by John Manning
“Go, Sue. There’s still a chance you can save yourself.” She gave a small chuckle. “And maybe the rest of us, too.”
They faced each other for a few moments in silence.
Then Sue leaned down and took her mother into her arms.
65
Ginny was writing in her notebook about Sue’s meeting with her mother when she heard the girl coming down the stairs. She placed the notebook into the top drawer of her desk, and got up to meet Sue in the hallway. Sue was dressed and showered, her face scrubbed, her hair combed. She looked so much better than she had last night.
“Did you sleep well?” Ginny asked.
“Mostly. But this morning I started dreaming.”
Ginny touched Sue’s cheek. “Would you like some breakfast? A cup of coffee?”
“Coffee would be good,” Sue said, and they headed into the kitchen.
They sat at the table drinking the hot liquid in silence for a few moments.
“Well?” Sue asked. “Do you think I’m insane?”
“I wish it were that simple.” Ginny wrapped her hands around her coffee mug. “Obviously, your story is pretty fantastic.”
“That’s an understatement.”
“I believe something is happening, Sue. Right before I left Lebanon, I met with Father Ortiz—”
“The one who spoke to me at the diner.”
Ginny nodded. “Yes. I didn’t tell you last night that I knew him. And I know Bernadette deSalis. I’ve interviewed her.”
“My mother was right,” Sue said. “You do understand.”
Ginny smiled. “Understand? Hardly. But I know there’s some basis to your story. I’ve been trying to call Father Ortiz all morning. But all I get is his voice mail.”
“Do you think he can help me?”
“I don’t know, Sue. But remember what else your mother told you. You have free will. No one can force you to do anything.”
Sue rubbed her forehead. “That doesn’t change what I am.”
“What you’ve been told you are. I believe something is going on, something strange, but there’s no proof that you’re—” Ginny couldn’t say the word.
“The Antichrist?” Sue looked at her. “But Bernadette told you about me, didn’t she? I can see it in your mind, Dr. Marshall. She told you that the Antichrist was a woman.”
Ginny sighed. “Yes. Yes, she did.”
“And she told you more, too, didn’t she? And Father Ortiz told you—”
“He told me the same thing your mother told you—that the true Book of Revelation has been kept a secret by the Vatican. He told me that there was a conspiracy to bring about the end times…”
Sue started softly crying. “It’s true, Dr. Marshall. How can you believe otherwise? What’s the point in pretending I’m not what they say I am?”
Ginny opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off by a knock at the door. They both jumped. Ginny motioned for Sue to be quiet and stood to look outside. It was a tall old man with bright white hair in a tweed sport coat. With some reluctance, Ginny pulled open the door and peered outside, hoping Sue was out of sight in the kitchen.
“Yes?” she asked. “May I help you?”
“I’ve come for my granddaughter.”
Ginny watched as the old man’s lips tightened and twitched. His nostrils flared.
“You must be Mr. Barlow,” she said.
“I know she’s here, Dr. Marshall. That’s her car out front.”
“Yes, she’s here. But she doesn’t wish to see you.”
“She’s my granddaughter! I’m her legal guardian!”
Ginny stood her ground. “You seem to have forgotten she’s eighteen years of age. A legal adult who can make her own decisions.”
The old man’s eyes were nearly apoplectic. His face was turning red.
“Let him in, Dr. Marshall,” came Sue’s voice behind her. “I’ll see him.”
Reluctantly, Ginny stepped aside. She took note of the big black car in her driveway, and the burly jumpsuited driver who was leaning against it, his massive arms crossed over his chest.
Sue’s grandfather now stood facing the girl in Ginny’s living room.
“Come home with me, Sue,” he said.
“Why? So you can tell me more lies?”
Ginny stood in the foyer watching the scene play out. Who was this man? Was he really in league with—the devil?
“We spared you the truth for your own good,” he said.
“That’s bullshit, and you know it.” Sue looked at the old man with sheer contempt. “I know everything. I know what you want of me.”
“Has this woman been telling you lies?” Mr. Barlow asked.
“I’ve been to see my mother, your darling Mariclare,” Sue said. “But then you probably know that, don’t you?”
