Otherworld (41 page)

“Yes.”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

Bering returned. “The kettle is on and—what's going on?”

“Begin,” Sutzkever said.

Graham began: “Dear God, we ask for Your healing, we ask for Your wisdom, we ask for Your power …”

“What is this, Leo?”

Steve began: “My soul waits in silence for God only; from Him is my salvation. He only is my rock and my salvation, my stronghold; I shall not be greatly shaken …”

Bering began to shake. “Leo?”

“We bring healing, Samuel,” Sutzkever said.

Bering's tremors increased. “Leo, what are you doing?”

“… how long will you assail a man,” Steve continued, “that you may murder him, all of you?”

Sutzkever stood. “We've come to deliver you through the power of Jesus.”

At that name, a quizzical expression conquered Bering's face, followed by a blushing of brilliant pink and a gurgling in his throat. He lurched forward, dropped to his knees, and vomited onto the carpet.

“Samuel!” Sutzkever darted forward.

“Stay away!” Bering barked, and as the man looked up, Sutzkever could see it wasn't Bering at all, not really. “I know who you are. Get away.” The voice was deeper, malicious.

Leo saw that Steve was sweating, but the pastor pressed on. “…they have counseled only to thrust him down from his high position; they delight in falsehood; they bless with their mouth, but inwardly they curse …”

Graham was focused on Bering, but he kept praying: “Send Your power, Lord. Send Your freedom. Send Your angels and send forth Your word …”

“Make them shut up!”

“Listen to me now, you. I want to speak to Samuel,” Sutzkever said.

“Make them shut up!”

“I won't. We're here to do a job, and we intend to do it.”

Bering growled, turned, stumbled. He spit onto the wall.

“We have command here, in the name of Jesus Christ.”

Bering spit again. With his back to the visitors, he said, “I know who you are, and I won't go.”

“I think we'll have to see about that,” Sutzkever said.

 

As the bizarre battle commenced upstairs, Mike, unaware of the spiritual melee, began a mental one of his own.

Got to take control here. Got to do something. Find the door, find a light, something. Can't die here, can't. Do something, do it. Do it!

What if Malcam comes back? What to do? What did Dr. Sutzkever say? He's a demon? Whoa, Nelly. Slow down here. You're getting ahead of yourself.
Mike could feel the impressions left on his neck.
Still …

He stood up, facing the darkness with a burgeoning faith.

I want out. I want out now. God, if You can hear me, I want out, and I want out now.

 

Jimmy woke Pops, tapping the barrel of the shotgun on the old man's whiskered chin. Pops jumped, his withered bones creaking. “Huh?” he said groggily. “What's going on?” Pops noticed the kid had shed his stolen jacket. A partially obscured Grim Reaper glared at Pops from the cover of Jimmy's black shirtsleeve. The tattoo smiled a crooked, toothy grin.

“Let's move out,” Jimmy said.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Bering convulsed against the wall, spraying bloody saliva from his frothing mouth in wild arcs. Drops plunked onto Sutzkever's Bible, but Steve kept reading, afraid to stop, afraid to do anything else. He entered Psalm 64: “Hear my voice, O God, in my complaint; preserve my life from dread of the enemy …”

Graham continued praying as Sutzkever leaned over the trembling Bering.

“Leave me alone,” Bering growled. He swung around, smacking Sutzkever across the chest with a blow that sent the old man reeling. Sutzkever landed on the floor, his limbs in the air like an overturned bug. Graham rose.

“No!” Sutzkever said to him. “Do nothing. Keep praying.”

Graham did, but he didn't return to his seat. “Lord, we ask You to hinder the work of the evil one here, to bind him, and to cast him out.”

A cry came from Bering like a yelp from a wounded animal. He scrambled to his feet and retreated to the stairs just outside the study.

“Follow him,” Sutzkever commanded.

The three men trailed Bering, who was ascending the wooden staircase rapidly. He reached the landing and disappeared before Sutzkever, leading the others, had made it to the halfway point.

“He took a left around the corner,” Graham said.

Steve stumbled, attempting to read as he climbed.

They reached the top and turned the corner, feeling their way in the darkness together. Only one door was open, and Sutzkever entered cautiously. He felt for a light switch, flipped it up, and discovered a large room paneled with wood on all sides. It looked like a ballroom. It was empty except for Bering, who was attempting to climb out a window. He thrust it open and began making his escape when his hand slipped on the wet sill, tilting him forward and down to the floor in a heap. Graham rushed to his side, quickly shutting the window as snow drifted inside. Bering leaped up, knocking Graham over and running into a far corner. He tucked himself into a fetal position and, seething, glared at Sutzkever.

Sutzkever walked toward him confidently. “You are from below; we are from above. You are from this world; we are not of it.”

“I know who you are,” came a voice from Bering's mouth.

“Yes, you know me, and you know where I am from. I am not here on my own, but He who sent me is true. You do not know Him, but I know Him, because I am from Him, and He sent me.”

“Those words, those words,” Bering gasped. “They are not your own. I don't understand.”

“The light shines in the darkness, but the darkness has not understood it.”

“Shut up!” Bering dropped his head.

The room suddenly grew much colder as an invisible wind carrying an unnerving chill swirled about. The pages of the Bible rustled.

“What's happening?” asked Graham.

“Just keep praying, Captain. We will see,” Sutzkever said.

“This doesn't feel right.”
Be assured.

“Pray, man, pray!”

Bering slowly stood, contempt blazing from his body like radiation. Small orbs of light appeared at his feet and encircled him.

Steve began to cry but kept reading. “The righteous man will be glad in the L
ORD
and will take refuge in Him; and all the upright in heart will glory.”

Graham took the words as a cue: “Yes, we praise You, God. We ask for Your protection and Your shelter.”

