Granny’s eyes widened at this unusual small talk from Camm. He swept his gaze over the group and briefly scowled at the agent. “Do any of you know where Kline is?”
“Agent Kline?” Cal responded. “Haven’t seen him for a while. Maybe in the kitchen. Why?”
Hesitating long enough to show he was concerned, Granny answered, “The grandfather clock is ticking. The hanged-man pendulum is swinging. The clock appears to have started itself.”
* * *
Agent Allen, Mr. S, and the two backup agents, who had finished securing the mansion, watched the hanged man pendulum swing back and forth. The clock’s hands still pointed straight up at the twelve and were not moving as the steady ticktocking filled the hall in between thunderclaps.
Agent Allen turned to Mr. S. “What does this mean?”
He did not answer immediately. “I think it means something will happen at midnight.”
“Something? What do you mean by something?”
He smiled. “I am a scientist. If I had a more precise word, I would use it. I don’t know what, but something is going to happen, probably at midnight.”
“Why midnight?”
He scratched his chin. “Well, Agent Kline and I agree that unlike regular clocks the face and hands of both this clock and the one in the other mansion are not for telling time. They operate similar to how you would use an alarm clock. With the hands set at midnight, we can expect whatever is going to happen to happen at that time.”
“And whatever is going to happen is something, but you have no words to describe precisely what that something is?”
“Yes. That sums it up.” Mr. S gave Agent Allen a tight smile.
Agent Allen returned her gaze to the grandfather clock. The swinging hanged man was hypnotizing. “Does the fact that this clock started working tonight on its own have anything to do with the monster thunderstorm outside?”
“My thoughts exactly.”
“Has the clock in the other mansion also started working?”
“Most likely. We can assume that Agent Kline has fixed it and synced it with this clock.”
“Does that mean there is a thunderstorm similar to this one, pounding the heck out of Trona right now in our own world?”
“That would be a safe bet.”
“Does that mean both worlds will unite in a bilateral hyper-transitional event?”
“I have no idea. This is new to me, too.”
Swiveling her head to give Mr. S a no-nonsense, steady look, she said, “Well aren’t you a fountain of scientific precision and detail.”
Still staring at the swinging pendulum, he smiled again. “Exactly!”
She sighed deeply. “I have one more question, and this one is very important, deserving of a real answer. When we get to midnight, and that indescribable something happens, is the clock going to bring the giant snake here like it did before?”
The smile fled from Mr. S’s face. “I would not be surprised.”
“In flesh and blood or in ghost form like the last time.”
He turned to look at her. “I think it will be completely corporeal if it appears at midnight.”
Agent Allen glanced at her watch. “Then, we better get ready for it.”
“Yes, I think that would be wise indeed.”
* * *
Standing in a semicircle around the grandfather clock, watching the hanged-man pendulum swing back and forth, the four college students, Agent Kline, Granny, and one large, heavy-set man in a dark suit, the leader of the new agents, were mesmerized by the repetitive movement.
Granny scowled, shaking his head. These clocks seemed to have a mind of their own. Whatever the clocks were doing now, he had a bad feeling about it.
The new agents had claimed the poolroom upstairs for their own private headquarters. Sounds of loud laughter and balls in play drifted down from that direction. Others of their group had been assigned to key guard positions. The rest had retired for the night to motels back in Ridgecrest.
Agent Kline cleared his throat. “Whatever is going to happen will happen at midnight.”
The suit frowned. “How do you know that? What do you mean?”
“I concur,” Lenny added, sounding more officious than his youth, grooming and dress would indicate. “I believe the mansion is collecting energy from the storm and funneling it to the clock, which has been set up to use this energy for specific purposes. With so much energy available, who knows what the clock could do. In addition, the mansion as a whole may hold vast amounts of energy, like a giant battery that is being recharged as we speak.”
Agent Kline nodded his head. “From what we know that is not an illogical conclusion. I believe the clocks on both sides are once again functioning correctly, probably better than new. Now that they are in sync again, who knows what their pre-programmed function will be.”
The suit scowled around the circle. “I don’t know what you are talking about. What energy, what funneling, what pre-programmed function? And what is supposed to happen at midnight?”
“Our best bet is to be prepared for dangerous visitors.” Granny scanned his own team to make sure his message was understood. “It is possible the rat will show up. Perhaps the snake too. We should prepare for both. This may be our best opportunity to kill them both.”
“I wish I hadn’t left the Smith and Wesson 500 behind with Agent Allen.” Agent Kline eyed Granny. “Do you have anything to take its place?”
Granny grinned. “I have something just for you that should work very well.” Sobering, he continued, “We don’t know what they’re facing in that other dimension, but based upon what’s happening here, I think Linda may soon need that small piece of artillery. I’m glad they have it.”
“What rat? What snake? What Smith and Wesson 500?” The suit was seriously annoyed. “What is everybody talking about?”
“Okay then,” Granny said with authority. “You and you.” He pointed at Camm and Cal. “Set up lights on the second and third floor balconies on both the North and South ends of the mansion.
