Night Shift - Stephen King [51]
There was a sudden ghastly burping noise in the spectral silence of the Blue Ribbon Laundry - a bat fluttered madly for its hole in the insulation above the dryers where it had roosted, wrapping wings around its blind face.
It was a noise almost like a chuckle.
The mangler began to run with a sudden, lurching grind -belts hurrying through the darkness, cogs meeting and meshing and grinding, heavy pulverizing rollers rotating on and on.
It was ready for them.
When Hunton pulled into the parking lot it was shortly after midnight and the moon was hidden behind a raft of moving clouds. He jammed on the brakes and switched off the lights in the same motion; Jackson's forehead almost slammed against the padded dash.
He switched off the ignition and the steady thump-hiss-thump became louder. 'It's the mangler,' he said slowly. 'It's the mangler. Running by itself. In the middle of the night.'
They sat for a moment in silence, feeling the fear crawl up their legs.
Hunton said, 'All right. Let's do it.'
They got out and walked to the building, the sound of the mangler growing louder. As Hunton put the key into the lock of the service door, he thought that the machine did sound alive - as if it were breathing in great hot gasps and speaking to itself in hissing, sardonic whispers.
All of a sudden I'm glad I'm with a cop,' Jackson said. He shifted the brown bag he held from one arm to the other. Inside was a small jelly jar filled with holy water wrapped in waxed paper, and a Gideon Bible.
They stepped inside and Hunton snapped up the light switches by the door. The fluorescents flickered into cold life. At the same instant the mangler shut off.
A membrane of steam hung over its rollers. It waited for them in its new ominous silence.
'God, it's an ugly thing,' Jackson whispered.
'Come on,' Hunton said. 'Before we lose our nerve.'
They walked over to it. The safety bar was in its down position over the belt which fed the machine.
Hunton put out a hand. 'Close enough, Mark. Give me the stuff and tell me what to do.'
'But -'
'No argument.'
Jackson handed him the bag and Hunton put it on the sheet table in front of the machine. He gave Jackson the Bible.
'I'm going to read,' Jackson said. 'When I point at you, sprinkle the holy water on the machine with your fingers. You say: In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost, get thee from this place, thou unclean. Got it?'
'Yes.'
'The second time I point, break the wafer and repeat the incantation again.
'How will we know if it's working?'
'You'll know. The thing is apt to break every window in the place getting out. If it doesn't work the first time, we keep doing it until it does.'
'I'm scared green,' Hunton said.
'As a matter of fact, so am I.'
'If we're wrong about the hand of glory -'
'We're not,' Jackson said. 'Here we go.'
He began. His voice filled the empty laundry with spectral echoes. 'Turnest not though aside to idols, nor make molten gods for yourself. I am the Lord thy God and the land will vomit you out for having defiled it, as it vomited out nations before you.' Jackson looked up, his face strained, and pointed.' The words fell like stones into a silence that had suddenly become filled with a creeping, tomblike cold. The mangler remained still and silent under the flourescents, and to Hunton it still seemed to grin.
Hunton sprinkled holy water across the feeder belt.
There was a sudden, gnashing scream of tortured metal. Smoke rose from the canvas belts where the holy water had touched and took on writhing, red-tinged shapes. The mangler suddenly jerked into life.
We've got it!' Jackson cried above the rising clamour. 'It's on the run!'
He began to read again, his voice rising over the sound of the machinery. He pointed to Hunton again, and Hunton sprinkled some of the host. As he