by Brian Hodge
“And you’ve thought about doing what he asks, haven’t you?” Copeland said. “Is that where we’re going now? To hand Debra over to Levi?”
“No!” Martin threw a look of fury back at him. “Do you think I would willingly give my only daughter to someone like him?” His shoulders slumped over the steering wheel. “Of course I thought about it. What would you do? Elise is my wife. And he’s threatening to have her killed in the most horrific way possible. Jesus Lord.”
Martin drove at a steady speed, heading east, away from the business district, on Hopeman, a sparsely developed, two-lane road. Just trees, empty fields, the occasional mobile home. Desolate. For a few minutes, none of them spoke, lost in the enormity of their predicament. Finally, Copeland asked, “What did Amos Barrow do? How did all this happen?”
In a strained voice, Martin said, “I am responsible. It all comes back to me, Russ.”
“Tell us.”
He heaved a long sigh. “Well. Nearly forty years ago, Amos Barrow’s son, Samuel—Levi’s father—served in my outfit. Echo Company, First Battalion, Second Brigade, First Infantry Division. Tay Ninh, South Vietnam. Just a routine patrol one day, and Samuel Barrow found something inside a temple we had raided. A valuable-looking jewel, he thought. I thought. But he ended up dead that day, and I ended up with the jewel. Except I didn’t keep it. I knew he came from a poor background, and at the time, I had little use for life in general. So I sent the thing to his family, hoping it would do them some good. And that’s how they ended up with it.”
“What does that have to do with all this?” Debra asked.
“Pretty much everything. From day one, I could tell there was something odd about that rock. I’ll go so far as to say it made me nervous. It seemed to have a kind of awareness or something. That’s one reason I sent it to the Barrows rather than keep it for myself. Out of sight, out of mind, you know. Except it didn’t work out that way. Quite the opposite, actually.”
Copeland said, “That glowing blue stone we saw Amos with…”
Martin nodded. “It’s called Zuso Xhan Mat. That roughly means ‘the Blue Terror.’ Where it came from, nobody knows. But it interacts with an individual’s consciousness. It makes a person dream. Or have nightmares, I should say. The more you dream, the more real they become, until finally they take on physical form. And they begin to alter space.” Then, almost to himself: “Which explains some of the things that happened on that day at the temple.”
Debra said, “You mean to say these ‘Lumeras’—and these changes around town—come straight from Amos Barrow’s dreams?”
“In a way. The dreams don’t actually originate in Amos’s subconscious. I guess you’d say they are…implanted. From everything I’ve been able to gather, they come from some place independent of the Barrows or anyone else. The Zuso Xhan Mat is an intermediary. Once activated, it induces the dreams, which are like doorways…or bridges…to what I call the ‘Dream Frontier.’ The things on the other side cross over, bringing pieces of their reality into ours.”
Debra stared at him, aghast. “Dad, if I hadn’t seen what’s going on for myself, I’d think you were certifiable. How on earth do you know these things?”
“Even after I got rid of the jewel, I couldn’t get it out of my mind. Obsessed with it, I suppose. So for many years I traveled all over Southeast Asia, looking to learn everything I could about the thing, about the place we originally found it. For starters, I discovered that the temple it came from was older than recorded history. No was ever able to trace its origin.” He cracked a grim smile. “And I had it blown up. That day Samuel Barrow died. There was quite the furor over that among…certain people.”
“You say the jewel had to be ‘activated,’” Copeland said. “What do you mean by that?”
“None of this happens overnight. My understanding is that one must build a rapport with some consciousness that exists on the other side. That part is exceedingly difficult. Hell, it’s taken Amos Barrow nearly forty years.”
“This all started before I was born,” Debra said. “You settled in this town, where the Barrows lived…why? Did you even understand what could happen?”
