Bentley Little - The Summoning

From down the hall, from the living room, she heard her parents arguing, their voices pitched low but still audible. Underneath their voices was the sound of one of her grandmother's Chinese music tapes.

She got out of bed, got dressed. "

There were a lot of people at the graveside service, and many of them were people she knew, but Sue stood by herself, preferring to be alone.

She looked at the closed casket poised above the open grave and remembered the feel of Rich's hot blood splashing on her hand in the darkness.

She glanced away, looked at the sky.

There were two empty open graves on either side of Rich's, where Corrie and Anna would be buried later this afternoon. She had not known Rich's wife, but she had known his daughter, and she was going to attend the services.

There were going to be a lot of funerals this week. Including several mass burials.

Were there other cup hu rngs out there? she wondered Or was that the only one? The FBI agent had claimed--when? Thursday? It seemed like weeks, not days, ago that they had all sat in her living room talking--that he had documented records of thousands of people who'd been killed by a cup hugirngsi. Had it been their monster? Or were there others, in other states, in other countries?

She didn't want to think about that, could not allow herself to think about that. Not now, not yet, maybe not ever. They had done what they could, and their part was over.

But was it really?

Yes, she told herself.

Her eyes returned to the dark burnished wood of the raised casket. Who would take over the newspaper now? she wondered. Did Robert own it, or were there other relatives to whom it would go? It was a stupid question, but it bothered her. It didn't really matter--she was not going back there, she would not work for ... the newspaper again--but, still, it nagged at her.

What was she going to do? She wasn't needed at the restaurant. Not really. Her parents could survive without her. She had some money saved up. Maybe she could get a job in Phoenix or Mesa or Scottsdale or Tempe, work during the day, go to a community college at night. Her family could come and visit her on their days off. It was only a couple of hours' drive.

She wanted to get away from Rio Verde.

She needed to get away from Rio Verde.

The casket was lowered into the grave, the sound of the machinery creaky in the afternoon silence, and she found herself thinking of those negatives and proof sheets of Corrie that were still hanging in the newspaper office.

More than anything else, more than the faces of the mourners around her, more than the words of the pastor, it was the thought of those photos that brought home to her the sense of loss. A man. A woman.

Passion. Love. A child. All gone. Tears welled in her eyes as she thought of the first night she had met Rich, in the empty classroom at the high school. She realized that she could not remember the editor's voice. She would know it if she heard it, but she could not call it to mind.

The casket was lowered, dirt was thrown, words were said, people started to leave, many of them crying. Sue looked up, saw Robert on the other side of the grave. Through her tears, she smiled at him, he smiled at her, but neither of them made the effort to speak. She knew how he felt, she could feel his pain almost as clearly as her own, but she had nothing to say to him.

Could they have done something sooner? It seemed so obvious to her now the killings had begun at the same time that Wheeler had started adding on to his church Was there some way they could have discovered this earlier before everything had gone so far? Couldn't comm or sense have told them what was happening? Had they really] had to wait for her grandmother's Di Lo Ling Gum to happen?

Maybe, maybe not. She didn't know, and she would never know. But she did know one thing: laht sic was no set in stone. She did not have to wait passively to see what fate had in store for her. She could act instead of react, make her own decisions, steer her own course, live her own life.

But maybe that, too, was lair sic.

Maybe.

She turned away from the gravesite. The day was cool and clear, the sky a deep-sea blue, the kind of day Rich would have loved. In the distance, she heard the sound of hammers and buzz saws--the black church being dismantled.

Her grandmother had wanted to come to the funeral, had asked to come, but Sue had asked her not to. She did not know why, but she had not wanted her family to be here with her. Her grandmother, somehow, had understood.

She walked across the newly installed squares of grass, and saw Carole as she headed back to the car. The secretary turned in her direction, attempted a wave, but Sue hurriedly moved away.

As she walked, as her feet carried her over the recently restored ground, something shifted inside of her, something changed. The sadness and despair that had begun to take root within her disappeared, and she felt inappropriately light-headed, almost giddy. She knew, suddenly, with certainty, that everything was going to be all right, that she would be okay, that she and her family would live long and happy lives.

It was a strange, childishly simple thing to think, but it was what she wanted to hear, what she needed to hear, and it affected her in a way that nothing else could have. Di Lo Ling Gum ?

Perhaps it was. Or perhaps it was simply a voice within herself.

Perhaps it was merely what she wanted to believe.

She didn't care. All she knew was that she suddenly wanted to go home, to see her parents, to see John and her grandmother, to be with them ...... She looked back at Robert, now standing alone with the pastor at the edge of the grave, and thought that maybe later, maybe tomorrow, she would call him, talk to him.

No matter what happened from here on in, no matter what life threw at her, everything was going to turn out all right, everything was going to be okay.

She got in the station wagon, turned on the radio, and headed for home.

About the Author

BENTLEY LITTLE was born in Arizona a month after his mother attended the world premiere of Psycho. He now lives in California. He has worked as a newspaper reporter/photographer, video arcade attendant, window washer, rodeo gatekeeper, telephone book deliveryman, library aide, typesetter, furniture mover, salesclerk, and technical writer. He is the author of THE MAILMAN, DEATH INSTINCT and the Bram Stoker Award-winning THE REVELATION.

His girlfriend, Wai Sau, is Chinese.