999_ Twenty-Nine Original Tales of Horror and Suspense - Al Sarrantonio [345]
“It’s dead,” he said dully.
The next moment the lights in the room dimmed down and from somewhere in the house came a jarring sound, like the muffled blow of a giant sledgehammer wrapped in velvet striking a wall. Freeboard turned a frozen look to Dare. “Terry?” He sat down beside her as another blow came, and then another and another, growing louder, coming closer to the room.
“God, what is it, Terry? What?”
“I don’t know.”
Freeboard gasped. Her eyes widened.
“It’s coming up the steps!”
“Is the door locked?”
She shook her head and said, “No! It doesn’t lock!”
“Oh, my Christ!” uttered Dare.
Freeboard clutched him with both her arms.
“Jesus, Terry, hold on to me! Hold me! I’m scared!”
He glimpsed the child’s fear in her eyes, the helplessness. He took hold of her and held her tightly. “Don’t be frightened,” he said into her ear. “It’s all right!” And she might have believed it had she not felt the furious racing of his heart.
They gaped at the door.
The poundings were picking up speed, throbbing closer.
“It’s out in the hall!” whimpered Freeboard. “It’s coming!”
“Shh, shh, Joanie!” Dare hissed in her ear. “It may not know that we’re in here! Don’t move!” he ordered. “Don’t make a sound!”
Dare thought of every ghost story ever written, of every imaginable malevolence conceived by every fantasist who ever had lived. Malevolence? No, that wasn’t what he felt was coming toward them; it was hatred, an implacable, terrifying fury.
Her eyes wide with fright, Freeboard gasped.
“Oh, my Christ!”
The poundings had stopped in front of the door.
God in heaven! thought Dare. Let me faint! Please let me faint!
A flow of cold energy, sickening, enraged, flowed into the room in sheets, in waves. Then the presence, the stillness, at the door grew thicker. Moments later there were tiny creaking sounds, tiny thumps, like fingers feeling at the door frame, as if they were seeking an entry point. Freeboard jammed a knuckle of her hand into her mouth in an effort to stifle another whimper. There were tears in her eyes. Then the probings ceased and from the hall they heard only a threatening silence. And then they were gasping, crying aloud, at a deafening crash against the door. And then another and another, relentless, unceasing, a battering ram made of murderous thoughts.
“Dr. Caaaaase!”
It was Freeboard. Terrified. Shrieking.
Abruptly the pummeling came to an end and Freeboard’s cry bled into silence and the frigid and weightless air of the room. Dare felt her trembling uncontrollably. “It’s all right!” he whispered in her ear, then put a comforting hand against her cheek. What’s the meaning of this ludicrous courage? he marveled. It would never have occurred to him the answer was love. He listened. A sound. A faint squeaking of metal. He looked and then gasped: the doorknob was turning! Dare quickly put his hand over Freeboard’s eyes and tried to remember the Act of Contrition. Then the turning stopped and reversed itself, easing back to its original position. The next instant the poundings resumed, but more softly, the hammerings more muffled and pneumatic. Throbbing like a heartbeat, they were moving away, growing fainter and fainter, more distant. Dare exhaled in relief and took his hand from Freeboard’s eyes. They were wide. “What’s happening?” she whispered in terror. “It’s going away,” he whispered back. And then suddenly the pounding started up in full force again, deafening, returning to the door with savage fury. Freeboard gaped and her lips were moving but her words were completely inaudible as a strident keening filled the hall and the door began to buckle and bow in its center, bulging and creaking and straining inward as if bent by an angry and unthinkable energy furiously attempting to break into the room. Freeboard’s mouth was wide in a scream of terror that