Christmas at Timberwoods - Fern Michaels [77]
“Angela, you know I’m Noel Dayton. Can you hear me?”
“Yes, I hear you.”
“You will listen to me very carefully, Angela, and answer me truthfully at all times. You’re asleep, Angela, sound asleep, but you can hear me speaking to you. You told me something about these visions, but I need to know more. They started when you were young—is that correct?”
“Yes. I—I saw a dog die in an accident. I was very frightened. I thought it was a dream.”
“After that you saw many things, is that true?”
“Yes.”
“How did that make you feel, Angela?”
“Frightened. I told my parents and they took me to doctors.”
“That’s fine, Angela. Remember now, you’re sound asleep but you can hear me. I want to talk to you about one of your latest visions, the one about the Timberwoods Shopping Mall. You will remember how you had the vision and tell me all about it. Can you do that, Angela?”
“Yes.”
“We’re going back in time now, to the day you had the vision. You’re asleep, Angela, but you can hear my voice. It is now the morning of the day you had the vision. It is time to wake up. You have been asleep all night and now it is morning. When you open your eyes, you will see the bright light and you will tell me what you see. When I tell you to open your eyes, you will do so.”
“Yes,” Angela whispered, the fear and strain showing on her face.
“The morning is here, Angela. Open your eyes and see your vision.”
“Oh no, not again!” Angela screamed. “I don’t want to look. Don’t make me look!” Tears gathered in her eyes as she continued to fight to keep her eyes closed. “Please, please, I don’t want to see!”
“You want to tell me what you see, Angela. After you tell me, you can go to sleep and forget it. What do you see?”
“Red. Everything is red. All the Christmas colors. All that red. Blood.”
“Are you sure it’s blood, Angela?”
“Red. Too much red. I can’t see anything but red. Make it go away,” she begged.
“Not yet, Angela, you must tell me more.”
“There’s too much blood. Too much red.” Angela sobbed. “I don’t know what it is. I can’t be in two places at one time. Some man . . . he’s bending over. The red . . . I don’t know what he’s doing! He’s afraid . . . his hands are shaking. Too much red, I can’t see his face. He’s going to kill everyone. He’s sick. The blood’s in his way!”
“Can you tell me more about him?”
“No . . . everything is in a red haze. He’s holding something big and round. It’s soft, there’s something in it. He’s sick, he keeps wiping his face. He’s so afraid.”
“What is he afraid of, Angela?”
“I don’t know. He has no strength in his hands . . . it won’t move.”
“What won’t move?”
“His hand, he’s trying to squeeze something in his hand. He’s cold, the wind is blowing all around him. White and red!” Angela’s voice was a mere whisper; beads of perspiration broke out on her forehead. “He’s cursing. He’s angry. Today, he’s saying, it has to be today. This has to work! He wipes his forehead, red is going away. No, it’s back!”
“Angela, what day is this happening?”
“Today. I have to die today!”
“Angela, what day is it?” Noel asked again, this time more firmly.
“I don’t know what day it is . . . the day he has to die. He’s very angry . . . cursing . . . oh, he fixed it . . . now he’s happy, the red is back.”
“Think about the day and time, Angela. Did you go into the mall at all?”
“Yes, I’m in the mall now. Everyone is shopping. Christmas carols are playing. I have to leave now; I have to go outside. Something is going to happen. I have to warn people not to go in there.”
“Why do you have to go outside?”
“To warn people. They won’t listen, but I have to try. He wants everyone to die with him.”
“Where is he now, Angela? Do you know?”
“He’s walking around the mall. I can’t see him, but I know that’s what he’s doing. I can feel him thinking. It’s almost time for the explosion.”
“Explosion?” Noel queried. “Is it a bomb?”
“It just blows up. It’s going to blow up. See all those little boys in their school uniforms? They came on a class