The Testimony of Jacob Hollow
by Joe Joiner
Chapter 5
Out of the Frying Pan
I awoke to quiet and darkness.
Sitting up, at first I couldn't remember where I was or how I'd got there. Then it all came back in a flood and I groaned.
The library was pitch black, a stygian darkness so complete I felt as if I'd been swallowed, or buried alive. "Hey, what's going...?" A hand clamped over my mouth and Jenny's harsh voice hissed, "Quiet!"
I grabbed her wrist and flung her hand away. She didn't comment, and I heard her move away. My eyes adjusted and I could make out the shapes of my companions scattered around the room. The moonlight shining through the windows was bright enough to see by. Nikki was sitting on the edge of the chair where Timothy had been reading and was hugging him and trying to keep him calm. Winston and Hank both sat with their heads bowed, dozing and seemingly uncaring of current events. Of Joshua there was no sign. I got up slowly and approached Troy. "What's going on?" I whispered.
His eyes didn't move from the window, and he held the rifle like he intended to use it. "Movement in the yard and parking lot. So far two Hounds and several figures that looked human."
Yikes. "Do they know we're here?"
He shook his head. "We've kept the house dark, so I don't think so. The only thing they might notice is that the garage doors are down and locked, but I don't think they will."
"Why not?"
"Ghouls aren't exactly smart."
"Are you saying there are zombies out there right now?" It sounded ridiculous, but I was ready to believe almost anything.
"Not zombies, ghouls. Reanimated corpses. Unlike zombies, their sole purpose is to feed on the living. They're driven by instinct alone, and they can't think or reason cognitively. I doubt they'll even notice I shut the door. They'd see a light, though, so that's why we've been in the dark since sundown. Ripley's journal has been very informative."
I rubbed my eyes and stared through the sheer drapes. As Troy had predicted earlier, the fog had crept back into town with the sunset. A light haze covered everything and was getting thicker. I could just barely see two figures shuffling across the asphalt, and felt a chill move up my spine. At least they were moving away from the house and back toward town. "Good Lord, how long was I asleep?"
Troy almost glanced at the useless watch he wore, and then grinned. "About five hours. Jenny said you told her you'd been driving all night, so we let you sleep. You're no use to us exhausted."
"Thanks," I said, and I meant it. My batteries weren't full recharged, but I did feel better. "Where's the kid?"
"Bathroom. There are three on this floor if you need one, but don't flush. I know it's disgusting, but the less noise the better."
"Wish I could get a shower." And how. I could smell myself, and it wasn't pleasant.
"We brought in some buckets of water from the bathroom, along with some soap and towels. Luckily, the water is still on. It's cold, but you can get clean."
"Great." I turned away, but he grabbed my arm. "I want to tell you something," he said.
I pulled away. "There's nothing between me and Jenny, haven't you figured that out yet?" When he blinked I realized I had guessed wrong. "What then?"
"You did good downstairs. I know I come off as a hardass sometimes, but it's leftover from the military. I'm not really a jerk, and deep down inside, you're not a coward. Why don't we both agree to leave Jenny out of things and work out our differences?"
Damn it. It was easier disliking the guy. Now he had to go and get friendly so that I couldn't hate him. I wasn't sure if he was sincere or just going through the motions to keep me from stabbing him in the back later on. "We're cool," I said. "Can I go get my sponge bath, doctor?"
He chuckled. "Go ahead. Just try to keep the noise down."
"Will do."
The buckets were lined up in front of the fireplace. There were five pails and a plastic tub that could hold about ten gallons, but only a gallon or so was in the bottom of it. They'd been busy while I slept, and I felt a little guilty that I'd spent the time snoozing instead of helping out. Nobody seemed to care, though. In fact, Jenny spared me a smile as I walked past her, but I might have imagined it in the dimness.
Kneeling by the tub, I stripped off my shirt and dipped my hands in the nearest bucket. The water had been sitting long enough to grow tepid, but was still cooler than I preferred for bathing. I was about to plunge my head in when I felt Nikki come up behind me and place her hands on my shoulders. "Let me help you," she said softly, and I got the idea she would do so whether I agreed to it or not. She reached past me and dipped a cloth into the water. Passing it across my shoulders the damp rag raised a flurry of goosebumps and I shivered. Then her hand passed over the same place and I was flushed with warmth. "Hang your head over the tub," she whispered. Was there a trace of huskiness in her voice?
