by Rick Hautala
Elizabeth gagged down the rush of vomit that exploded into her throat as the worms wiggled inside her mouth, churning the sickly fluid. She spat the stuff out, took another deep breath through her nose, exhaled, and then sucked furiously on her dead daughter’s mouth again. Thick chunks of horrible corruption filled her mouth. Twisting to one side, she again spat out the sickening fluid. When she looked down. she saw that Caroline’s mouth was still bubbling with milky clots. Nausea compressed Elizabeth’s stomach as though it were in a giant’s steely grip.
Steady, rapid pulse beats hammered in Elizabeth’s ears, almost — but not quite — drowning out the rising sound of demonic voices screeching at her from the surrounding red-lit night. Embracing her daughter’s corpse as though cradling a baby, Elizabeth pressed her lips to Caroline’s a third time and, with what she knew was her last effort before she collapsed, sucked more of the horrible-tasting liquid into her mouth. Involuntarily, she swallowed some before she could turn and spit it out. A coldness like death filled her seething stomach.
Shuddering with the effort to hold Caroline down and not vomit, Elizabeth looked down at her daughter’s face. The hollow, glazed eyes had taken on a deep, throbbing semblance of life. The irises pulsated with a dull blue glow that steadily intensified, drawing her awareness like a magnet. Try as she might, Elizabeth couldn’t look away. Then, finally, as the last few ounces of strength faded from her arms, a violent upward explosion sent her reeling backward. She collapsed onto the ground like a useless, wrung out cloth.
Cringing in horror, Elizabeth watched as the figure of her daughter materialized more clearly and then, floating up out of the dark ground, rose into the air. For several paralyzing seconds, the pale, desiccated figure, dressed in the frilly white funeral dress, hovered high in the night sky; then it settled like a perching bird of prey onto the rounded top of her gravestone, just outside the protective pentagram. Luminous and shimmering, the eerie blue glow of Caroline’s body filled the night around her, blending at its extreme edges with the chaotic red flickers that colored the space outside the pentagram.
Elizabeth couldn’t look away from the vacant stare of her daughter’s dead eyes. Caroline regarded her mother with the unnerving, unfocused gaze of a blind person. Her waxy white face was immobile, expressionless.
“Go ahead! Speak to her!” Graydon commanded. “Tell her what you have to tell her. Go on!”
The frantic, excited tone in his voice surprised Elizabeth, and she had the fleeting impression that he might have succeeded beyond even his own wildest dreams.
Elizabeth cleared her throat, but the rotten taste of the creamy fluid still clung to every taste bud, making it impossible to speak. Wave after wave of nausea crested within her, threatening to spew the contents of her stomach onto the ground, but at last, after taking in a breath of fetid night air — a breath that might possibly be her last, Elizabeth thought — she spoke.
“Caroline ... honey ... I can’t ... can’t believe this is really you.”
Squatting on the tombstone, the apparition of Caroline moved her mouth. Her face and jaw muscles contorted with effort; rotten tendons stood out like steel cables beneath the pale skin of her thin neck, but no sound came from her throat.
Elizabeth looked up at Caroline’s lifeless face and cold, staring eyes. This certainly looked like her dead daughter, but she was so far removed from the loving, happy child Elizabeth remembered, that she told herself this could be nothing more than an illusion, a projection.
“I don’t ... I don’t know how to say what I’ve wanted to say to you for — for so long, “ Elizabeth stammered, tears coursing down her cheeks. She tasted salt in the comers of her mouth. “I just — since that night, I’ve been wanting to tell you how much ... how sorry I am that you — that I never wanted for you to die. I hope you can believe that, honey! I just couldn’t ... couldn’t —”
Her voice choked off with a gagging sound, and she watched in horror as the figure of her daughter subtly shifted. The pale, dead skin of her face stretched and started to flake off, dropping to the ground in paper-thin pieces and exposing the worm-eaten bone beneath. Flat, yellow teeth caked with dirt flashed into a widening smile that exuded evil.
This isn’t an apparition, a ghost, Elizabeth told herself through the roaring maelstrom in her mind. I struggled with it; it had weight. strength. substance. I’m staring at the actual animated body of my dead daughter!