“I just know that your grandmother is very worried, and wants you home.”
“You can’t force me,” Sue said.
Her grandfather leveled his eyes at her. “I think I can.”
In an instant, the front door opened and the burly driver was on Ginny, his hairy arm around her neck, choking off her breath.
“Kill her,” Mr. Barlow said calmly, his eyes still on his granddaughter.
“No!” Sue screamed. “Leave her alone!”
“Then come with me,” her grandfather said.
Sue was silent, not moving.
Ginny’s heart was racing in her ears. The driver shoved her into the living room, away from the door. He pushed her to the floor and stood over her, a semiautomatic pointed at her head.
“If I go with you,” Sue said, “you’ll just kill her anyway.”
“She knows too much,” Mr. Barlow said.
Sue walked across the room, seeming to contemplate what to do.
“I suppose you’re right, Granpa,” she said. And in the blink of an eye she withdrew the gun he’d given to her from her blouse and fired off one quick shot—right through the driver’s head.
Ginny screamed. The burly man staggered, as if doing a macabre little dance. Blood and brain matter was still raining down onto the carpet. Then he toppled over. He would have hit Ginny if she didn’t leap out of the way.
Mr. Barlow was stunned.
“I’m a pretty good shot,” Sue said coolly. “You taught me well, Granpa.”
“Apparently not well enough.”
This was a new voice. They all turned to look. Striding in through the front door, apparently having been waiting in the car, was Joyce Davenport, complete with black miniskirt and boots.
“Maybe if you’d been more vigilant, she wouldn’t have grown up to be such a rebel,” Joyce said, casting an angry glance at Mr. Barlow. Then she smiled at Sue. “But you do have spunk, Sue. That’s good. You’ll need it.” She laughed. “They always used to say I had spunk. Now they just call me a bitch.”
Joyce noticed Ginny on the other side of the room.
“Ah, Dr. Marshall. We meet again. How nice to see you. How’s your book coming?”
Ginny decided not to parry words with her. Somebody had already been shot in this room, and she didn’t want to be the second.
“I’m not going with you,” Sue told Joyce.
Joyce spun on her. “Sue, stop this nonsense! It’s your destiny! Do you have any idea how much power awaits you?”
“I don’t care!”
“Hell, Sue, I’d love it if I were in your shoes!” She laughed. “I’ve certainly been called the Antichrist enough times by mealy-mouthed liberals! But I’ve just had to content myself with being the Anti-John the Baptist.” She hooted again, seeming very pleased with her joke.
Sue pointed the gun at her.
“Oh, please, you’re not going to shoot me,” Joyce said, waving a hand at her.
“Why shouldn’t I?”
Joyce shrugged. “Because I know so many things you want to know. Admit it, Sue. This whole destiny thing…it kind of appeals to you. It kind of intrigues you.’
Ginny watched fro
m a safe distance. She couldn’t get to a phone to call the police, and if she tried to run, she was certain she’d be shot. Mr. Barlow was probably armed, and who knows what Sue would do…
“I want no part of it,” Sue said.
Joyce laughed. “So you’ll end up like your mother. Is that what you want? Do you think we’d just let you waltz off to do your own thing?” She took a step closer to Sue. “Do you think your father would just let you go?”
Sue made no answer. But the gun in her hand was now trembling.
“You’d end up crazy in some lunatic asylum like your mother. Is that what you want, Sue?”
“You put her there,” Sue said. “You could have stopped what happened to her.”
Joyce winced, but just slightly. Mariclare was right: she did feel some guilt. But not enough to stop her.
“It’s your choice, Sue.” She held out her hands as if they were balancing scales. “Crazy lunatic asylum…or untold power and glory. You decide.”
“So many will hail you,” Sue’s grandfather told her.
“All those people who buy your books, who come to your readings,” Sue said to Joyce. “All those people who get riled up by your rants and raves…they’re all part of this…part of this cult?”
“We wish!” Joyce hooted. “Wouldn’t that be amazing! But no, Sue. They’re just sheep. I get them riled up. The televangelists get them riled up. They protest at gay weddings and blockade abortion clinics and hound illegal immigrants…They think they’re doing God’s work, but they’re actually working for the Other Guy!”
