Amos held up one hand, a maestro preparing to conduct an orchestra, and suddenly the living mass of creepers exploded into rustling, writhing motion, some tearing away from the wall and slithering across the floor toward Copeland. One of the barbed cords whipped at him with a metallic snapping sound, and he backed away just in time to avoid a vicious slash across the chest.
“For what I did for them, they’ve promised me my place here. They got their own rules they abide by, Mr. Copeland, which I’ve witnessed firsthand over many years. I’ve walked in their world time and again, and I’ve learned all their ways. I—and my family—got nothing to fear from them. Do you understand? Nothing! You, on the other hand…got everything to fear. Because your time is up.”
The door opened and Levi Barrow stepped inside, blithely disregarding the wicked-looking tendrils creeping within inches of his legs. Amos looked coolly at his grandson and asked, “You still hear it out there?”
Levi nodded. “Yessir, sure do.”
Amos drew a long, contemplative breath and looked back at Copeland. “You got one last chance to save yourself. All you got to do is answer me one question.”
Knowing he could offer nothing of value, he shrugged. “And what would that be?”
“That music out there. Tell me where it comes from.”
Copeland felt his jaw drop. So…Amos did admit he didn’t understand everything. He gestured toward the living creepers. “Something of theirs, wouldn’t you say?”
“No,” Amos said, his eyes turning somewhere far away. “No, it isn’t. So…Major Martin gave you no clue?”
“I’m afraid not.”
“Well, then.” He made a dismissive gesture and said to Levi, “Do what you want with him. Goodbye, Mr. Copeland.”
An iron claw fell upon his shoulder. “Get on your feet,” Levi said, his voice as sharp as a razor. “Either you walk or I drag you.”
With difficulty, he managed to pull himself up, his heart racing. Without looking at Levi, he said, “It doesn’t matter what you do to me. It won’t change anything, as far as you’re concerned.”
“It’s not us you have to worry about,” Levi said, tugging him by the collar. “Come on, now.”
Copeland didn’t have the strength to resist as the other led him out of the master bedroom, down the hall, and to the stairway. He stumbled down the steep, narrow stairs, and when he paused at the bottom, he felt something sharp gouge him in the back; Levi was holding a knife. As he allowed himself to be pulled through the kitchen and to the stairs to the cellar, he took a quick inventory of his injuries, his remaining strength, his mental clarity. Every muscle in his body ached like hell, but nothing was broken, and his senses seemed to be gradually sharpening. He was still no match for Levi…but if he could trip him on the rickety stairs, maybe he could gain an advantage.
Levi shoved him roughly through the door, forcing him to go first, which halfway foiled his plan. He tensed one arm, preparing to drive his elbow hard into Levi’s gut, but then the fingers on his shoulder began to dig in mercilessly, and he again felt the knife press into his back. “I know what you’re thinking. You try anything, you won’t even get as far as the bottom alive.” With a silent curse, he relaxed slightly, and two steps from the bottom, Levi shoved him hard. He landed hard on one foot and tottered for a second, but managed to keep his balance.
“Russ!”
By the dull orange glow of the huge Lumera in the far corner, he saw Debra a few feet away, cowering from the creature, which appeared to be keeping watch over her. It slowly turned its skull-like head and fixed its deep-set, glistening sapphire eyes on him. The barbs on its back lifted slightly, and it made a soft clicking sound.
“See, it doesn’t like you,” Levi said with a harsh laugh. “It and me, though, we understand each other. As you can see, it makes sure she don’t do anything foolish while I’m not around.”
Copeland gazed at Levi’s eyes and, just for a second, caught a flash of uncertainty deep inside them.
Yes…he is still afraid of them.
“You all right, Debra?” he asked softly.
She nodded, and he saw that her cheeks were streaked with tears. “Russ, he doesn’t trust those things either. I’ve tried to reason with him every way I can.”
“You’re still thinking about things the old way,” Levi said to her. “Everything’s changed now, and you gonna understand that soon enough. Your friend here, he’s gonna help you. In fact, it’s gonna be the last thing he ever does.”
“Levi…” she began, but he held up a hand.
