Primal Fear (29 page)

No, there was definitely something else out there, waiting to get in.  Hungry for—

For what?  What did it want with her?

Far overhead, the roof creaked.  She heard it clearly, the rafters groaning under some interminable weight, the squeal of wood as the stress became unbearable.  The house shuddered violently, hammered by something beyond its endurance.

Laurie peered upward.  A stress crack slithered across the ceiling, slowly running the breadth of the room.  The question surfaced in her thoughts again: what does it want with me?

An answer formed, or at least the shadow of one, a glimmer of half-heard conversation.  Something John had said to Harry, something she’d overheard while they’d been talking in the kitchen.  But what?

She struggled with the memory, positive now that it held the key to the answer she needed. 

From upstairs she heard the sound of glass breaking as a window exploded inward.  The noise forced her into action, drove her to examine her already limited options. 

The memory of John’s warning wouldn’t do her any good if the house came crashing down on top of her.  She couldn’t stand here thinking all day.  On the other hand, it would be suicide to venture out into the storm.

The last alternative, then, was to find shelter, to hole up somewhere that might withstand the destruction of the house.

The cellar door was only fifteen feet away, and she made a run for it, her hands already rising to slide back the bolt and twist the knob.

And then it came to her.

Laurie stopped short in the middle of the living room, the wind pounding at her from all sides, the snow whirling around her like a swarm of angry bees.  She knew what the demon was after, knew the motivation behind its attack.

She changed her course, moving as quickly as she could toward the spare bedroom.

Minutes later, Laurie was making her way toward the far end of the cellar, moving carefully through the darkness.  This end of the house, facing east, had comprised the original foundation, constructed out of rock and then years later fortified with concrete when the home had been expanded to both the side and back.  Here, where the relatively new foundation had been fused around the old, would surely be the safest place to be if the house collapsed.

It seemed as if that was inevitable now.  Outside, the demon’s attack had grown more and more furious with each second that went by, and with each impact against the upper floors, the thunder of falling wood grew louder.  It wouldn’t be long, she thought, before the house was reduced to a pile of rubble. 

But at least she’d found what she’d been looking for.  It had been in John’s bag, wrapped in a stained length of animal skin and then tied securely with twine.

John had called it the P’oh Tarhei, and had said something about it having both a physical and spiritual connection to the demon.  And whatever power it held, he’d stressed that it would be better off left behind when he and Harry had set out for the quarry.

It must surely be what had led the demon here.

Her first instinct had been to give the creature what it wanted, to heave the P’oh Tarhei out into the snow and be done with it.  The demon would leave her be then, wouldn’t it?  It would end its attack and disappear while the house was still standing.  At least she would be alive.

But then she’d changed her mind, struck by the realization that such a simple surrender would mean letting Harry down.  If by some miracle he was still alive—a  possibility that she clung to stubbornly despite the odds to the contrary—then relinquishing the one weapon that might be able to help him would be the worst mistake imaginable.  Perhaps its magic might even serve as protection, at least until she could plot her next move.

So she’d taken the artifact deep into the cellar, grimly aware that she might very well be digging her own grave in the process.

From high above she heard the sound of timber being twisted apart, a groan of tearing wood as the demon slammed into the house once more.  A shower of dust settled over her as part of the roof collapsed.  She huddled further into the corner and eyed the bulkhead door further along the foundation wall.  It would be her only means of escape if worse came to worst, and she was well aware of the fact that it would be covered outside with a thick layer of snow.  Getting out wouldn’t be easy, but at least it was a possibility.

Clutching John’s artifact closer to her chest, she wondered what secret powers lay within its bony length.  How could they be extracted and used as protection?  She had no idea.  She only knew that if something didn’t happen soon, if the demon didn’t suspend its assault and move on, she wouldn’t survive to see the power of the P’oh Tarhei.

There was a sudden lull in the commotion from above, a short moment of almost complete silence in which she imagined the demon must be preparing itself for its final attack.  But then a distant hum reached her ears, a familiar sound that seemed terribly out of place in this impossible situation.  It was the sound of an engine, a truck maybe, getting unmistakably louder as it drew closer to the house.