“Naturally, I was skeptical of the accounts I’d uncovered. They were all very vague, very old. Still, I’d seen enough evidence to know there had to be something to them. Yes, I originally came because the jewel was here. I thought of myself as something of a watchdog. Back then, though, I had no idea how pervasive the Barrows’ influence was in this town.” He paused to take a deep breath, to measure Debra’s reactions. “For many years, I played nice with them, hoping I might one day have a chance to take that thing from them and somehow do away with it. I had even contemplated killing them, if necessary. Now I rather wish I had. Because, somewhere along the line, Levi discovered, or figured out, that I wasn’t quite the benefactor they originally thought I was.”
“How could they even think they’ll benefit from what’s happening here?” Debra asked.
“You don’t understand. Amos—he believes this is all his own doing. He’s actually proud of it. To his mind, he possesses the ultimate power.”
“What about Mom? How much does she know?”
Martin shook his head disconsolately. “This has always been my own personal secret. I had hoped to carry it to my grave.”
Debra choked back a sob. “Then she has no idea why she was singled out. Why they might kill her.”
“No.”
“And you never felt you could tell me any of this?”
“What do you think? Even now, with hard proof in front of your eyes, you can barely accept it. But you’re right. I should have given you better guidance…some kind of warning. Instead, I sheltered you. Well, I did try to make you see the Barrows for what they are—small, petty people who will take advantage of you the first time you show them any kindness. As you now know all too well.”
“What about my sister?” Copeland asked softly. “What happened to her?”
“I don’t know for certain,” Martin said with a sad shrug. “Lynette was a wonderful person, Russ. Levi probably had her eliminated just to hurt you. To him, you are an obstacle. He intends to kill you.”
“So the Barrows have some control over this dream world?”
“Perhaps. More likely, it’s the other way around. If the Barrows’ plans do not conflict with those of the others, they give the Barrows some latitude.”
“The question is…how do we stop them?” Copeland said. “What if we do manage to kill the Barrows? Will that put an end to it?”
“Only if it’s done while Amos’s dreams still form the bridge the others are using to cross over. That gigantic tower you’ve seen, which appears intermittently…that’s the true bridge between worlds. Once it has anchored itself here, Amos and the Barrows become superfluous. Then they will find out how little they mean in the larger scheme. By then, though, it won’t matter—to any of us.”
“How far will it spread? Beyond Silver Ridge? Everywhere?”
“I have no way of knowing.”
“What about destroying the jewel? Is it possible to do that? Would it make any difference at this point?”
Martin looked at Copeland in the rearview mirror and raised an eyebrow. “I have some ideas. But there’s no guarantee they will work. This is the great unknown, Russ. I need time to figure some things out. Time, though, is in short supply. Look there.”
Martin had driven the car up a long hill that overlooked Silver Ridge from the east, and from this vantage point, they could see the monstrous, faintly luminous tower in the distance, its apex hidden by swirling clouds, the black sky speckled with tiny, zigzagging balls of flame. Martin parked beside the road, and the three of them got out, their eyes arrested by the spectacle. The lights of town glowed like embers in a field of darkness, and occasionally, the faint sounds of traffic wafted from far below—the low rumble of engines, sharp blasts from car horns, the shrill screeching of tires. By now, everyone in the community would be a
ware that they were, in effect, under siege, even if they could not understand by what or by whom.
After a minute or so, Copeland noticed one of the lights above the far-off ridge seemed to be growing brighter. A few seconds later, it swelled distinctly larger, and he realized then that it was coming toward them. He touched Debra’s shoulder. “I think we need to get out of here.”
“Dad,” she said, “Dad, we’re in trouble.”
He nodded, his eyes on the approaching fireball. “Take the car and go. If Levi still has any control over these things at all, it won’t kill you. I’ll try to keep it away from you.”
“Dad…”
Martin swiveled and glared harshly at her. “Get in the car and go. It doesn’t matter where. Back into town. Anywhere you might find help. Just go! That’s an order.”
A moment later, Russ found himself in the passenger seat, with Debra behind the wheel, her fingers turning the key, her gaze locked on the increasingly bright object in the sky. “That thing saw us,” she whispered. “From miles away, it saw us.”
