Easy,” said the fireman. “He’s got her. He’s got her.”
Norman held her up, his arms wrapped around her. Her head drooped, her headlamp shone downward. In its beam, they could see spiders dropping from her body, bouncing on the concrete like little raindrops, then scurrying away into the inky blackness.
“Norman,” said Elijah, “what can we do to help?”
“Nothing,” he replied. “Just give me time. I’ll get there.”
He held Elisha tightly, slowly walking back to the hidden passage in the corner as the spiders maintained the empty circle around them. Elisha’s feet dragged along the floor.
“Mr. Springfield,” came Tom Gessner’s voice over the radio, “what’s happening?”
Nate could hardly draw a breath to speak. “Norman has Elisha. He’s bringing her out.”
“We have paramedics standing by.”
Sarah’s voice came over the radio. “Nate, is she all right?”
Hangman's Curse Page 18