Caroline’s decomposing face twisted as, with great effort, her mouth tried again to form words. Elizabeth waited, shivering with tension until, at last, her dead daughter raised her arms and reached up into the smoky night sky. With a rough, ripping sound, her body stretched up and up. The gauzy funeral dress disintegrated. Pieces fluttered to the ground like fog. Caroline’s frail arms lengthened and thickened, and her thin chest expanded with a roaring intake of breath. When the thing that had been Caroline spoke, its voice echoed like a cannon shot.
“You ... have ... failed!” the visage bellowed, glaring down at Elizabeth. Dull echoes rolled in from the surrounding night, intensifying rather than fading as they reverberated.
Elizabeth crouched in a tight ball on the ground, her hands rising protectively to her face. Between slitted fingers, she looked up into the night sky as the shape that had been her daughter ...
No! her mind wailed. This isn’t Caroline! This can’t be Caroline!
... towered above her. It kept expanding until, little by little, the face and figure of Caroline Myers dissolved into that of a grinning, leering demon. Cold power radiated from its green. cat-slit eyes. Filaments of blue flame danced and twined around its blackscaled body, casting dizzily wavering shadows as its cruel mouth stretched into a wide, evil grin. A thick, forked tongue flicked serpentlike from between its pointed teeth.
“You are now within my power!” the horror growled, beastlike, as it reached forward with both clawed hands and made a violent grasping motion. “And now your soul is mine!”
NINETEEN
The Sacrifice
1.
“I wish to Christ you’d stop telling me how fuckin’ stupid I’m being,” Norton said angrily.
With Norton’s revolver pointed at the base of his skull, Frank was driving slowly down Mitchell Hill Road, just waiting for an opportunity to catch Norton’s guard slipping, even just an inch. They left the few houses that lined the road far behind them. The headlights of the cruiser washed the tree-walled road as if they were passing down a long, narrow tunnel. Flashes of moonlight cut through the thick leaves overhead.
“I’m just trying to convince you that, whatever it is you’re involved with, if you go any further with it, you’re never going to get out.”
“Do you honestly think I won’t get nailed for what’s happened already? You mean to tell me you didn’t already think I had something to do with killing Barney Fraser?”
“What — you?” A chill tightened Frank’s stomach.
“Yeah — I was there ... and even if I didn’t start the fire at Bishop’s, you don’t think I’ll get connected with it? Shit, man!” He snorted with laughter, tight and high in his chest.
Frank smiled grimly as he bit down hard on his lower lip. “Why the Christ did you —”
“Because both Bishop and Fraser knew too much! ‘Specially Fraser,” Norton replied tightly. “Like you do now, unfortunately. So both of ‘em had to be shut up, just like you’re gonna be shut up.” Pointing with his revolver, he indicated the deserted stretch of road ahead, glanced behind them, and said, “You can pull over right here.”
Frank coasted to a stop, then slipped the shift into park.
“This is real fucking stupid,” he said. He was repeating himself for about the tenth time because he knew how much it was getting on Norton’s nerves.
“Well, pardner,” Norton said with measured control, “if I’m so fuckin’ stupid, you must be stupider, ‘cause I got the better of you. Anyway, I can take some reassurance, knowing your miserable ass is bur
ied and rotting out here in the middle of nowhere. Now cut the engine and get the fuck out of the car. “
Frank obliged, leaving the keys in the ignition as he eased the driver’s door open and stepped out onto the road. His shoes made a loud crunching noise on the asphalt. Norton hadn’t told him to tum off the cruiser’s headlights, so he’d left them on and now used the light to scan both sides of the road, looking for the best place to head if he decided to make a run for it. With Norton covering him so well, he doubted he’d make it very far, but he knew he was going to have to at least try.
Norton got out on the passenger’s side and slammed the door shut hard. The sound echoed in the still night like a gunshot, making Frank shiver. He found little reassurance in the thought that if you can hear the shot, you’re not dead yet because — so they say — you never hear the one that kills you.
“Come on, man,” Frank said tightly, watching as Norton came around to the front of the car and directed him into the woods with a quick wave of his revolver. “We’ve been partners for too long to fuck things up like this! I’d never blow the whistle on you.”
