The Third Evil (10 page)

No. Oh, please. Stop!

She clung to the bedspread, tightening her grip, holding on for dear life. The headboard slapped loudly against the wall. The covers flapped as if being blown by a hurricane wind. The mattress buckled and bumped.

Help me! Please—stop it! STOP it!

Terrified, she rolled off the bed and toppled onto the floor.

As she hit the floor, landing on her elbows and knees, the carpet began to undulate in waves, rising then buckling back down, flapping noisily.

The curtains beside her windows flew straight out as if reaching for her. The windows rose then slammed down.

Please—stop! STOP!

Her perfume bottles and cosmetics flew up from her dresser top and hovered near the ceiling.

The windows opened and shut more rapidly as the curtains continued to flap wildly. Struggling to her feet, Corky was tossed helplessly about by the rocking, undulating carpet.

She reached up toward her dresser, but the moving carpet pulled her back. The mirror above the dresser burst into flames, then appeared to melt. She gaped in open-mouthed horror as the silvery lava poured down over the front of the dresser onto the throbbing, bucking floor.

And then she saw the puddle of dark blood on the carpet just in front of her.

“Please—SOMEBODY! Please, stop!”

As she stared down at it, struggling to focus her eyes, the puddle began to bubble and then expand. The dark wetness crept wider until it was underneath her, until it spread over the throbbing carpet, until she was
swimming
in it.

Drowning in it. Drowning in the thick dark blood…thrashing her arms and legs…kicking frantically…trying to swim…but feeling herself pulled down, sucked down into the bubbling, dark ooze.

“Nooooooooooo!”

Thrashing wildly, Corky struggled to keep her head up as the blood bubbled, red waves rocking and crashing over her, sweeping her away, pulling her down.

“Why are you doing this to me? Why are you torturing me? Leave me ALONE!”

Was she screaming the words? Or only thinking them?

The bedroom door opened.

Someone stood over her.

Panting loudly, she raised her eyes.

“Sean!”

Her little brother stared at her, hands in his jeans pockets, his blue eyes wide with surprise. “What's going on? What are you doing down there?”

Gripping the carpet tightly between her fingers, crouched on all fours, Corky stared up at him.

“Man, you're messed up!” he exclaimed, laughing.

“I…uh…I guess I had a bad dream,” Corky explained weakly. She pulled herself up to her knees.

Red then black. Red then black.

The roar in her ears was a steady rush in the background.

She let her eyes dart around the room.

Normal. Everything was back to normal.

Of course.

“Come to my room,” Sean demanded, grabbing her hand and tugging it.

“Why?” she asked. The roar grew louder. Closer.

“I want to show you something.” He tugged harder. “Something I did on the computer.”

She tried to stand up, but the dizziness pushed her down.

Her head weighed a thousand pounds. The roar drowned out her thoughts.

Red then black. Then red again.

The world was only two colors.

“Come
on!”
Sean cried impatiently.

And suddenly, without realizing it, she was hugging him, holding on to him, pulling him close. Closer. Holding on to him because he was real. Because he was good. So good.

“Hey—what's the big idea?” he cried, trying to squirm out of her grasp.

The roar made everything vibrate, every breath echo loudly in her mind.

Red then black. Then red. Then black.

Holding on to Sean, she wrestled him playfully to the carpet.

He laughed and squirmed. He reached up and put a headlock on her with his bony arms.

Sean liked to wrestle.

She ducked out of his hold and grabbed a slender arm. I can break his arm, Corky thought. Yes. I can break both his arms.

It would be so easy. So easy to just snap them in two.

YESSSSSSS, said the roar, the insistent roar in her head.

It would be so easy.

Crack crack.

YESSSSSSSS.

Feeling the strength, the awesome strength of her powers, Corky grabbed Sean's arm and started to bend it back.

C
orky bent Sean's slender arm behind his back.

“Ow!” he protested, struggling to free himself. “You're
hurting
me!”

He wasn't strong enough to loosen her grip. She pulled the arm up, listening for the shoulder to crack.

“Ow!
Stop!” Sean screamed.

She bent the arm up even more. Then, suddenly, she let go, and Sean burst free.

“Get out!” Corky screamed to her startled brother. “Get out! Get out
now!”

He ran to the door, his blue eyes wide, his expression bewildered. Turning, he glared back at her. “What's your problem, jerk?”

“Get out, Sean! Get
out!”

He tossed his blond hair back angrily. “First you
want to wrestle. Then you kick me out. You're a jerk!”

“Just get out,” she moaned, feeling her entire body start to tremble.

He was already out the door and heading down the stairs.

I almost hurt him, Corky thought, terrified. I almost broke his arm.

Somehow the evil backed off just before…before…

She heard laughter, cold and dry. Almost a cough.

Corky glanced around the room. But she knew immediately that the laughter was inside her head.

It grew louder. Cruel laughter, taunting her. She covered her ears with her hands. Pressing hard, she tried to shut the evil sound out. But it grew louder still.

“Leave me alone! Leave me alone!” she screamed, not recognizing her own voice.

She fell onto her bed and pulled the pillow down over her head.