Sutzkever watched the action around Bering as it grew more fantastic, more ominous. “Yes, now we see who we're up against.”

The lights dipped rhythmically, bouncing to a silent beat. Bering screamed and collapsed to the floor once again. In his place materialized a man. A tall, imposing figure with a black double-breasted suit challenged them with an icy glare. His face was ghostly white, almost translucent, including his thin, sharp lips.

Steve glanced up from the book and turned just as white. “What in the—?”

Graham took several steps back, but his hand went for his pistol.

“You won't need that,” the man said to him dryly.

Sutzkever, unfazed, stepped up. “No, we won't.”

 

Malcam sized up the old man. He was actually afraid of him but didn't want to show it. He smirked and said, “My name is Abimelech.”

“No, it most certainly is not, but we don't care what your name is anyhow,” Sutzkever said.

Malcam paused, puzzled. “You fools are always jabbering for my name,” he protested.

“Superstition. I don't need your name to hold authority over you when we come in the name of Jesus Christ.”

Malcam winced. “I know why you're here. Are you so stupid that you don't think I expected this? It has been orchestrated. You are all here so that we may be rid of you all at once.”

 

Jimmy and Pops approached Bering's door, making no attempts at secrecy. Jimmy held the shotgun out conspicuously, and Pops tagged behind.

“I left Wisconsin to be rid of snow.”

“Shut up.”

“What do we do now? Are the grays in this house?”

“There are no grays, stupid. Just kill everyone in sight.”

“Okay,” Pops replied. He seemed too afraid of Jimmy to disobey.

Jimmy turned the knob and, finding it unlocked, popped the door in and stepped into its retreating swing.

Okay, Jimmy. Do us this favor now. Everyone's here. The party's just begun. Time to get a little crazy.

“Don't call me crazy.”

“I didn't say anything,” Pops replied.

 

Down below, in the cold darkness of the basement, Mike was calling for the other voice, the one he decided was friendly. The one Malcam seemed so upset about. He somehow knew something extraordinary was taking place in the house, if only because he knew six o'clock had to have arrived by now. The voice didn't answer.

I am so dead. Dead as dead can be. Dead as a doornail. Dead as dirt. Dead as po' Lazarus. Who was Lazarus? He had leprosy or something, right? No, that's not right. He had leprosy and died? I remember the flannel story in Sunday School a long, long time ago. Flannel-backed Lazarus in that cave or something, as dead as dead. Way dead, man. These girls were crying. Jesus shows up and brings the dude back. Pretty cool.

Huh. I bet it was cold and dark in that cave …

 

Sutzkever countered the demon's assertion. “It has been orchestrated, spirit, but by the Lord our God. And He will be rid of you.”

The demon ignored him. He turned to Steve, who was blazing through Psalm 66, speed-reading like his life depended on it. “Bless our God, O peoples, and sound His praise abroad, Who keeps us in life and does not allow our feet to slip …”

“Naw,” the demon said, rushing Steve in an effortless sprint and smacking the Bible out of his hands. The minister followed the book down, frantically scrambling for it to find his place. “I know you,” the demon said to him. “You're the preacher. You're a coward.” He grabbed Steve by the arm and lifted him upright. Steve shut his eyes and felt a sour breath on his face that made him wilt. The demon resumed, “You're a coward and a puppet. Everyone pulls your strings because you're weak. You're the weakest one here. You'll go first, preacher man.”

Steve courageously opened an eye and then tried to reach the Bible with his foot.

“Let him loose, spirit,” Sutzkever commanded.

“No.”

“Steve, the Word is in you. Find it there,” Sutzkever instructed.

The demon strengthened his grip. And then, somewhere deep inside, beneath the fears and doubts and frailty, Steve Woodbridge discovered what was hidden in his heart. It was small but powerful, exploding from him like a firecracker through a clenched fist. “But He said to me,” he defiantly said, “‘My grace is sufficient for you, for My power is made perfect in weakness.'”

The demon groaned and released Steve like dropping a hot coal. Steve hit the floor but continued: “Finally, be strong in the Lord—”

“No,” Malcam cried.

“—and in His mighty power. Put on the full armor of God so that you can take your stand against the Devil's schemes …”

Graham started toward Steve to help him up.

“Get back!” the demon snarled. He held a hand out at Graham.

Instantly, Graham clutched his head and fell, writhing in pain.

Steve continued: “For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world, and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms …”

The demon released a bloodcurdling scream and sent a powerful blow to Steve's back. The minister struck the floor, sprawled out and wheezing. The demon turned to Sutzkever. “This is your doing?” he asked. “Are you in charge?”

“God is in charge.”

“Bah!” He kicked Steve in the side with an incredible force, and the minister felt and heard a terrifying crack he assumed was a rib. The pain was immeasurable, like a repetitive stabbing.

Steve saw Graham, a few yards away, rub his head vigorously and try to stand.

Steve rolled onto his back. With short bursts of air, he persevered: “Therefore, put on the full armor of God, so when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground …”

“Make him stop,” the demon said to Sutzkever. “I command you.”

Sutzkever actually laughed. “I will not. Greater is He that is in us than that which is in you.”

Graham, despite his obvious pain, began to sing: “Blessed assurance, Jesus is mine …”

“Make him stop!”

“Oh what a foretaste of glory divine. Heir of salvation, purchase of God. Born of His spirit, washed in His blood.”

“Argh!”

“This is my story, this is my song: praising my Savior all the day long. This is my story, this is my song: praising my Savior all the day long.”

“I will kill Samuel.” Malcam gestured at Bering, who throughout it all remained in the corner, apparently passed out.

“You have no authority here,” Sutzkever said. “You have no power to take lives.”