“Shut the fuck up and get moving,” Norton snarled, seeming to gain confidence with each passing second.
“Then think about Suzie, for Christ’s sake!” Frank pleaded, putting more nervousness and tension into his voice than he truly felt. He had to try any thing — everything — to get Norton to lower his guard.
“I don’t give a rat’s ass about Suzie,” Norton said tightly. “She’s good at sucking my cock, and that’s about it. Are you gonna move your ass, or do I have to waste you right here?’
Frank hesitated, then stepped out of the glare of the headlights and into the shadowed woods. From far off, he heard the whistling of a whippoorwill. His father had always told him the whippoorwill was a bird of ill omen; for the first time in his life he began to believe it.
Norton stayed by the car, using his gun to track every step Frank took.
“The least you could do before you kill me, you know, is tell me why,” Frank said. He felt as helpless as an animal snared in a trap. He knew that soon, within seconds, maybe, he might be dead on the forest floor, his senseless ears filled with the distant whistle of a whippoorwill as the rolling echo of Norton’s gun faded.
“You’re too fucking close to Graydon,” Norton said. “You’re right fuckin’ on top of him. And don’t bullshit me. I don’t believe for a second you won’t turn me in. You and that Myers bitch are —” He raised the revolver and leveled it squarely at Frank’s head. “You’re expendable.” He took careful aim, braced his wrist, and said, “Sorry ‘bout this, pardner.”
Frank tensed as Norton slowly squeezed the trigger; then he felt a heady rush of relief when he heard only a faint click.
While Norton stood there, looking in amazement at the useless gun in his hand as he clicked it several more times, Frank charged up the slope at him. Lowering his shoulder, he hit Norton just below the belt in a tackle that would have done him proud on the football field. His speed carried them both across the street and out of the glow of headlights. Norton went down, and even before Frank’s full weight landed on top of him, Frank was cocking his fist up in the air. Norton struck the ground, flattened, the wind knocked out of him, just as Frank’s fist descended like thunder, catching Norton squarely on the bridge of the nose. Frank smiled wickedly when he heard another sharp click — this time the sound of breaking bone and cartilage in Norton’s nose. Norton howled like an animal in pain.
“You’re one lousy fucking son of a bitch,” Frank snarled, as he shifted his weight onto Norton and pinned him down with both knees.
Norton thrashed wildly, but the pain flooding his body, radiating from his shattered nose, blinded him. It was already too late to resist, but he continued to struggle uselessly.
“You’re also one careless son of a bitch,” Frank said. For emphasis, he brought his fist down hard onto Norton’s face a second time, fully enjoying the squishy feel of Norton’s ruined nose. He was panting heavily, but more from excitement than effort as he brought his face up close to Norton’s.
“I checked into Graydon, all right, you miserable motherfucker,” he said heatedly. “I think your biggest mistake was assuming I was just as fucking stupid as you are. Didn’t Harris ever tell you what assume makes?”
Frank shook his head and clicked his tongue as though scolding a schoolboy.
“When you missed those few days from work, I figured out you must be in on ... whatever the hell Graydon’s doing. He had to have help from inside because Harris and Lovejoy hadn’t nailed him. They may be dumb, but they’re not that dumb! Then, a couple of days ago, Elizabeth complained to me that she didn’t want me tailing her. Now, I knew damned well I hadn’t been tailing her, but someone had. Coincidentally, it was during those three days you took off from work. It didn’t take much to put it all together. You were following her around and reporting back to Graydon. Am I right? ... I said — am I right?” For emphasis, he gave Norton’s chin a hard jab. Norton’s teeth made a satisfying clicking noise.
“Yeah —” Norton grunted as Frank’s weight crushed down on him. Thick streams of blood ran from his nose and the comers of his mouth and down the sides of his neck. In the moonlight, it looked like spilled ink.
“And I’d even bet good money you were the asshole who spray painted that black-magic symbol on the police station wall, too. I remember that day. You were the only one there who didn’t seem all that surprised about it. Am I right again?”
Another punch got another affirmative nod from Norton and made the blood flow more freely.
“Cocky bastard! So once I found out about the connection between the accident that killed Elizabeth’s daughter and Graydon, I was positive you were helping him out, keeping him informed on the investigation, such as it was ... maybe even doing some of his shit work. So you were the one who set the fire at Bishop’s house, huh?”