I've washed my hair in cold water before, and the effect is invigorating. All traces of sleepiness were banished as she poured the chill liquid over my head and jolted me to absolute wakefulness. I sputtered and shook my head, spraying her with droplets. She squeaked and jumped back, earning us both a reprimanding glare from Troy. Then it was back to the tub, and her hands scrubbed away several days worth of dust and oil from my scalp. Another dousing of cool water and then she started working on my back, scrubbing hard enough that it felt like I was being flayed. "Ow..." I griped, and she swatted the back of my head. "You're a mess," she said, her whisper scolding and sultry at the same time. "To think I actually kissed you."
"I thought I dreamed that." Yeah, right.
A few breathless moments later I was dried off and buttoning a fresh blue shirt courtesy of Robert Ripley's wardrobe, and graciously offered by his niece. "Much better," Nikki cooed, and I smiled as I ran my comb through my still damp hair. I felt like a new man.
Winston lifted his head and looked around. Seeing me watching him he lifted his hand and waved me over. I winked at Nikki. "Be right back," I said, and her smile was full of promises.
"What's up, Winston?" I asked as I took the chair next to his.
"Mr. Williams has asked me to inform you of recent events and discoveries." He didn't need to whisper; his voice was naturally low and soft.
"Nice of him to keep me in the loop. So what's going on?"
He handed me the journal. "I suggest you read it. The moonlight is bright enough near the desk. It will explain much of what we already know to be happening, and a few things we did not."
Great. I'm not the biggest reader, and I wasn't looking forward to crawling around in a dead man's diary. The thought made me feel intrusive and dirty, even if I did have permission. "How about summarizing it for me? I just woke up and I probably wouldn't remember much of what I read."
I think he rolled his eyes, but it was a little hard to tell in the dark. "Very well," he sighed. "Mr. Ripley was of the opinion that somebody at Biocyte was experimenting with quantum mechanics in an attempt to open a portal into another dimension that they believed lay parallel to our own. Instead, about two months ago they, as he phrased it, 'opened the gates of Hell'. He called it Damnation Day. An unnatural force was unleashed and rained havoc upon Castle Bay, not only birthing all manor of evil creatures, but also closing off the town from the outside world."
He sat back and then gestured toward a long table set up against the opposite wall where I could just see several boxes, a lamp and an array of strange tools. "Miss Hopper's uncle was also something of an amateur entomologist. That table is covered with the remains of some of the beastliest insects I have ever seen. He began taking samples before D-Day. The journal said they started cropping up in the wild outside town a few months before that night. From what I can see and his notes that are still there, they match no known species found on Earth." He idly wiped his glasses with a silk handkerchief as he spoke, and I was riveted in my seat. I can say this about Holcroft; he knew just what words to use in order to keep your attention.
Winston went on. "He was also researching his entire library in an attempt to find some sort of remedy, and at the end writes that he may have stumbled onto a solution that would allow him to escape and warn the rest of the world."
Good news at last. "Fantastic. So what was it?"
He shrugged. "This we do not know. He references page 466 in a book called the Mortis Arcanum. We've searched the library, and the book is not to be found on these shelves."
"A library book maybe?" I suggested.
His expression was pure condescension. For a few seconds he was the learned teacher, and I was the dunce pupil. "Hardly," he said with his best academic sneer. "The Mortis Arcanum is an extremely rare book over five hundred years old. Its value is measured in the tens of thousands of dollars. Ripley writes that he owned an original copy, but we cannot find it."
"So he hid it. I wonder why?"
"To keep it from being abused. He mentions spells in the book that could be used for great evil. He also tells of an individual he refers to as 'the Doctor,' and that the book must never be found by this person."
I thought about it for a minute. "It has to be in the house," I mused out loud. "Where would he have stashed it?"
"That is the question of the hour, Mr. Hollow. If you can answer it, do come and find me. Now I must get something to eat." He got up and carefully made his way to a table that had been set up to hold the foodstuffs we'd brought from downstairs. Somebody else had had the same idea, but in the darkness I couldn't see whom it was standing by the table, but the muted tones of a whispered conversation drifted back to me. I wasn't hungry yet, so I moved closer to a window where the moonlight was bright enough to read by and opened the journal.
