Invisible Terror Collection (31 page)

Things were not going well. Not well at all.

Finally, through a complicated incantation, Ttocs was able to conjure up a fireball. The light exploded in all directions, raining flames down upon the undead monster and sending it scurrying for cover. But the damage was already done. Ttocs was far weaker than when he’d started.

And still they came at him. This time it was one of the players. Ttocs had barely taken a step before the infamous Quantoz, an offspring of Satan himself, went in for the kill. It was unbe-lievable the way the dice kept rolling against Scott. Each time Ttocs tried to defend himself, he lost. And each time he lost, Scott grew more and more depressed.

Finally Quantoz’s turn was over. Nearly half of Ttocs’s armor had been depleted and almost all of his magic had been neutralized. It had been a bloody series of attacks, but at least for now it was over.

Scott leaned back in the office chair and rubbed his neck. His face was wet with perspiration, and he was breathing hard. “Just a game,” Becka had said. Hardly. Not when he was fighting for his life. And it was his life. Ttocs was his creation. Ttocs was a part of him … Ttocs
was
him.

But that was okay. His turn wouldn’t be for several more minutes. He would have time to rest, to get his bearings and, now that he was so much weaker, find a way to stay in the game without being destroyed.

Suddenly his thoughts were interrupted by another player signaling to attack him. It was obvious the player thought he might be able to finish Ttocs off. Maybe he could.

Scott took a deep breath and sat up at the keyboard preparing for another assault …

**********

“Here we go.” Ryan turned left onto a dirt road and started winding up the steep, tree-lined driveway. The sun had just set and the temperature was dropping quickly.

“How do you know about this place?” Becka asked.

“Krissi’s folks used to invite us up every summer. Me, Julie, Krissi, and Philip.”

Becka nodded, once again remembering how she was the new kid. Once again feeling like the outsider, the one who had come in and ruined everything. As if reading her thoughts, Ryan reached out and took her hand. She gratefully accepted it. It was warm, strong, and reassuring.

At last the cabin came into view. It was one story, not too big, and covered with worn brown shingles. Philip’s Jeep sat in front.

“That’s weird,” Ryan said.

“What?”

“The chimney, there’s no smoke coming from it. In this weather you’d think they would have started a fire. It’s the only way to heat the cabin.”

“And check out the Jeep,” Becka said, pointing toward it.

Both doors were wide open. Ryan pulled up alongside it, turned off the ignition, and climbed out. “Philip? Krissi?” Becka followed, feet crunching on frozen gravel, clouds of breath hovering above her head. They looked inside the Jeep, but it held no clues. Just the usual guy clutter and —

“Ryan!” She motioned to the passenger seat. “It’s Krissi’s bag.”

Ryan nodded, barely listening.

“You don’t understand. Krissi would never go anywhere without her bag. It’s got her makeup, her brush, all the bare essentials for her life.”

Ryan stared down at it a moment. Then they both turned to the cabin. It looked completely deserted. No lights. No sign of activity. Once again Ryan reached out to take her hand — and once again Becka was grateful for its warmth and strength.

They started forward. This time it was Becka’s turn to call out. “Krissi? Philip?”

No answer.

They arrived at the porch steps. The railing was covered with a thin layer of frost.

“Krissi!”

The air was dead still. No sound, no movement. Just the shuffling of their feet and the creaking wood as they started up the stairs.

“Philip!”

They reached the door. Ryan looked at Becka, took a deep breath, and reached for the handle. Becka wasn’t sure if the shiver that raced across her shoulders was from the cold or from what awaited them inside.

She would soon find out.

Chapter 8

A wave of relief washed over Philip as he heard Ryan and Becka calling his name outside the cabin. He wanted to shout an answer, but he was afraid to send Krissi into another fit. The last one had wiped her out. They had barely arrived when she had suddenly jumped out of the Jeep, run into the cabin, and thrown herself down on the floor, screaming. It was like an epileptic seizure, only worse.

It had taken all of Philip’s strength just to stop her from crashing into the furniture and walls and hurting herself. When she had finally reached exhaustion, he did his best to quiet her.

Soon her screams had turned to soft, helpless whimpering.

“Philip,” she’d moaned, “I need a pencil — they need to write something. Please, get me a pencil.”

