Authors: F. Paul Wilson

The Haunted Air (49 page)

BOOK: The Haunted Air

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Lyle grabbed his shoes from the gym bag and slipped them on. No further need for stealth that he could see, and it felt good to have something on his feet again besides socks.

“Anybody else here, Eli?”

When Bellitto didn't respond Jack leaned close, grabbed his hair, and pulled his head up so that they were nose to nose.

“Where's your buddy Minkin? Is he around? You can nod or shake, Eli.
Now
.”

Bellitto shook his head.

“You expecting him or anyone soon?”

Another head shake.

Jack shoved him back. “Right. Like I'd believe you.” He turned to Lyle. “Get out your sap and stay close to him. He tries to get up, clock him down.”

Lyle didn't want to be left alone here with this man. “Where're you going?”

“To check the other rooms. Just to be sure. I've got this bad feeling Minkin's hiding someplace, maybe upstairs. I don't want to leave him behind if he's here. And while I'm at it, I'll see if I can find something to wrap up this garbage.” He looked around the bare living room. “Jeez; Eli. You ever hear of a rug?”

As Jack stalked away, pistol at ready, Lyle pulled the sap from his pocket and took a position behind Bellitto where he wouldn't have to see his cold eyes. He was glad the man's mouth was taped so he couldn't talk or plead. Did he have any idea this was his last night alive?

Suddenly Lyle heard a hoarse cryâJack's voiceâecho from the other end of the house.

Oh, shit, what now?

He tightened his sweaty grip on the handle of the sap as his heartbeat lunged into triple time. Damn, he should have taken that gun when Jack offered it.

And then Jack flew into the room, face white, teeth bared, the pistol in one hand, a sheet of paper in the other.

Lyle cringed at the look in his eyes. He hadn't thought a human could look like thatâlike death itself.

He jumped back as Jack backhanded the pistol across Bellitto's head and held the paper before him.

“What is this? Who sent it?” He dropped the sheet into Bellitto's lap and ripped the tape from his mouth, then he lowered the pistol till the muzzle was poised over one of the man's legs.
“Now,
Bellitto, or I start sending your knees to hell, one piece at a time till I hear what I want!”

“Much as I'd like to see Jack,” Charlie said, “I hope he don't pop in right now. This might be just a leetle hard to explain.”

Gia laughed. “I wouldn't even bother. I'd just get on his case about what took him so long.”

Gia's feet rested in a foothold about four feet off the floor of their prison and her arm ached as she dug a new hole above her head in the dirt wall. Charlie was behind and below her, holding her in place by pushing against the backs of her upper thighs. He'd dug out the first four holes in record timeâthe ability to do something to help them out had galvanized him into a digging machineâstretching as far as he could for the last; then it was Gia's turn. Somebody
needed to use the foot- and handholds to dig the next ones. Since she was smaller and lighter, it was easier for Charlie to hold her up.

“God, this dirt is hard.”

She kept her eyes closed and her face averted to avoid the loose earth that rained down as she stabbed the cross into the wall. She was covered with dirt; her short blond hair was especially full of it; she felt gritty and grimy, but she kept jabbing away. They were making progress, they were getting out.

The cross clunked against something in the hole. Another swing, another clunk, with very little dirt falling out.

“Uh-oh. I think I'm up against a rock.”

“You got it deep enough for a foot yet?”

Gia gauged the opening to be three inches deep, tops. “Not yet.”

“See if you can dig around it.”

“What if it's too big?”

She felt Charlie shift behind her.

“Here. Stand on my shoulders and see if you can get a look. If it too big we shift the hole to one side. If it ain't, see if you can yank it out.”

“You're sure?”

“Do it. Just don't go droppin' it on my dome.”

Clinging to the shallow depression she'd been digging, Gia lifted one hesitant foot onto Charlie's shoulder, then the other. Straightening her knees, she raised her head to the level of the hole and looked inâ

âto find the empty sockets of a child's skull staring back at her.

