No, he finally decided. No, I can do only so much without overstepping the boundaries. Really, he concluded, I have probably interfered too much as it is.
He stopped by the filthy, sin-encrusted circle of dark stones and looked toward the mansion. No, young warrior, you must cope with that mystery by yourself. I will help in other matters, but in this, your strength must be all powerful; your faith all-believing and never wavering; and your cunning at its zenith.
God be with you.
TUESDAY NOON
The wailing had stopped. The great house was silent. It seemed to the trio seated close together in Sam's room as if they were alone: the only ones left in the mansion.
"The only humans," Nydia said.
Linda shuddered with fear. Sam had a brief fleeting thought of putting his arm around her shoulders, but gave up that idea when Nydia read his thoughts and gave him a look that would fry bacon.
"Sam?" Nydia asked. "What is an od force?"
"Beats me. Where'd you hear that?"
"It just popped into my head."
"It has to do with the supernatural," Linda said. "Sorcery … stuff like that."
Eyes swung toward her. Nydia stiffened on the day couch.
"My little brother got all involved in that stuff for a time, until my parents made him stop it," Linda explained. "He was—right there at the end—trying to get in touch with the dead; all that junk. I heard him mention that od force thing several times. My uncle, Uncle Homer, really used to kid Billy—that's my kid brother—about it. It got to the point my brother hated … really hated Uncle Homer. He'd go in his room at night with a doll he'd made—called it Uncle Homer—and read and light candles and chant all those weird incantations, trying to get something to happen to Uncle Homer. Finally Dad made him quit; said Uncle Homer didn't mean anything by it. But Billy hated Uncle Homer until the day he died. Billy refused to go to the funeral."
"The funeral?" Nydia asked.
"Yes. Uncle Homer was killed one day; strangest thing, too. Just walking along the street in Buffalo and a small piece of steel fell from up where some workers were doing repair work—really high up on a building. Split his head wide open. Died right then and there."
"What was Billy's favorite way of killing his Uncle?" Sam asked.
Linda blinked, paled, then said, "Hitting the doll on the head with a … hammer."
TUESDAY NIGHT
Sam had taken the heaviest pack and distributed the weight of the other materials evenly among the young women. He had looked for his father's picture, literally tearing up the room in his search. But the picture was gone. He gave up the search, turning as Nydia slipped something into his pocket.
"What's that, babe?" he asked.
She smiled. "I thought they might come in handy. Little pills you can buy on campus—if you know the right person—just before you have to start cramming for an exam."
Amphetamines. Sam returned the smile. "I heard that."
"How are we going to get out of here?" Linda asked. "Won't they stop us?"
"They would if they saw us." Sam grinned. "But I'm betting they won't."
"How do we manage that, Sam?" Nydia asked.
"You remember complaining about all that rope we took from the storage area that night?"
"Yes. So?"
"We're going to climb down, ladies," Sam said, pointing to the window. "Right through there and down."
"Sam! … that's fifty feet."
"Not really. It just seems that far." He smiled mischievously. It was about forty feet down, though, but he wasn't going to tell them that. He pulled a knotted rope from under the bed. "I did this while you two were napping this afternoon." He secured the rope to a bed post and then opened the window, removing the screen. "You two go, then I'll secure the rope from that drain bracing just outside the window, crawl out on the ledge, and close the window behind me. The doors are locked to both rooms, so with any luck we'll be able to fool them 'til morning." He took a firm grip on the rope. "You first, Nydia. Easy does it."
She hesitated only long enough to kiss him on the mouth and then was gone down the rope, scampering to the ground. Sam looked at Linda. She shook her head.
"I … can't. I'm afraid of heights, Sam."
Sam was painfully blunt with her. "How would you like to be gang-screwed, Linda? Passed around among ten or fifteen guys? And then positioned on your knees and fucked like a dog—right up the asshole?"
She looked at him in shock, then without any further comments, she went out the window and down the rope, fear making her strong.
Sam watched the two women gather together on the ground. then untied the rope from the bed post and secured it to the drain brace. He lowered the three packs, then the other equipment, finally the weapons. He slipped out onto the ledge, feeling the bite of the suddenly cold winds of November as they came singing from the north.
He was halfway to the ground when he felt the rope begin to give in his hands and the bracketing spikes pull away from the brick and mortar. But Sam was a veteran parachutist, young and in excellent physical shape, and a fifteen foot drop was no more to him than stepping off a curb. He hit the ground rolling and sprang to his feet.
"Better this way," he said. "The rope won't be dangling for anyone to see. Besides, we might need the rope before we're through."
Sam struggled into his backpack and the others did the same, Nydia asking, "Which way do we go, Sam?"
"North, to the high ground," he said, pointing through the darkness. "That ridge about three-quarters of a mile from the stone circle. I want to see this calling out of the forces." He turned and took the point, leading the way, three who refused to bow to the whims of Satan, three who chose to fight rather than surrender; three who maintained a strong belief in their God.
But as they walked through the night, toward the deep timber, one among them looked back at the great house … and smiled … oddly.
Since he had first noticed the unusual activity in the Heavens, the astronomer at the observatory in California had been quietly working overtime. On his own time and with his own equipment. He had asked for and received permission to take two weeks of his vacation and Ralph was now deep and high in the rugged mountains of California, maintaining a vigil, sleeping during the day, working from dawn to dusk.
He had discovered another area where unusual activity was periodically occurring. And he spent his nights alternating his powerful telescope between east and west. His wife, Betty, although not a professional stargazer, did have enough experience in the field to be more than an amateur, and, like her husband, was a Christian. If Ralph said he saw the face of God, then he saw it. Period. Now Betty would like to see His face. Or she thought she would.
"Why are you changing scope position tonight?" she asked, watching her husband reposition the small but extremely powerful scope, shifting it to the east.
"Hunch," he replied. "You ought to know after all these years of putting up with me that I'm a hunch player.
"What do you feel is going to happen?"
He shook his head. "I … can't really answer that, honey." He glanced at his watch. Seven o'clock, PST. Ten o'clock over most of Quebec Province. He didn't know how he knew, but he felt time was growing short. Two more hours, maximum, until … whatever it was would occur. Unless he was all wet in his hunch playing. "Make us a fresh pot of coffee, honey," he said. "Maybe sandwiches, too, if you will, please. Come midnight, hereabouts, we'll be too busy for anything else."
"Ralph! You're being deliberately vague."
"No. No, really that's not true. I just don't know … what we're going to see. And … I'm a little afraid of it, I think."
She shivered beside him.