The Awakening (13 page)

*          *          *

The house was dark and silent, but far from empty.

As they searched the Scout It waited, watching. Soon
they would be coming in. But they would never leave. There was still much room
in the basement.

As the three frightened, but determined people
approached, It moved silently away from the door and deeper into the cold
house. Let them come far enough into the house to make it easy, so they
couldn’t escape. The old man would die quickly, but there was something about
the younger man… For a moment It felt fear. It made a small noise in its
throat, the sound of something It might have once felt. But It was driven by
insane lusting greed, and the force of it was too strong to resist. The men would
die in blood, and It would feed. The glowing, soulless eyes narrowed in the
darkness, waiting, a new desire growing. Yes, the men would die quickly.

But the girl would live a long time…

*          *          *

The cold and stench flooded from the open door,
stronger than Derek remembered. It didn’t seem to bother Parker much, but Ann
looked sick.

“My God, why does it smell like that?” Ann whispered.
“It’s worse than anything I could have imagined. And it’s like a deep-freeze in
there.”

“I know. Are you going to be alright?”

“I guess so. I don’t have any choice in the matter
anyway, do I?”

“Not really. We can’t leave you out here. So, if you
two are ready…?” Derek stepped through the doorway, into the black interior.
Ann followed so close that she was almost touching him. Parker brought up a
nervous rear.

Parker had given Derek the flashlight, and he
strained his eyes in the almost pitch blackness, turning his head from side to
side. If anything in there moved…
Please, Lord, don’t let nothing move. I
don’t want anything to move…
His fingers were cramping, and he realized he
was squeezing the shotgun in both hands as hard as he could. He eased them,
flexing them one by one, but kept the gun lifted and ready to use.

The trio stopped in the dining room and Ann and
Parker gathered around Derek as he bent to examine the floor. Mike might have
been through here, but he couldn’t tell from the tracks.

“I guess the kitchen’s next,” Derek said, just loud
enough for them to hear. He stood up, and the three moved toward the kitchen
entrance. “Mike?” Derek called softly. If the sheriff was anywhere in the
house, he didn’t want to startle him. Mike might shoot first and identify
later. “Mike? It’s Derek,” he called louder. No answer. If Mike were still
here…

The front door crashed shut, the sound reverberating
through the house. Then a sliding, scraping noise, as if something huge and
heavy was being dragged across the floor. With the first sound, they had
whirled, facing the direction they had come, and began backing into the
kitchen. They didn’t have to see to guess what the scraping noise was; the
front door had been blocked to keep them in.

Parker screeched and fell, the shotgun roaring. Derek
spun with the flashlight, his gun out. The old man was sprawled on the kitchen
floor ten feet from them, staring and pointing at what he had tripped over. Ann
screamed as the light landed on it.

It was the body of a man, naked, badly decomposed.
Parker scrambled crablike away, eyes wide and body shaking. Ann moaned and
sagged against Derek, her legs weak and trembling.

Other than the doorway leading to the basement, there
was no way out of the kitchen except for the way they had come in. Anything
they were going to do had to be done fast; there was no time to think or plan.

“Come on!” Derek’s voice was low and desperate. He
grabbed Parker by the arm, supporting Ann as well as he could. “I don’t know
what’s out there, but we’ve got to try to get past it and out of here. If we
stay, we’re trapped.”

He began pulling the girl and old man toward the door.
After a moment, they picked up the idea and the three of them scrambled through
the dining room and into the main part of the house. To their left was the
staircase; to the right lay the front door, and whatever guarded it. They
stopped, holding their breath; whatever it was, was moving. Its breath was
harsh and rasping, and they could hear scuffing sounds on the wet floor.

It was coming towards them.

Derek stabbed into the darkness with the beam from
the flashlight. It was there, moving silently now. The dim light illuminated
the grotesque face and shoulders. The reddish eyes burned with hatred in the
leering face.

“Oh, sweet Jesus, what is it?” Parker croaked in
disbelieving horror. The three backed slowly toward the stairs.