Gia let out a scream of shock and revulsion and lurched back. She lost her grip and started to fall. Terrified, she flailed her arms about but could find nothing to hold on to. Somehow Charlie managed to catch her and save her from injury.

“What's wrong?”

Gia sobbed. “A child's skeleton. Maybe Tara herself. I hate this!” she shouted, letting the tears flow. She thought
of Vicky, how except for luck that might have been her skull. “This shouldn't happen to anyone, especially not a child!” She wiped at her tears and the back of her hand came away muddy. “What kind of monsterâ?”

The ground shook then. Just a little, but enough to bring her around.

Charlie was turning, looking up at the surrounding walls. “You feel that?”

Gia nodded. “I sureâ”

A section of the wall near the top broke free then and tumbled onto them. Gia coughed and gagged as she inhaled a cloud of dirt. Another load of earth landed on her back, knocking her to her knees.

“It's collapsing! We'll be buried!”

The cascade continued as Charlie grabbed her arm and pulled her to her feet. “Keep moving your legs! Stay on top of it as it falls!”

It was like being under a dirt waterfall, but Gia saw what he meant. As long as too much didn't fall at once, they had a chance ofâ

She cried out as something cold wrapped around her ankle. She looked down and saw a small hand, ghostly pale, clutching her. She tried to tug away but couldn't break free. The little fingers held fast, like a steel manacle.

Charlie gave a shout. Gia turned to see a similar hand gripping his foot. The dirt was starting to pile up around them and his expression was frantic as he tried to yank free.

“It's Tara!”

Charlie stared at her. “Why? We never did nothin' to her.”

“Tara!” Gia cried, still trying to pull free from the relentless grip on her ankle. “Tara, stop it! We're not your enemy!”

She still clutched the cross. In desperation she swung it at the little hand, striking it just above the wrist. It sliced through the ghost flesh with no more resistance than air, and then â¦

The hand disappeared. She was free.

“Charlie! The cross! It breaks her grip!”

Charlie's ankle was buried. Gia crouched beside him and dug through the dirt till she saw the hand. She rammed the cross against it and the hand disappeared.

“Praise Jesus!” Charlie cried as he jumped away from the spot where he'd been held. “Nothing can stand against the power of His cross!”

But just then she felt another hand grab her left ankle, and still another grab her right. She glanced at Charlie and saw that a pair of arms had snaked out of the wall to trap his lower legs.

The dirtfall doubled in volume.

Gia didn't hesitate. She slashed at one little hand and then the other. As soon as their grip was broken she lurched across the pit to help Charlie. She slipped and the weight of the falling dirt knocked her flat. For one panic-seared moment she thought she'd never get up, but she forced herself to her feet and reached Charlie's side. Choking and gasping, she slashed at the hands. But no sooner was he free than they both were gripped againâby three or four hands each this time.

“She's like a hydra!” Gia shouted as she cut at the new handsâhers and Charlie'sâbut new ones appeared as soon as she severed the old ones.

“Don't know âbout no hydras,” Charlie said, his voice thick. “But I don't see us gettin' outta this alive. Leastways not together.”

Gia glanced at him. His expression looked stricken, as if he were about to cry.

“It's okay, Charlie. We'll make it. We've just got to keepâ”

His expression hardened, as if he'd come to a decision. He stuck out his hand. “Gimme the cross.”

“I'm doing okay with it.”

“No, you ain't.” He grabbed her arm. His eyes had a strange look. “Not nearly. Gimme.”

“Charlie? What are you doing?” Gia leaned away from him but he was stronger and had a longer reach. He caught
hold of the cross and ripped it from her grasp. “Charlie!”

Without a word he bent and began hacking at the hands imprisoning her left leg. As soon as that was free, he grabbed it, lifted it, and placed her foot on his back. Then he went to work on her right leg. When that was free, he lifted her and placed her on the dirt which had now piled to above his knees.

As soon as Gia hit the dirt, new arms emerged like snakes and grabbed her. Charlie immediately went to work on these.

The dirtfall redoubled. Gia could barely see him.

