Anathema (18 page)

"The books'll be gone."

"Gone?"

"They'll just disappear."

"Then let's get started.” Jim rose from the sofa. “Anything else, Tim?"

"You must hurry. If Darkness comes, it will be much more difficult to complete the task."

"Oh, I plan to be finished long before nightfall."

"That's not the kind of darkness I was talking about. Come, there isn't much time."

Timothy led them out of the chamber and saw them to the door. They were to contact him when they were ready, and he'd join their pilgrimage. In the meantime, he would pray.

Once they were gone, he headed to the altar, and lit a fourth candle. The same dream that told him Cal, Jarvis, and Jim were coming also told him something else. Four of them would enter the woods, but one would not survive. The dream did not tell him who.

Chapter 24

The basement of Cal's Gas-n-Go looked like a munitions hangar. Crates with the word
explosives
stenciled across them were palletized and stacked to the ceiling.

"Geez, you've got enough shit down here to start World War Three,” Jim remarked, moving around the wooden boxes. “Where'd it all come from?"

"Dunno, really. It's just always been here."

"When it rains real hard, the basement floods.” Jarvis pointed out the dark water stains on some of the crates. “So, we're not sure if the lower ones are any good. But the upper crates are always dry as a bone. But like Cal said, since we don't know how old this stuff is, it might be nothing but garbage."

Jim pulled down one of the crates and pried it open.

"That's what we used last time,” Jarvis said.

Jim picked up half a dozen sticks of dynamite. They were soft and damp, and Jim figured they probably had as much bang as an old firecracker.

"Do you have anything else?” Jim asked. “Like plastic explosives?"

Cal led Jarvis and Jim down a narrow path to the rear of the basement. There, a dozen orange crates were stacked on top of an old kitchen table.

Jim opened one of the crates and folded back the plastic wrap that protected the explosive. He picked up a clump of the substance. The flesh colored putty was cool, malleable, and could easily be molded. He only hoped it still had enough bang to get the job done.

"What I need,” Jim said, putting the putty back in the crate and closing the wrapping, “is some egg-timers, copper wire, and some nine-volt batteries. Those are the rectangle ones used in transistor radios."

"The hardware store should have all that,” Cal said. “It doesn't open for another couple of hours, but being an Elder, I have keys to all the businesses. I'll just pop in the back, pick up what we need and be back in a flash."

After Cal left, Jim put the top back on the crate and sat on it. He looked at Jarvis. “I'm sorry I've been such a jerk about this whole thing. Maybe if I'd listened to you in the first place, believed in you instead of fighting you, I could've prevented all this from happening."

Jarvis smiled and took a seat next to his pal. “Don't sweat it. For as long as I can remember, there were always rumors about something supernatural in town. I was just as bull-headed as you when they tried to tell me."

"What finally convinced you?"

"I saw it kill my parents. I was fourteen, then.” A wave of relief rushed across his shoulders. Except for the Elders, no one really knew what happened to his folks. If the topic came up in conversation, he'd change the subject. It felt good to finally tell his story to someone other than the members of the elite circle. And now that he'd started talking about it, he was like an open spigot, and the story spilled from his mouth like water. “We were out walking in Millers Woods—a lot of families did that back then—and we came across this cave. As often as we walked in those woods, we never saw the cave before, but the entrance was pretty well grown over, so we just assumed we missed it. But Dad found it and wanted to go inside. That's when it happened. The ground trembled, there was a huge scream, and an impossibly green light shot from the cave's mouth. It swallowed Mom and Dad. I have no idea why it didn't get me.

"I ran back into town and told Cal all about it. He took me to his place and told his parents. They believed me, took me in, and raised me like their own son. I found out a few years later that Cal's father was also an Elder.

"Thirteen years later, I went back into those woods and tried to destroy the thing that took my folks. But, like I said before, we were young and scared, and we failed."

"Thirteen years? Why'd you wait so long?"

"Because that's when it woke up again. As far as any of us can tell, the cave only exists when the beast is active."

"Then this time, we can't fail."