She listened for several seconds more and felt a small spark of hope.  It was clearly getting closer, the whine of its motor the most pleasant music she thought she’d ever hear.

It wasn’t just another snowplow.  She could tell by the sound of its engine that it was a much smaller vehicle.  And no one else would be out driving around in this mess, at the height of the blizzard.

That left only one other possibility.

Someone was coming for her.  Someone was coming to help.

She only hoped they made it in time.

Chapter Twenty Five

The Jeep topped a small rise just beyond Harry’s property and he got his first glimpse of his house through the falling snow.  The damage was clear even at this distance, the lines of the roof smashed in, the entire eastern end leaning steeply to one side.  Flames flickered at the downstairs windows; something inside was burning.

“Oh, Jesus,” he whispered, his heart suddenly in his throat.  He gunned the engine, eager to close the rest of the distance as quickly as he could. 

True to his word, he and John had confessed everything to Charlie on the drive over from the quarry.  The truth was out now, as impossible as it seemed, and although Charlie had kept shaking his head in denial, he’d absorbed the bulk of the story without argument.  Harry thought it was the weight of everything Charlie had witnessed in the tunnels that allowed him to believe so quickly.  Or maybe it was a side effect of the intense shock he’d suffered, warping his sense of reality so badly that at this point any story would have seemed plausible to him.

Either way, it wasn’t difficult to convince him of what they were up against.  And when they set eyes on the wreckage of Harry’s house, it only served as further evidence of the power of the demon they’d set free.

At first it seemed as if the attack had already ended, as if their arrival was already much too late.  But then Harry saw a huge shape moving in the wind above the house, a twisting figure formed out of the swirling snow.  It slammed into the roof as he watched, its force as strong as the driving wind, as fierce as the storm itself.  Another section of the roof collapsed, crashing down into the interior of the house and through the second floor.  Harry screamed, pushing the Jeep to its limits across the final expanse of snow.  He sped towards the house, his thoughts teetering on the edge of panic, his mind numbed by the possibility that Laurie had been buried alive somewhere within the falling rubble.

Above them, he saw the great beast turn, its towering form pivoting in their direction.  It swept towards the earth, a huge plume of snow and dirt rising into the air in front of the house. 

Harry felt the ground shiver beneath them, the wave of billowing snow hitting them broadside like a runaway truck.  The Jeep’s front end came up, the steering wheel ripped out of his grasp.  They were going over and there was nothing he could do about it.

For a moment there was no sense to the world, no difference between up and down or left and right.  He felt his body flipping end over end, mercifully thrown clear of the tumbling Jeep, but then he came down hard into the fallen snow.  The frozen earth knocked the wind out of him, left him gasping for breath as his body finally came to rest some thirty feet from the house.  He raised his head carefully, trying to hold onto his senses, his eyes scanning the yard.

There was no sign of the demon.  He half expected it to swoop down and finish him off, aware that he was defenseless now, that he couldn’t possibly withstand another attack.  But apparently it had something else in mind, some other task that couldn’t wait.

Another crashing sound from the house drew his attention and he saw that the beast had gone back there.  It had only wanted to slow them down; now, its attention was centered once again on getting the P’oh Tarhei from within the house.

Harry climbed to his feet, his body aching in every muscle, stiff in every joint.  He turned to peer at the wreckage of Charlie’s Jeep.  It lay smoking on its side, one wheel missing, another twisted almost completely off of its axle, the passenger compartment torn open to expose the empty interior.  He couldn’t see John or Charlie, couldn’t see their gear.  He felt alone, helpless, as if everything had been snatched away from him by the demon’s final relentless attack.

Something moved in the corner of his eye, over to his right.  He turned toward it, staring into the harsh wind.  It came again, at the foot of the house, a movement beneath the cover of the snow, weak at first but noticeable nonetheless.

The bulkhead door.

