John Saul - Hellfire

“What’s wrong?” Beth whispered.

“The bed. We forgot to fix it so it looks like you’re still in it.”

“But everyone’s asleep,” Beth protested.

“What if they wake up? Wait for me downstairs by the front door.” Then, before Beth could protest, Tracy scurried back to Beth’s room and disappeared inside.

But instead of arranging the pillows under the covers of Beth’s bed, she went to the desk, opened the top drawer, and took the old book out. Opening the book, she laid it facedown on the desk, then hurried out of the room.

She left the door standing wide open.

Downstairs, she found Beth waiting nervously by the front door. She pulled the drawer of the commode out, fished around until she found the right set of keys, then closed the drawer. A moment later they were outside.

They darted across the lawn, and between the twin stone lions that guarded the path to the mausoleum, then paused to pick up the lantern that Beth had sneaked out of the tackroom that afternoon.

“But why can’t we just turn on the lights?” Beth had protested when Tracy had told her what she wanted.

“Are you crazy?” Tracy had replied. “If we turn on the lights, everyone in town will know someone’s inside. But who’s going to see a lantern?”

Now Tracy checked it once more. Its tank was full, and the wick, which she had carefully trimmed, was still undamaged. The knife she had used to trim the wick — an old rusty jackknife that had also come from the tackroom — was safe in her pocket, along with three books of matches.

Carrying the lantern, Tracy started up the trail to the mausoleum, Beth behind her.

The great marble structure seemed even larger at night, and the moonlight shot black shadows from the pillars across the floor. One of the shadows fell across the chair in which the ashes of Samuel Pruett Sturgess were interred, giving the girls the fleeting illusion that the chair had disappeared entirely. Standing by the broken pillar, they gazed out toward the mill.

“Look,” Beth breathed. “It’s burning.”

Tracy felt a derisive laugh rise in her throat, but choked it off. “It’s Amy,” she whispered. “She knows we’re coming.” Out of the corner of her eye she saw Beth hesitate, then nod. “Shall we stop at her grave?” she asked.

This time, Beth shook her head. “She’s not there,” she whispered. “She’s still in the mill. Come on.”

Now, with Beth leading, they started down the tangled path that would eventually stop at the river.

“Are you scared?” Tracy asked. They had come to the end of the trestle over the river. On the other side, across River Road, the mill gleamed in the moonlight.

“No,” Beth replied with a bravery she didn’t quite feel. The wooden bridge stretched out before them, seeming longer and higher at night than it did in the daytime. “Are you?”

Tracy shook her head, and started out onto the narrow span, placing her feet carefully on the ties, keeping to the exact center of the space between the twin rails. Behind her, Beth followed her movements precisely, concentrating on staring at the ties, for when she let her vision shift, focusing on the river below, a wave of dizziness passed over her.

Then they were on the other side of the river, and solid ground once more spread away on either side of the tracks.

They paused at River Road, then darted across.

They came to the back of the mill, and Beth pointed to the loading dock. “That’s where she lives,” she whispered. “There’s a little room under there.”

Tracy ignored her, starting up the path along the side of the building. They were exposed now, the full light of the moon shining down on them, and they could easily be seen from any car that might pass by.

The third key Tracy tried fit the padlock on the side door, and when she twisted it the lock popped open. Then, as she pulled the door itself open, she felt Beth freeze beside her. She turned to look, and saw that Beth’s eyes were wide, staring in through the open door. Her whole body was trembling slightly, and in the pale moonlight her skin was the color of death.

“What is it?” Tracy whispered. For a second she didn’t think Beth had heard her, but then the other girl slowly turned, her fearful eyes meeting Tracy’s.

“Daddy,” she said softly. “Look. The moon’s shining right down on the place where Daddy …” Her voice trailed off, and once more her eyes shifted to the interior of the mill.

Tracy followed Beth’s gaze.

Inside the building, the moonlight was streaming through the skylight. The colors of the dome itself were faintly visible, but the moonlight had robbed them of their vitality. Instead of sparkling brightly, they cast a nightmare pall over the interior.

Across the floor lay the huge spider’s web formed by the shadows of the leaded glass above.

Near the center of the rotunda, a single beam of clear moonlight shone down, illuminating the spot where Alan Rogers had died.

Grasping Beth’s hand, Tracy pulled her inside the building, closing the door behind them.

The faint chirping sounds of the summer night disappeared, and silence closed around the two girls. It was as if they’d stepped into another world, a strange dead world that reached out to enclose them, drawing them to its cold bosom.

They started slowly across the floor, unconsciously avoiding the spiderweb shadow cast by the skylight, as if by touching it they could become entangled, to be held prisoner for whatever strange creature might lurk in the shadowy reaches, waiting for its prey.

In the distance, seemingly unreachable, lay the stairs to the basement, and Tracy wanted to run to them, wanted to be away from the strange light and terrifying shadows.

As in a nightmare, her feet seemed mired in mud, each step a terrible effort.

But finally they were there, staring down into the pitch blackness below.

Tracy knelt, set the lantern carefully on the floor, then lifted its chimney off. She struck a match, cupped it in her hands for a moment, then held it to the wick.

The wick sputtered, then caught, the flame spreading quickly along its length. When it was burning brightly, Tracy replaced the chimney, then adjusted the wick. The flame’s intensity increased, but still the light was all but lost in the vastness of the building around them.

“Come on,” Tracy whispered, getting to her feet once more and picking up the lantern.

But Beth hung back, staring fearfully into the darkness below. In her mind, she began to remember the hellish vision she’d seen last time she had been in the little room behind the stairs. “M-maybe we shouldn’t—” she breathed.

But Tracy reached out with her free hand and grasped her wrist once more. “She’s your friend, remember?” Tracy hissed, letting her anger begin to show for the first time since Beth had come back to live at Hilltop. “You can’t chicken out now. I won’t let you!”

She started down the stairs, holding the lantern high. Beth resisted for only a moment, but as Tracy’s grip tightened on her wrist, she gave in. Her heart beginning to pound, she reluctantly followed Tracy into the basement.

The yawning blackness seemed to open before them, welcoming them.

Carolyn rolled over in her sleep, then slowly began to wake up. At first she resisted it, rolling over once more, and keeping her eyes resolutely closed.

It did no good. In a moment she was fully awake, and she sat up, listening, trying to decide what had disturbed her sleep. But there was nothing. The sounds of the crickets and frogs were drifting through the window as they always did, and the faint creaking of the old mansion still complained softly in the background. She glanced at the clock.