“I been trying to teach her to look at things in a new light,” he said to Copeland, with cunning civility. “Maybe there’s something we can do a lil less drastic than what I originally thought.”
“The only way I can help you is if you understand that you’ve got to get out of this. You’ve got to send them back.”
“Well, naw, that ain’t quite it. It’s like this. The lil girl is having a hard time understanding why she’s here and how she’s gonna be helping me with Malachi from here on out. Maybe she’ll listen to you, though, since you still appeal to her old way of thinking. Here’s what we’ll aim to do. You make her understand that she’s gonna be teaching Malachi, just like always, but in the new way, the way things are now. She’s gonna stay here, and she’ll be safe with me. Now…you help with this, and I’ll make you a bargain. I’ll cut you loose, and there won’t be nothing more against you. You’ll have to make your own way out there, and there ain’t no guarantees, but I’ll see to it that them ones leave you be. You won’t have to worry bout them no more. What you say to that, mister smart man?”
Copeland gazed at the other disbelievingly. He realized that here, in the cellar, he could feel the deep, rhythmic pulsing beneath his feet. It seemed considerably stronger now. “Let’s just say…for argument’s sake…that I don’t see things your way.”
Levi shrugged. “Then the lil girl’s gonna get to watch that thing do what it does best. To you. Right here. Which just means I have to go about making her understand things in my own way—which I reckon neither of us will enjoy so much.”
With a thoughtful glance at Debra, he drew up his last reserve of courage and said, “Levi, I’d do whatever it takes to see that Debra stays alive and safe. But you know damn well you’d never in a million years let me go free, even if I did exactly what you ask. And again, for argument’s sake…let’s just say you did. It wouldn’t make the slightest difference. As I told Amos upstairs…you’re living on borrowed time. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if, by sundown tonight, your whole family is dead. You, your grandfather…even your son.”
As fast as a bullet, Levi’s hand came up and struck him across his cut cheek. The sudden pain floored him, and he didn’t even feel it when his head struck concrete. All he knew was another explosion of stars in his vision, an arc of agony from his skull to this toes, and this time, he thought, he wasn’t getting up again. He heard Levi mumbling something unintelligible, followed by a metallic clicking sound.
Levi was directing the Lumera to attack him.
Beneath his hands, he felt the throbbing pulse in the earth, now so deep and powerful that it felt like something trying to thrust its way up through the concrete floor. When the chattering voice of the Lumera began to rise, he knew that it was not in response to Levi’s summons, but to something else altogether. He desperately shook his head, trying to clear his vision; and when he finally saw the madman standing before him, face ashen and eyes raised to the ceiling, he knew that something new—and totally unforeseen—was affecting the creature.
The door at the top of the stairs flew open, and Malachi’s voice drifted down. “Daddy, you gotta see this. Come up now! Hurry! Hurry!”
Copeland glanced at the Lumera, which had lifted its head toward the ceiling, its focus no longer on any of them. Its mandible hung open, and hot, viscous fluid leaked slowly from its maw and dripped, steaming, to the floor. The barbs on its back had extended fully.<
br />
Levi started toward the stairs, scowling disgustedly at the Lumera; but then he stopped and turned to Copeland, raising his knife menacingly. “Know what?” he said softly. “I got no more time to waste on you. The hell with you and everything about you.”
Copeland managed to roll onto his back and raise his arms as Levi came at him. The heavy body dropped upon his, the knife working its way through his defense and lowering to his throat. Levi’s knees on his shoulders prevented his hands from reaching the weapon, and one arm came down on his forehead, pressing hard to keep his head immobile. The blade began to press against his adam’s apple.
“Yeah, I’m gonna cut your head right off. How you like that?”
Then, with a shocked cry, Levi tumbled away as something hit him with great force. The knife went flying and clattered to the floor halfway across the room. Levi’s head made a grotesque thudding sound as it struck the concrete.