“You and you.” He pointed at Lenny and Martha. “Make sure the backup generator works. I will give you flares to space throughout the hall in case the rat decides to throw us into darkness.
“Kline, I will show you what hardware I have for you and how to use it. We should plan to fire from opposite sides of the hall, so we can catch our prey in a crossfire.
“You.” He pointed at Cal again. “You know how to use a firearm. Is that correct?”
“Yes sir!” It seemed for a moment that Cal was going to salute, but he didn’t. “I do.”
“Good. Anyone else?”
Cal pointed at Camm. “Camm is familiar with most kinds of firearms and is a good shot.”
Granny looked at her for confirmation.
“I know my way around a gun, Granny.”
“Okay, you two get arms. But no one fires, except at my instructions. Understand?”
Everyone nodded their heads, except for the suit.
“Then, let’s get moving, I want to be ready at midnight, come hell or high water.” Granny surveyed the hall as the storm continued unabated. “I think we can literally expect both tonight.”
Everyone took off in different directions, except the heavy-set agent. He clenched his jaw and inhaled deeply before exhaling. Cursing loudly, he headed up the stairs towards the poolroom.
XXXI
Granny peered at his watch, a Swiss made, heavy duty, highly accurate model. It cost well into four figures, but would last his lifetime, always be accurate to within a fraction of a second, and could take a lot of abuse, even at three hundred feet under water. It now showed five minutes and thirty-two seconds before midnight. While he could not be intimidated, Granny was known to be nervous on the rare occasion when his life depended upon the coordinated response and
intelligent actions of other people. This was one of those occasions.
Without taking his eyes off the main hall, Granny quickly inventoried his personal weaponry. He carried two .44 magnum pistols with four reload cartridges, three flash bang grenades, a dozen high intensity flares, and one super-high-voltage stun gun—this last item was illegal to use or even possess in the United States.
After brief instructions on its use, the eight-gauge shotgun had been handed to Agent Kline.
Granny glanced upstairs where Boeno and Framtum were locked behind a sturdy oak door. They should be okay there. With any luck, tonight they would be returned to their own world.
To Granny’s extreme annoyance, the new heavy-set agent strode up to him and leaned in close. Granny did not want to hear what he had to say and did not look his way.
The agent cleared his throat. “I thought I made myself clear. There is to be no action taken without my express authority.”
The storm continued to rage outside, lightning flashing bright through the windows, thunder shaking everyone to the core, wind wailing and rain pelting the mansion like water bullets.
Granny gave the agent a withering look. You miserable, hyper-bureaucratic piss ant. Although not a diplomat, Granny decided not to express that thought. Instead, he said, “Suppose you go and explain your authority to the grandfather clock. When it stops ticking, we will all stand down. Until then, we will stand prepared for the worst.”
The agent looked confused. “Well, uh, why don’t you just turn it off?”
Granny sighed and shook his head. Gee, I wonder why we couldn’t think of the obvious.
Keeping his sarcasm to himself, he replied, “Have at it, if you know how. We know precious little about that clock, least of which is how to turn it off once it has turned itself on. You may have noticed the electrical discharges inside the clock that look like static electricity. Those are actually high-energy electrical arcs that will burn a hole right through your hand if you reach in there. But you don’t need to believe me. Feel free to experiment with your own hand.”
Clearing his throat, the agent opened his mouth to offer a counter argument. Before he could start, Granny sent him a searing look designed to burn a hole through his soul.
The agent shut his mouth, obviously deciding not to continue an argument he was ill equipped to win. Instead, he jerked his head toward the stairs. “All my men are stationed on the third floor balcony, half on each side. I think we are prepared for whatever may come our way.”
Relenting a little, Granny nodded, grateful for the extra manpower. “We appreciate the help. But trust me on this. We don’t know what is coming, and there is no way to prepare for it—at least not completely. We will simply have to do the best we can.”
The agent looked relieved and cleared his throat to speak, but was interrupted.
DONG!
“This is it!” Granny shouted. “Everyone stay sharp! If you see anything, yell it out.”
At that moment, all the electric lights in the mansion went out. For a fraction of a second complete darkness reigned. Then lightning crashed and blinding light flooded into the hall through the open doors leading to exterior rooms.
Granny thought, I hope the new guys are ready for a very steep learning curve.
* * *
Agent Allen hollered across the main hall to Mr. S, “This is what? What did you say?”
The first chime of the grandfather clock had startled her, even though she was expecting it. There was something so unearthly about the giant clock—the way it looked, the way it started itself, and for cripes-sake, the freakishly loud chime that came blurting out of nowhere. Everything combined to create a totally alien effect. Of course, the fact that she was not on Earth, at least not her own Earth, explained some of the strange, threatening feelings starting to overwhelm her.
DONG! The second chime seemed louder than the first.
“I didn’t say anything,” Mr. S yelled back.
Agent Allen could see Mr. S looking up and down the hall as he made his response.
Pointing at the two backup agents, he shouted, “You two stay sharp.”