“I hope your father was right—that it’s not out to kill you.” He glanced outside again, the glare of the thing now illuminating the white hood of the car. “Not exactly a sure bet, though. Let us drive. Quickly.”
The engine caught on the first turn, and she put her weight on the accelerator, her eyes fearfully scanning on the road. He knew that she ached to look back, to return to her father, but her self-discipline did not waver. Nor did her eyes turn from the road when the brilliant fireball passed right over the car and zoomed toward her father, who stood his ground defiantly, as if waiting for an old nemesis.
“Hell of a CO he must have been,” he said softly, admiringly. “Hell of a man.”
“Yes,” Debra said, and he saw tears streaming down her cheeks. “Yes, he is.”
In the rearview mirror, Copeland saw the ghostly globe rapidly descending toward Major Martin, bathing his body in stark white radiance. As the car sped around a curve, Copeland lost sight of him, but a vivid blue flash, like an immense electrical spark, briefly lit the sky, and he imagined that, just for a moment, he heard a short, strangled scream.
Then darkness and silence returned to the night, broken only by the hum of the Buick’s engine and the soft, heart-wrenching sound of Debra sobbing.
Chapter 15
“Good God,” Copeland groaned as the headlights fell upon a throng of people gathered at the corner in front of the Allegheny Gas station, some gesticulating in panic toward the sky; others watching the pyrotechnic display above the town with apparent reverence; still others milling about holding food and drinks, their mood festive. “We don’t want to get caught up in that. I’m not convinced that Lumeras are terribly selective about their victims.”
Debra slowed the car, taking the opportunity to wipe the last tears from her eyes. An unlit residential street branched off to the left just before the gas station, and she made the turn. “I guess we just keep moving. We can’t very well go back home. And if what Dad said is true, getting out of town is out of the question.”
“After what we’ve seen, there’s no question,” he sighed. “Tell me. You know plenty of other people around here. Any of them have grudges against the Barrows?”
“Russ, anyone we come in contact with could be in danger. If those things are somehow looking specifically for me…” She shuddered visibly.
“Amos Barrow didn’t set them loose to provide a lightshow. No one is safe, with us or otherwise.”
She reflected on the point for a few moments, then said, “You know the McAllisters, right? I saw you talking to Doug at the funeral.”
“Yeah, he and I go back to Byston Hill.”
“His wife Carolyn and I are good friends. He’s had a few run-ins with the Barrows in his time. Joshua once threatened to kill him for hunting on their property—except that he wasn’t on their property. They are no friends of his.”
“Doug was up in a deer stand before he could get into a highchair. Well, he wanted me to pay him a visit while I was here. I say we go for it.”
“They live a couple of miles from here. Let’s hope there are no surprises on the road.”
Debra drove at high speed through an aging, dilapidated neighborhood, of which Copeland had absolutely no recollection. Few lights burned in the windows of the ramshackle houses, and not a soul wandered these streets. From here, the close-pressing woods blocked any view of the distant tower, so he guessed that at least some of the residents remained unaware of the changes taking place around them. Suddenly, though, as Debra turned onto a dark stretch of road, barren but for tall pines on either side, a large, sapphire-tinted globe sailed into view ahead, etching a trail of electric blue light in the black velvet backdrop. A frigid claw gripped the back of his neck, setting his nerves ringing like carillons, for the thing seemed to be moving steadily toward them. Then, to his surprise, it veered sharply into the forest, disappeared, and did not return. He released a pent-up, relieved sigh, but his entire body had begun to ache from the strain of an unrelenting fear. When he lifted a hand to massage his throbbing temples, it was trembling uncontrollably.
As they passed a few decrepit mobile homes, a number of unseen dogs began to howl at them, their voices hollow and tremulous. The road was taking them south, away from the nexus of the Dream Frontier—the farther the better, he thought. But how far could they go before that vast, misty chasm opened in the darkness to swallow them? He regretted having dismissed the idea of taking Lynette and braving the road when they might have stood a ghost of chance of escaping.