It shuddered for a moment on the brink of opening but then fell quickly closed again, the weight of the snow above it too much to bear from inside.

“Laurie,” Harry whispered, his heart thundering in his chest.  He raced toward the door, the pain in his limbs forgotten, the fog lifting from his thoughts.  He turned his eyes upward as he ran, searching for the beast.  It was still there, looming over the house, its limbs formed by the spiraling snow, hammering ferociously at the roof’s crumbling framework. 

He reached the bulkhead, digging furiously in the snow until he found the handle.  From behind it he heard Laurie’s voice, her cries for help, and he knew at that moment that he would rather die himself than fail her now.  He couldn’t bear to hear the sound of terror in her voice, not for another moment, not while he still had an ounce of strength left in his body.

He heaved on the handle, kicking the snow off of the door.  It opened with a rusty creak of metal, his shoulders burning with the effort.

And then Laurie was scrambling up the cellar steps, falling into his arms and sobbing his name, over and over again.  In her hand she clutched the P’oh Tarhei.  She’d risked her life to ensure its safety.  Now, if they could, they had to find some way to use it against their attacker.

Harry turned away from the house, pulling Laurie with him through the snow.

John had come to his feet somewhere beyond the wreckage of the Jeep.  He limped towards them, his fingers curled around the duffel bag.  Harry couldn’t imagine what tricks he had left within its zippered pockets, but whatever they were, he hoped the young man was prepared to use them now.

“Where’s Charlie?” Harry called.  “Have you seen him?”

John pointed past the Jeep, where Charlie was rising slowly to his feet.

“Thank God.”  Harry motioned towards Laurie.  “She got it,” he shouted.  “Laurie has the P’oh Tarhei.”

John nodded, one hand clasped to his side, his body hunched over painfully.          

“You okay?” Harry asked, reaching John’s side.

“I don’t think so.  I think I might have broken a rib, maybe worse.”  His voice was forced, his breathing ragged.

“Can you keep moving?  We have to get the hell out of here.”

“No,” John muttered.  “First we have to destroy the P’oh Tarhei.  It’s our only chance.  If the demon gets hold of it . . .”

Harry shook his head and snatched the artifact from Laurie’s grasp while she held it out for John to claim.  “We can’t.  We can’t destroy it, not yet.”

“Harry, it’s the last piece of the tupilaq.  Wyh-heah Qui Waq can still regain its form if it possesses the P’oh Tarhei.  We can’t let that happen.”

“Listen to me.  If we destroy this, the demon will still go free.  You told me so yourself.”

“But we might be able to stop it.”

“Might?”

“That’s right.  There’s something we can try.  It might not be too late.  But I can’t be sure.”

“Then let’s give it what it wants.”

John stepped forward, making a grab for the artifact.  Harry moved away, aware that they couldn’t stand here and argue forever.  He could see Charlie trudging towards them through the snow, staring wide-eyed at the spectacle of the writhing demon.  He could imagine Charlie’s worst fear as he crossed the yard, could confirm it with his own suspicions.

At any moment, the demon would sense that the P’oh Tarhei was no longer in the house.  When that happened, they wouldn’t have a prayer.  On the other hand, if they acted quickly, and if his suspicions were correct, they just might get out of this alive.

“John, you have to trust me.  I know what I’m doing.  If everything you’ve told me so far is true, then this should work.”

“And if it doesn’t?”

“If it doesn’t, it won’t matter.  None of us will be around to regret it.”

Harry moved as quickly as he could, hoping to put his plan into motion before the demon broke off its attack on the house, before the storm and the cold could weaken their resolve.  He was already on the brink of exhaustion, just as he knew John must be.  If some headway wasn’t made soon, he didn’t think either of them would have the strength to carry on. 

Together, he and Charlie helped John through the yard, putting a bit of distance between themselves and the house.  They sat him down beneath one of the maple trees that formed the border between his lawn and Marty Slater’s and Harry laid his plan out as quickly as he could. By the time he’d finished, John was already shaking his head.  “You’re insane,” he said.  “It’ll never work.”

