"No!” he cried out, “No! I won't let you!” Then in defiance, “Leave us be!” Reaching in, deeper this time, he again pushed back with his will as the malevolence poured out its powerful presence.
Lee must have found something within himself, as he caught it by surprise. Its strength faltered, but only for the briefest of moments. But that was enough. Lee was able to move, even if the effort of each step felt as thought it would crush his racing heart.
Vengefully, the presence lashed out with a bully's power, self-possessed, depraved, secure in always having had its way when inflicting itself over a weaker prey. In Lee's mind's eye he saw conjured a vision of the black, horny jaws of the monster alligator snapper. A minnow's soft body, regardless of its desire to live, was nothing before the agony of that bite.
Dauntless and armed with the knowledge he had at least gained his feet, Lee sensed what he had to do. It was agonizing. He could see the Indian's right arm and leg was all that was keeping him still imprisoned in the wall. Lashing out as Lee passed, the blade slashed through the air, and those awful yellow eyes hungered to have them.
Trying to run, it was a nightmare; his body just wouldn't respond. In the vision he could see of himself in the room, Lee could see the goat beast; it too, was almost free of the wall just behind them. And it had wings! Leathery and black, yet shimmering more like an insect's than a bat's, they had yet to fully emerge, and these were what was momentarily holding the struggling creature in check.
Straining for every step, Lee continued to see himself moving in slow motion, but closer and closer towards their escape. The front door was flung open, pinned back by the gale sucking through from outside. He had Patty. He was running but his feet were moving in heart-rending slow motion. Each step was agony, mired in glue, his breath tearing at his lungs, the weight of Patty almost more than he could bear.
Suddenly, he was at the door!
It was now more the force of the gale wind tearing through from the outside than the strength of the presence which was holding him at bay. A hundred miles an hour, a thousand miles an hour, the burning maelstrom threatened to snatch him from his feet. Leaning into it was like sticking his head into the flue of a blast furnace, the air was burning hot, searing his lips, blurring his eyes.
At his back was the full strength of the presence, now almost totally emerged. Sickly, like the chill of the coming of the green-skyed summer storm, the promise of utter destruction teetered on the split between seconds. In front, the blast was scouring his skin, whipping his clothes. Behind him was a chill, the chill of that black pit, the chill of the cold seeping into that dead girl's body. In the room view, he saw himself reach out for the doorknob, seeing his hand at the end of his arm attempting to latch on and pull them toward safety.
Lee was stretching. If he could grasp the knob and pull, he could get them to the threshold of the door, then maybe outside. Somehow he knew it would be all right if they could only get outside. Straining, reaching, he fought with his mind as much as with his body to try to find the strength for just these moments, to not lose his ground, to not let his feet slip, to take hold of that knob and will them both forward, those last, long inches.
He was almost there. The tips of his fingers grazed the metal.
At the touch, the force around him seemed to explode. It roared at him all about, everywhere. The presence, it wasn't about to let them escape. The shrieking, the hopelessness, the despair, it blanketed him, tearing at him, anger and evil beyond any control.
But Lee was there. He was forcing with all his will. He was almost there. The presence was strong. But he wasn't ever going to give in. “No!” he screamed. “No! Leave us be!"
He saw it, not through his eyes, but in the view of the room envisioned in his mind. The eye! It had emerged from under the coffee table, a place he had looked at least hundred times. Rolling, it came up from behind, unaffected by the gale sucking back through the door. The timing was perfect: there was nothing he could do. In the dream view he could see his foot taking that last step toward pulling them close enough to the door, but it came down upon the eye. Going down in surprising slow motion, he hit the floor tremendously hard, almost losing his grip on his sister.
Instantly, he was slipping, being drawn back. He had Patty by the hand. She was screaming, screaming even over the blast of the wind. Keeping flat, he clenched down, digging at the floor with his fingers and toes. He could feel the skin of his arms and legs slipping over the hardwood floor, being drawn back towards what had at last fully emerged into the room behind them.