Cal returned five minutes later. In a brown paper sack were a half dozen timers, a dozen packages of batteries, and a coil of copper wire. He dumped the contents on the floor.

Jim nodded. “Great. Well, might as well get started."

It took Jim an hour and twenty minutes to construct six bombs. When he was finished, the explosives looked like the folly of preschool children, and the oddball shapes would've been funny, if not for their intended business.

Cal examined the six lumps. “How're these supposed to work?"

"When the timer dings, it should complete the circuit and send a tiny spark into the explosive and cause it to blow up."

"How'd a writer get to know so much about making bombs?” Jarvis asked.

"In the last book I wrote,
Vigilante
, the main character was a mad bomber, so I had to do a lot of research about their construction."

Cal found a sheet of bubble wrap, and Jim carefully rolled each bomb into a piece of it. Then, he packed the devices into a battered duffel bag Jarvis had retrieved from the supply cabinet.

"Do you think they'll work?” Jarvis wondered.

"I dunno. I hope so. In theory, they should.” Jim zipped the bag closed and stood. He rubbed the kinks out of his neck and puffed a heavy sigh. “I guess we're ready. It's time to call the reverend."

Chapter 25

They rendezvoused around the kitchen table at Jim's house. Fear etched their faces, and the frightening unknown was reflected in their eyes.

All were aware that Diane was upstairs, in a tub of bloody water, dead and bloated, and they all tried not to think about it. But, every time the house cracked, snapped, or popped, they all looked in the direction of the stairs.

Jim thought he'd seen his wife lurking in the shadows, her open wrists dripping blood, blank eyes staring at the ceiling, a twisted smile bent across her doughy face. He wanted to believe it was a hallucination brought to life by lack of sleep, but after all he'd experienced these last few days he knew it wasn't necessarily so. It wouldn't surprise him in the least if Diane came up behind him, put her cold, bloody arms around his neck, and kissed him on the cheek. Jim shivered at the thought and tried to shake the image from his mind.

"Tell me about the plan again,” Pastor Timothy said, pulling Jim from his daytime nightmare.

"The plan is to leave the charges at intervals as we make our way through the woods. I figure, we leave the first charge—the one with the most time—at the beginning of the trail. As we follow the trail, we'll leave other bombs, each set ten minutes less than the previous, along the way. That should give us plenty of time to harness the creature, have Tim perform the banishment ritual, and get our tails out of the place before it all comes down on top of us.

"Tim, how long will it take us to walk to the cave?"

"Just ‘bout ten minutes."

"Right,” Jim said. “Does anyone want more coffee?"

The others shook their heads, and Jim collected the mugs and deposited them in the sink. Something cold brushed against his shoulders and he stiffened, waiting for Diane's cold kiss.

Jarvis looked at his watch. It was just past noon. “If we start now, we can have this whole thing done by two thirty."

They all agreed, might as well get started. They could no longer put off the inevitable. Jim picked up the duffel; Cal took the burlap sack from the table.

Rufus, who'd been sleeping under the table and dreaming about chasing rabbits, lifted his head from his paws. He thumped his tail on the worn linoleum floor. Jim bent over and scratched the top of the dog's head. “You can't come along this time, puppy; you have to stay here."

The dog's tail stopped wagging, and he dropped his nose back onto his paws. Although he was just an animal, Jim saw disappointment in the dog's watery, brown eyes.

"I'll make it up to you,” he whispered, giving Rufus one last scratch between his ears.

Then, Jim saw sorrow in those big eyes that seemed to say: don't make promises you might not be able to keep. Rufus closed his eyes. This time, he'd catch that troublesome rabbit.

The men stepped outside. The air was stagnant and still, and the sun's fierce heat felt like a blast furnace against their faces. In such intense heat, the ten-minute walk would become a major undertaking. The tree leaves stirred, as if rustled by a gentle breeze, yet it was a completely windless day. Through the shimmering heat, the trees appeared to move, creeping closer and closer to the house. The woods were alive.