But he had no pen or pencil on him, and he wasn’t about to leave her to find one.

“Please, they want to communicate. We’ve got to let them communicate.”

“Shh,” was all he could say as he sat with her on the floor.

Holding her. Rocking her. “Shh, it’s going to be okay.” He fought back the tears. It had been a long, long time since he had cried. 

But he was scared. More scared than he could remember — not of UFOs or aliens or whatever, but of losing Krissi. He’d lost his mother and sisters. That had nearly destroyed him. He wasn’t about to lose the only other thing he cherished.

They stayed that way, huddled together on the floor, for he didn’t know how long. It was freezing, but he didn’t dare let go of her to start a fire. At least not yet. Maybe after she fell asleep.

She was so exhausted she was nearly there.

Then he heard Ryan and Becka calling. The cabin door creaked open and there they stood.

“Over here,” he called softly. “We’re over here.” Ryan was the first to step inside. “Are you guys okay?” He fumbled for the switch on the wall and snapped it on. Welcome light flooded the room. Becka entered behind him, but as soon as her foot touched the floor, Philip felt Krissi’s body grow rigid.

“Who-who’s there?” she asked, squinting from the light.

“It’s us, Krissi,” Ryan answered. “Me and Beck.” She looked up to Philip accusingly. “You told them where we were? You invited them?”

It was time to face the music. “Krissi, I don’t think what’s happening … I’m not convinced it’s good.”

“They’ll scare him off!” She struggled to sit up. “You read what Xandrak wrote. He won’t be able to help us if their beliefs hold us back.”

“Maybe holding us back …” Philip searched for the words.

“Maybe that’s not such a bad idea.”

“What?”

“After all that’s happened to us, maybe there’s something about their beliefs we need.”

“How can you
say
that?” Her voice rang with hurt and betrayal. “They’re going to ruin everything. Don’t you see?”

“Krissi,” Ryan said, “we’re not here to ruin — ” But he was interrupted by his car horn honking in short bursts, over and over again. Everyone turned toward the open door. Outside, bright lights flashed on the trees, off and on, off and on.

“What’s that?” Krissi demanded.

“I think it’s my car alarm.” Ryan stepped outside for a better look. “That’s weird.”

“Something bump into it?” Becka asked, joining him.

Ryan shook his head. “I never armed it. How could the thing go off if I never set it?” He shrugged, stuffed his hands into his pockets, and headed down the steps to investigate. Becka followed.

Philip wanted to call out, to beg them to stay. But he knew how weak and stupid that would sound, so he remained quiet.

He wished he hadn’t.

As soon as Ryan and Becka were out of sight, Krissi rose unsteadily to her feet.

“Where are you going?”

“He’s here,” she whispered.

Immediately Philip was beside her. “Who is? Who’s here?”

“Xandrak.”

He fought off a shiver and looked around the room. “I don’t see any — ”

Suddenly the table radio blasted on at full volume. Philip spun toward it, but no one was there. He looked back at Krissi.

She was staring off into space again, her eyes starting to glaze over. He gave her a little shake. “Krissi? Oh, not again! What’s going on?”

She didn’t respond.

The TV on the bookshelf suddenly came on and began to blare. There was no picture, just lots of snow. And static. Very loud static.

“Krissi?” He shouted over the noise. He gave her a harder shake. “Krissi!”

But Krissi didn’t even seem to hear him. She slowly turned toward the door. 

“Krissi! Answer me!”

No response.

“Ryan!” he shouted, more alarmed than ever. “Becka!” Instantly the radio and TV shut off. Along with the light in the room. Once again they were immersed in darkness. And silence. Even Ryan’s car alarm had stopped.

“Krissi?” Philip whispered.

Still no answer, but he could feel her body start to tremble.

“Krissi?”

Then, ever so slowly, she raised her hand until it was pointing directly at the door. Philip’s eyes followed her gesture; then he sucked in his breath. Someone was there. Standing in the open doorway. It was impossible to make out much detail, but there was a silhouette of a short creature, maybe four feet tall. He was grotesquely skinny with long arms and a strange, triangle-shaped head.

“Xandrak?” Krissi’s voice was barely a whisper.

The creature said nothing but raised his arm. At the end of it were three long, wiry fingers.