Lee yelled. With Patty's hand still gripped in his, he'd found a brief purchase for his feet. Lunging with all the power in his legs, his fingers closed on the knob. He held on grimly as his feet were snatched out from under. Jerking in the air, like a flag clinging to a post by but one corner in a storm, Lee hung on.
If he let go it would have them. He could envision a picture of them flying down the hall and into that darkness. Somehow he knew the darkness led to that pit. From there, there would be no escape for either of them. In front was the blast furnace, behind was the cold, and the chill was already creeping up, touching his toes.
Something tore inside him. This wasn't a dream. In dreams you wake up after you fall.
Violently, the front door slammed shut, and Lee went with it bruising his shoulder with the impact as he crashed into the wood. With the jolt of pain came a flash of fright. Somehow, despite the maelstrom sucking the night air in the door had slammed shut. They were trapped. Even if he could get another grip on the knob he sensed it would never open.
With no air entering from the outside the manifestation had seized solely upon the two of them, dragging him along as Lee fought and scrabbled to keep every inch. But it was no use. His skin slipping and dragging on the floor inch by inch the cold was creeping up from his toes.
But still, Lee steeled himself defiantly; no matter what he would never give in. But the presence came back with an overwhelming flood of strength in his impending defeat, impaling him upon the emotion to let go, to give up, to realize when you're beaten.
Lee screamed out, “No! You can't have us!"
His eyes were clenched; yet he could see it all. The goat thing had pulled free. It stood flexing its wings like a chrysalis freshly emerged from its cocoon. The Indian was still in the wall. He seemed to be having some trouble. The one leg wouldn't come completely free. Lee saw him again swing down with the tomahawk, trying to cut himself free, the facets of the blade shining out, reflecting beams in the silvery flickerings of the maddening television screen.
Suddenly rolling over, Lee spread his feet to brace against the floor and snatched Patty up close, both his arms pinning her to his chest. He threw every ounce of his being into a final push of will.
A flash had hit him, embodied in just four words: “Fight fire with fire.” Lee focused his anger. Gone was any fear or confusion. What he marshaled within himself was simmering, sheer rage. The mocking face of Jeff standing over him and laughing was there. The disgust with every bully, every abominable and cruel act he'd ever witnessed committed in cowardice and belligerence against someone weaker fueled his hate. “I'll kill you!” he screamed. “You touch my sister, and I'll kill you!"
Something snapped. It stopped.
It was gone. Just gone.
Patty was in hysterics, wracked and shaking as if on the verge of a seizure.
The crackling light from the television distorted everything, every shadow jumped about in the room. But there was no wind, no awful reek, no maddening gibberish, only the noise left by the static seething on the screen.
"Patty!” Lee sat up. “Patty! Are you all right?"
He was afraid he was crushing her. The thought flashed in his mind, he should let go.
"That's it.” It came to him. “It's a trick. It hasn't given up. It wants me to let her go.” He was awash in such a strong suspicion. This was too easy. Its strength is in its lies; its weaknesses its cowardice and
greed.
"Lee! Lee!” Patty's fear was wracking her as she broke her silence and screamed his name. And suddenly she couldn't seem to cry hard enough or fast enough as she just kept screaming his name.
Lee looked around. The Indian was back in the wood, again nothing more than a pattern in the wood grain. Next, he was drawn to the darkness behind the big, front room window. He immediately wished he hadn't looked. Something was there. It was staring sidelong down at him, its snout and cheek pressed up against the glass!
Lee, still holding Patty, in a reflex, tried to get up and run, but his feet just slipped out and he landed flat on his butt.
The goat face was in the window. Free! Alive! It glared back at him. The seamy gray of the flesh, the pores amplified by the contact with the glass, even the hairs were vivid in their horrific detail as magnified by the pressure as it pressed up against the window.
