MCCURDY VERIFIED
Then he typed frantically. Part of his mind tried to ignore the slow steady pounding of feet coming up the stairs.
But it was impossible to ignore the unfamiliar female voice that called to him. "Say your prayers, Jeffrey. And if you want to save yourself, you'd better say them to me."
No, not now. He needed time. Time!
Alton Barnes picked himself up off the floor. I'm okay, he thought. Nothing broken this time. Shaking his head, he looked around.
He saw Karen, heavy-footed and awkward, walking up the steps toward the bedroom.
Somethin's got her
, he thought.
Alton knew what Karen was experiencing. The thing was inside her. Fucking with her mind, eroding her values, battering her principles, mocking everything she loved with irresistible temptations. It wanted to tear down everything good, replace it with sickness.
"Wait, Karen. Stop! Don't go up there."
Jeff hit the REPEAT command. He hit it again and again.
Any minute someone would burst in the door and force him to quit what he was doing.
What if he couldn't finish?
And if he did what if his plan didn't work?
But damn it, he had to try.
All he needed was a little more time.
The loudest voice was the one in her head.
It said,
Move faster! Get up the stairs!
She took another step.
"Karen. Dr. Bradley. Try to stop. I know what's inside you, but you gotta fight it. Come on, you gotta . . ."
She glanced over her shoulder. Alton was looking up at her, his eyes imploring. She wouldn't stop.
With a wave of your hand, with a nod and a wink, you can blast Jeffrey and that damn machine back to atoms.
She took another step.
When the machine is gone, your place in this world is assured. The greatest musicians will play for you. They'll write you operas and symphonies. The most charming, the most powerful menâpoliticians, entertainers, power brokersâwill be yours for playthings.
Fire erupted on the stairs around her.
Flames jumped and danced around her legs. Fiery tongues climbed her torso, lapped at her breasts. It didn't burn. No. In fact it felt cool, soothing. Its radiation caressed her skin. Surrounded her. She wore it like a garment. It moved along with her like a protective barrier. And when she commanded, it would leap forth and destroy.
As she took another step she saw the wallpaper turn brown and peel from the plaster like scorched parchment.
Although she wasn't looking at him, she could see Alton Barnes behind her at the foot of the stairs. He held his hands before his face, shielding himself from the heat. He wouldn't be able to come any nearer.
"Can't you see what it's doing?" he cried'. "That's fire, miss, that's the Devil's tool. You can't let that sonavabitch do this to you."
The Devil's tool? She'd let him play with the Devil's tool. She'd fuck him with it! When she laughed a column of flame leapt toward Alton like a blazing attack dog. Scorching wind whizzed past his face, turning his cheeks red, making him screech in pain.
Hurry now, hurry. When the computer is down all the world will be yours!
One more step and she'd be in the upstairs hail.
In spite of the heat, Alton pursued her up the stairs. His shirt burst Into flame. The skin of his face blackened. "Wait, Karen, please wait. Let me help you like you done for me. Don't go up there. Don't go in that room. Please!"
He was only able to make three more steps before intense heat stopped him. His face blistered. His hair fell away as gray ashen powder.
Fire poured down the stairs, cascading over the steps like a flaming waterfall. It flooded over Alton and he vanished, screaming, under thick smoke and a fiery tide.
Casey saw it all.
Saw it, and still she did nothing. She hated herself for her indecision. She never knew what to do. Never acted quickly enough.
Okay
, she thought,
I have to stand
.
Yes, she had to run in there and offer whatever help she could.
She tried to calculate the risk: if she stood up, she'd be accepting the demon's healing gift. And if Dad was right, the moment she accepted the gift, she'd belong to the demon.
But if the effort of standing and walking made the demon abandon Karen and come to claim Casey, that would be okay. Karen would be safe, and Dad would have extra time to finish what he was doing. Maybe the two of them could even get away.
Prayers came easier now. She offered one more, confiding what she was going to do, asking for God's help.
Casey gritted her teeth, concentrating, forcing long-unused flesh to obey forgotten commands.
Muscles stretched. Tendons pulled like steel cables. Dormant nerves shrieked painful messages of distress.
It hurt like hell, but it was working. Casey was standing up!
She walked inside, her legs stiff as crutches. "Karen," she cried. "It's me, Casey. Please stop. Don't hurt Dad, Karen. Please. He loves you!"
A
lmost
, Jeff thought.
Almost. Just another second
. . .
His fingers flew over the keys. In triumph, he hit the ENTER button for the last time.
"Now we just wait and see," he said it to no one. In his profound concentration, he'd been oblivious to the shouts and noise filling the air around him.
Words danced across the computer screen. He smelled smoke and the sweet scent of burning flesh. His strength vanished and he wilted in his chair.
It was over. One way or another, it was over.
T
he tiny dying part of her mind that was still Karen Bradley heard the terrified childâhe loves youâand she stopped.
Indecision held her in place. Fear locked her muscles. Fear for what she had done. Fear for what she might still do.
She had felt this paralysis many times. But it was new to the alien presence that tried to propel her onward.
MOVE, you damn surly cow!
Yet as she stood there, still as a statue, the evil words sounded farther and farther away until they were a faint echo on the threshold of vanishing forever.
The ring of flames around her lowered like a gas burner going out. In a moment they were gone.
Casey. Jeff. Mr. Barnes. Lucy. She couldn't speak their names, but they were the clearest thoughts in her mind.
And suddenly the world changed one more time for Karen Bradley. The air in the old house clarified. Sounds once again began to resonate properly. The oppressive weight of an alien presence lightened until it departed altogether.