It was a terrifying read. Through his words I could feel Robert Ripley's fear. I also admired his courage. He knew he was doomed, yet he continued searching for a way to reverse what had been done to Castle Bay, pouring through his library in a desperate quest for what he termed `white magic.' I can remember one quote vividly. `The universe is constant in regards to balance. There cannot be light with dark, up without down, sickness without health, and evil without good. What has been rendered can be undone, but first I must find the cause, and then undo it.' There was more written to Jenny that was kind of personal. How proud he was of her, of her drive to succeed, and that she meant as much to him as if she'd been his own daughter.
A shadow moved in the doorway and Joshua carefully made his way into the library. Locating the couch with his foot, he dropped onto it heavily. He sat with his arms crossed over his chest, and in the quiet I could hear him muttering to himself. My every instinct was telling me that the kid was over the edge, and sooner or later he was going to snap. The question was whether or not he would take someone else with him when he went. I already had the idea that he was the one that nobody in the group fully trusted, as if he'd already done something to make them question his motives. I thought Nikki would be able to tell me more, so I closed the journal and placed it on the table next to the chair, then got up to find her.
Maneuvering through a dark room is no easy feat, but as I've said before, I have sharp eyes, so I avoided bruising my shins on the furniture. Nikki was stretched out on the floor by the shelves that covered the entire north wall of the library. A sleeping bag was spread out under her, and she was using the decorative pillows from the sofa. I thought that Timothy might have been sleeping next to her since he never seemed to want to leave her side, and then I spied him curled up under the window near Troy. I assumed that he wanted to stay where it was light. How had I missed him when I was talking to the bounty hunter?
Looking back at Nikki I saw that here eyes were open, and she was smiling at me. She patted the floor next to her and I happily accepted the invitation. Lying down next to her, she immediately moved closer and we kind of wrapped ourselves around each other. You know, even in the darkest, most scariest times in our lives, all it takes is the embrace of another person to drive away all of your doubts and fears. For that brief time when I lay in Nikki's embrace, I was more of a man then than I had ever been up to that point. I ran my fingers through the dark strands of her hair, and felt her heart beat faster. My own was pounding like a jackhammer in my chest, and her breath against my throat wasn't helping. She must have noticed. Lifting her head from the pillow, she pressed her mouth against mine.
It was totally unexpected, absolutely perfect, and completely incredible.
I've kissed a few girls in my day, and they all instantly paled in comparison. This kiss was different. Special somehow. I can't put my finger on just why, but I guess it was because we were two people sharing an unusual and frightening experience. Not exactly torn from the pages of a romance novel, but it worked. It wasn't the innocent kiss of newfound love, but the demanding kiss of a woman who knew just what and who she wanted. I didn't want it to ever stop.
As they say, though, all good things must end. When she moved away from me we were both out of breath. She lay her head back down and sighed contentedly. Her arms around me felt so nice, and she was so soft and warm, that despite the erotic possibilities, I could not help drifting back to sleep. Even as I dozed (honestly, I never really went to sleep), I noticed Troy leaving the library to make a round of the house, Joshua taking the chair where I'd been sitting and picking up the journal, and Nikki's soft whispers of "Don't let anything hurt me, Jake," in my ear. Resting in that dim area between sleep and wakefulness, I wondered just how far she was willing to go in order to gain a protector. If so, God bless her, because I was willing.
An unknown amount of time later, a deep booming sounded through the house and everybody jumped. I was resting comfortably with Nikki, who was snoring lightly when we were both jolted fully awake. Sitting there groggily I watched as Troy rushed past us with his rifle out and his finger on the trigger. "Now what?" I wondered aloud.
BOOM, BOOM, BOOM!
Hank was standing at the library door. Nikki and I hurried over to join him. "What the hell is that noise?" I demanded.
"Something's bangin' on the garage door," he answered. "That metal sum'bitch is like a big drum."
"Will it hold?"
He fixed me with his gaze, which was totally sober again. He'd either corked the bottle or was scared sober. "It had better," he said.