Sue was struggling to keep a firm grip on the gun.
“Strife, conflict, bigotry, name-calling—this is what we thrive on! It’s what he thrives on—your father. He loves discord. He is the Lord of Chaos and Conflict. It’s so much fun to get the sheep riled up. Get them shouting on talk radio. Fill their hearts with anger and accusation. It’s fun to stir up trouble between people. Admit it, Sue, you, too, enjoyed it. I know you have.”
Sue remembered the thrill she’d experienced causing trouble between Malika and Sandy. As if it was a natural thing for her…
“You’re not like other girls, Sue, and you never have been,” Joyce told her. “You know that. You’ve never been sick. You can do things with your mind. You can’t ever live the life of a normal girl.” She took a step even closer to Sue. “And you can’t love, can you? You have never been able to love a boy, or feel desire for him. What would life be like if you can’t love?”
Sue was noticeably shaking now.
“And the one boy who might have loved you is now terrified of you, isn’t he?” Joyce asked.
“How do you know about Billy?”
Joyce smiled. “He told his mother, who told me.”
Sue began to cry. She dropped the gun, and Joyce picked it up.
“So isn’t the choice apparent, Sue? What else is there for you? Your destiny is to be—”
What Ginny saw next took her breath away. She wasn’t even able to scream.
Sue transformed. In an instant her whole body changed. She seemed almost to explode—and in her place stood a fearful creature, a swirling, crackling demon whose form was indistinct—as if darkness was suddenly given life.
Joyce jumped back, terrified.
Mr. Barlow cowered behind his hands.
I NEED NO GUN TO PROTECT MYSELF FROM THE LIKES OF YOU, came the voice of the creature. It sounded like nothing Ginny had ever heard before. A hollow sound, neither female nor male. It seemed to vibrate off the walls.
I WILL GO WITH YOU, BUT REMEMBER WHO I AM.
I WILL NOT BE TOLD WHAT TO DO.
I WILL GIVE THE INSTRUCTIONS, AND YOU MISERABLE SCUM WILL FOLLOW THEM.
IS THAT CLEAR?
“Yes,” Joyce said, her voice trembling.
And then Sue was back. Looking none worse for the wear.
“Sue!” Ginny called. “You mustn’t give in!”
Joyce rolled her eyes. “Can’t we just kill her and get it over with?”
Sue turned her face to look over at Ginny. Their eyes held for a second. Ginny thought she looked different. Hard. Cruel. As if she’d given in to the dark part of herself.
“No,” Sue said. “I don’t want to kill her.”
She reached out her hand, and in that one simple gesture, Ginny crumpled to the floor.
“But when she wakes up, she’ll have forgotten that any of us ever came here.”
Joyce looked down at Ginny’s fallen body. “Are you sure you don’t want me to kill her?” Joyce asked. “Think of the trouble it would stir up…all those accusations flying…”
“No!” Sue shouted. “She is to be left alive. And make sure that the driver’s body is removed and properly disposed of. Clean up all the blood. I don’t want any trace left.”
Joyce made a face. “But who’s going to clean it up?”
“You are. Get scrubbing.”
She turned to her grandfather.
“And when she’s done, you will drive me back to Wilbourne.” She looked out the window into the bright light of day. “I have final exams to take.”
66
Billy sighed and exhaled. Even in the darkness, he could see his frosty breath in front of his face. He shivered, cursing himself for the tenth time in as many minutes. I should have said no, he thought as he shoved his hands deeper into his coat pockets. It’s fucking freezing out here.
“Why should I do what you’re asking?” He’d thrown the question at Bernadette like a fastball, hoping she’d miss, hoping she’d be unable to answer, and the whole thing could be dropped.
But Bernie was ready. She hit the ball out of the park. “You should do it,” she told him, “because you love her.”
Standing there shivering in the cemetery just outside the walls of Wilbourne College, Billy remembered Bernadette’s words. Because you love her.
“Do I?” he asked out loud, his voice sounding odd in the cold night air.
How could I love what I saw in her eyes?
