F. Paul Wilson: Conspircaies

Jack ducked to the side, but the missiles caught Lew full in the face. One instant he was there, the next he was gone.

And now the edge of the hole was nibbling at the foot of the column.

Jack swung his body onto the steps and started up. Standing was out of the question, so he crawled, squinting into the gale as he pulled himself upward one tread at a time.

He heard a faint clatter from somewhere above. He ducked and pressed himself against the wall to—his right as a barrage of cups, bowls, and dinner plates hurtled down from the kitchen cabinets. A few of them pelted his head and shoulders on their way by.

If only Zaleski were here, he thought insanely. Real flying saucers.

As he resumed his climb, he prayed that Melanie's folks hadn't been into collecting carving knives.

As if on cue, another clatter from above and then the household flatware—spoons, forks and knives, even the drawer itself—were flying toward him. He ducked again and cursed as the sharper utensils tore his shirt and cut his skin.

And then the whole staircase moved under Jack.

He glanced back and saw the column hanging free over the hole, wagging back and forth. The staircase was attached to its base, and the entire unit was being ripped from the wall.

With the stairs jerking and twisting under him like a rodeo bronco, Jack redoubled his efforts to reach the kitchen, clawing his way to the top. He'd just snaked his right hand around the foot of the jamb when the staircase tore free of the wall and tumbled away, leaving Jack hanging from the doorway.

A quick glance back showed the stairs and the column whirling into the hungry vortex. He heard a loud crack as the house's center beam began to sag.

The whole place was coming down.

He had a few minutes, tops.

Through desperation-fueled kicking and scrabbling against the wall, Jack managed to force his head and chest up onto the kitchen floor, now beginning to tilt toward him as the center beam sagged further. He'd just raised a knee over the edge when he saw a dark square sliding along the kitchen counter. It hit the floor with a weighty bang and began tumbling end over directly toward him. It was almost upon him before he recognized it as a microwave oven.

Jack lunged to the side, squeezing himself against the jamb, but the oven caught his knee and knocked him off the threshold. He fell back and was left literally twisting in the wind as he clung to the jamb with one hand.

Sobbing with the effort, doing his best to ignore the agony in his knee, Jack struggled again to lever himself up to the ever-more-tilted kitchen floor. This time he got both knees up on the threshold—those regular workouts were paying a dividend—just as the refrigerator started sliding toward him.

Not again!

An inarticulate cry burst from him as he half lunged, half rolled to the side.

The refrigerator brushed against his back and it slammed into the doorway, blocking it.

Missed me, you bastard!

Wind shrieked around the fridge's edges but no way was it getting through.

Jack lay on the floor, gasping. No gale to fight…how wonderful.

Then he felt the floor jolt under him.

Oh, Christ! The increased negative pressure in the basement was putting more stress on the already weakened support beam. The whole place was going to implode.

He struggled to his feet and hobbled to the back door. He turned the knob and pulled but it wouldn't budge. How could it? He'd relocked the deadbolt when he left the other day.

"Jerk!" he shouted.

He turned away and limped hurriedly through the sagging house. At least the lights were still on so he didn't have to stumble around in the dark. The open front door was in sight when a booming crack beneath his feet shook the house—the center beam had finally surrendered.

The lights went out and the living room floor dropped three feet as Jack leaped for the swinging front door. He caught the inner and outer knobs and hung there as the carpet was ripped free. It swirled and shredded through the sudden hole in the floor, to be swallowed by the insatiable maw in the cellar.

The outer walls began to crack and lean inward. Jack felt the door hinges start to give way. He kicked off the wall, swung himself toward the doorway, and leaped through the opening onto the front steps. Without a pause, without a look back, he hopped off the steps and tumbled onto the grass.

6

"Is that—?" Mauricio said as a figure leaped from the shuddering house and crumbled onto the lawn.

The One stared through the dimness. "Yes, I am afraid it is."

"Who is this man?"

The One nodded. A very good question. Last year this stranger apparently had wiped out the rakoshi singlehandedly, and now he somehow had escaped the cellar and the gateway.

"Whatever his name," the One said, "he is a nuisance and a menace."

"I've had enough of this. If the Otherness can't finish him, I will."

Movement caught The One's eye as Mauricio crouched to leap from his shoulder. He raised a hand to prevent that.

"Wait. Someone else is here."

"The Twins!" Mauricio hissed. "They could ruin everything!"

"No. It is too late—even for them."

"It's not too late. The hole is not large enough yet. They might be able to shut it down. And you—you haven't assumed your final form yet. Until you do, they can still destroy you. And I can't protect you against their strength. Hide!"

He watched the Twins scan the yard, saw them fix on the stranger and start toward him.

This should be interesting…

7

Still puffing, Jack slumped on the dew-damp grass. The night air was cool against his face, Canfield's van was a shadow to his right. Starlight faintly outlined the sagging roof of the house, while pink-orange flashes strobed through the imploding windows.

He closed his eyes and rubbed his knee. Had to get away from here. Soon as he caught his breath…

A thunderous boom shook the ground and jerked him forward.

The house—its walls were folding in, the roof buckling in the middle. As Jack watched, the entire structure fell apart and tumbled into its foundation. The pieces—lumber, bricks, siding, wallboard, furniture—whirlpooled down into the Otherness hole, feeding it, expanding it, until nothing, not even the foundation footings, remained.

And the hungry rim expanded farther, flashing its weird-colored light against the trees and vehicles in the yard, still coming for him.

"Aw, cut me a break!" Jack muttered as he fought to his feet.

What was it going to do—chase him all the way back to the city? And then he realized with a shock that was exactly what it was going to do. Just like in his dream—a giant hole swallowing everything in its path.

He turned and started a quick hobble toward his car. He had to get to Gia and Vicky, warn Abe, head for the hills—

But as he neared the big oak he spotted a black sedan parked at the curb…and two dark figures in suits and hats approaching him. Jack didn't have to see their faces to know who they were.

And here he was, unarmed and in no shape to deal with them.

He broke into his best approximation of a run.

They caught him easily—strong, long-fingered hands gripped each of his upper arms and fairly lifted him off the ground. Jack writhed and twisted but couldn't pull free; he lashed out with his feet, aiming for knees and groins, but he couldn't find the leverage he needed to do any damage—at least not to this pair. He remembered how he'd broken one's finger the other night without fazing him.

They wheeled around and began dragging him back across the lawn toward the flashing pit where the house had been.

Panic spiked through him. He tried to dig his feet in, but his sneakers slipped on the wet grass, barely slowing the two golems who held him. He was utterly helpless.