And shaking, shivering, Will did .
.
.
James’s eyes blinked open. The phone was ringing. And, and —
Becca Dunnigan was standing there, in her white nightgown, looking out the window at the street. A red light lit her face. Faded. Lit her face, and then faded.
“The police,” she said quietly. “There’s a police car .
.
. right out —”
The ringing again. Except, no — it’s not the phone. It’s the doorbell.
I’m asleep, James thought. This is a dream. Nightmare. Not happening.
Becca went to the door.
“What are the police doing here?” she said to James as if he might know.
Awake. James knew. I’m awake.
The doorbell rang again. It’s not the phone. It’s the door.
Of course, it’s- —
“No,” he said. James tried to get up. He pushed against the arms of the chair, but he was settled into the soft plush cushion, and his body didn’t move. His legs tingled, the circulation cut.
“No, Becca. Don’t open the door. Please —”
She undid the dead bolt. Then the chain. She opened the door.
A young cop stood there. He looked concerned.
James finally pushed himself up.
And then he thought, God, it’s about Will. Something has happened to him.
The cop was saying something to Becca, but James couldn’t hear it. He saw the young dark-haired cop’s lips move. And Becca nodding. And then the cop took another step inside the door.
And from behind James, there were more sounds.
Too fast. Things are happening too fast here, James thought. What is going on?
Behind him. The oldest girl, Sharon, bouncing down the stairs. Her face was all scrunched up, but it picked up the rotating red swirl from the police car’s light outside.
Then the little one, Beth, following her sister, coming down the stairs.
James looked at the cop.
Still not hearing anything.
Watching how his eyes moved so slowly from Becca, then up the stairs to Sharon, on to Beth, marking their positions.
And —
Ringing.
The phone. Yes.
The phone ringing.
From the end table.
The cop gestures at it.
James shakes his head. No. No, he says. James thinks he says. But — funny thing — he doesn’t hear anything.
I fell asleep, he thought. God forgive me. I fell asleep.
The cop takes another step in. The red light seems to flash more wildly, more excitedly.
The cop is moving toward the phone.
No.
Not the phone. I have to get to the phone.
It rings and rings and rings .
.
. while James takes a step. Then another lurching step toward the phone, on rubbery legs, falling, collapsing, reaching out for the phone.
His hand closes around the cord, grabbing it.
Yanking the cord.
Pulling the phone right off the end table.
Until it clatters off the table, and the receiver is right there, right by his head …
“Hello,” Will said. “Hello.”
An icy breeze cut up the street. There was no one in the entire city except for him and Tim Hanna.
We were friends. School buddies. And now?
He’s the darkest thing in the universe.
“Hello.”
“Listen,” Hanna whispered gently to him.
Will heard a gasp, a sound. Then a voice. gasping near the phone. “Will? Will!”
It was James. Then another sound.
Becca’s voice. Crying out. Then screaming.
Will squeezed the phone tighter.
Then — oh, God, no — please no.
Sharon. And Beth. Crying out, their shrieks traveling from miles away. Right into his ear. Into his brain.
Will heard tearing, cutting, more screams, and more screams, and —
The cord was alive. It wrapped itself around James’s throat like a sleepy snake curling up for a sleep on a sunny rock. James watched it, and pulled at it. But the wire was too strong, tightening too quickly against him.
And he could see the others. Becca grabbed Beth, holding her shoulders. Holding her daughter tight.
But the cop — wasn’t a cop anymore.
He became this dark thing, this purple-black pile of excrement, this gigantic tower of shit, with hundreds, thousands, millions of squirming things moving around and through it. In and out, a feast for worms.
The cord tightened.
No more air.
James felt his eyes bulge.
The tower leaned close to Becca, backing up, holding her Beth tight, the little girl’s fists raised to the air, cursing at the horror, screaming at it through her endless tears to go away.
Instead — so quickly — a dozen of the things inside it grabbed Beth. The shock stopped her tears.
They moved along her skin.
James closed his eyes.
Like a vacuum cleaner, they peeled away the skin.
James started praying.
The poor sweet baby.
James heard another terrible yell. And he knew Becca had tried to wrest her daughter from the thing.
Silly, futile —
And James kept muttering the prayers …
* * *
“It was all planned, Will. From the beginning, this is just how it was .
.
. in the plan. But then, you know that. You do know that —”
Will turned to him.
He recognized Beth’s screams. He wanted to drop the phone and grab Tim Hanna. Just a man, standing in front of him.
But then Becca’s plea reached his ears.
Her voice. A disgusting croak. But clear enough — through what must be, yes, blood gurgling in her throat — yes, clear enough for him to hear the word.
“Will,” she begged.
And where is James? Oh, Jesus, what have I let happen?
“You were part of it, Will. You felt his presence and you agreed like all of us .
.