Norton shook his head in vigorous denial.
“Yeah, sure. But you did say you were there when Barney Fraser was killed, right? And I bet Graydon had you dig the grave and bury him.”
Frank punched Norton’s jaw again and smiled at the crunching sound his teeth made. Norton’s eyes glazed with pain as he shook his head in vigorous denial. “I didn’t kill no one,” he sputtered. Bloody spit flew from his mouth and hit Frank in the face.
“Now I don’t know what you and Graydon are up to, digging up corpses and all, but —” He paused to wipe the blood from his face with his sleeve; then, using the heel of his hand, he jammed upward on Norton’s nose. Norton yelped with pain and shook as though he’d been electrocuted. “Well, one thing you sure as shit don’t know is that a good cop always checks his revolver before starting his shift. Didn’t you know that?”
Norton’s pain-filled eyes glowed dimly with understanding as to why his revolver hadn’t fired.
“That’s right, fuck-face. Figuring the shit was going to hit the fan sooner or later, I took the liberty of going into your locker and unloading your gun, you stupid fuck!” Satisfied that the fight had gone out of Norton, Frank sat back, sighed, and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. “I sure am glad you didn’t think to check it.”
Norton tried to say something, but the blood flowing back into his throat made him gag. Frank shifted his weight off him and rolled him onto his stomach, pinning him to the ground. With his face pressed into the forest floor, Norton made soft snuffing sounds as though he was choking on blood and saliva, but Frank truly didn’t care if the man suffocated. After a moment, though, he realized that Norton was laughing.
“You mind telling me what you think is so fucking hilarious?” Frank shouted. He released the handcuffs from his utility belt and roughly pulled Norton’s arms up behind his back. With one quick, practiced motion, he slapped the cuffs onto Norton’s wrists. Not even caring if he dislocated both of Norton’s shoulders, he grabbed him by the elbows and pulled him to his feet, making sure he yanked N
orton’s arms as far back as they would go. With a quick kick in the ass, he sent Norton staggering back onto the road. When they got to the cruiser, he slammed his face hard onto the hood.
Between gurgling chuckles, Norton was trying to speak, but all that came out of his mouth was a thick stream of frothy blood. The chuffing sound of his laughter made Frank’s anger flare all the more.
“You didn’t tell me what you think’s so Goddamned funny!” Frank snarled. He pulled back on Norton’s arms, making him wail in pain as he raised him, and then smashed his face down hard enough onto the hood of the cruiser to dent the metal. The sounds of Norton’s agony rose shrilly, echoing in the woods.
“It ... doesn’t ... fucking ... matter ... anymore,” Norton sputtered. A pool of his blood filled the dent in the hood. He looked like a Hollywood vampire who had feasted to satisfaction.
“What? What doesn’t matter anymore?” Frank shouted, leaning down close to the helpless man and giving him another sharp jerk on his cuffed arms.
“You ... knowing ... about ... Graydon,” Norton said. He twisted his head to one side, snorted loudly, and tried to spit at Frank. The glob landed with a plop on the hood of the car, beside his head. “‘Cause ... it’s ... already . . too ... late ... “His throat made a loud gagging sound. “She’s ... probably ... already ... dead!”
2.
Strong arms encircled Elizabeth from behind and lifted her. For a flashing instant, .as her feet drifted off the ground, she thought the demon ...
Yes! It has to be a demon! An evil spirit of some kind! This can’t be what Caroline has become!
... was doing this, levitating her somehow; but, glancing over her shoulder, she saw the side of Graydon’s face as he pinioned her arms roughly to her side.
“What the —” she said.
He cut her off with a tight squeeze that forced all of the air from her lungs. Once he seemed assured she would remain silent, he lowered her gently to the ground. The pressure around her chest eased as he drew one arm back, but the other still held her tightly. Any restraint was unnecessary, however, because Elizabeth couldn’t tear her gaze away from the horror that was crouching on top of Caroline’s tombstone. All traces of Caroline’s face were gone. The creature’s cold, unblinking green eyes studied her as it licked the curled tips of its talons.