"Hank, Jake, get down here!" Troy's voice came from the foot of the stairs.
Nikki gave me a light kiss and a stern, "You be careful, handsome." She squeezed my hand hard.
The big Texan cocked his shotgun and I had my pistol in my hand. I felt my knees go wobbly. I did not want to go down there. Hank looked over his shoulder at Winston. "Bolt the door and don't open it for anyone but us."
Holcroft nodded and closed the door as we stepped into the hallway. I heard the deadbolt engage and a shiver went up my spine. Christ on the cross, I was scared.
The light coming through the stained glass window over the main doors was pretty bright, so the stairs and foyer were well lit. We could just see Troy at the bottom, and he looked mightily pissed. He fixed a stern gaze on both of us. "Did either of you see when Joshua left the library?"
"Sorry," I said guiltily. "I was a little out of it."
Hank shook his head. "Me too," he explained. "Kind of hard not to get sleepy sitting in the dark. Why, what's the boy done?"
"Can't you smell it?" Troy growled, and his expression was so full of fury I actually pitied the kid when Troy found him.
I inhaled and got nothing, but my second sniff brought the faint scent of smoke. "Is he burning something?"
Troy nodded. "There's a fireplace on this floor somewhere, and we need to find it."
"I think I saw one in the big chapel," I offered, trying to be helpful. I didn't want any of Troy's anger to carry over onto me.
Hank's eyes narrowed. "Should we split up?"
"We're going to have to," Troy said as another series of thuds rocked the house. "Hank, you guard the stairs and the small chapel. Make sure that if anything gets in it doesn't get past you. Jake and I will find the fireplace and the punk."
Poor Joshua. Unless he had learned how to turn himself invisible, he was going to get the ass kicking of his life. Hank took a stance at the top of the steps going downstairs, cradling the shotgun in his arms and looking a little worried. I didn't blame him.
We literally followed our noses through the rooms on the first floor. We'd been there only a few hours before, but it was somehow different and terrifying with the knowledge that someone or something was trying to get inside. It was also a lot darker, and the flashlight Troy was holding wasn't enough to light up a large area. We went through the kitchen and into the laundry room (which we had bypassed completely earlier), and into the larger of the two chapels. That's where we found Joshua.
He was squatting in front of the massive fireplace at the back of the room watching a small fire burn. At first I couldn't figure out why he needed a fire. It was warm enough to sleep without a blanket, and he was still wearing his jacket. Then I got a good look. "The journal!" I shouted, and unable to stop myself, I ran across the room and knocked him out of the way.
Too late.
The leather binding and cover were smoking terribly. The pages filled with the final entries of Ripley's life were terribly scorched; many of them burned away entirely.
Troy grabbed Joshua and yanked him up. "You goddamn idiot! You just gave us away with this little stunt!" Then he hit him, and he hit him hard. His knuckles cracked against the teen's jaw, and I gaped as Josh's feet actually left the floor with the force of the blow and he flew back more than six feet. The boy landed on the first row of chairs and went down with a loud crash. He moaned and I was amazed he was still alive and hadn't lost consciousness. Lucky little creep had a thick head.
I picked up the journal by one corner of the leather cover and shook out the rest of the flames. The acrid smell of scorched leather was thick. "Damn it," I said.
Troy fumed. "I should kill him. How did he get hold of the journal? We all know not to let him near books. He tries to burn everything he comes across."
I winced. "My fault, Troy," I admitted. "I left it on the table and I saw him pick it up. I didn't know not to let him have it." I steeled myself for the punch I was certain was heading my way, but Troy shrugged. "Not your fault," he said. "We forgot to tell you and Jenny, so how could you have known? Is anything left?"
I held up the blackened and still smoking cover for him to see. "It's all gone." Something small and silver dropped from it and clinked on the bricks of the fireplace. We both jumped back. I don't know what we were expecting, but it turned out to be a key, old and probably antique. Troy scooped it up and examined it, then turned his eyes to where Matthews lay groaning. "I think the little shit just did us a favor."
A thumping sound on the large stained glass window behind the podium drew our attention. Dark shapes could be seen moving through the panes, and we could see at least a dozen hands and a few faces pressing against it.
"Ah, Christ," Troy moaned. "There aren't any bars on these windows. We better vacate this room and quick!"
