The Reality Conspiracy (61 page)

"What do I want from you, Father Sullivan? Only what is best for all of us.

"A short half century ago you stumbled onto something essential. You learned to manipulate the most fundamental particles of matter and nonmatter, and, in doing so, came very close to the source of creation. Immediately, you used this knowledge for destruction. Yet even today only a minuscule portion of the devastation you caused in Japan is known to you. Typically, what you do not perceive is of no concern.

"Make no mistake, William, it is not the residual damage to you and your world that concerns us. It is the damage to us. You have discovered the means to kill the undying. You have learned to eradicate spirit, to destroy soul.

"And now, with your mindless enthusiasm and wide-eyed blindness, you have stumbled onto something vastly more dangerous. As usual, you were looking for a weapon but you found a key. It is the key that will unlock the door to our domain.

"Quite simply, Father William, we will not allow you to control that key.

"We have begun a new era of expanded intervention and . . ."the creature laughed, "unrestrained contempt. We will no longer laugh as you annihilate each other. From now on we will relieve you of that pleasure. We will torture and destroy you ourselves.

"Today, on this hilltop, it begins. It cannot be stopped. It cannot be reversed. As the deluded Dr. McCurdy asserted: a new time has come. It's in motion right now. And unimaginable changes will follow.

"For you and your kind, life will become far more difficult but. mercifully less abstract. Certain religious zealots will believe the Devil is at the helm. At first everyone will look for sanctuary in their churches—but to no avail.

"As demons and angels, we have taught you that your religion is effective against us. But as you have seen, we lied. And thinking you were safe, you have squandered the eons. In all the time you've existed you have built no defense to repel us.

"Many of us are here already. When we come en masse, there'll be nothing you can do.

"What can you do for us, Father Sullivan? We will require of you no more than we asked of Hamilton Mosely a decade ago. As you can see, his physical state has degenerated terribly. This body hasn't the strength to rise from this bed. So it can be of no use to us. . . .

"What do we ask of you? Nothing, William, nothing at all. We already have you. Come closer to me now."

Eyes pinched closed, Sullivan lurched forward, propelled by invisible hands. The sound of laughter echoed in his ears.

"L
ook! There's Jeff and Casey!" Karen pointed toward the front porch of the Dubois farmhouse as she led Alton along the dark muddy road. She watched a grotesque shadow approaching the house—Jeff carrying Casey in his arms.

He mounted the steps and lowered his daughter into a wooden Adirondack chair. Then he stood up straight, massaging the muscles of his lower back.

Casey cried, "Dad, look!" She pointed into the darkness directly at Karen.

Waving, Karen ran ahead. She saw how haggard Jeff appeared.

His face was painted with grime and rusty-colored stains. His clothing was so filthy he appeared to be sculpted from mud.

"Oh, Jeff. . . ."

They embraced in front of the steps. Karen smiled and cried at the same time.

"Thank God you're all right," Jeff said hoarsely. He hugged her so hard it hurt. Alton threw a big arm around both of them.

"Jeff, Jeff." All at once Karen redirected her gaze. "Oh, Jeff, is Casey. . . ?"

"She's fine. She's been through hell and she's exhausted, but—"

"Let's just get away from here," Casey said,

"What about Father Sullivan?" Alton asked. "He was inside last I seen him."

Jeff shook his head, looking confused, "I don't know; I haven't checked." He fell back onto the steps and put his face in his hands.

"And McCurdy?" Alton pressed.

"I knocked him out. Whatever power he had, I think he lost it. Alter the massacre—"

"Massacre!" Karen and Alton spoke in unison.

"They're dead. All those people in the field, dead. I don't know what happened. There was a blast of wind. Cold. Freezing wind. People started falling. Shattering, li-like statues made of ice." Jeff rubbed his eyes with his fingertips.

Karen turned, facing the empty field. "The whole crowd? All of them?"

Jeff nodded.

She didn't know what to say. The men stood silent. Everyone traded frightened, disbelieving glances.

"Oh my God," Karen finally said, "I still can't believe any of this. What's going on here, Jeff? How can s-something like that be happening?"

Jeff blinked at her several times as if trying to get his eyes to focus. "That damn computer. It's just as we figured: McCurdy somehow tapped into another . . . realm, another dimension or whatever you want to call it. And they're coming through. I think they're . . . attacking us."

"Holy shit!" Alton grabbed Jeff's arm. "Then that's what happened to Stuart, ain't it? Somethin' from the other side . . . it pulled him in?"

"That's about the size of it. They used Skipp McCurdy's religious beliefs to manipulate him. Made him think he was leading the way to the world's salvation. They gave him a taste of power, then they took it away. But the gate, the passageway's still open. And I don't know what's going to happen now . . ."

"You make it sound like . . . I mean is it really . . . an invasion?"

"Christ, I don't know, Karen. I think that's just what it is. Unless . . ."

"Unless what?" Alton leaned forward. "You figger there's somethin' we can do?"

"I don't know. That's what I've been trying to figure out. Christ, I'm so tired my mind's hardly working."

"Can we . . . close the door, somehow?" Karen asked.

"Maybe. If McCurdy opened it with the computer, maybe we can use the computer to close it."

"But that's in Boston! Do we have time to drive—"

"McCurdy's got a terminal upstairs in the bedroom. I saw it when I was up there. He wasn't using it. Apparently he had some sort of telepathic connection with the CPU in Boston. But now McCurdy's done his job so he's become obsolete. His mental connection's broken. So maybe, if I can just get to that terminal. . ."

Jeff stood up. Karen watched his glance shift from the house back to the dark field and the slopes beyond.

The terrifying circle of light was gone now; the whole panorama was beginning to brighten. A wavy red ribbon of morning rested on the mountains to the east.