Debra now lay atop him, her fingers viciously encircling his throat, her long nails digging deeply into his flesh. Realizing the Lumera was no longer watching her, she had launched herself at him and taken him by surprise. Levi tried to throw her off, but as lithe as a cat, she clung to him tenaciously, one leg locked around his. She managed to lift his head once and smash it against the floor; but now, infuriated by the indignity and swearing boisterously, he thrust his torso upward and dislodged her. Then, scrambling quickly back to her, he threw himself on top of her, pinning her beneath his weight.
At the sight of Levi’s escape, Copeland somehow found the strength to pull himself to his knees…to his feet…and to take a step forward.
Levi raised a hand to strike Debra viciously across the face. Copeland deftly caught it and twisted.
With a roar of surprise, Levi pitched away from her and quickly rose to counterattack. Copeland lunged forward, catching the other in a fierce stranglehold, and with every remaining ounce of energy, hurled him toward the craning Lumera, whose body had begun to glow a bright, fiery crimson. With a shocked cry, Levi crashed into the ten-foot horror, sending the worm-like body toppling heavily to the floor.
The gigantic skull head quickly rose, its eyes briefly flashing like jewels, then dove forward and reappeared with Levi’s head clamped firmly between its great jaws. Muffled screams trickled out from the great maw, and Levi’s legs thrashed furiously as he fought to disengage himself. But his struggles seemed to spur the creature on, for it now it vomited a stream of vile, reddish fluid over his upper body, and his screams grew more intense, his flailing limbs wilder. Levi’s clothes began to ooze smoke, and the exposed skin of his arms quickly blackened and swelled, like marshmallow beneath a blowtorch. His struggles gradually weakened, but his cries gurgled forth unabated—and Copeland noticed that, with Levi’s every agonized scream, the Lumera’s eyes pulsed brightly, as if the thing were deriving pleasure—or nourishment—from his very pain.
“Jesus, God,” he whispered in disgust, taking Debra in his arms and helping her to her feet. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”
As they struggled up the stairs, he noticed that she seemed to be moving her legs gingerly. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”
She shook her head. “I’ll be all right. The bastard beat me pretty good.”
When they reached the top of the stairs, he collapsed on the floor, his energy spent, his eyes burning with tears. Debra knelt next to him and placed a comforting hand on his hammering heart. “Rest, but only for a second. Only for a second.”
The awful, ceaseless sound of Levi’s death throes drilled cruelly into his ears. He tried to block it out by whispering to himself, “It’s only justice. It’s only justice.” It was what Levi had planned for him. It was how Lynette and her young, innocent son had been killed. The McAllisters. And countless others.
He felt no satisfaction when the screams finally dwindled and died. Nor did he feel an ounce of remorse.
“Let’s get out of here,” Debra whispered. “That thing could come after us now.”
Just as they were pulling themselves to their feet, a figure appeared in front of them and blocked their passage, its eyes blazing accusingly at them.
“Where’s my daddy?”
It seemed forever that their eyes remained locked under a pall of expectant silence. At last, Debra said to the boy, “He’s gone, Malachi. That thing down there…it killed him. Just as I told you it would.”
Malachi’s bony jaw dropped and his lower lip began to quiver. His eyes continued to stare blankly at her, and finally a teardrop began to roll down one cheek. “You’re lying,” he whispered, his voice cracking slightly. “You’re lying to me, and you know it.”
“It’s the truth, Malachi. Now, we’re getting out of here. And you’d better come with us because that creature will turn on you, just like on your father.”
“Liar!” he cried and viciously swiped his hand across her cheek. She grimaced but did not sway. As a red patch began to form on her face in the shape of his hand, his own features melted into an expression of pain. “Oh…no…Miz Harrington.”
“Never mind that. Move!” she cried as a harsh, insect-like chattering sound began to creep from below. She pushed past him, but then grabbed his wrist and attempted to tow him behind her. He pulled free with a sob.
“I ain’t going nowhere without my daddy.”
“Malachi,” Copeland said softly. “It’s too late. At least save yourself.”
“Fuck you, mister. This is all your damn fault.”
Copeland gazed thoughtfully at the boy, trying to suppress the anger that came seething up from his gut. Finally, with a shrug, he said, “Have it your way, son,” and took Debra by the arm. “Let’s get out of here.”