The glass shattered, showering us in an explosion of colored shards. Hands groped through the broken panes, and through them we could see the burning red eyes of the undead. Their faces were devoid of intelligence, pasty gray and covered with running sores that wept corruption like tears. They all shared the same look of utter despair, as if part of them wanted to howl at the torment of their wretched half-life, but were unable. Joshua was crawling to his knees and when he saw the ghouls reaching for us he let out a shriek that would have done Fay Raye proud. Troy cursed and swung the rifle up. He took aim and fired three quick shots. The nearest ghoul's head vanished in a cloud of red vapor; the second shot took the top of the head off the one behind it. Both of them collapsed, but more shuffled forward to take their place. The third shot took another one high in the shoulder but it didn't even flinch.
"This might be a good time beat a retreat, Troy," I yelled over Joshua's screaming. I wanted to start shooting, but the sheer number of targets made it seem like a waste of ammunition.
"Good idea. Get the asshole and let's get out of here." He made for the doors as I grabbed Joshua under his arms and jerked him to his feet. He started to slump back down. Damned if I was going to carry him. "Get moving or get left behind," I snarled at him. "In fact, why don't you just stay? It'll buy Troy and me time." That got him up and moving. I had to practically drag him, but we got out just as the window frame collapsed and the ghouls made their way into the room. Troy slammed the door behind us and threw the lock.
Sounds of breaking glass were coming from all directions, and then Hank shouted for us and the shotgun went off twice. Once at the stairs we saw that Hank had managed to get the door to the other chapel closed and locked. "A few got in through the big window. I got three of 'em with two shots," he beamed proudly. We could hear more of the creatures massing on the porch, their ragged moaning sending chills through me. The front doors were shuddering from repeated blows. They were going to break down the doors, and it was only a matter of time before they got in. "Upstairs, now!" Troy ordered, and we didn't hesitate.
The others were already in the hall. Winston had spent the time we were gone packing food into the plastic bags and setting them in the hall in preparation of leaving the library. He handed one to me and grabbed two more. There was also two full buckets of water that Hank grabbed. Winston pointed to where the hall came to a dead end. "I suggest we get up into the attic," he said to Troy. "They won't be able to get up there, and if they find the rest of the house empty they might give up and we should be able to slip out in the morning, provided we stay quiet. As Jenny told us, it could be the safest place, and their search of it earlier proved fruitful."
Hell, any port in a storm.
At the end of the hall a rope hung from the ceiling. Jenny grabbed it and pulled down the folding stairs that led up into the attic. Joshua was apparently fully recovered. Sporting a wicked bruise on the lower part of his face, he scampered past her and vanished into the darkness. Troy shook his head. "The rest of you go," he said, as the bangs from downstairs grew louder and more insistent. The chapel doors were going to give any second.
Winston was next up, followed by Jenny, Timothy and Nikki. I had no choice but to go behind Nikki. She had grabbed my hand in a death grip and was pulling me along. Hank did an impressive balancing act climbing and not spilling his liquid burden. Troy was last up, just as we heard the front doors give and the chapel doors burst open. I could only imagine the scene below, and it made my blood run cold. We'd escaped being torn apart by mere seconds.
Troy pulled up the ladder, sealing the access quietly and plunging us into a thicker darkness than before until a flashlight speared the darkness. The hinges squeaked a little, but with all the noise coming from below it went unnoticed. Then he grabbed the knotted end of the rope and pulled it up and through. A nearby box was used to cover the hole. "Everyone grab a spot and get comfortable. We're not going to be moving for a long time. No noise!" he warned. How could we argue? The house was filled with monsters, and we were trapped in the attic. If they realized where we were things were going to get really nasty.
There was a lot of old furniture up there, and it was clear that this was where Ripley had been spending his nights. Several chairs and bookcases, a sofa and a loveseat, a queen size bed complete with sheets and a heavy quilt, and a propane stove. Small kerosene lanterns hung at intervals among the rafters. More provisions had been stockpiled on makeshift shelves, including four 20-gallon containers of water. When Hank saw those he sighed and rubbed his arms, muttering something about having wasted his time. "Somebody could 'a told me," he griped.