“She’s…not human,” Billy had managed to say to Bernadette. What he’d seen in her eyes—red eyes, eyes filled with fire—was death. He couldn’t explain it more than that. He saw death, and destruction, and damnation. He knew that sounded weird, but that’s what he saw when he looked in Sue’s eyes. Damnation.
His mother had seen the look of terror on his face when he’d run home from the diner after seeing Sue. She’d made him tell her what he saw. “She had the face of…” Billy struggled with the words. “The face of a devil!”
His mother had seemed fascinated, pumping him for all the details, but she also warned Billy to stay away from Sue. Then she was on the phone to someone, whispering furiously—spreading gossip about Sue, Billy presumed. She’d never liked her.
But when he told Bernadette the same story he told his mother, she had a far different reaction.
Bernie had come by, bundled in a down coat, red scarf, and pink mittens, and asked Billy why he’d run out of the Yellow Bird after seeing Sue.
He told her that Sue Barlow was not human.
“Oh, Billy, of course she is,” Bernadette said. “She’s as human as you or I. But she’s in trouble. I know that. Bad trouble.”
And so here he was, freezing his ass off in a cemetery, looking over the Wilbourne wall at the back windows of the dean’s house.
Because I love her.
He didn’t know if that was true. They’d known each for such a short time. They’d never had sex, never even made out all that much. But he had liked being with her more than any other girl he’d ever known. She had captured his heart in a way he’d never experienced before.
But now he was afraid of her.
Billy couldn’t deny it. He now believed Sue had caused Mike and Heidi to collapse and get sick. Maybe it wasn’t deliberate. But she had some kind of power. Some kind of diabolical power. He’d seen it that day in her eyes.
But if she could be helped…then he wanted to try.
Bernadette had insisted she could be helped. Saved, she’d said. “Sue can be saved, and you can save her, Billy.”
What the fuck am I doing listening to a little kid like Bernie? Billy thought once again about just chucking the whole plan, beating a path out of the cemetery, and heading home, where it was warm and safe.
But Bernie had some kind of power, too. Billy couldn’t deny how she’d changed. Something very strange was happening in this town, and Bernie and Sue were just part of it.
He pulled his woolen cap down further over his ears. His nose was cold. He looked over the wall at the top two floors of the dean’s house, an imposing gray granite building. Townsfolk said the ghost of Sarah Wilbourne still walked the house. Billy remembered being a kid and being dared to go up and look in one of the windows on Halloween night. It had taken all of his nerve—and the taunting of his friends—to go up there and look in the window, but he’d seen no sign of Sarah Wilbourne—or, for that matter, of Dean Gregory and his mousy wife either. Still, having proved his coolness to his friends, he climbed back over the wall and strutted through the cemetery like the cock of the walk.
But now, standing here among the graves as the wind whipped through the trees, Billy felt surrounded by ghosts. The house itself was in good repair, but its crenellated roof and dark windows certainly made it feel like a place of evil.
And Sue was inside.
Bernadette had told him that Sue was returning to Wilbourne after trying to escape. “Escape from what?” he’d asked her, but Bernie was vague. She simply said that Sue was being brought back to Wilbourne and that terrible things would happen if Billy didn’t stop them. He mustn’t tell his mother or the police or anyone else. “If you do,” Bernie said, “Sue will die. At least Sue as we know her will die.”
“You keep saying not to tell my mother,” Billy said. “You make it seem as if she’s part of the conspiracy, whatever it is.”
“Trust no one, Billy.”
“Even you?”
Bernie had just smiled. “But you do trust me.”
He just shook his head. “I don’t know why. You’re just my best friend’s kid sister. But yeah, I do trust you, Bernie.”
He knelt down behind a tree, trying to take shelter from the wind. There was a light covering of snow on the ground, and more was predicted for tonight. I hope this is all over with before it starts to snow, Billy thought as he pulled out his cell phone and checked the time again. Two minutes since he’d last looked. He shoved the phone back into his coat pocket and looked back up at the house again. All the downstairs lights were on, and from what he could make out, there were several people moving around behind the windows. A campus Christmas party maybe. Somewhere among them, Bernie had assured him, was Sue.