Agent Allen furrowed her brow. She thought he had already said that. Before the clock could chime again, all their battery-powered lights extinguished together, as if on cue. Agent Allen was sure the snake did not have that power. She sniffed the air tentatively.
Only a fraction of a second of complete blackness passed before lightning flooded the hall with blinding light. She glanced about her, not knowing what to expect next, but was convinced that serious crap was going down—some kind of major, voodoo crap, that was freakin’ for sure.
DONG!
She jumped again. Agent Allen completely understood why Camm hated the grandfather clock. A dim light ignited in the middle of the hall’s stone floor. The light quickly grew from smoky red to white-hot bright. It was a flare, a high-intensity magnesium flare. Agent Allen considered the implications. She did not recall anyone bringing high intensity flares into this world.
DONG!
* * *
The fourth chime rang out. Camm gritted her teeth. “Man, I hate that grandfather clock.”
Perched on the second floor balcony, she clutched a .357 in both hands. Cal had positioned himself about five yards away. Martha and Lenny were safely ensconced behind a locked and barricaded heavy, oak door, which was as safe a place as any in the mansion.
Camm could not bear putting Martha in danger’s way. Martha’s plaintive objections had been quickly brushed aside by the group in general as the agents hurriedly prepared for battle. And, frankly, this was not Lenny’s kind of thing. He would be no help whatsoever in a gun fight. The two Indian guys, as Camm called them, were locked in the room next to Martha and Lenny’s.
Granny had just ignited a flare in the middle of the main hall. At least now, they had light.
The wind screamed wildly outside, adding to Camm’s panic. The world sounded like it was coming apart. She didn’t just have butterflies in her stomach. An all-out butterfly war in all its hell-bent glory was ricocheting through her entire body.
“Hey . . .” That was one of the new guys calling out. He was positioned on the third floor balcony, just above Camm. Before he could finish his thought . . .
DONG!
Numero cinco, Camm counted to herself.
She listened, but didn’t hear the new guy above her finish whatever he had started to say.
“Hey yourself!” she yelled back. “What were you going to say? What do you want?”
No answer.
Something dripped onto Camm’s cheek from the balcony above. She rubbed at it with her hand, and then stared at the smear in the flare light. It was bright red blood.
XXXII
“I don’t want anything.” Mr. S answered, standing with his back against the wall.
“I didn’t ask!” Agent Allen clarified. “Someone else is here with us in the main hall and we’re confusing each other.” Alarm had crept into Agent Allen’s voice. The new voice asking questions had been female and had sounded exactly like Camm, but she was supposed to be back on the home world.
Mr. S yelled. “Granny, are you here?”
DONG!
The clock gave the immediate response, but then Granny answered. “I’m here. Is that you S? Linda, are you here too?”
“Yes, this is Mr. S. I’m by the clock. My two backup agents are across the hall from me.”
“I’m here too. Good to hear your voice, Granny,” Agent Allen responded.
Mr. S spoke. “Okay everyone; the two mansions have merged into one. We are all here together from both Searles Valley worlds in the middle of a bilateral hyper-transitional event. We don’t know how long this will last or what will happen when it ends. We may not all be returned to our own world unless we leave the mansion through the kitchen
door before the event ends.”
* * *
“And,” Camm called from above, “I think the new agent above me on the third floor is dead. His blood is dripping down from that balcony.”
A moment of silence passed as that sunk in. Whatever had happened, the agent above her was not disagreeing. More lightning lit up the hall with earth-shaking thunder immediately behind.
“I think the rat may be here too!” Camm added.
DONG!
Camm shuddered. The rat had to be in the mansion, because all the lights had gone out and a homicide had just been committed above her. But she wasn’t sure.
Though it made sense that the rat had arrived, she couldn’t feel it. She should feel its thoughts, its hate for her. She didn’t think it could be this close without her being able to sense it, unless it was masking its thoughts like it had done when she was in the cave.
On top of that, she couldn’t smell it. “Does anyone smell the rat?”
A bone-chilling scream erupted from the balcony above. It cut off abruptly, as if someone had turned off the power button.
Across the main hall, a new panic-stricken voice yelled, “It’s not a rat. It’s a snake! A huge snake, a monster snake! It got Bill! Now it’s coming after me.”
Bam! Bam! Bam! Bam! The sound of gunfire rang out across the main hall.
DONG!
The yelling came from a new agent stationed on the third floor balcony. Just enough light shone up from the flare to the highest balcony to expose the Mojave Green snake slithering along the balcony toward the stairs, biting and killing the agent, who was shooting it.
Camm ran to stand next to Cal, who had his revolver out, searching for somewhere to aim.
“Where did the snake come from?” she whispered loudly. “How did it get up on the third floor? We expected it to enter on the first floor from the outside.”
Cal shook his head and exhaled a long, heavy breath. “I think I’m getting too old for monster fighting. Just when you think you’ve got ‘em figured out, they do something new. Where is that snake headed now? Is it coming down to our level?”
Fatal Green Page 23