The first rays of morning sunshine poured in the windows and through the open door at the bottom of the stairs.
Karen heard Casey's footsteps coming up the stairs behind her.
She wanted to turn, to smile at the girl and hug her for saying the wonderful magic words that had broken the demon's spell.
But she was still immobile, rooted to the spot. Paralyzed.
A haggard-looking Jeffrey Chandler appeared in the bedroom door directly in front of Karen. Though he was filthy and seemed exhausted, he somehow managed to smile at her.
With five steps he was at her side. Jeff took Karen's arm and looked into her eyes. "Here," he said, smiling, "let me help you.", His voice lacked some of the depth and confidence of the first time he had uttered those words.
But they sounded like music to Karen.
A
fter a twenty-minute drive they arrived at the Medical Center Hospital in Burlington. Two flashing ambulances blocked the emergency-room doors. Two more had passed them en route. Jeff suspected the emergency vehicles were attending the pileup of cars and trucks he'd seen while speeding down the hill from the Dubois farmhouse.
Two police cruisers, a fire engine, and about a half-dozen passenger cars had gone off either side of Bingham Creek Road.
As they drove by, Jeff saw the unmoving forms of people inside the dark vehicles. Apparently the forces that were active on the hilltop had made it impossible for anyone to approach. Were the occupants of the derelict vehicles dead or just out of commission? Jeff didn't know; he hadn't stopped to find out.
He pulled the car as close as he could get to the entrance, parked, and carried Casey into the emergency room. Two orderlies with a stretcher hurried out to help Karen, who had passed out in the back seat.
Doctors and nurses moved in well-rehearsed patterns around Casey. In what Jeff guessed was a major violation of hospital protocol, the emergency team rushed his daughter off for X-rays before any paperwork was done.
Shortly, an urgent-voiced woman with a clipboard summoned him to the admitting desk. Fighting tears, he supplied information on Casey and Karen. Again he insisted an ambulance be sent for Alton. "He was alive when we left," Jeff said, "but he was burned. I couldn't risk moving him."
A harried young doctor appeared, interrupting the intake process. She shouted a confusion of questions. Jeff could answer none of them. "I don't know what happened to Casey. I don't know what happened to any of us!"
"Your daughter is fine," another white-smocked doctor told Jeff.
"She's resting; I gave her a sedative. We've gotta say one thing for her: she's a very strong young woman. You must be very proud of her."
Jeff nodded dumbly, searching for words. Glancing at the doctor's name tag, he saw he was talking to B. Bernstein, M.D., Resident.
"Th-thank . . ."
"It's okay, Mr. Chandler. That's what we're here for."
The young doctor seemed tired, yet his puffy, dark-rimmed eyes were compassionate. He'd probably been up for hours, maybe longer than Jeff. "More police are on their way. They're going to want to question her. You, too, of course. Why don't you go down to the cafeteria and get some coffee? Maybe something to eat?"
The young doctor smiled and put his hand on Jeff's shoulder. Jeff wanted to thank him. Instead he said, "Can I see her?"
"Sure. But I'd like you to wait awhile, okay? She needs to rest. The best thing for her is to rest. I can find a bed for you, too, if you like. Bet you could use some sleep."
Jeff shook his head. "Doctor . . . ?"
The doctor raised his eyebrows.
"What about her legs?"
"That's the strangest part of all this. Her legs seem to be fine, just as you said. The reflexes are there; she can move her toes a little. She has sensation. It's probably best she doesn't try to walk again for a while, though. I suspect they're too weak to support her weight for very long."
The doctor shook his head as if puzzled. "I mean I've heard of people doing astounding things in emergency situations, but never anything like this. It's not a term people in my profession use very readily, but it certainly appears to be a miracle. A neurologist wants to check in on her later this morning. We don't get situations like this every day. . . ."
"No, not every day," said Jeff.
"Frankly, I think she's a little scared of her recovery."
"What do you mean?"
The weary young doctor scratched curly hair. "As I was examining her she kept saying, 'I'm never going to walk again. Never.' I guess she just couldn't believe it, you know?"
"I guess not," said Jeff. He turned and started toward the elevator. Yes, a cup of coffee sounded like just the thing.
Thank God
, Karen thought when she spied Jeff through the glass doors to the hospital cafeteria. Now everything seemed all right.
He sat alone at a rectangular table, staring straight ahead as if he were asleep with his eyes open. A plasticfoam cup and an untouched sandwich on a paper plate sat abandoned in front of him.
Only three other people occupied the dining area at this midmorning hour: two white-garbed men and a woman in surgical green. The trio huddled around a circular table smoking cigarettes and laughing.
As Karen opened the door, she saw how haggard Jeff appeared. Apparently he had made some effort to freshen up. His face was so clean the black stubble of his beard stood out prominently. His hair was wet and freshly combed. But his clothing was more filthy than a mud wrestler's.
When he noticed her he stood up. She rushed to him and they embraced, transferring some of his powdery dirt to her clean clothing. "Well, look at you!" Jeff said hoarsely, trying to smile.
"A nurse loaned me this lab coat," Karen said. "How do I look in white?"
"Like an angel."
Her smile faded as Karen took the seat across from Jeff's. "Have you heard anything about Casey?" she asked.
"Fine. She's just fine. Sleeping. And how are you?"
She reached across the table and took his hand. "Oh, as well as can be expected. I'm ambulating, taking nourishment, receiving visitors . . . All thanks to you."