No; he could not dwell on might-have-beens. Lynette was gone, and that was that. For seven years, he had barely kept up with her—barely given her more than an occasional passing thought, really. They exchanged cards at Christmas and on birthdays. He usually remembered to send something on Rodney’s birthday. As kids, they had gotten along as kids did: some bickering, a few honest-to-God fights, a heartfelt expression of love for each other once in a blue moon. He remembered the time Dad had driven him to Byston Hill for the first time, at age nine—when she was still two years from entering the exclusive school. She had wanted to accompany them, but Dad had refused her, saying she would just get in the way. She had pitched a pretty good fit, which young Russ had taken for envy, crankiness, or typical childishness; he had even taunted her cruelly, calling her every name in his juvenile catalog of insults. It was only as they were driving away, and he saw her standing in the yard with tears rolling down her cheeks that he realized she didn’t want him to go—that she feared loneliness in his absence.
In some ways, that parting had separated them forever.
“Oh, God,” he whispered, his blood boiling as if he had personally failed her. His eyes began to burn, and he turned to stare pensively out the window so Debra wouldn’t see. Then he found himself choking back a laugh.
Vain, even at the brink of death.
“You all right?” she asked.
He nodded. “Just wishing I’d done a few things differently in my time.”
“Haven’t we all.” Her eyes were red but resolute, betraying no sign of defeat. A hell of a credit to her father. “Nearly there,” she said.
They rounded a long curve, and a small, wood-frame house came into view on the right, set back among the plentiful trees. Lights burned in most of the windows, and as they drew nearer, he made out two figures standing on the front porch, one of which started walking toward them as the car slowed to turn into the driveway. The figure held a shotgun at the ready and leaned down suspiciously to identify the driver, but when he recognized Debra, Doug McAllister lowered his gun.
“God awmighty,” he said as she opened her door. “I guess I’m glad to see you. Who’s that with you?”
“It’s me,” Copeland said, getting out of the car, and McAllister did a double-take when he realized who the “me” was.
“Damn, Russ. I didn’t know you two even knew each other. I guess you would, though, wouldn’t
you? Well, come on down. I don’t suppose you’ve got a clue what the hell’s going on around here?”
“I’m afraid I might.”
He raised an eyebrow, curious. “Then I want to hear it. He started back toward the house, then paused. “Where’s Lynette?”
Copeland had already drawn a deep breath to steady himself, knowing the question would come, but saying the words sent a new, constricting pain through his chest. “She…didn’t make it.”
McAllister froze. “What?”
“My dad too—and probably my mom,” Debra said softly. “We just barely made it here alive.”
“Oh, my God.”
By now, McAllister’s wife, Carolyn, had started toward them, obviously alarmed by the gravity of the exchange. As the slim, blonde woman approached, her eyes flew from her husband to Debra. “What’s going on? Please tell us what’s wrong.”
“Carolyn, this is Russ, Lynette’s brother,” Debra said, her voice a little shaky. “Lynette…and my father…were both killed today. And Mom is missing. I expect she’s…”
“Oh, God, no.” The younger, blonde woman looked as if she might faint. “All this has got to do with what happened to Rodney, doesn’t it?”
Debra nodded. “We’re all in danger. There’s no way to break it to you easy. And there’s more to it than you’re likely to swallow. But you have to.”
McAllister led them to the small front porch, where a couple of rocking chairs faced the road. “Been seeing some strange shit out tonight. I might swallow more than you’d think. Anyway, come on inside. And you’d both better drink a beer. From the looks of you, I have to insist.”
They entered a modest but well-kept living room, dominated by an entertainment center that housed an expensive, wide-screen television. McAllister pointed to it. “Haven’t been able to pick up any news for several hours now. Radio, telephone…all out. Can’t get anything or anyone.”
“You’re not going to,” Copeland said. “I’m surprised the power’s still on. No telling how long it will last.”