The attic ran the full length of the house, which made it roughly the size of a banquet hall. Years worth of junk and discarded belongings had been pushed as far to the sides as possible for maximum usable space. At either end of the attic was a large window, but both had been painted black. Once Troy saw that he visibly relaxed. Then he grinned when he discovered another of Ripley's additions to the attic. Aside from the niceties for habitation, he'd installed a solid piece of oak over the access. It was mounted on sturdy brass hinges, and once lowered could be locked in place using three heavy-duty padlocks. At least six inches thick, nothing would be able to get through even if they managed to get the ladder down. This was done as quickly and quietly as possible. The house was being ransacked below us, so any small noise that we made securing the attic went unheard again. For the time being, we were safe.
On the sofa Nikki was comforting Timothy, who was weeping softly, so with a small nod of reassurance I left her side and tiptoed over to Troy. He acknowledged my presence by pointing at the entry and whispering, "Jenny's uncle thought of everything."
"Looks that way. Have you snooped around yet?":
He shook his head. "I was about to come up here when I discovered Joshua was missing. They looked around while we were downstairs earlier, and our plan was to use this place if we lost the rest of the house."
I saw Matthews sitting cross-legged in a corner. He was rubbing his sore jaw and staring daggers at the group. "We should have left him down there," I spat. "He almost got us killed."
"True," Troy sighed, "but we all make mistakes, Jake. The kid's messed up. It has something to do with his father, but he won't tell us what."
"You're too forgiving," I teased. "Still, why did he burn the journal?"
He ran his hand over the smooth skin of his scalp. "Anything having to do with the occult is something he wants to destroy," he explained. "It makes Winston crazy mad whenever we catch him doing it. When we found him he was trying to torch the town library. That was just before things got really bad and there were more of us. I've watched too many good people die lately, that's why I couldn't leave him down there."
That made sense, but I would have left the kid without a second thought. I guess that was just another reason why Troy Williams was a better man than me. "Let's scout around," he said, interrupting my private reverie by prodding me in the ribs with the small flashlight. "Step careful, okay?"
I didn't need the warning, but I nodded my agreement anyway. As it turned out, we didn't need to bother. Ripley had spent some time mapping out the bad places to step. Handwritten signs dotted the plank floor with such cautions as, `squeaks,' or 'creaks when stepped on,' and `loose board, don't step here!' It made movement easier, and I admired the man's foresight again.
In the far north corner we discovered his makeshift toilet, which was basically a bucket with a lid, near the window, and I would've bet good money he had been dumping it out every morning, or else sneaking it into one of the bathrooms on the second floor. I was glad I'd found the time to do my own business before we'd been forced up here.
I noticed a bunch of boxes in the opposite corner, and for some reason their placement bothered me. Nowhere else in the attic had we seen boxes bunched together in such a way, as if they were concealing something. I pointed this out to Troy, and he agreed it was strange. Another clue was that the floorboards around them had been removed, leaving only a thin layer of insulation over the plaster of the ceiling below. We looked around and found a long plank with which we were able to span the open area. Troy gave me a nudge. "You're lighter than me," he said. "Better you go."
"Thanks a lot," I complained, but again, it only made sense.
It was only a matter of about six feet I that had to traverse, but it may as well have been a hundred and twenty stories high. If I fell, I would go right through the plaster and onto the floor below. A survivable drop, sure, but what would I find waiting for me? Luckily, working on boats all my life had honed my sense of balance. I could have skipped across that board blindfolded.
Once across, I moved a few of the larger boxes. What I found didn't really come as a surprise. It was an old antique chest, one that looked like a refugee from a pirate movie. I could just imagine it filled with doubloons, with a grinning human skull set on top to scare off would be thieves. I tried the lid and found it locked. My pocketknife had been left in the car, so I peered around for something to try and pick the lock with, and then I remembered what had fallen out of the burned journal. "Troy," I hissed. "Give me that key we found!"
He gave me a funny look before digging in his pocket and then stepping on the plank to hand it over. Sure enough, it was a perfect fit. The tumblers turned easily as if they had been recently greased, and the lid lifted smoothly. Ripley had also lubed the hinges to avoid noise.
