Thunderland (7 page)

Shorty sat at Brains’s desk, on the other side of the room. Jason and Brains sat on the folding chairs, facing each other, their knees pressed together. Brains put the Ouija and the planchette on their laps. The letters faced Jason.

“Do you know how to use this?” Brains said. “I’ve seen a ton of movies about it, so I’m pretty familiar with how it works.” He shrugged. “I don’t know if I really believe in it, but it’s a start.”

“I’m cool,” Jason said. “I’ve seen a bunch of movies about it, too.”

Brains nodded. He placed his fingertips on the planchette. Jason did the same. Stillness. The candle flames flickered, causing shadows to flutter like dark wings across the Ouija.

A light sheen of sweat coated Jason’s face. The air was warm, thick with tension.

Come on, Jason
thought.
Someone answer us. Help us.

Another bout of silence ... then the planchette jerked.

“Whoa,” Jason said. Wide-eyed, he watched the planchette twitch a few more times, slide haltingly for an inch or two, and then glide around the entire board, sail toward the center, and wind there in slow loops.

It didn’t feel as if he and Brains guided the tripod; it seemed to be driven by invisible energy that he could feel tingling like static electricity on his fingertips. No wonder so many people were afraid of this thing.

He glanced at Brains. Of course, Brains appeared calm. He no doubt had a scientific explanation for what they were witnessing. Brains watched the rotating pointer images of candle flames glimmering on his eyeglasses.

“Let’s ask some test questions first,” Brains said. “Then we can get into the important stuff.”

“Sounds good to me,” Jason said.

“First question.” Brains focused on the planchette. “What is your name?”

The pointer drifted toward the rows of letters, and slowly spelled a name.

JIMMY.

“Okay, Jimmy,” Brains said. “Question: How old is Jason?”

13.

“How old am I?” Brains said.

14.

“When is my birthday?” Jason said.

JULY 19.

“When is mine?” Brains said.

MAY 5.

“What’s my girlfriend’s name?” Jason said.

MICHELLE.

“What does my mother do for a living?” Brains said.

TEACH.

Amazing, Jason thought. All of the answers were correct. What was this thing, really?

“He seems dependable to me,” Jason said. “You ready, Brains?”

“Yeah,” Brains said. “Let’s start asking the
real
questions.”

Jason concentrated on the planchette. It revolved in a lulling, hypnotic motion.

“Who wrote
remember
on my bathroom mirror?”

HE DID.

“Who is ‘he’?” Brains said.

STRANGER.

“I know he’s a stranger,” Jason said. ‘We want to know his name. What is his name?”

REMEMBER.

“Remember?” Jason chewed his lip. “You’re telling me to remember his name?”

YES.

“Is that also why he wrote the same word on the mirror? Because he wants me to remember his name?” Jason said.

YEs.

“Can you tell us this person’s name?” Brains said.

NO.

“Why not?” Jason said.

CANNOT.

“That’s crazy.” Jason shook his head. “He wants me to remember his name, so he writes it on the mirror. Is this some kind of game to him?”

YES.

“What’s the point?” Brains said. ‘Why does Jason need to remember him?”

HE IS COMING.

Jason’s fingers trembled on the planchette. A feeling of unreality gripped him, as though he had been sucked into one of those horror movies that he loved to watch. He wanted to douse his face in cold water to convince himself that this was actually happening, but he didn’t dare leave the Ouija. They teetered on the brink of a breakthrough. He could feel it.

“Okay, you say he’s coming,” Jason said. “Tell us: when?”

SOON.

“Can you give us a time, a day?” Brains said.

SOON.

“All right, I guess you won’t tell us,” Brains said. “But why is he coming?”

FOR JASON.

“He’s coming to do something to me?” Jason said.

YES.

“What?” Jason’s heart throbbed.

WILL SEE.

“Can you tell us his plans?” Brains said.

CANNOT.

“Is he going to ... hurt me?” Jason said.

WILL SEE.

Jason half wished that they had not begun this line of questioning. The Ouija’s cryptic responses, far from relaxing him, put him more on edge than ever.

“Is the stranger good or evil?” Brains said.

WILL SEE.

“Come on, can’t you tell us anything?” Jason said. “Stop with all these dumb clues. What should we do?”

REMEMBER

“But I can’t remember!” Jason said. “I don’t know a thing about him. Why won’t you give us some real answers?”