Just as at had in the instances when it had managed to briefly escape and rise up out of the darkness from below the little house, it used its eyes to terrify. Bright, yellow and wolf-like, they shone out so that he could even see the sharp streaks of the slits in the pupils and the chilled blackness of the depth within.
Patty unfortunately had pulled her face away from Lee's chest. She screamed when she saw it.
Lee pushed again with all the strength of his instinct for self-preservation. Throwing everything he had into his will, not so much for himself, but for Patty, he reached inward for a strength only his desperation could define and yelled, “I won't let her go!"
Slowly, smiling, it pulled back from the glass leaving behind the residue of a sticky smear. Yet, just before it left, like a promise, the tongue lashed out giving the glass a quick, reptilian lick. It was clear it wasn't going to go away, but for now it was going somewhere else.
Lee watched it disappear into the darkness. Not releasing Patty, not even for an instant, Lee worked to his knees, and carrying Patty with him he skittered over to peer outside. In the flickering flashes of the T.V. he could see his own disheveled reflection cast back in the glass.
Out on the lawn, the thing was out there. In the moonlight it capered about in a horrid fashion, cavorting about on the grass. It whirled and danced an imitation of the same wicked jig performed by the cannibal in the pit. And all the while, from all round it, wisps of mists drew in around it from the night air, taking vaporous form like ghostly threads of spider webs or cotton candy spun at a carnival.
The elongated, hairy hind legs like those of some great, gray dog kicked out, flailing in the air as it savored the fear from which it had just suckled. The scabby chest and drawn ribs though sallow and gaunt was unmistakably the torso of an old woman. The breasts, flat and fibrous swung out, slapping back as the thing minced about on the lawn. And to Lee it seemed now to have another face, a mask, a glowing manifestation of something emerging and coming into view about its head.
It was Mrs. Ballard. It was her face. There was no mistaking her. It was that same tortured face he'd seen in the window of the little house that day. She seemed to be screaming, screaming, screaming.
Then she was gone, and the goat face was back. With this came a realization. Lee recognized it for what it was. This was a manifestation of the thing, the thing which had killed that family, eaten that girl, and chased him down the road.
As though struck by a lightening bolt, the creature came suddenly erect and froze momentarily like a statue. Then, the head swiveled to the left, then jerked back right, looking at Lee in the window and giving him a knowing smile. Then it gathered itself up. Each hind leg kicked out once in preparation, then the hind claws set firmly into the lawn. The dark form of the immense magnolia was between it and the road, the tree's massive shadow in the night black on black. Peering suddenly intently ahead, as if maybe it might have spotted something, it froze for a moment, then fled into the darkness, vanishing with a terrifying speed.
Lee turned and sagged down against the wall, his back below the glass of the big bay window. He was drenched, and still drops of sweat were rolling down his ribs, over his eyebrows and stinging his eyes. He became aware slowly. The T.V. had ceased its flashing and along with it the had gone the crescendo of hissing and seething static. The room was dark except for the soft, gray glow from the picture less screen.
He still held Patty, talking to her softly. Where that came from, he couldn't know; it was something instinctual, his nondescript sounds of calming working on them both. Little by little, her crying was slowing, and with it her breathing was becoming less and less frantic. Usually her crying bothered him, but not this time. She was crying for them both. They stayed like this in the dark, not moving, calming each other, for how long Lee couldn't know.
A light swept across the window arcing over the walls illuminating pictures and the knots of the pine paneling as it passed around the room.
The television had mercifully reduced to a slight hiss, crackling out its static. But as the light from the headlights, turning into the driveway, had washed across the walls, it pulled itself together, and an all too human voice could be heard talking about a cleaner that would make your bathroom shine.
From where Lee was with his back against the wall he couldn't see the screen, but from the cohesiveness of the shadows in the room, he knew the picture as well as the sound had returned to normal. But still, he and Patty stayed where they were, even when he heard the sound of two doors closing loudly in the driveway and the light voices of his dad and Maggie, energetic in their banter as they came toward the house.