“It has to.”  Harry crouched beside him, placing the zippered bag in John’s lap.  “Whatever you’re going to need, you’d better get it ready now.  We won’t have much time.”  He turned to Charlie.  “You in?”

Charlie shrugged, his features pinched with doubt.  “Whatever you say, Chief.”

Harry looked at Laurie, trying to smile, to give her some sense of encouragement.  “Ready?”

“If you are.”

He winked at her, slapping John on the shoulder as he started off towards Slater’s back door.  “Be ready to move when I get back.”

“You got it,” John said doubtfully, already rummaging through the bag.

Harry didn’t waste any time at the door to Slater’s house.  Shielding his face, he drove one gloved fist through the glass and reached in to flip back the lock.  With Laurie and Charlie close behind him, he stepped into the house and headed immediately toward the cellar.

The stairs creaked beneath their combined weight, but Harry pressed on into the dimly lit cellar.  He followed the foundation wall to the tiny opening that led to the underground shelter.  Laurie peered uneasily at the thousands of pictures that covered the walls, taken aback by Slater’s apparent obsessions, her face ashen.  

Crossing the cramped room in two long strides, Harry squatted beside the work bench against the far wall.  The cardboard boxes containing the clothes of the missing children had been taken away as evidence, but the others were still there, just where Charlie had found them.  He peered inside, his own doubts rising within him now.  The explosives were clearly very old, their edges dried and crumbling, their casings faded and covered with dust. 

For the first time, the very real possibility of failure occurred to him.  If the explosives didn’t work, if the blasting caps no longer fired, then all would be lost.  It would be too late to try anything else.

Gripping one of the boxes, he tugged it out from under the bench and into the middle of the floor.  “They’re all pretty heavy,” he told Laurie.  “If you can’t lift it, pull out as much as you think you can handle.  Every bit is going to help.”  He turned to Charlie.  “Grab that last box.  We’re going to need all the wire we can get.”

Harry hefted the final box and stood, pleased to see that Laurie had managed to lift the box he’d given her.  Nodding back the way they’d come, he led them back toward the stairs.  Something stopped him halfway there, something that he couldn’t put his finger on. 

Laurie seemed to sense it, too, but her fear had come with realization.

“Oh God.”

“What is it?” Harry asked her.

“The noise stopped,” she said, her voice heavy with dread.  “I don’t think it’s attacking the house anymore.”

John staggered closer to Harry’s house, each step sending a sharp pain deep into his side.  He gasped for breath, fighting the wind, fighting exhaustion, understanding that the next couple of minutes might be the most crucial in his life.

The demon had ended its attack on the house, its huge form hanging over the burning wreckage like a cloud of living smoke, coiling into itself in confusion.  It had seemed to sense, all at once, that the P’oh Tarhei had been stolen right out from beneath it, that its last chance to regain the shape Jha-Laman had given it so long ago was no longer within its reach.

John straightened, standing painfully upright.  He would have to hold the demon at bay, keep it in place as long as he could, hopefully until Harry made it back with the dynamite.  He didn’t know if he had the strength to work the magic, didn’t know if his incantations would have any effect at all against the demon’s growing power.

But he had to try.

He raised his arms over his head, grimacing with pain, and began to speak in his native tongue.  The words came easily, a litany learned through years of careful study, sharpened now by the raw necessity of survival.

He only hoped the magic behind the words would be stronger than he was.  But already another idea was beginning to form in his mind, one he knew could only be used as a last resort.  If everything else went wrong, if Harry’s plan didn’t work out, then there was always one final alternative.

*     *     *     *     *

Laurie saw him first.

Emerging from Slater’s house, they’d seen immediately that John was no longer sitting where they’d left him.  His bag was gone, too, and Harry had a moment of near-panic as he realized that John might have given up and run out on him.

“There he is!” Laurie shouted, pointing into the yard behind their home.  “Jesus, what does he think he’s doing?”