Witch, page 22
“Mortar’s no good,” Jack said calmly. “Must have been a hurry-up job. Have at it again, Tim. Watch your eyes.”
Tim’s cheek was bleeding where a splinter had struck him, but he grinned as he turned to comply.
Suddenly Ellen remembered.
“Ishtar! I can’t leave her here.”
“Not the witch’s familiar,” Jack agreed with a smile. “Tim, I think that does it; we just need a hole big enough to crawl through. Ellen, give Ishtar a couple of those tranquilizer pills you use when she travels. Hurry up, I want her out cold when I carry her.”
Ellen dashed up the stairs.
Penny was standing against an inner wall. There were several rocks on the floor now; and as Ellen passed the living room, a gun went off. It sounded unpleasantly close, but nothing came through the window.
“Get downstairs,” Ellen yelled, as she passed.
Ishtar was under the bed. She was too smart to stay in a place where people were yelling and throwing things. Ellen captured her and rammed the pills down her throat. When she returned to the subcellar, Jack and Tim were dragging boxes into a jumbled pile in front of the door.
“They’ll find it eventually,” Jack said, balancing a carton on top of the heap, “but we needn’t make it any more obvious than we can help. Careful when you squeeze in, girls; try not to upset our camouflage.”
He turned the flashlight into the tunnel, and Ellen saw what lay ahead of them.
The walls and floor were of beaten earth, shored up with rotting timbers. The walls shone greasily in the dim light. The whole structure appeared to be on the verge of collapse.
“In,” Jack said concisely.
Ellen hung back.
“I can’t. It’s a horrible place….”
“Upstairs is more horrible,” said Jack, as a fusillade of shots rattled the windows. “They’re just letting off steam now, but it won’t be long before those bullets will be coming through the windows, soon to be followed by people. After you, Ellen.”
So she went in, with his hand steadying her and the languid body of the cat clutched in her arms.
When they were all inside, Jack reached back through the aperture to pull some of the piled-up boxes against the door.
“Okay,” he said. “Let’s get moving. Tim, can you see what’s ahead?”
“No, sir.”
“Take the flashlight. You can have the dubious honor of leading the procession. Ellen, give me the cat. Ouch. She isn’t out yet, I see.”
“I gave her a triple dose,” Ellen said anxiously. “I hope I didn’t overdo it.”
“We’ll take her to a vet and pump her out once we get clear, just in case,” Jack promised. As always, he had time for her minor worries even in the midst of catastrophe.
The tunnel was so low the men had to stoop and so narrow they had to walk single file. The miasma was sickening. The floor was slippery with something that shimmered like mold. Ellen’s head began to swim.
“How much farther?” she groaned.
“The farther the better,” said Jack from behind, where he was bringing up the rear.
Ellen knew what he meant. The farther they got from the house, the better their chance of avoiding the mob. If they could get out—if the tunnel wasn’t blocked…if the foul air didn’t overpower them…if the mob didn’t find the door too soon….
Her courage seemed to have deserted her; she would have welcomed the support of the crazy mood that had held her earlier in the evening. The only thing that kept her moving was necessity—and the knowledge of Jack’s presence. Ellen realized she had not even asked him how he happened to arrive so fortuitously. There had not been time. Nor was there time now; they had other things to worry about.
The air grew thicker as they proceeded. Ellen felt as if she had been walking for hours. Once they were held up by a giant tangle of roots that crisscrossed the tunnel like a spider web. They were brittle and dead, however, and Tim crashed through them with one thrust of his shoulders, ignoring Ellen’s cry of warning.
“You could bring the roof down!”
“We don’t have time to fool around,” Jack answered her, as Tim proceeded. “Air’s bad. Hurry up, Tim.”
Ellen was finding it difficult to breathe by the time they stopped. The tunnel ended, abruptly, in a rough wall of dirt.
She looked around, baffled and afraid. Was the wall a cave-in? It must be; there was no visible exit. They would never dig through.
Tim knelt on the floor.