“Russ…”
“Let him go.”
Malachi bolted down the stairs, calling, “Daddy! Daddy!” He vanished below, but then he cried, “Oh, no! Oh, GOD!”
Debra turned. “Russ, we can’t leave him.”
Malachi began to scream hysterically, and the Lumera trilled in exultation.
“It’s too late.”
“No…please no,” Debra whispered, but she offered no resistance when Copeland pulled her with him to the back door. He tore it open and tugged her into the cold dawn; then his legs gave way again and they went sprawling onto the brittle grass, where they lay for a long minute, enervated and panting.
The rising sun, just peeping over the ridge to the east, was the color of quicksilver, the sky a uniform, dusky violet. There were no clouds above them, yet huge, amorphous shadows rushed wildly over the gray-tinted ground, as the lofty, metallic-looking trees clacked noisily together in a gusting wind. Above the onyx tower, which loomed dizzyingly over the landscape, numerous, multicolored fireballs wheeled wildly through the air, leaving trails of smoke like nonsensical skywriting. Just beneath the sound of the wind, the distant, eerie music they had earlier heard resonated like a chorus from a distant, unholy church.
“My God, everything’s changed,” Debra said, her awestruck eyes bulging. She jerked a thumb at the house. “In there, out here…it makes no difference, does it? We’re doomed just the same.”
“I’ll take my chances anywhere but there,” he said. But his eyes could not leave the strange shadows, which slid ominously over the land to gather at a point near the base of the eastern ridge. Slowly, he rose to his feet and began to walk, discovering, to his shock, that he felt remarkably light—as if gravity’s pull had decreased by half.
Debra joined him a moment later, gazing at the steadily merging shadows. “What do you make of that?”
“Not sure we really want to know.” He pointed to the road that disappeared into the metallic forest, he said, “Candle’s truck is somewhere up that way—if it’s even still there. But I’m sure he had the keys with him.”
“Even if we could get away…where would we go?”
Copeland shrugged, overwhelmed, lost, helpless. No shelter, no safety. Above the rushing wind and quavering strains of music, he thought he hea
rd a voice calling out. He could not make out any words.
“Hear that?” Debra asked.
“Yeah,” he said, eyes roving. As they fell upon the Barrow house, which no longer appeared menacing but small and vulnerable, he caught sight of a figure framed in an upstairs window. “There. It’s Amos.”
The eldest and last of the Barrows stood in the open window, shouting something incomprehensible. At first, Copeland thought the voice was directed at them, but then he saw Amos lift a fist and shake it at the sky. Gradually, he began to make out the distorted words.
“I AM the master here! I AM the master!”
Debra glanced at him. “You think he’s frustrated?”
“Terminally.”
“I banish you!” came the gruff, furious voice from the window. “You got no place here, and I order you back! Back, I say!”
At first, Copeland thought he was shouting at the airborne Lumeras, but then he realized that Amos’s thrusting fist was aimed at the ridge where the drifting shadows continued to gather. Now, turning to regard the object of the old man’s ire, he felt a new thrill of fear as he saw the dark shape developing along the crest of the ridge.
“Jesus, look at that.”
The shadows had converged and congealed like a massive pool of black blood, which suddenly erupted, hurling hundreds of thin, inky threads across the face of the deep purple canopy. As if alive, the ghostly strands began climbing to all corners of the sky, broadening and darkening as they moved, soon becoming thick, fibrous, and jointed. Miles and miles they must extend, Copeland thought, for some of them had reached a zenith above their heads, while others groped toward the horizon in all directions. The filaments flexed, as if gathering strength, and then, arching like spider’s legs, began to draw the black, globular nucleus high into the sky.
Amos’s voice took on a new, keening pitch as the threadlike arms closed steadily on the tower. From every point of the landscape, the insect trills of Lumeras rose shrilly in defiance, and thousands of fireballs appeared spontaneously in the sky, rocketing like guided projectiles toward the heart of the spreading horror. As they struck the black mass, they exploded like New Year’s fireworks, sending earthward a rain of glittering sparks, which struck the ground and blinked out of existence.
The Nightmare Frontier Page 23
