Bad Juju: A Novel of Raw Terror (39 page)

“Yes, sort of.” She remembered that
the dark beast had been inside her and that she had put the gun to her head and
pulled the trigger. How had she muffed the shot at that range? Luke must’ve
intervened; she didn’t remember that part, but she knew he’d been there with
her. Was the thing still in her? She shut her eyes and tried to detect its
presence. She sensed no trace of it. Was it really gone, or was it hiding
within her? She wasn’t sure. Didn’t know how to find out.

“This big hunk of expensive
equipment that looks like a deluxe washing machine is our brain scanner,” Smith
said. “We just took some pictures of your brain and the doctor will read them
and see if there was any damage to the old gray matter.”

“I think I’m thinking okay,’ she
said. “I don’t even have a headache. Just a little soreness is all.”

“You’re probably fine.” He smiled
as he removed the strap from her head.

“Don? You haven’t seen
anything...unusual, like shadows or black fog, have you?”

He looked at her with a cocked
brow. “No. Why? Have you?”

“No, no. It’s...never mind.”

“You might feel a little foggy for
a while, but it should clear up pretty quick.”

She attempted a smile. “I’m sure
you’re right.”

But she wasn’t sure. She wasn’t
sure if the dark thing was stunned, in hiding, or completely gone from her. As
Don Smith rolled her on a gurney to her room, she watched the ceiling and light
fixtures moving overhead and she silently prayed that the evil thing wasn’t
lurking within her bruised skull, waiting for another chance to hijack her body
and soul.

***

Bone-weary and feeling older than
his fifty years, Luke Chaney trudged quietly down the hospital corridor toward
room 206. The disaster downtown had claimed only two lives, a fireman and Holly
Stimson. He was sick about Holly, and telling himself that she had died a
hero’s death didn’t make him feel much better. Given the scale of the
catastrophe, only two dead was nothing short of a miracle. The heart of
Vinewood was devastated, but the town would rebuild on sturdier ground. He had
great faith in his fellow citizens.

He knocked softly on the door, then
entered.

Ree Tyler was sitting up in the
elevated bed, sipping on a crook-necked straw. When she saw him, she released
the straw from her lips and smiled.

“How’re you feeling?” he asked as
he approached the bed.

“Embarrassed, mostly.”

He bent down and kissed her damp
lips. “Don’t be. It was a brave thing you did—or almost did.”

“You saved my life.” She took his
hand and held it to her breast.

He sat on the edge of the bed. “Is
it...gone?”

“I think so. I
hope
so. It
was awful. I still feel...soiled. Unclean. It was
in me
. It tried to
make me kill you.”

“I know. But you were too strong.
The damned thing couldn’t beat your basic goodness.”

“What if it’s still in me? I can’t
tell if it’s gone. Something doesn’t feel right. I don’t know if it’s because I
shot myself in the head or if it’s because the thing’s still here.” She clutched
his hand more tightly to her chest. “I just don’t know.”

“Whatever happens, we will deal
with it. Together. It can’t beat us. Just promise me you won’t try to do away
with yourself again.”

She averted her eyes.

“Promise me.”

She looked up with wet eyes. “I
promise. You don’t have to worry about that. It’s different now. I...”

“What?”

“I’m pregnant.”

“You...you’re sure?”

“They just told me. The lab work
confirmed it. You’re going to be a papa.”

Luke grinned. “I can’t believe it.
After all these years...”

“You’re happy about it, aren’t you.
Really?”

“Sure I am. I always wanted—”
Luke’s voice cracked with emotion.

She lifted his hand to her lips and
kissed his knuckles. “And I had given up myself. Ben was sterile, but he didn’t
really want kids anyway. I guess I always resented it.”

“You’ll make a great mother.” Luke
slipped off the bed and went to his knees.

“What are you...?”

“Will you marry me?”

She giggled, then quickly regained
her composure and said, “Mr. Chaney, I
will
marry you. I love you, Luke.”

She pulled him up onto the bed and
hugged him. They kissed. Ree’s eyes filled with tears. “I never knew I could be
this happy,” she whispered. “I’m not sure I deserve it.”

