F. Paul Wilson: The Tomb

Splashing noises to his left… down by the bulkhead Jack saw Abe pulling himself out of the water and onto the sand. Abe's face was white as he stared up at the rakosh atop the truck. He was seeing something that had no right to exist and he looked dazed. He would be no help.

Gia could not outrun the rakosh, especially not with Vicky in her arms. Jack had to do something—but what? Never before had he felt so helpless, so impotent! He had always been able to make a difference, but not now. He was spent. He knew of no way to stop that thing standing atop Abe's truck. In a moment it would turn and run after Gia… and there was nothing he could do about it.

He rose to his knees and groaned with the pain of his latest wounds. Three deep lacerations ran diagonally across his chest and upper abdomen from where the rakosh had slashed him with its talons. The torn front of his shirt was soaked with blood. With a desperate surge of effort, he gained his feet, ready to place himself between Gia and the rakosh. He knew he couldn't stop it, but maybe he could slow it down.

The rakosh leaped off the truck… but not after Gia and Vicky, and not toward Abe. It ran to the bulkhead and stood there staring out at the flaming wreckage of its nest. Shards of metal and flaming wood began to pepper the surface of the bay as they returned from the sky, hissing and steaming as they splashed into the water.

As Jack watched, it threw back its head and let loose an unearthly howl, so lost and mournful that Jack almost felt sorry for it. Its family, its world had gone up with the freighter. All points of reference, all that was meaningful in its life—gone. It howled once more, then dove into the water. Powerful strokes propelled it out into the bay, directly toward the pool of flaming oil. Like a loyal Indian wife throwing herself on her husband's funeral pyre, it headed toward Kusum's sunken iron tomb.

Gia had turned and was hurrying toward him with Vicky in her arms. Abe, too, wet and dripping, was walking his way.

"My grandmother used to try to scare me with stories of dybbuks," Abe said breathlessly. "Now I've seen one."

"Are the monsters gone?" Vicky kept saying, her head continually rotating back and forth as she stared into the long shadows thrown by the fire on the bay. "Are the monsters really gone?"

"Is it over?" Gia asked.

"I think so. I hope so." He had been facing away from her. He turned as he answered and she gasped when she saw his front.

"Jack! Your chest!"

He pulled the shreds of his shirt closed over his ripped flesh. The bleeding had stopped and the pain was receding… due to the necklace, he guessed.

"It's all right. Scratches. Look a lot worse than they are." He heard sirens begin to wail. "If we don't pack this stuff up and get out of here soon, we're going to have to answer a lot of questions."

Together, he and Abe dragged the slashed and deflated raft to the truck and threw it into the back, then they framed Gia and Vicky in the front seat, but this time Abe took the wheel. He knocked out the remains of the shattered windshield with the flat of his palm and started the engine. The sand was packed around the rear wheels but Abe skillfully rocked it out and drove through the gate Jack had rammed open earlier.

"A miracle if we make it uptown without getting pulled over for this windshield."

"Blame it on vandals," Jack told him. He turned to Vicky, who lay curled up agianst her mother, and ran his forefinger along her arm.

"You're safe now, Vicks."

"Yes, she is," Gia said with a small smile as she laid her cheek against the top of Vicky's head. "Thank you, Jack."

Jack saw that the child was sleeping. "It's what I do."

Gia said nothing. Instead, she slipped her free hand into his. Jack looked into her eyes and saw there was no longer any fear there. It was a look he had longed to see. The sight of Vicky sleeping peacefully made all the pain and horror worthwhile; the look in Gia's eyes was a bonus.

She leaned her head back and closed those eyes. "Is it really over?"

"For you, it is. For me… there's one loose end left."

"The woman," Gia said. It wasn't a question.

Jack nodded, thinking about Kolabati sitting in his apartment, and about what might be happening to her. He reached across Gia to get Abe's attention.

"Drop me off at my place first, will you, Abe? Then take Gia home."

"You can't take care of those wounds by yourself!" she said. "You need a doctor."

"Doctors ask too many questions."

"Then come home with me. Let me clean you up."

"It's a deal. I'll be over as soon as I finish at my place."

Gia's eyes narrowed. "What's so important that you have to see her so soon?"

"I've got some personal property of hers"—he tapped the necklace around his throat—"that has to be returned."

"Can't it wait?"

"Afraid not. I borrowed it without telling her, and I've been told she really needs it."

Gia said nothing.

"I'll be over as soon as I can."

By way of reply, Gia turned her face into the wind coming through the glassless front of the truck and stared stonily ahead.

Jack sighed. How could he explain to her that "the woman" might be aging years by the hour, might be a drooling senile wreck by now? How could he convince Gia when he couldn't quite convince himself?

The rest of the trip passed in silence. Abe wended his way over to Hudson Street and turned uptown to Eighth Avenue, which took him to Central Park West. They saw a few police cars, but none was close enough to notice the missing windshield.

"Thanks for everything, Abe," Jack said as the truck pulled up in front of the brownstone.

"Want me to wait?"

"This may take a while. Thanks again. I'll settle up with you in the morning."

"I'll have the bill ready."

Jack kissed the sleeping Vicky on the head and slid out of the seat. He was stiff and sore.

"Are you coming over?" Gia asked, finally looking at him.

"As soon as I can," he said, glad the invitation was still open. "If you still want me to."

"I want you to."

"Then I'll be there. Within an hour. I promise."

"You'll be okay?"

He was grateful for her worried expression.

"Sure."

He slammed the door and watched them drive off. Then he began the long climb up to the third floor. When he reached his door, key in hand, he hesitated. A chill crept over him. What was on the other side? What he wanted to find was an empty front room and a young Kolabati asleep in his bed. He would deposit both necklaces on the nightstand, where she would find them in the morning, then he would leave for Gia's place. That would be the easy way. Kolabati would know her brother was dead without his actually having to tell her. Hopefully, she would be gone when he got back.

Let's make this easy, he thought. Let something be easy tonight!

He opened the door and stepped into the front room. It was dark. Even the kitchen light was out. The only illumination was the weak glow leaking down the hall from his bedroom. All he could hear was breathing—rapid, ragged, rattly. It came from the couch. He stepped toward it.

"Kolabati?"

There came a gasp, a cough, and a groan. Someone rose from the couch. Framed in the light from the hall was a wizened, spindly figure with high thin shoulders and a kyphotic spine. It stepped toward him. Jack sensed rather than saw an outstretched hand.

"Give it to me!" The voice was little more than a faint rasp, a snake sliding through dry straw. "Give it back to me!"

But the cadence and pronunciation were unmistakable—it was Kolabati.

Jack tried to speak and found his throat locked. With shaking hands he reached around to the back of his neck and removed the necklace. He then pulled Kusum's from his pocket.