“What about you?” Her throat constricted as she realized what he was up to. “Charlie, you've got to get your feet free!”

“Too late,” he said without looking up. He was waist deep in the dirt and kept hacking away at the new hands as soon as they sprouted, allowing Gia to stay atop the rising level of dirt. “Can't get to 'em.”

“You can if you do it now! We can both make it.”

He shook his head. “Nuh-uh. Then we both be in the same sinkin' boat.”

“No!” Gia couldn't, wouldn't let this happen. She began clawing at the dirt around his waist. “We'll take turns! We'llâ”

A ghost hand shot up from the loose earth, gripping her wrist and jerking her down. She cried out as her face hit the dirt.

Charlie slashed at the hand, freeing her, then roughly shoved her back.

“See? See?” He was looking at her now and she could see tears in his eyes. His lips trembled as he spoke. “I know what I'm doin', okay? But I don't wanna do it for nothin'! Let it mean somethin', huh?”

“But Charlieâ”

At that moment the dirtfall stopped.

Gia looked up, looked around, looked at Charlie. It had ceased as suddenly and mysteriously as it had started. Why?

“Praise the Lord!” Charlie sagged forward. The dirt had
piled up to the lower part of his chest. He cradled his head on his arms and spoke toward the ground. “He's delivered us from evil!”

Just then Gia felt the dirt shift under her, felt it change, become finer, grainier. It began to move, surging and flowing like thick fluid.

And rising.

“Oh, no!” Gia cried. “What's happening?”

Charlie straightened and began slashing at the soil as it rose to his armpits.

“Don't know! Please, God, stop it! Stop it!”

The dirt, though dry, was lapping at him like water, swallowing him, but Gia remained afloat, buoyed on the grainy swells. She cried out and grabbed his free hand, tugging on it, trying to pull him up to her level but he was anchored fast below.

As the soil reached his neck his wide terrified eyes found her, held her, pierced her. “Oh, please, oh, please, Lord, I don't wanna die!”

And then the dirt swirled into his open mouth and he coughed and choked and gagged and writhed, stretching his neck. Gia, crying and whimpering with terror, tugged on his arm but couldn't budge him. The dirt rose past his mouth and into his nostrils, and his eyes were wider, bulging, pleading, and then with a final surge the loose earth rose and engulfed his head, leaving only his raised arm in sight.

Gia screamed and dug at the dirt, frantically pawing at it like a dog as she tried to clear it away from his face.

“Charlie! Charlie, hang on!”

But it was like trying to dig through soup. It flowed around and through her fingers and immediately filled back in behind her hands. She could feel his face, touch his hair but couldn't clear away enough to see him. If only she had a hose or a pipe, something to feed him air untilâ

Suddenly Charlie's other hand broke the surface, still holding the cross. She grabbed the wrist and pulled, throwing her back into it, but nothing! Nothing!

And then as she gripped him she felt agonal tremors radiate through his arms and spread to his hands, saw the fingers straighten, stiffen, drop the cross, claw the air for an instant, then fall limp and still, twitch, then go still once more, and not move again.

“No!” Grief spilled through Gia like acid. She'd met Charlie only twice before and yet he'd given his life for her. She knelt and clutched his cooling hands and cried out in a long, drawn-out wail that trailed off into sobs. “No!”

“I'm sorry.” Tara's voice.

Gia looked up. What had been a pit was now a smooth, shallow depression in the earth. Tara stood half a dozen feet away, staring at her, looking as sweet and innocent as ever, but not looking sorry at all.

“Why? This was a good man! He never hurt you or anyone else! How could you kill him?”

Tara stepped closer, her eyes fixed on Giaânot on her face, but her abdomen.

“Because he'd only be in the way.”

Gia's grief chilled, sliding toward unease. “In the way â¦ of what?”

“Of what happens next.”

Crystals of ice formed in Gia's veins as she rose unsteadily to her feet.

“I don't understand.”

Tara smiled. “Your baby becomes my baby.”

BOOK: The Haunted Air

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