“You probably deserve better, but
I’ll do my best to keep you happy. You and the little one.”

Her eyes clouded. “You don’t
think...you don’t think it could be in the baby, do you?”

“Hush. Don’t even think like that.
That stuff only happens in horror movies.”

“Luke, we’ve been
living
a
horror movie, remember? I was almost killed by walking dead men. I was
possessed by the filthy spirit of a giant worm that thought it was a god. We’ve
both seen ghosts. How can I not think like this?”

Luke didn’t know what to say, so he
said nothing.

“I want to see an exorcist.”

“You’re not Catholic.”

“But I might be possessed. How
could they refuse to help me? I’m a good Christian.”

“You can’t just assume it’s still
in you. We have to be optimistic. The thing tried to control you but you beat
it. Why would it hang around?”

“Because I have a tiny life growing
inside me. A helpless fetus. A perfect place for this thing to hide, to sleep,
to grow. I
know
what it is. How it works. It was in me and I learned a
lot about it.” She sobbed. “God help me. And our baby.”

He held her. He wanted to protect
her, but he didn’t know how to shield her from an evil entity that might be
hiding inside her, inside the kernel of life they had created. He didn’t want
to believe it was possible, but he knew she was right. They had seen and
experienced too much to discount the fiendish possibility.

She pulled back from him. “Maybe
Boots Birdwell knows what we can do. Maybe he knows someone. There
has
to be somebody who can help us.”

“If there is, we’ll find him. Or
her. In the meantime, try not to worry about it. Just focus on taking care of
yourself and the baby. Too much worry can’t be good.”

“You’re right.” She chewed on her
lower lip. “I need a cigarette.”

“You shouldn’t—”

“I know,” she cut him off. “I want
one, but as of this moment, I’m a non-smoker.
I quit.
”

“Your guardian angel would be
pleased,” he said, trying to lighten her dark mood.

She gave him an odd look. “He
would, wouldn’t he? And that was his answer when I asked him how I could keep
the darkness from ‘gathering’ me. Hmm. Maybe Beau knew exactly what he was
talking about.”

Luke shrugged.

“Would you do something for me?”

“Name it.”

“Get me some chewing gum and some
hard candy. Any kind. I’m going into nicotine withdrawal and I want to be
damned sure I don’t give in and light up. I’ll keep candy and gum in my mouth.
That should help.”

He stood. “There’s a vending
machine in the lobby. I’ll be right back.”

He left the room and dug in his
pocket for change. He found a quarter and flipped it into the air, playing a
silly superstitious game he hadn’t played since his childhood.
Heads and
everything will be all right. Tails…

It came up tails.

***

Ree craved a cigarette. She wanted
to go through the familiar ritual of placing the filter tip between her lips,
holding a flame to the tobacco, and drawing the soothing smoke deep into her
lungs where that insidious itch demanded to be scratched. She popped a mint
into her mouth and sucked on it with pursed lips. She’d rather be sucking down
smoke, but she was determined to be strong in this battle with her addiction.
If she wasn’t carrying new life in her womb, she probably would’ve given in
already to the craving and driven to the nearest store to buy a pack of smokes,
but everything was different now. She had to keep herself healthy for the sake
of the unformed child.

If Luke were here, it would be
easier to keep the craving in check, but he was with the volunteer cleanup
crews, working and sweating to salvage whatever was salvageable from the
sinkhole, so Ree was alone, left to her own devices and distractions. She had
spent all morning cleaning Luke’s kitchen, rearranging the cabinets and pantry,
scrubbing pots and pans that didn’t really need scrubbing. As long as she
stayed busy, she could keep her mind off smoking—or so she’d thought. Then the
craving—the fiercest yet—had started.

“Maybe I should take up jogging
again,” she suggested to herself. That would certainly help clear out any
residue of smoke, tar, and nicotine, and it might scratch that maddening itch
deep in her lungs. But the doctor had advised her to take it easy for a few
days and avoid strenuous activity. Her brain-scan reading had been negative,
indicating no sign of brain damage, and Dr. Larson had said he wanted to see
her again in two days to make sure there was nothing to indicate swelling of
the brain. He’d discharged her that same day, and Luke had brought her here to
his house and pampered her so much that she’d finally had to tell him to stop
babying her. “Save it for the real baby, honey,” she’d said, “you’re driving me
crazy.” The dear, sweet man. He was going to make a wonderful father, she was
sure.