Jim's knees buckled, and he grabbed the edge of the screen door for support. His heart pounded like a jackhammer. He found he couldn't breath. His lungs had seized up in the middle of his last breathe.

"I can't go in there,” he croaked. “I'm too afraid."

"You have to, Jim.” Pastor Timothy's eyes sparkled with the strength of a Divine Light. “We all have to."

Cal stepped forward. “Besides, you're the only one who knows how to work those
thingymaggiggies
in there.” He nodded at the duffel.

Suddenly, Jim wanted to be a child again. He wanted to stop all this nonsense, run to his room, and hide under his bed.

"We're all scared.” Jarvis gave Jim's arm a reassuring squeeze. “But I'm not going to let anything happen to you."

Jim swallowed hard and nodded, and the group stepped off the porch.

A hot breeze slithered out of the trees as they neared the woods. It circled their feet and ankles. Unseen fingers worked up their pant legs, caressing them like a pervert might touch a child. A foul stench of decay and blood hung about them. The stink permeated their clothes and coated the backs of their throats. Whispering laughter and muted screams haunted their ears.

Just before entering the woods, Jim opened the duffel and took out one of the bombs. He checked it over, making sure all the wires were securely in place, then after digging a shallow hole in the dirt, placed the explosive into it. He gave the dial one full turn.

"We now have two hours to finish what we came here for.” Jim zipped the duffel closed. He was still scared, but the act of placing and setting the explosive somehow gave him newfound strength. “I suggest we move along."

The others nodded, and four men entered the woods armed with the weapons of the Lord and a handful of homemade bombs they prayed would work.

Rufus padded across the kitchen floor and poked the screen door open with his muzzle. He walked onto the porch and sat his rump on the worn pine boards. The dog looked toward the woods and its hackles stood at attention. Rufus barked once, twice, then sniffed the air.

There was evil in those woods. The dog remembered it well. That evil had taken his beloved playmate away from him. Now, his master had entered the woods to do battle with that sinister force.

Rufus growled, then settled on the porch and dropped his nose into his paws. He began to whimper.

Bobby Stevens had a dream. In it, he stood in front of the Anderson house. The building was enormous. It grew out of the ground like a cancer, and its shadow darkened all the land. Rows of blazing yellow eyes stared at him through the windows. The stench of rot and decay thickened the air.

With a
whoosh
, the front door opened, and Bobby was flooded with bright, white light. The light parted like curtains, and the McCormick twins emerged. They were just as Bobby remembered them when they were alive. They came up along side him and whispered in his ears. Bobby nodded his understanding. The twins took Bobby by the hands and led him into the light...

Bobby Stevens sat on the bare, urine-stained mattress and ripped the bed linens into long lengths of cloth. He tied the ends to each other, then braided the lengths together just as the twins told him to do.

Two days ago, the day after his dream, he was released from his restraints, but forbidden to leave his room. That was just as well. He had more important things to do than spend time with a bunch of slobbering idiots.

Stevens squinted, looking up at the window. Sunlight streamed through the greasy glass, but soon all that would change. Soon, they would all be thrown into Darkness.

The window itself posed a special problem, but the twins assured him the task was do-able.

Age had diminished the integrity of the building, and the mortar holding the bars in place had begun to deteriorate several years ago. Weather rusted and weakened the bolts. All he needed to do was break the glass and give the iron a hard shove. The bars'll come away from the wall as smoothly as a knife from butter.

Bobby tied off the end of the braid and dropped it with the others near his feet. Taking the second sheet, he began tearing it lengthwise into strips. He turned his gaze to the window; then looked at the coil of makeshift rope on the floor; back to the window again.

Salvation through sacrifice,
the twins whispered to him.
Salvation through sacrifice.

He looked at the rope. He hoped he'd have enough.

Chapter 26

The sense of déjà vu Jarvis felt was so overwhelming it almost knocked him off his feet.

It was 1983 again, and the day was much as it was then—so hot you could feel the sweltering heat press against you. Instead of Jim Anderson, the McCormick twins stood next to Jarvis, and Otto walked next to the preacher instead of Cal. The journey was long and audacious then, too.