Derek pushed Parker and Ann in the direction of the
stairs, shoving the flashlight into the old man’s hands. “Get up the stairs.
Lock yourself into one of the rooms, try to find a way out, anything. I’ll try
to keep it back, but if I can’t…” He turned and braced himself between the
creature and his friends, the pistol Mike had given him gripped in both hands.

It was standing six feet away.

It was dark, but Derek could feel the hellish fire in
the eyes rake at his body, feel the ugly, evil force that radiated from the
creature in waves of cold and odor. He felt himself weaken with fear and
hopelessness and despair. He knew it would kill him, and then the old man, and
then…

Ann.

The creature moved closer, almost touching him,
reaching for him.

Rage. Rage boiled up from the depths of his soul,
rage and hatred for this evil, empty destroyer of life. Rage and hatred so
powerful it seared through his body and brain, pain and power.

He emptied the gun into it at point blank range.

The clawed hand of the creature slashed at him with
inhuman, unmerciful force, shredding his jacket and shirt and tearing into his
chest. He felt thick, choking black emptiness flooding over him. From far away
he felt his body lifted and thrown, and he was falling…

*          *          *

Parker’s trembling hands slammed the bolt home in the
heavy door and slumped against the thick wooden panels. Ann lay on the floor
beside him, dazed. She shook her brain. Parker knelt by her side and squeezed
her shoulder.

“You locked it,” she whispered, still shaking her
head. “You can’t lock the door. He’s still down there. Derek…”

“It’s no good, Ann.” Parker turned away, hiding the
pain and the tears that ran down his lined cheeks. “It’s no good. It got him,
and I couldn’t do anything to help him. God
damn
it!” His voice broke
and he pounded his knees with his fists, helplessly.
“God-damn-helpless-old-man!”

“Maybe he’s alright,” she said, her voice desperate.
“Maybe he’s only hurt and he needs us.” She reached for the door, but Parker
caught her hands.

“No, Ann, we can’t. It would only get us too.”

Ann buried her face in his shoulder, crying silently,
her body shaking. He held her tight, his own tears falling into her hair. After
a minute he wiped his face with his sleeve and gently pushed her back.

“Ann, we have to try to get out of here. Can you make
it?”

“I don’t care. I don’t care if it gets me anymore.”

Parker shook her by her shoulders. “You have to care.
We can’t just give up.”

“Why? Tell me why,” Ann said, dully.

“You loved Derek, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Then we have to do it for him. Did he die for
nothing?”

Ann looked down and nodded, sighing hard. Parker
picked up the flashlight and ran the light across the walls of the bedroom. It
took him a moment for him to realize with horror what was missing from the
room.

“Oh,
shit
!”

“What?”

“There’re no goddam windows!” He jumped up, the
flashlight clutched in his hand. At one side of the room was a door. A closet.
He jerked it open and tore clothes away from their hangers, searching the
walls. Nothing. No way out. He came out of the closet slowly and stood in the
middle of the bedroom.

Ann came across the room and stood by him, her head
turned toward the locked door. “Listen!”

They stood frozen, not daring to breath.

It was barely audible at first. Then, suddenly, the
air grew still, the howling wind dropping away until a blanket of silence
covered everything. Everything except for the soft scuffling sound and harsh
breath on the far side of the thick door. It grew louder. Sharp claws scraped
across the wooden door panels. With horrified fascination, they saw the
doorknob turn one way, then the other, then stop. It grew quiet; the breathing
and scraping sounds diminished. Nothing moved. It was as if, for an instant,
existence had halted.

They felt it first; a vibration in the floor that
grew until even the walls seemed to tremble with fear, the roaring scream of
rage that came from beyond the range of human hearing until it thundered. And
still it grew louder, their frail human bodies buffeted by the twisting, evil
current of sound.

The door bulged in, twisting in its frame, splintered
cracks streaking across it. Thick, curved claws ripped through, tearing the
strong wood like paper. With a shuddering groan, the door burst inward, leaving
the frame and surrounding walls a shattered ruin.

It stood leering at them, spittle dripping from its
open jaws. Then the beast came at them.