“There was a ladder here once,” he reported, holding up a scrap of rotted wood. “Must be a trapdoor above.”
“I’ll stand on your shoulders,” Jack said promptly. “I’m heavier, but you’re younger.”
“Yes, sir.”
Already they worked like a team. Tim knelt and cupped his hands; Jack climbed on his shoulders, supporting himself against the wall. Then Ellen realized that the low ceiling was gone, and that a shaft opened up above them.
“This is going to be interesting.” Jack’s voice echoed gruesomely from the air above her head. “There is a trapdoor. It’s half decayed, but I’ll bet there are three feet of rocks and dirt on top of it.” His voice went hard with strain. “Make that four feet. It won’t budge. Your turn, Tim.”
They changed places.
“I’m gonna put my back against it,” Tim called down. “Can you stand up then?”
“I’ll try….”
Jack’s face darkened with effort.
“No,” he gasped, falling back to his knees. “Damn it—”
“Something gave,” Tim said. “I felt it. Once more…”
Ellen watched with alarm as the veins on Jack’s forehead bulged. She was about to expostulate when there was a muffled shout and a creaking crash and a sudden rush of air. Jack fell flat and Tim’s legs dangled absurdly. They twitched upward and disappeared.
Jack sat up.
“I think I slipped a disk,” he said, groaning. “I’m too old for this sort of thing.”
Tim’s voice floated down to them.
“Lift Penny up to me, sir.”
“Stop calling me ‘sir,’” Jack said in a muffled bellow.
He lifted Penny so that Tim could catch her hands. Ellen went next. She saw Jack button the now limp body of the cat under his shirt as Tim heaved her out; then she held Tim by one leg, with Penny holding the other, while he leaned down to give Jack a hand up.
“The flashlight is still down there,” Jack grunted, as he rose to his feet. “I turned it off.”
“Better not to use it now anyhow,” Tim said.
Instinctively they had lowered their voices. The wind made rushing noises in the treetops high above their heads, but the place where they stood was very still. It was also very dark. There was no moon, and the leafed branches overhead cut off even the faint diffused light of the night sky.
“Where are we?” Ellen whispered.
“Good question,” said Jack. “It’s up to you now, Tim.”
“I know where we are,” Tim said. “Wow, we came a long way. We’re half a mile from the house.”
“You must have eyes like a cat’s,” Jack said.
“I’m used to the dark. Only—where are we going?”
“Another good question.”
They were all silent for a minute. The night noises were soft but distinct; an owl hooted, and a wakeful bird answered quaveringly. Ellen fancied she could hear a distant murmur of voices. Then she heard another sound, and caught blindly at Jack’s arm.
“The dogs!”
“We’d better get moving,” Jack agreed. “Head for your house, Tim. They won’t think of looking for us there. All I need is five minutes at a functional telephone.”
“Martha and Will—” Ellen began.
“Didn’t you see them?” Tim’s voice was flat. “They’re at your place. Come on, this way. We’d better hold hands.”
“What about the trapdoor?” Penny spoke for the first time. Ellen could see her dimly now, a dark shape next to the dark shape that was Tim.
“Leave it open. Maybe someone will fall into it,” Jack said.
Their progress seemed to Ellen maddeningly slow. She had no idea where they were. She had surely walked in this part of the woods, but there were no landmarks in the dark. Then she began to see more clearly. She thought at first her eyes were adjusting to the darkness, but as the light strengthened she realized what it was, and groaned aloud.
“The moon’s out. Darn it!”
“The light is the least of our worries,” said Jack. “Listen.”
They stopped walking. The baying was continuous now, and closer.
“That’s the danger,” Jack said. “Tim—”
“Yeah,” Tim said. “This way.”
The light was strong enough for Ellen to see the stream. Tim led them straight into it. The water felt pleasantly cool on Ellen’s feet; she didn’t even mind her soaked shoes. Very little seemed of consequence with the dogs following their trail.
“Takes us out of our way,” Tim said, reaching out a hand to steady Penny as she slipped on a stone. “But I think we better do it.”