. You agreed …”
Hanna grinned in the darkness.
Another scream. Sharon.
Will screamed into the phone. “Sharon, honey, run away. Get out of there. Run, baby, run —”
Run. Run. Run.
The scream changed. A higher pitch. The human thread pulled even more taut. Playing another, more desperate song. Sharon begged it. Begging this thing. He heard her beg. Please, oh, please, oh. Tearing sounds. More yelling, and —
Please.
Will looked at Hanna, not hearing him, trying to remember.
What am I supposed to do? What is it that I must do?
I’ve got to remember. I’m here to do something. Now, what is it, what is — ?
I just can’t .
.
.
“It got your agreement. Kiff. Whalen. And we all agreed. And Mike Narrio was given to it.”
Will shook his head. Not true. Not true. I never —
“Kiff knew. He knew what he’d done. Spent his whole life trying to wipe it away.” Hanna grinned. “Crazy Kiff .
.
. But you can’t do that, you know. Not allowed, kiddo. And Whalen pushed it away. Even though he saw the broken rails of that ride, saw the way they just streamed into space. He knew. And he tried to run away.”
Hanna paused. And stepped closer. Just a step.
But there was something about it, something that Will could see. Even though Will was shaking, rocking on the sidewalk, back and forth, mumbling, biting his lip.
He saw it.
What happened to them? What happened to my family?
“Dr. James,” he said quietly into the receiver.
He heard sounds on the phone. Sliding. the movement of something heavy dragging across the floor.
“Dr. —”
James’s throat kept contracting, trying to suck air through his nose.
He saw bits of their bodies in the thing. A bit of bone, Sharon’s hair, slowly subsumed into it. A single small blue eye looked out at him.
But now it moved toward him.
And — oh, forgive my weakness, James prayed — he hoped that he’d die before it reached him.
But that didn’t happen.
A dozen things squirted out of its body and landed on him, and he felt every tear, every pull at his skin, until it was a blessing to join the horror of its body …
“You blocked it, Will. Blocked it right out. Simple as that. But you can’t hide secrets forever.”
Will held the phone away from his ear. There was nothing more to hear. No.
Nothing at all.
But.
Must remember
.
Have to remember.
Can’t listen to this.
“You blocked out your .
.
.
agreement
to Narrio’s death. Your part. I understand, but you know it’s true, Will. You did it.”
Remember.
The wind made him shiver more. Icy cold. He let the phone fall. The streetlight was a kaleidoscopic blur. I wonder why it’s so blurry?
Of course. Of course.
My eyes are so wet.
The phone swung like a pendulum, banging into the pay phone’s pillar.
The Bible was there, still clutched in his aching claw hand.
“You did it.”
Will didn’t move.
He’s right, Will thought. I let it happen. I agreed. Just as I blocked out the memory of that black shape in the center of the circle. I let it happen —
Then he remembered James’s voice.
Watch the lies. The deception. The tricks. The paradox. You’ll be tied up before you know it. Lost in a maze of thoughts. And then it will be too late.
Tim Hanna took another step.
A cautious step, a shriveled part of Will’s brain whispered.
Hiding it. But cautious.
“You did it!” Hanna laughed gleefully.
Will shook his head.
It’s just a trick.
I’ve got to remember. Got to remember what I have to do .
.
.
And now.
Oh, God, now I do.
Will staggered back, shaking like a drunk into the pay phone. He saw Hanna’s grin broaden. Will’s stomach heaved. Even though it was empty, it went tight like a rag being wrung dry.
But now
I
pull the trick, Will thought.
He staggered back some more, while his good hand reached down. Into his bag, his magician’s bag of tricks.
“No,” Will mumbled, shaking his head, hoping to keep Hanna’s eyes on his. “No. You’re lying.”
His family’s screams seemed to echo in the air. Becca shrill, faint, calling for him.
“Will.”
He wanted to reach out and grab Hanna. Lock a hand around his throat.
But he waited.
Another cautious step by Hanna.
Hanna didn’t notice anything odd.
Another.
And another.
And Will held up the book.
Maybe you won’t even need it, James had said. Maybe it’s not even important.
But take it, he said. Take it. While you do what only you can do. Only you can do it .
.
. because only you were there.
Will held the Bible. Just pages. Filled with words. And some of them were silly words.
Dumb words, stupid words, false words, idiotic —
No.
Hanna saw him holding the book. And he had jumped into Will’s head, shoveling in thoughts and doubts on top of him like manure.
“No,” Will said.
The Bible was there just to help.
Will had to do this himself. Because I was there at the beginning.
At the time that it happened.
He took a step toward Hanna.
What’s precognition?
James had asked, flipping through Dunne’s book.
What is it but a jump in serial time? And why? Because serial time is merely a creation. There are many times, many possible selves. Time is a creation of our minds, a tool for our lives —