Laurie faced him. "Penance?"
"If you like."
Stormy waved his arms, exasperated. "But maybe normal people can live here and it'll do the same thing.
Hell, they don't even need to know about it--"
"It's still on the borderline," Mark said. "They'll still see things they can't understand. It'll still be haunted."
Norton shrugged. "Besides, I'm up for it. I'd like to explore this border. I'm not that far away from passing over to the Other Side myself, and I'd like to know where I'm going, I'd like to find out a little bit about it first."
"Well, my duty as border guard is over. I'm through with this shit."
Laurie smiled sympathetically. "I'm getting out of here, too, if I can. I've spent enough of my life in this House. I don't want to spend any more of it here." She looked at Norton. "You I can understand." She turned toward Mark. "But you're still young. You have your whole life ahead of you. Don't you want to do something with it?"
"I am," he said.
They were silent for a moment.
"Well," Laurie said. "At least you won't be trapped inside anymore. It'll be more like when we were kids, probably. You'll be able to go outside, go into town, leave whenever you want. This'll just be ... your home."
"Yeah," Mark said.
Silence settled over them, and Stormy cleared his throat. It was rude, perhaps, but he didn't want to hang around here one more second. As far as he was concerned, this little adventure was over, and it was time for him to get the hell out of here and back to his real life. The rest of them could go or stay or do whatever they wanted to do, but he wanted to get as far away from the Houses as he could, as quickly as he could.
"It's been fun," he said. "But I have important things to do."
Laurie smiled. "Videos?"
"You got it."
"Wait up," she said. "I'm coming with you."
All four of them walked out to the entryway and stood awkwardly a moment before the door. Were they supposed to hug, cry, shake hands? Stormy felt like doing none of those things. Oddly enough, he'd felt closer to the others when he'd first met them than he did now, and before anyone else could initiate some sort of bogus parting gesture, he opened the front door. The sun, white and hot, was shining in his eyes, its brightness obscuring the view outside.
"Later," he said. He waved good-bye, stepped through the doorway --and emerged alone onto the porch. Across the street was the fire-gutted building. Next to the curb, in front of the House, right where he'd left it, was his rental car.
He was in Chicago.
He turned to look behind him, but there were no other people in the entryway of the House. There was only a dirty dusty floor in a foyer that looked as though it had been abandoned for years. The only footprints in the dust were his own.
He hurried down the steps and off the porch, feeling cold. There were goose bumps on his arms, hair prickling on the back of his neck. He strode quickly down the walk, trying to get away from the House as fast as possible.
He still did not understand where the House in which they'd met was located, but he did not really care, he did not want to find out.
He walked around the front of his car, fumbled in his pocket for the keys, quickly opened the driver's door.
On the seat of his car was a rose.
He hesitated less than a second, then tossed the flower onto the floor.
For the first time since he'd seen the television in his bedroom, he thought of Roberta. Was she really dead?
he wondered. Or had that been part of the show put on for him?
He had the feeling that she was dead, and though he knew their marriage was over and that no matter what happened they would never get together again, he hoped that she was all right, he hoped that she was unharmed.
He didn't love her, but he still cared about her in a way, and the thought that anything from the House, anything to which he was remotely connected, had hurt Roberta or had caused her death made him feel sick inside.
But he'd find out about all that when he got back to New Mexico. Right now, he just wanted to get away from the House and get out of Chicago.
He closed the door, turned the key in the ignition, and put the car into gear. Grinding the rose underneath the heel of his boot, he sped down the street as fast as his rental car would accelerate.
Laurie Josh was waiting for her when she emerged from the House.
As was a crew of firefighters and several policemen and an ambulance.
They hadn't yet tried to break into the House, but it was clear that was what they intended to do, and two firemen carrying axes stopped when they saw her walk out onto the porch. She turned back, looking through the open door the way she'd come, but as she'd expected, as she'd known, there was no sign of either Mark or Norton.
Josh leaped up the steps, grabbed her, hugged her.
"Thank God you're all right!"
"How long was I in there?" she asked.
"A long time. At least three or four hours. I thought you might be dead."
"Three or four hours?" She shook her head. " The spirits have done it all in one night.' "
"What?"
She shook her head. "Nothing."
There was a bandage on the side of Josh's head where he'd been clipped by the door, and a circle of red had leaked through the white. He looked back at the firemen.
"I didn't want to leave you in there alone, but I
yelled and yelled and I couldn't hear you anymore. I
tried to get in, but I couldn't, and when I tried to break a window, the rock was just . . . absorbed. So I took a chance. I left you there and drove into town and brought back ..." He gestured toward the ambulance, fire truck, and police car.
He met her eyes. "What happened in there?"
She looked behind him, saw two policemen walking up, shook her head.
He understood. "The cops said the owners may press charges," he said. "Breaking and entering."
"Who are the owners?"
"I don't know," he admitted.
The policemen reached them, asked her what happened, and she concocted an impromptu story about wanting to see the house of her birth parents and passing out inside the kitchen that sounded ludicrously unbelievable to her, but they nodded as she spoke, and one of the policemen suggested that she have one of the paramedics look her over.
"I will," she said. "Just let me . . . collect myself first."
They nodded, and Josh walked with them over to a fireman in a white uniform who appeared to be in charge of the rescue effort.
Laurie looked up at the dark bulk of the House and shivered as she thought of everything that had happened to her since she'd gone in there.
"Miss?" She turned to see an old white-haired man in a police uniform walk up to where she was standing.
There was a strange expression on his face, and it made her feel a trifle uneasy. She looked around for Josh, saw him standing by the vehicles, talking.
"I always wondered what happened to you," the white-haired cop said.
She shook her head, not recognizing him. "I'm sorry . . ."
He smiled sadly. "I'm the one who was in charge of your parents' case. The one you talked to when you first came into the station."
She still did not recognize him, but she understood now why his appearance had made her uneasy. She licked her lips, not knowing what to say.
He moved next to her. "What really happened in there?" he asked softly.
"I don't ... I don't know what you mean."
"I know about that house," he said, looking up at it.
"I know what happens there."
Part of her wanted to tell him, wanted to confide in him, Bentley Little but she resisted the impulse, for his sake as well as her own.
She might tell Josh what had occurred, but that would be it.
Her lips were sealed. This was not something she wanted to share, not something anyone needed to know.