She decided that a brisk walk
wouldn’t jar her brain too much and it might get her mind off the cigarette
craving. She put on her sneakers, borrowed one of Luke’s old VPD ball caps to
shade her eyes from the noon sun, and went out the back door. Luke had cleared
a jogging trail through the six-acre wood behind his house, so she set out
along the trail at a brisk clip. There was a hint of autumn in the late-summer
day; the temperature and humidity were unusually low and sunlight angled to
earth with autumnal brightness. Squirrels chattered, birds chirped, cicadas
sang, God was in His Heaven, and all seemed right with the world.

Her feet whispered over the trail
as she relaxed into a steady rhythm, swinging her arms and swaying her hips. It
was working. She didn’t need a smoke. She felt good. Clean. Free.

From a low place inside her the
dark thing rushed up to fill her heart with loathing and suffuse her mind with
venom. She stumbled, clutching her arms to her chest as if to control the thing
inside her, then staggered off the path and bumped into a skinny tree.

“No,” she gasped, “not now, damn
you. Leave me alone...”

But it did not leave. It expanded,
and she feared that her skull and rib cage were going to explode. She went to
her knees with a whimper.

Feelings entirely alien to her made
her fall facedown and writhe in agony. The cap came off her head. She bit the
ground and chewed a mouthful of dirt. She was shucking her humanity, shedding
it the way a snake sheds its skin, and the thing inside her was making her
perform behaviors it had performed when it still had its own physical form.

She fought for control, not willing
to give up without a fight. She fought for herself, for Luke, for the baby. For
humanity. Just when she thought she was gaining the upper hand, it reasserted
itself and sent her crawling along the ground in undulating parody of a
serpent, a giant worm with a skeletal structure and a skull sensitive to ground
vibrations, a carnivorous creature born to burrow in the dirt and create a maze
of tunnels, a creature feared and worshiped by a superstitious race living
above ground.

She thrashed about on the trail,
crushing her breasts into the ground and painfully wrenching her shoulders as
she inched forward in snake-like fashion. She tried to call out to God for help
but her mouth was full of dirt and she gagged on it.

Then she realized the thing was in
a panic.

It was fighting for its unnatural
life. It
was
badly wounded, going down in flames. It was trying to
subdue her, not kill her. It was trying to nest in her, to use her as a place
for hibernation and recuperation. It had used its old skull as a resting place
but now its skull was smashed and it was seeking refuge in a human host.
It’s
trying to make me its haven.

Ree fought with renewed vigor,
knowing its weakness and sensing that she could win this struggle. She fought
with the zeal of an Old Testament hero wrestling with Satan.

Before she realized what was
happening, she was on her feet and running headlong into the trunk of a tall
pine. She was helpless to stop her forward progress and she crashed into the
tree, throwing her arms up at the last instant to protect her head. She hit the
rough bark, bounced off and fell backward to the ground, dazed.

When she came to her senses, she
had a small, heavy log in her hands and she was hitting her out-stretched legs
with it. The pain was excruciating. But she couldn’t stop the hammering blows.
It wanted to break her legs and incapacitate her. It wanted to strand her out
here in the woods where she would grow weak with hunger and lack of water.
Shrewd
bastard!
She landed another blow to her lower leg and heard the bone snap.
She screamed, choked, spat dirt. She tossed the log aside and grabbed her
broken leg, crying. The tears were good. Tears meant she was still human.

But the pain was more than she
could bear. Her vision dimmed. Darkened.

Her last thought before passing out
was of the unborn baby.

***

Boots Birdwell entered the empty
church and knelt at the altar. Ignoring the pain in his knees, he folded his
hands and silently asked God to forgive his sins and to shine his divine light
upon those places where darkness was hiding.

When he walked out of the church
and into the heat of day, there was no feeling of inner peace to tell him that
his prayers would be answered. He climbed into his truck and drove home to be
with his beloved Eartha.