The moonlight came and went. Tim set a rapid pace. He was the only surefooted one; Ellen could hear Jack slipping and swearing behind her, but his hand was quick at her elbow whenever she slipped. The intervals of moonlight grew longer. They were making good time, she thought. It couldn’t be far to the house on the hill, even if they were going a little out of the way. The howling of the dogs faded.
Yet as they stumbled on, with the water lapping at feet and ankles, Ellen was aware of a mounting tension. Danger. Danger. The word was so clear in her mind, it might have been written in fiery letters against the trees.
Of course there was danger. They weren’t out of the woods yet, literally or otherwise. But the prospect had certainly improved since she had stood at the window, with Mrs. Grapow giving her five more minutes. There was no sign of pursuit; even the barking had stopped. The woods were silent and peaceful, with moonlight sifting through the leaves to dapple the forest floor and waken pale sparks from the bubbling water. Then why did she feel as if an imminent peril were walking close behind?
Tim led them out of the stream. He seemed more confident; he smiled at Penny as he turned to help her over the bank. Then he extended a hand to Ellen. Jack gave her a useful if inelegant boost from behind. He followed her up, and then stood still, raising his hand.
“Listen!”
At first Ellen couldn’t identify the sound—a high, shrill keening that rose and fell. Fantastic theories raced through her mind before the strangely elusive knowledge clicked into place.
“Sirens,” she exclaimed. “The police or the fire department.”
“I don’t believe it,” Tim muttered.
“Do you suppose they did set fire to the house?”
“We’d see the flames if they were high enough to alert a neighbor.” Jack turned to look in the direction from which they had come. “Maybe you’ve got a few friends left, Ellen.”
“We can go back, then,” Penny said eagerly.
“No!” Ellen’s voice was sharp. She shook her head dazedly. “I don’t know why I said that. What’s the matter with me? I feel funny….”
“No wonder.” Jack’s hand closed over her arm. “It’s been a wild night. I think you’re right to be cautious, Ellen; I’ll reconnoiter, before we go rushing back. Here, take the cat.”
He handed the limp furry bundle to Ellen. Ishtar was snoring horribly.
“Excuse me, sir.” Ellen had a wild desire to laugh; Tim’s formal manners were so unlike his former behavior. “You don’t know the way. Better let me—”
“Oh, no.” Penny clutched at him. “It’s you they want.”
A debate ensued. Finally they agreed to stick together. Tim would lead them to the path that connected the two houses, and they would see if there were any signs of activity.
Ellen couldn’t think of any reasonable objection to the plan, but as they went on, the sense of mounting danger grew stronger. The sound of the sirens had reassured her momentarily, but now it was as if something else guided her brain—something that didn’t recognize the sound of official protection, something that cried aloud with every step, “Watch out! Watch out!”
After a while she recognized a landmark. They were not far from the path. In another moment Tim stepped out into a small glade—the same one where Ellen had found Tim with the injured squirrel. Not a propitious spot; was that why she felt…
Jack was behind her and Penny and Tim, side by side, were just ahead. Ellen felt the way she felt when she had flu. Her head was swollen and her stomach was queasy. A strangled cry burst from her lips, and a man stepped out into the clearing from the shelter of the fallen oak.
“I thought you’d end up along this path eventually,” he said.
His voice was under better control than his face. It was a mask of distorted features. His mouth twitched uncontrollably.
“Ah,” Jack said. “Norman, I presume.”
“And you must be John Campbell. I don’t know how you got here, but you are under a misapprehension. Get the women out of the way, Campbell, while I take this unfortunate lad to the authorities.”
Ellen took the single step forward that brought her to Tim’s side. Penny was wound around him like a vine.
“Ellen, get away.” Norman lifted the shotgun. “He’s dangerous. You of all people ought to know that.”
“So dangerous that you need a gun to escort him to the police?” Ellen said. “Isn’t it odd that it’s the same kind of gun the local hunters carry?”