CANNOT.

“You keep repeating that as if he’s right there beside you,” Brains said. “Is the stranger there, wherever you are?”

No reply.

Brains leaned closer to the board.

“Is he there?” Brains said. “Can we speak to him?”

“Don’t ask that!” Jason said. Fresh sweat popped out on his face.

Across the room, Shorty stood.

After a long pause, the planchette moved to answer.

YES.

‘We can speak to the stranger?” Brains said. His eyes shone. “Great, let us talk to him. Let us talk to him now. I want to—”

Jason tore his fingers off the pointer. It slid to a halt.

“Are you crazy?” Jason said. “I don’t want to speak to him!”

“Why not?” Brains kept his fingertips balanced on the motionless tripod. “You wanted answers. We should go directly to the source. Jimmy couldn’t tell us much.”

“But I don’t want to talk to the stranger. What if he’s a ghost or a demon, something like that?”

“Jason, you aren’t making any sense,” Brains said. “You’re beginning to sound like Mike. It’s not as though he’ll jump out of the Ouija and attack us.”

“Hey!” Shorty said. “What the hell have you guys done?”

Jason and Brains turned to look at Shorty.

‘What are you talking about?” Brains said.

“Can you feel it?” Shorty said. He hugged himself. “The temperature in here’s dropped at least twenty degrees.”

Jason suddenly felt it, too. He felt not only a significant temperature plunge, but also an inexplicable change in the air. The air seemed thicker, more liquid, charged with a mysterious force. His breathing grew labored. The hair at the nape of his neck lifted and stood as stiff as cold wire.

The candle flames flickered, sputtered, blew out. Dense shadows sprang up, crowded the room.

“Oh, no. I think I might have made a big mistake,” Brains said. He drew back in his seat, his eyes appearing anxious for the first time in Jason’s memory. Slowly he took his fingers off the planchette.

It jumped.

Jason’s mouth dropped open. Brains and Shorty gasped.

The planchette bucked again, and then it spun furiously in the center of the board, like a wild top. He and Brains leaped out of their chairs. The Ouija board and tripod flipped and landed on the floor, the pointer still spinning, spinning, spinning, grinding a smoking hole in the carpet.

“A demon. I knew it was a demon!” Shorty cowered in the corner.

Jason backpedaled to the wall. He did not know who the stranger was, or how any of this was happening, but he wanted to get out of here. He looked to the door.

Moved by an invisible power, the bureau jerked from its position along the wall and slid in front of the door, trapping them inside.

Linda had been distraught ever since her fight with Thomas that morning, so later in the afternoon, she met her girlfriend Alice Franklin at her home in Waukegan. Linda hoped talking to Alice would help her relax. More important, she hoped Alice would help her discover how to heal the most damaging wound her marriage had ever suffered.

Alice opened the door. “Girl, since you called me I’ve been bouncing off the walls. You only told me bits and pieces of what happened, and it made me sick. How’re you feeling?”

“The same way I probably look. Like shit.”

“Let’s talk about it.” Alice took her by the arm and brought her inside. “Maybe that’ll help both of us feel better.”

Although Alice and Linda shared a variety of interests and attitudes, they hardly resembled each other. Linda was five-four and petite; Alice was five-ten and voluptuous. Linda’s hair was short and curly; Alice’s dark, lustrous braids flowed to her shoulders. Linda wore stylish yet basically conservative clothes; Alice draped herself in flamboyant, ethnic garments that generated stares and compliments everywhere she went.

She and Alice had been best friends for two decades. They went to the same high school, attended the same college-Illinois State-and both began their careers as elementary school teachers. While Linda left the teaching field to become a freelance writer, Alice scooped up two advanced degrees and became a history professor at the College of Lake County. Now Alice was writing a novel of her own during the summer break. It amused Linda how their lives often paralleled each other.

However, their history of relationships with men was vastly different. Thomas and Linda had been high-school sweethearts and had married soon after she graduated from college; she had never truly been with another man. Alice had been through a long series of boyfriends and had only wedded three years ago. Although Linda had been married much longer than Alice, Alice had such wide and varied experience with men that Linda frequently found herself relying on her for advice and support.

Alice went in the kitchen and retrieved a pitcher of iced tea and two glasses. She and Linda sat in wicker chairs on the patio.

Linda sipped the tea as she recounted her story. The drink quenched her thirst, but she really wished she had something stronger.