Parker moved in front of Ann, incredibly swift for an
old man. He held the only possible weapon in the room; a sturdy wooden chair,
which he swung with all of the strength in his tired body at the thing’s face.
With one hand, the beast smashed it aside, the other slicing into Parker’s
skinny shoulder. He screamed in agony as the claws ripped through his flesh.
His scream died as his head and body collided with the wall. A gurgling groan
came from his throat. He tried to move, but couldn’t. He could only watch as
the creature advanced on the helpless girl.

Ann moaned and fell to her knees, covering her face
with her hands. “Oh God, no, please noooo…”

“No.”

The voice was heavy and strong, an order that filled
the room powerfully. The beast stopped as if struck physically. Then it snarled
and twisted to face the new enemy. With shock and fear it drew back.

“You!”

Past the beast, Ann could see a figure framed in the
shattered doorway, a figure surrounded by a rippling, pulsing light. The light
grew until it spread through the room. She rubbed at her eyes. It couldn’t be
real, none of it could be real, because it was Derek…

And something else.

Derek was there, his clothes hanging and bloody, but
from his body flowed an aura. An aura that took form of a man! Taller, more
massive, the form seemed superimposed over Derek’s body, dominating the two.
Both moved as one. The larger was covered with the outline of leather and iron
armor.

And in the right hand hung the Axe.

In unison, the form of the man and the warrior lifted
the shining weapon. Half of the blade glowed brilliantly, the other half and
the shaft seemed to exist as light alone. Faint voices, as if from another
place or time, floated through the room, carrying the sound of screaming, dying
men. The powerful, piercing eyes under the heavy brows of the form flashed and
burned into the beast.

“I have waited,” the voice said. “I have come for
you. I shall wait no more, for I have brought you death!” The form stepped
forward, the Axe flooding the room with shimmering light.

The beast snarled and leaped, slashing with deadly
talons at his enemy’s chest. Derek and the armored form glanced down as the
blood flowed from the wound, the wound that stretched from the left breast up
the center of the chest. “What was, is once more.”

The Axe flashed in its own light, arching through the
air until it met with flesh of the beast. It howled as the Axe descended again,
and then again, cutting deeply into life. With one last scream it vomited, its
body twitching on the floor. At last it lay unmoving.

From the vomit rose a green, stinking fog. Thin black
tendrils of hellish life writhed deep inside, a spider’s web thing of Evil that
twisted and curled and shriveled in on itself until it was gone. The green fog
faded to nothing.

The two forms that were one raised their eyes from
the dead beast. “Let Evil fall before Me. It is done.” The deep voice echoed
hollowly.

Derek and the form fell to one knee, the light
surrounding them brightened for a moment, and then it began to fade. Slowly, in
waves of light, the two fell together to the floor. The larger form shimmered,
losing shape, turning into a mist that broke apart in glowing wisps.

The Axe began to shine, its light rising to blinding
intensity. For a moment, it wavered, then dimmed until there was nothing but
the barest outline to show where it had been. A sighing sound, like a softly
moaning wind, filled the room. As it faded, the light flowed away with it.

The still form of Derek lay on the floor, alone.

Ann crawled to him, crying in the silent house.

The old man sat on the edge of the porch, playing with a baby girl. Now
and then, he would lift his bony hand to shield his eyes from the bright
sunlight, and watch bright colored birds sing and fly from tree to tree, or to
watch the big, bare-chested man splitting firewood. He enjoyed the flash of the
axe blade in the sun, and the crisp thunking sound when the blade struck the
wood.

The screen-door behind him creaked, and a young woman
with honey colored hair sat down at his side. She took his old hand in hers and
held it, also watching the man with the axe.

“I love him so much,” she said simply to the old man.

“You should,” he answered, and squeezed her hand
gently.

The man splitting wood worked smoothly, content in
his work, happy with his life. True, he still had nightmares once in a while,
but they were fewer and not as bad. He saw his wife on the porch and waved to
her.

It had been weeks before he knew who he was, and
months before he could talk well enough to carry on a conversation. There were
many things he knew, though he didn’t know why he did. They were just there
when he needed them. Sometimes he cried when things got too confusing, but they
loved him, and the puzzle was coming together, even if it was slow.

He smiled and swung the axe.