Krissi started to move. Philip’s grip on her shoulder tightened.

“Philip …”

He held her firmly.

“Philip, let me go. He wants to talk to me.” But he held tight. Nothing would make him let go. Not this time.

Without warning, there was an explosion of light. It blasted through the doorway and windows. Blinding. Overpowering.

Exactly the same light that had assaulted them in the Jeep. The energy was so strong it knocked Philip to the ground. He barely hit the floor before he was scrambling to his knees, fighting to get back to his feet and grab Krissi. But by the time he stood, she was gone. He spun to the door. So was the creature.

“Krissi!” he screamed. 

The light vanished.

“No!”
He bolted toward the door and out onto the porch just in time to crash into Ryan.

“What was
that?”
Ryan exclaimed. “It was like lightning!”

“They’ve got Krissi!”

“Who? What?”

Then Philip spotted it. For a split second a ball of silvery light hovered over the ridge of the driveway — and then it was gone.

There was no time to explain. He raced for his car.

Ryan grabbed him. “Philip, wait!”

“They have Krissi. Don’t you understand?”

“Yes, but — ”

“Let me go.”

“You can’t fight this stuff on your own.” He tried to pull away, but Ryan held him tight. “You don’t understand!” Philip shouted. “I let her down once. I can’t do it again!”

“You’ve got to let us help you!” Ryan shouted back. “You can’t fight it on your own.” Again Philip tried to break free, but Ryan held on. “You said it yourself. You need our help. You need our faith.”

“I tried it.”

“This is different.”

They continued to struggle. “Let go!”

“Philip, you’ve got to trust — ”

“Let go!”

“Phil — ”

Philip clenched his fist, drew his arm back, and hit Ryan with everything he had. Becka screamed as Ryan flew across the porch, hitting the window with the back of his head. The glass shattered, and he slowly slid to the floor.

Philip did not stop to watch.

**********

Ttocs’ new attacker, Wraith, was a ghoul, fifteenth class. Normally he wouldn’t waste time on someone as weak and defense-less as Ttocs had become, but Scott had been pretty ruthless in the beginning, and what goes around comes around. It was pay-back time.

The dice fell worse than before. Wraith relentlessly stripped Ttocs of his armor and weapon points, smashing, parrying, and dissolving them with deadly acid from his fangs.

Scott hunched over the keyboard in the back room of the store, typing for all he was worth. Sweat dripped from his face, but he didn’t notice. His heart pounded furiously, but he didn’t care. It was no longer his sweat or his heart. It was Ttocs’. And he was no longer in the General Store; he was somewhere in the crypt, fighting for his very life.

He rolled the dice to retreat, but Wraith was far too clever.

He cast a spell on Ttocs, paralyzing him. Then, assisted by the powers of hell, he levitated Ttocs and turned him around, forcing him to face a giant sword made of dragon teeth. Teeth that would embed themselves into an opponent’s throat and eat his flesh.

The sword flew swiftly toward his neck. Ttocs tried to move, to duck, but the spell was too powerful. The sword hit its mark.

Scott cried out in pain, grabbing at his own throat. Now the teeth began their deadly job, gnawing and tearing. Ttocs gasped for breath, but it did no good. He staggered and clutched at his neck, coughing and wheezing. Everything around him started to spin, the light grew dim, color faded.

He fell. Hard. Try as he might, Scott could not get him to move. His unbeatable creation lay motionless.

It was over. Ttocs was dead.

Scott stared at the screen, his heart thundering in his head, his breath coming in short gasps. It couldn’t be! Ttocs was too great. Scott had spent too much time making him powerful, unstoppable, undefeatable. But there on the screen lay the character, his eyes frozen in what had been a brutal, agonizing death.

Scott closed his own eyes. How could this be? How could Ttocs be gone? He lowered his head into his hands as a lump of emotion rose into his throat. His friend was dead. His creation.

His self …

Scott sat there silently a long, long time. And then he began to weep.

**********

Philip bounced out of the driveway and slid onto the main road.

He tromped on the gas and the Jeep fishtailed. He fought the wheel and managed to bring it back under control. A hundred yards ahead, the silvery ball of light hovered ten, maybe fifteen, feet above the road. It seemed to be waiting for him to catch up.