The inside was packed full of books, small glass vials and leather pouches. Resting on the stack of books was a thick tome that had a palpable aura of age around it. The cover was a study in pure gruesome, depicting all manor of foul creatures engaged in killing and even devouring hapless human beings. I touched it and my skin crawled. The leather cover felt almost alive. Written in an archaic script across the top were the words, Mortis Arcanum. "Holy shit," I breathed. "Winston, eat your heart out."
I lifted it with a grunt. The damn thing weighed twenty pounds! I held it against my chest and staggered back to Troy. When he saw what I had his grin couldn't have been wider. "All right!" he cheered softly. "Let's get that mother back to Winston."
The others were all sitting and listening dejectedly to the sounds coming from beneath us. The creatures had moved to the second floor, and Jenny looked absolutely ill when the library door gave. That was certainly understandable. According to her, Ripley's passion had been his collection of rare books, and from the sounds, that collection was being torn apart. She sat on the bed with her knees drawn up to her chin, rocking slowly back and forth while tears moved down her cheeks. Troy's eyes went from her to me, then to the book and finally Winston. I could tell his heart was playing tug-of-war with his sense of duty.
Love wins, always.
He went to Jenny.
No real surprise to me, in fact, I would have been stunned if he hadn't. Not that I blamed him, either. I would have done the same thing if I had been in his shoes. I checked my emotions and was grateful to discover that I didn't feel anything. No regret, no jealousy, nothing. Nothing, until a certain dark-haired beauty drifted into my thoughts.
I found Winston occupying a chair and scanning the many books Ripley had brought up. He sensed me behind him. "It would seem that some of the more valuable books have been saved. Mr. Ripley was a smart man."
"Yeah, clever too," I quipped. "Check this out." When he turned around and sat up I plopped the book onto his lap, enjoying how his eyes threatened to pop out of his skull when the weight hit him. He was going to say something crass to me until he got a look at the cover, and the breath whooshed out of him. "Dear, Lord," he gasped. "You found it."
"Yep. Stashed in an old trunk. The key we found in the journal unlocked it."
"Key?" he asked.
I explained what Joshua had done and watched him struggle to contain his anger. To him, people that burned books were among the lower life forms, ranking just below parasites but slightly over a dog turd, but not very far. He caressed the cover with trembling fingers. "If we survive this, Mr. Hollow, this book could make us all very wealthy."
"Screw the money, can it get us out of this mess?"
Sometimes it's hard for an intelligent person to admit they don't know everything. I could see that plainly on Winston's face. He didn't know, but he wasn't about to admit it, especially to an uneducated lout like me. "Mr. Ripley believed it was the key to the salvation of Castle Bay. I sincerely hope he was correct in that assumption. I'll begin studying it at once."
"Good luck," I said, and went to find Nikki.
My own luck took a downward spiral. I had been hoping for a repeat of our earlier intimacy, but Timothy killed that idea. Much as I wanted to tell him to go find his own girl, he was firmly attached to Nikki and not about to let go. His eyes only occasionally left her face to drift over to the sealed entrance to the attic. One hand gripped his baseball bat so hard the knuckles were white. I had the impression that if I tried to get him away from her, he'd do his best to cave in my skull. Nikki blessed me with a helpless glance and went back to stroking his hair and trying to soothe him.
Still, any attention from Nikki was better than none, so I sat down next to her. Timmy glared at me and the end of the bat lifted an inch from the floor. I returned his stare, not about to be intimidated by a nerd. "Chill out, kid," I whispered harshly. The tip of the bat trembled and then lowered back to the floor, but his eyes now included me in their rotation, and narrowed every time they fell on me.
So the feeling was mutual. Fine by me, but I hoped it was never up to me to save his life. I'd be hard pressed to make the right choice.
Nikki leaned against me and put her head on my shoulder. I responded by putting my arm around her and nuzzling her scalp, inhaling the sweet smell of the shampoo she'd used earlier. If not for the absolute weirdness of the situation I was in, it would have been heaven.
Come to think of it, that was the one moment I can remember when we weren't running, fighting or dying. From that point on, the horror was non-stop, and the things we discovered were enough to make me think that Armageddon was upon us, and that any minute I was bound to see one of the angel's blowing a trumpet heralding the end of the world.
You see, there were more stunning revelations ahead.