Lee heard Maggie say, “The television's on. Why would they have the T.V. on if the front door is closed?"
"Probably went to bed and forgot,” Ted replied.
"You see?” Maggie came back. “You're always talking about how responsible he is. Do you call that being responsible?"
Lee didn't hear an answer from his dad, but he did hear his dad jangling his keys as he walked up the porch steps.
"I still can't believe Janet Lee being murdered right off in the shower like that,” Maggie spoke quickly, obviously still excited from the movie. “I don't think any woman will ever feel safe taking a shower again."
For some reason Lee continued to just sit where he was. He wanted to jump up and cry out, run to the door and fling it open, but he was drained, almost numb, content for now to just wait. Patty, too, had settled down considerably. She stayed in his arms as though she hadn't even heard the arrival of their parents. She still had her arms wrapped around her brother's neck and her face buried in his chest.
The knob turned, and the door creaked, then popped open as the persistent suck of the attic fan once again drew in the cool night air.
Lee saw the shadow of his dad step in.
"Yeah, the TV's on,” he said back to Maggie, “but no one's here."
Ted jumped, suddenly startled when he caught sight out of the corner of his eye of something huddled down in the shadows below the windowsill.
"Damn!” he called out.
Maggie was behind him, looking in. “What the-?"
Patty brought her face out and was up instantly, flinging herself into her father's arms. “Oh Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!"
Lee, still deep in the shadow behind the big chair, could see Maggie, standing stunned, framed from behind by the yellow glow of the porch light and in front by the silver light from the TV. She started to put her purse down, but missed the stand, and her purse hit the floor. For a moment she looked dumbfounded, bewildered. Then suddenly coming to life, she scooped Patty away from Ted and rushed her away to the couch, smothering her in kisses, and crying, “Baby? What's the matter, baby?” No sooner had she sat down on the couch than she called to Ted, “Sweet Jesus, Ted, she's terrified!"
"Where's Lee?” Ted flicked the switches on the wall and nothing happened. “I'll get some light in here."
"They won't work,” Lee croaked. His voice hurt, and almost nothing would come out.
"Where are you?” His dad was looking down, but must n
ot be seeing him. “What's going on, Lee? Are you all right, son?"
Lee got up, pulling his legs under himself and stood shakily, his hand bracing up against the glass.
Reflexively, Maggie ordered, “Lee! Don't touch the window!"
Lee could see the scowl Ted flashed at Maggie even if she couldn't.
Lee pulled his hand away, having committed the sin of leaving a mark. On the other side of the glass was another mark, the oily smear which remained from the creature's face as it had pressed against the glass while looking in.
Though Patty had previously settled down, her need to cry was coming back to her. The more Maggie clutched her baby to her the more Patty cried and cried.
"Are the bulbs all burned out again?” Ted directed this at Lee. All the glib ease of his voice as he'd come up the drive with Maggie was gone.
Lee nodded, and realized he'd need to speak up even if it hurt. In the poor light provided by the T.V. the room was still only visible in the TV's flashes of ugly silver and gray.
"Yes,” he stammered. “Dad.” He was determined not to cry. “It was even worse than before."
"What's that supposed to mean?” His dad seemed to have a tint of anger mixed into the concern of his tone. Patty's crying definitely wasn't helping. “You hang on and go sit down on the couch by your mom. I want to get to the bottom of all this."
Lee did as he was told, carefully coming around the coffee table and scooting over to the corner at the opposite end away from Maggie and Patty. Thankfully, Patty's huge sobs had reached a peak and were settling back down again; she was sniffling between gasps and still had her face buried in Maggie's chest.
Stoically, Lee sat in silence, sure that Maggie was staring at him.
Ted came back in, and immediately went to the table lamp to change the first bulb. As soon as he'd screwed it in, and a first light was restored, he said to Lee, “Turn off that damned T.V."
Evil Heights, Book III: Lost and Found Page 11