“Just a moment,” Jack said. He had not seemed to move, but Ellen realized he was standing beside her. “Let’s talk. Mr.—do you mind if I just call you Norman? I feel I know you so well.”
“See here, Campbell, I don’t know what these two silly females have told you—”
“Oh, you know how women are,” Jack said soothingly. “Put that gun away, Norman. Then we can talk sensibly….”
“I’m the boy’s uncle,” Norman said. “You don’t think I’d hurt him? I just want to get him to the police.”
“Then the police have arrived?”
“Someone called them.” Norman’s features twisted alarmingly. “I’d have called myself, but they held me prisoner. You saw that, Ellen? You saw Mrs. G. hit me?”
“I saw,” Ellen said. She was afraid to say more; the man was so unstable, the slightest word might set him off.
The light was strong in the clearing; it was almost as bright as day. Norman stood under the shelter of the trees. The moonlight flickered across his face as the boughs moved. He smiled.
“You see, Campbell, the boy is dangerous. I hate to admit it. But after last night—he attacked one of the town girls. How you can trust your niece with him…. But maybe you weren’t told about that incident?”
“No,” Jack said. “That’s terrible.”
“You know Ellen.” Norman’s voice was horribly confidential. “You know how she is. Mind you, I think she’s very nice, very sweet. But she doesn’t understand this boy. If I didn’t have a gun, he’d escape. With Penny, maybe, as a hostage. I can’t take that chance.”
“I see what you’re driving at,” Jack said.
Penny gave her uncle a look of horror and disbelief. Tim didn’t turn his head; but Ellen, whose shoulder was touching his arm, felt the sudden telltale slackening of muscle. She knew what was going through the boy’s mind. After running headlong into walls of hate and mistrust all his life, he had finally found two adults who seemed to trust him. Now they were acting like all the others. They were ready to give him up. Ellen wouldn’t have been surprised if he had snatched at Penny and tried to run. She wanted to reassure him and Penny. Jack didn’t believe a word of the specious excuses, he was only trying to get Norman off guard. But she couldn’t speak without warning Norman.
“Oh, hell,” Tim said, in the old familiar growl. “This is a waste of time. Get lost, Penny. I’ll go with old Normie if that will shut him up.”
He took a step forward. Ellen grabbed at him. Penny was hanging onto his other arm and yelling. Ellen heard Jack utter a wordless explosive sound. He moved. Then the gun went off.
Ellen was blind and deaf for a few seconds. When her stinging eyes cleared, she saw that Jack was on the ground.
He sat up before her heart had missed more than two beats.
“Damn it!” he said distinctly. “Thanks a lot, you guys.”
Norman had retreated behind the fallen trunk. It formed a barricade that made it impossible for anyone to tackle him.
“It was an accident,” he mumbled. “I’m not used to this thing. Don’t make me do anything stupid, Campbell. It will be your fault if anyone gets hurt. Tim’s fault, too. I don’t want to hurt anybody….”
Jack got to his feet. He was squarely in front of Tim now; when the boy realized this, he tried to push forward. Jack elbowed him back.
“You came dangerously close to the death house there, pal,” he said to Norman. “I’m through playing games with you. Hand over that gun.”
For a moment Ellen thought the forceful tone would do the trick. But Norman had gone too far to give up.
“No,” he said. “No, you don’t. You’re all crazy; but I’ll save you, in spite of yourselves. Get over here, Tim, or I’ll shoot. I’m going to count five, and then I’ll shoot, and I don’t care who else is in the way.”
Then Ellen saw it, on a branch over his head. The moonlight must have touched it with a vagrant ray, for its white fur seemed to shine. It was only there for a moment, but in that moment she made out every detail, thanks to the queer, luminous light that shone around it. It was small and fat and long-haired; the whiskered face had a delicate pink nose, and eyes that glowed like two miniature red taillights.
The cat dropped straight down onto Norman’s bare head.
Norman screamed. Ellen had never heard such a sound from a human throat. The gun fell. Norman stumbled backward clawing at his face, which was hideously transformed—covered with agitated white fur, like a monster out of H. G. Wells.