But the cold, dark laughter inside her mind grew louder and louder.

Corky dreamed that she was on a boat. She could feel the gentle swaying, the rise and fall of the wooden deck beneath her feet.

It was a bright day, sunny and warm. The cloudless sky was a vivid blue. The sun, reflected in the water, sent trickles of gold leaping around the white boat.

Corky could see herself standing on the swaying deck, leaning gently against the polished rail. She was
dressed all in white. Her dress, floor-length and old-fashioned, had long sleeves with lacy cuffs. The skirt billowed in the soft wind. The frilly top had a high-necked lacy collar. On her head she wore a wide-brimmed straw hat with a red ribbon around the crown tied in a bow to hang long down her back.

How strange, Corky thought, to be in the dream and be able to watch the dream at the same time.

The colors were all so lovely. The sparkling gold-blue water, the white pleasure boat, the pale sky, her shimmering dress.

There were two children with her, slender and blond, also dressed in white Victorian clothes. Very dressy, Corky thought. Not for sailing.

The boat slid gently through the shimmering, calm waters.

The children called her Sarah.

The sun felt warm on her face.

I'm not me, Corky thought. I'm someone called Sarah.

“Sarah, watch me,” the little boy said. He hoisted himself onto the deck rail and struck a brave pose.

“Get down from there,” Sarah scolded gently, laughing despite herself. “Get down at once.”

The boy obediently hopped down.

Corky watched him chase the little girl along the bright deck.

Sarah lifted her face to the sun.

Suddenly the boat heeled hard to the right. Sarah grabbed the deck rail to steady herself, to stop herself from toppling over.

What's happening? Corky wondered, feeling Sarah's alarm.

Why is the boat tilting?

The boat lurched then heeled up in the other direction. Sarah clung tightly to the rail.

She could feel the fear creep up her back.

The boat began to spin rapidly as if caught in some kind of whirlpool.

What's happening? Where is the sun? Why are we spinning like this?

The sky was suddenly black, as black as the swirling, frothing waters that lapped up noisily against the twirling boat.

Corky felt Sarah's fear. It washed over her, weighing her down, freezing her in place.

“Sarah! Sarah!” the children's voices, tiny and frightened, called to her.

She grabbed the deck rail with both hands now.

But the rail was no longer a rail. It had transformed itself into a thick white snake.

The snake raised its head, opened its venomous jaws and started to hiss at Sarah….

Then Corky woke up.

Drenched in cold perspiration, she sat up straight, gasping for air. She blinked and rubbed her eyes, rubbing away the vision of the hideous hissing snake.

I'm back, she thought. Back in my room.

The dream had been so real. It hadn't felt like a dream. More like a memory. A powerful memory.

She looked over at her bedside clock. Seven-thirty. Outside her windows, the sky was the color of charcoal.

I've slept right through dinner, Corky realized.

What a frightening dream.

But why did it seem so familiar, almost as if she had lived it before.

And why had the children called her Sarah?

Still feeling shaky, still feeling the frightening pull of the boat as it spun, Corky lowered her feet to the floor.

She opened her mouth in a wide yawn.

And as she yawned, she heard a hissing sound—the hissing of the snake?—like a strong, unending wind escaping from deep within her.

She tried to close her mouth, but it wouldn't close.

The hissing grew louder, and Corky could feel something pour from her mouth.

A disgusting, putrid odor invaded her nose as green gas spewed from her open mouth.

From inside me! she thought in horror. And I can't stop it.

She sat helplessly as the green gas poured out of her mouth, filling the room with its powerful stench.

Help me. Oh, help me!

I can't stop it. I can't close my mouth.

It smells so bad!

The green gas roared out of her mouth. More. And more.

I'm going to vomit forever. Forever! Corky thought, her entire body trembling as the green gas spewed out.

When it was finally out, the hissing stopped. Weak, Corky fell back against her headboard, dizzy and drained.

The room was filled with the putrid mist. It hovered hot and wet, like a heavy fog.

“Don't sit back. We have work to do,” said a voice that crackled like wind through dry leaves.

“Huh? Work? What w-work?” Corky managed to stammer breathlessly, pressed up against her head-board, trembling violently, unable to stop her body from shuddering.

“We have to kill the others, the ones who betrayed you,” whispered the voice in the disgusting green fog. “Let's start with Debra.”

“N
o!” Corky screamed in a high-pitched voice she'd never heard before.

She pressed her back against the headboard, trying to escape the foul odor, the smoky green shadow that hovered over the room. Shaking all over, chills rolling down her back, she realized that her room had become icy cold.

“I won't kill Debra,” Corky insisted, crossing her arms protectively over the front of her T-shirt. She stared hard at the shadow as it billowed silently in front of her.

“But Debra turned against you. She chose Hannah over you,” came the dry whisper. “Now Debra must pay”

“No! I won't let you!” Corky screamed shrilly.

The evil voice laughed, dry laughter like breaking
twigs. “You won't let me?” The heavy mist rose up toward the ceiling. “But you
are
me!”

“No!” Corky protested.

“You are me—and I am you!”