He resisted an impulse to rush from the attic, then forced himself to move at a normal pace as he turned out the light, closing the door, just for a moment engulfed in darkness. But he breathed a bit easier when he was downstairs in the light.
A practiced speed-reader, Sam went through the slim volume in less than an hour, not wanting to read the words, but forcing himself to do so, liking none of it. The words were disgusting. Vile.
He read: Without the Beasts, the earth-bound agent of Satan would be hampered in his efforts to secure a home for his Master. With the Beasts, and the Undead, whom he may call out at will, the agent of Satan is almost all-powerful. It is rumored that Satan—with the help of the Beasts—overpowered a small village in Spain in the fifth century and held the townspeople under his control for more than fifty years. (Not substantiated).
The lights in the den browned out for a moment. Sam looked around, exasperated. The lights brightened.
He read on: It is reported that the people in a nearby village, with help of the Lord God Almighty, wrested the powerful tablet from the hands of the devil's agent and the witch, Nydia, bringing the reign of terror to an end. The witch, Nydia, is reported to be most beautiful; tempting—one of Satan's favorites. She is rumored to have birthed several Demons, her favorite male partners rumored to be men of God whom she seduced.
Tablet? Sam pondered. What tablet?
A witch?
He read on: The devil's agent, who was named Blakkr Villr by the peoples of Scandinavia, surfaced again in the 9th century, in what is now Norway. It is rumored that Satan himself brought down the curse, producing the plagues that decimated that country in the 12th century, so great was his anger at being repelled some three centuries before. (Neither the plague nor Satan's presence can be substantiated, since the sickness hit only very isolated areas).
The tablet was not seen or heard of again until the 17th century, in France, when the devil's agent, now assuming the role of a Forgeron—a blacksmith—converted the peoples of a village to Satan. The Beasts, surfacing from their holes and caves, ravaged the countryside for several years. Mounted soldiers are said to have disposed of the agent and destroyed the tablet, (the author strongly doubts this claim).
It is said the agent draws much of his strength—in part—from the tablet. Should the tablet be destroyed, so will much of the devil's powers here on earth. For a time. The tablet is inscribed: HE WALKS AMONG YOU. THE MARK OF THE BEAST IS PLAIN. BELIEVE IN HIM. ONCE TOUCHED, FOREVER HIS. THE KISS OF LIFE AND DEATH.
And Sam knew than he must not allow Michelle to touch and kiss him.
He returned to his reading: The French trapper, Duhon, reported sighting Beasts in the new land, shortly after his government found the tablet had not been destroyed and empowered Duhon to bring the tablet to America, thus forever removing it from France. Sam had to smile as he read the name of the Priest who accompanied Duhon. Dubois.
Things were beginning to fall more concisely into place.
Sam put the book aside. He had to admit, grudgingly, the devil, or his agent, certainly picked an ideal spot in Whitfield. The town was all but isolated. One airstrip, owned by Karl Sorenson. No night lights. The spur rail line was thirty miles away, and used only at roundup. No bus service. A state highway that could be easily blocked—as was going to happen very soon—and no one would notice for a week or more. One phone call to the bread and milk companies: bring in enough for a week and forget us. By that time, the deed would be done, leaving, during the day, normal-acting citizens. At night, however, they would be free to prowl, slowly taking over smaller surrounding towns.
Nice and neatly packaged, tied with a red ribbon. Red for Satan.
Communications would be easy for them; the phone company personnel would be among the first to be possessed. Calls could be easily monitored—blocked, rerouted. No one in town had the equipment of a ham operator. The radio station was closed down, all the equipment sold, including the antenna. They could not put out a signal for help.
But how, Sam mused, could the people— hundreds of them—be so easily possessed.
Of course, he smiled: the radio station. Mind implantation. It would be easy over a period of time. The government had experimented with it in the early fifties, both in radio and TV—and it worked. Subtle little messages, sent so fast they could only be perceived by the subconscious mind. Sure, it would be easy that way.
The lights began to flicker, browning out, again and again. Sam looked at his watch. Midnight.
The Black Mass had begun.
Sam took a long, very hot shower, then went to bed, falling asleep almost instantly, his exhaustion finally catching up with him. He was sleeping at dawn when Michelle entered the house, her slight noise at the door awakening him. Through slitted eyes, he watched her stand over his bed, the stench of her almost overpowering. He watched her lips pull back in a snarl, her dark eyes flashing hate at him.
Don't let her kiss you! he silently cautioned.
She walked to him in the dim light, bending down, her mouth only inches from his. Sam deliberately turned over on his back, the silver cross laying on his chest catching the light from the outside, pouring through the open and uncurtained window. Michelle's hands flew to cover her eyes.
Sam felt sick at his stomach.
Quickly, quietly, she backed out of the room, away from the sight of the Holy Cross.
In her bedroom, she carefully locked the door behind her, pulling the heavy black drapes, filling the room with darkness. She stripped naked, her body bearing the bruises of a dozen hands upon her flesh.
She did not wash herself, the thought of water repulsed her. She fell naked on the bed, stinking, her evil permeating the room. She drifted off to sleep as the sun climbed from out of the east. She occasionally snarled in her sleep, drippings from her mouth wetting the already stained pillow. Her dreams were of Sam—always of Sam.
She dreamed of cutting out his heart, listening to him scream. She smiled in her sleep, teeth flashing white in the darkness—like fangs on a snarling animal.
Nine
After Michelle left the room, Sam was wide awake, his heart pounding. His nose wrinkled at the odor of unwashed flesh, the musky scent of sex, and of evil, he was sure. He lay still for a time, the smell assailing his nostrils. He now knew the truth, and he did not know what to do with the knowledge.
His wife, Michelle, was one of Them.
He blamed himself for not realizing sooner. He should have known; should have put it all together weeks ago, when he first suspected the evil in Whitfield. The pranks that were played on him; the phone calls with heavy breathing and cursing.
Kids, he had thought. Playing games with the preacher.
Now he knew better.
He rose from his bed, padding softly to the bathroom. He washed his face, brushed his teeth, and ran a comb through his hair. In his room, he dressed quickly. Jeans, pullover shirt, rough-out boots. He checked his watch. Seven-thirty. He wanted to see five people this day: Dubois at the rectory; Haskell at the Episcopal church; Lucas Monroe; Wade Thomas; and Miles Lansky.
If Miles, a Jew, who really did not believe in Heaven or Hell—so he professed—sensed something evil in Whitfield, then something was evil in Whitfield.
And Sam had made up his mind to visit Tyson's Lake. Somehow, he believed, everything was linked to that area. If there was something evil out there, he was going to find it, and if possible, kill it!