David Golemon: The Supernaturals

“Now, now, why don’t we let the good professor continue the experiment? After all, we haven’t really seen anyone get hurt, so why—”

“If you don’t allow us to call for help, I’m shutting this goddamned thing down!”

“You will do as you are told. We have several police officers standing by in Bright Waters. Until ordered otherwise, you will keep this show going.”

All eyes in the screening room were on the CEO, whose face had just turned murderously red. Deep down, they also wanted the show to continue; each and every person in the room, with the exception of Peterson’s people, were feeling the drag of money in their pockets.

“Now you listen, Dalton, you know how many millions we have riding on this special. It’s a smash success thus far. If you jeopardize what we have—”

The CEO froze as the phone line shut down. The light was still active on the phone console.

Suddenly, in the phone’s receiver and the overhead speakers of the screening room, a deep and booming voice escaped from Summer Place loud and clear, chilling everyone who heard it.

“They are MINE!”

Harris threw the phone down into the row of technicians operating the monitors. The voice was so loud it hurt. He quickly turned to one of the assistant producers.

“Call the goddamn police — now!”

The woman nodded and held up the phone. “I did five minutes ago, and I don’t give a shit if they throw me in jail.”

“Good girl,” Dalton said as he placed his headphones back on. “Now, let’s see if we can get the damn camera operating inside that basement to see if Kelly is still alive.”

“Jesus, oh man, look at Camera Seven,” one of the technicians called out.

They saw the motion sensors on the bottom floor light up, just as the black mass hit the last few steps of the staircase. “I didn’t notice on the other static cameras before, it was coming down the stairs the whole time,” the tech said, half-rising from her chair.

“Sit down, and let’s at least start doing our jobs!”

As they watched Camera Seven and its ambient light picture, the entity once more split in two. One black mass headed straight for the ballroom and the other for the front doors. The camera couldn’t follow both, so it kept its motion activation motor on the closest segment of the oozing and towering mass — the one that was heading for the large double doors of the ballroom.

“It’s going for Lonetree and the others. Try to get some communication up and warn them,” Harris said as calmly as he could. “Get Camera Five to get ready outside. Tell him they are on the clock again, and to train all eyes on the front doors. We may have company.”

The camera team that had been ordered out when Kennedy ordered Father Dalton evacuated didn’t have to be told anything; they already had camera and sound trained on the front of Summer Place because of the banging and booming noises coming from the inside. The cacophony rivaled the booms of thunder that were inundating the small valley, almost as if bombs were going off inside the house.

Harris’ relief was short-lived. The front doors exploded outward and landed somewhere just in front of the production van. The camera and soundmen were knocked from their feet and the camera went in the opposite direction.

“Oh, God!” Harris cried, watching the mass exit the house. Even though the camera had fallen far from its operator, it was still trained on the front of the house. It was on its side, skewing the picture, but still functional.

“Go to Five, go to Five!” Harris shouted. The picture switched from inside the living room to the live view of the entity as it crashed through the open space where the thick front doors had been. All over the country, viewers got their first clear look at evil. The black, swirling mass stopped at the top of the stone steps, just under the portico. Suddenly a tendril of inky blackness shot out from the still form and went south into the storm-tossed night.

“Oh, shit,” Harris said aloud.

“Is it — is it coming at us?” one of the technicians called out worriedly.

On the screen that showed a sideways view of the mass, it started down the stone steps, smashing the bottom of the giant wooden portico as it came on.

Harris couldn’t open his mouth as the entity, or the part that was outside, came right at the production van, scattering emergency personnel in its path. He and the others turned toward the clear plastic curtain that sectioned them off from the heavy steel door at the front of the trailer. Harris pulled the curtain back and ran to the double steel doors. He slammed home the large lock just as the entity struck the thick doors, bending them and warping them in their frame. The large van shook as it was knocked from it stabilizing blocks, knocking Harris backward.

In New York, the first inkling of panic began to set in inside the screening room.

The six state police cruisers received their orders to move on Summer Place. They screamed out of the small town and took the curves of the wet road at breakneck speed, making the other cars fall behind. Suddenly, eight miles out of town and only three miles from Summer Place, the woods lining the roadway lit up as if an explosion had rent the forest. The bright green flash made the lead driver flinch, but he recovered quickly and kept going. As he accelerated back up to speed, a brief flash of movement caught his attention. A deer had shot from one side of the road to the other, barely missing the cruiser. The state trooper figured the hard storm with its lightning strikes was spooking the animals. Then as that thought struck him, another large buck sprang from the woods to the cruiser’s right and stopped right in the middle of the road. The headlights picked out the large deer, just standing its ground against the police cruiser. Suddenly the animal started forward, first at a trot and then at a full gait. The state trooper turned his wheel, hitting his brakes and putting the heavy cruiser into a spin. The deer struck the car in the rear quarter panel and flew into the roadway, dead. Then another deer jumped in front of the spinning car, smashing the headlights. As its body was tossed underneath the car, the rear wheels struck it. Then the cruiser was airborne. It came down on its top, crushing the flashing lights, and skidded down the center of the road.

The second car in line took the corner dangerously fast. The driver saw the wreck and tried to turn, but he was too late. His vehicle slammed into the first at over seventy miles an hour, bursting into flames. The third cruiser in line actually had a chance to avoid the disaster ahead, but just as the driver tried to apply his brakes and turn the steering wheel, a large owl slammed into the windshield, shattering it and momentarily throwing off the trooper’s concentration. The bird was thrown clear just as the third car slammed into the first two. Flames were spreading fast in the downpour of rain, illuminating the woods, but the false light wasn’t enough to prevent the pile-up that followed and the next three cars ended in a similar, disastrous fate.

As men and cars burned in the stormy night, the fires lit up the woods. Standing six and seven deep in those woods, thousands of scared animals regained their wits and turned and fled back into the forest.

The part of the entity moved over the burning, screaming men in the cruisers, absorbing their pain and anguish. Then, stronger than before its assault on the roadway, it rose up and entered the woods.

The black and shimmering mass was returning to Summer Place, and the men and women trapped there were now on their own to face hell itself.

Gabriel pushed his weight against the door and was soon joined by Damian Jackson and even Lionel Peterson. The entity slammed into the door for a second time and the wood actually splintered down its center. In the far corner of the room, George Cordero and Julie Reilly were trying frantically to open one of the bedroom windows. They struggled with the lock, but it wouldn’t budge.