"Al," Jeff said, "why don't you see if you can find a car, then get the women out of here."

Al nodded. "Mine ain't workin', but maybe I can get one of 'em started. Looks to me like things have settled down some. . . ."

"But wait! What about you?" Karen clutched Jeff's filthy shirtfront.

"I'm going to get to that terminal and see if I can put the CPU out of commission. Whatever door McCurdy's opened, I've got to close the sonuvabitch and bar it forever. If I don't, we'll be getting all sorts of unwanted visitors."

"No! You come with us. Just grab the terminal and let's get out of here." Karen looked him directly in the eyes.

"I'll find us a car." Al carried Lucy up the steps where he placed her on the cushions of the old porch swing. "You take care now, sweetie," Karen heard him whisper.

Then he about-faced.

As he walked off the porch and away, he said, "You folks round up whatever you need. I'll be back in a jiffy."

M
cCurdy dragged himself through the mud.

He was too weak to get to his feet. Even if he did, he was afraid he wouldn't be able to walk. He slapped the wet ground as he pulled himself forward. Foul water splashed his face and he spat it back at the soggy grass.

Though the sharp pain in his jaw continued its electric jolts, the tears had dried in his eyes. More than anything else he wanted to pray, but he feared the wrong deity might hear him.

Mumbling to himself, he crawled.

He knew he was alone. Completely, totally alone. There was no one else to hear him.

He had something to do. Something important. But he had to keep that to himself. It was for him to know. Just him.

He tried to click his tongue, but pain stabbed at his mouth like shards of glass.

The house seemed such a long way off. He wasn't sure he could make the distance without passing out. Determined, he kept inching along like a snake in the mud.

A clear perfect thought shone brightly in his mind.

K
aren followed Jeff through the front door of the farmhouse. Just inside, they stood together in the dark hall, looking around.

The air was foul. The whole placed reeked with a terrible nauseating stench Karen could not identify.

She peered into the gloom, not wanting to get too far from Jeff. Downstairs, the rooms seemed empty. A kerosene lamp burned beside the couch in the living room. Two candles flickered atop a drop-leaf table near the bottom of the stairs. To the left, the unlighted kitchen seemed cavernous. Its furnishings were buried in shadows.

"You wait right here," Jeff whispered. "Keep an eye on Casey and Lucy. I'll go upstairs and grab the terminal."

"Okay, but hurry."

She watched him poke his head through the living room door. "Father Sullivan!" Jeff called.

When no one answered, he walked straight toward the stairway at the back of the house. There he hesitated, looking up. "Are you here, Father?" Jeff's voice seemed uncomfortably loud in the quiet house.

He began to climb the stairs.

"Stop right there, please." The voice seemed to come from nowhere. Father Sullivan's voice.

"Wha . . . ? Where are you, Father?" Jeff said again. Karen saw Jeff's puzzled face as he turned and walked back toward her.

"Karen, Jeffrey, please stay where you are. I want to talk to you."

"But, where—?"

"PLEASE!"

Karen stood twenty feet from Jeff. Both looked around, trying to determine the source of the words.

"If you have a flashlight, leave it off, please."

Karen's eyes met Jeff's. He shrugged and held up his empty hands. "No light, Father."

As candles flickered, Karen saw movement deep within the kitchen. A door opening. Hinges squealed.

"Jeff!" she called as he joined her at the threshold.

A door in the kitchen opened. Father Sullivan stepped into its frame. There he paused, leaning against the vertical woodwork, staring

at them from across the room. He appeared profoundly tired. Drained. His skin seemed bleached, his sunken eyes rimmed with black. His thick gray hair was wild in disarray.

"Jeffrey, you're on a fool's errand, I'm afraid," the priest said with hollow tones.

Sullivan seemed so weary that he could not stand without the support of the door frame. Karen wanted to go to him, but for some reason hesitated. "Father, you don't look well. Can I help you? Why don't you let me—"

"STAY BACK, DAMN IT!"

The force of his words held her in place.

Now more softly, "Please stay where you are. It's better you don't come near me. I may be . . . sick."

"Then let us help. You look exhausted, Father. What's happened?" Sullivan shook his head, slowly, sadly.

Muddled with fatigue, Karen couldn't trust her judgment or her instincts, yet both insisted Father Sullivan was behaving strangely. "We're going to get out of here," Jeff said. "Alton's gone for a car. We can take you to the hospital.He glanced at Karen, then back at the priest."

"No. I . . . I have something to tell you." Sullivan's eyes closed, as if he had passed out against the door frame. "It's going to be . . . unpleasant. But please listen. Then all of us will know what must be done."

With his right arm and shoulder pressed firmly against the wood, Sullivan appeared as a white-masked shadow in the dim light. His image upset Karen, but she didn't know exactly why.

"Of course, Father. Please go on," said Jeff.

"Tonight I have suffered a great blow to my faith." His voice was a hoarse whisper. "Moments ago, I was convinced I had come face-to-face with the Devil. As a priest, I know the Devil wears many masks. But tonight . . . tonight I looked into the face of the Devil, only to discover that it too is a mask."

"Oh, Father . . . " Karen took another step, but Jeff grabbed her.

"Tonight I have learned, with no doubt whatsoever, that our speculation was correct. There is another world existing synchronously with our own. It is here now, all around us. It is not Heaven or Hell. It is not the Kingdom, the Spirit World, Magonia, the astral plane, or any of the myriad names we have contrived for it. It is so carefully disguised that its true nature has remained undiscovered for centuries.

"But tonight I have glimpsed that world. I have understood enough to perceive answers to . . . ultimate questions. I have attained an imperfect enlightenment."