Invisible Terror Collection (27 page)

But once he stepped outside, the light was no longer blue. It was orangish white, like the sun. And it no longer hovered above him. It was rising over the mountains in the east, right where the sun would rise.

Philip shook his head and blinked. It
was
the sun. He was staring at the rising sun!

He rubbed his eyes and took half a step back. But instead of grass under his feet, he heard the crunch of gravel. His mouth opened in surprise as he saw he was no longer standing in grass, but on asphalt.

What was going on?

He looked around. He wasn’t in the field anymore. He was standing next to his dad’s Jeep on Highway 72!

“What are you doing out there?”

He spun around to see Krissi sitting up in the passenger’s seat. Her eyes were puffy from sleep, but other than that she looked perfectly fine.

“What … ?” He swallowed. “Are you okay?” She gave a long stretch. “Yeah.”

He looked back into the sky. It was blue and gorgeous and clear. Not a flying saucer in sight.

“Why didn’t you wake me?” she asked. “What time is it?” Before he could check his watch, she squinted at the dash clock.

“Six twenty-five! My folks are going to kill me. Hurry up, we have to get home.”

Philip nodded numbly and crossed to his side of the Jeep. As he climbed inside, Krissi scolded him again. “You should have woke me.”

He reached for the ignition. “I, uh, I didn’t know you were asleep.”

“Yeah, right,” she scoffed. She pulled down the vanity mirror to check her hair and makeup. “I must have really zonked out.” Philip fired up the Jeep. It started on the first try. “What, uh, what was the last thing you remember? Last night, I mean.” She scowled, trying to think. “I was getting out to look for that stupid cow.”

Philip took a deep breath to steady himself. “You don’t remember seeing those lights? You don’t remember getting sucked into the air?”

Krissi gave him a look. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He could find no answer.

“I remember getting out of the car and you telling me I couldn’t possibly have seen a cow. You said the nearest ranch was twenty miles away and that — hey, wait a minute.” Philip turned to her.

Krissi was looking into the vanity mirror. “Did you brush my hair?”

“Did I what?” 

“My hair, when I was asleep, did you, like, try to brush it or something?”

“Why would I — ”

“I never part it on the left.”

“What?”

“My hair. That’s my worst side. I never part it on the left.” Philip stared. She was right. In all the years he had known her, he had never seen her hair parted on the left. He’d seen it up, he’d seen it back, he’d seen it cropped … but he had never seen it parted on the left.

Krissi turned back to him, puzzled, her voice sounding more and more uneasy. “Philip, what’s going on?”

**********

“Just talk to her, that’s all I’m asking.”

“Philip,” Becka sighed, “she doesn’t want to talk to me. She doesn’t even want to see me.”

“I know … but if I can arrange something, if I can get the two of you together?”

Philip stayed glued to her side as Becka arrived at her locker and opened it. The last thing in the world she wanted was another encounter with Krissi. The screaming bout in the hall last week had been enough. The girl was always so dramatic. Normally that didn’t bother Becka, but the fact that Krissi’s dramatics had been directed at her and that they’d been loud enough for everyone to hear did bother her. A lot.

“Please, just a word,” Philip persisted.

“She thinks I’m the enemy,” Becka answered. “You know that. She says I’m holding you guys back from evolving to your next spiritual level, whatever
that
means.” Becka dumped her books into her locker and grabbed her lunch.

“I think it means we’re in way over our heads.” Becka turned to him. “Something happened?”

Philip nodded and looked away. “Last night.” Becka waited, remembering her dreams, remembering her prayers.

“We were supposed to have a meeting with that alien thing, that Xandrak guy.”

Becka closed her locker slowly. Philip, the intellectual — Philip, the always confident, always perfect Ken to Krissi’s perfect Barbie — was looking very pale. And scared.

“Are you okay?”

He tried to smile, but with little success.

“What happened?”

He cleared his throat and glanced at the floor. But before he could answer, another voice called out.

“Philip?”

They turned to see Krissi standing there, her hands on her hips.

“Hey, Krissi. I, uh, I was just talking to Becka.” She took a step closer. The two girls nodded to each other.

Becka could already feel the hall temperature drop several degrees.

Philip continued, trying just a little too hard. “I was telling her about what happened last night, at least what I thought happened, and, uh, she wanted to go out and visit the place. You know, see for herself.”

Becka threw him a look, but his eyes did not meet hers.

Krissi turned from one to the other. Finally she shrugged. “I suppose.” Then, zeroing in on Becka, she continued, “I mean if it’s going to help convince you that it’s really happening.” Becka opened her mouth. She was about to explain that she had no doubts something was happening, but Philip stepped in.

“That’s right, I think it would really help convince her that it’s for real.”

“Oh, it’s real,” Krissi repeated. “I called up the Ascension Lady, and she said it was a classic case of alien abduction.”  

“Of what?” Becka asked.

“You wouldn’t understand. But the Ascension Lady does, and she’s going to explain it all to us tomorrow.” The Ascension Lady was the woman who owned the New Age Bookshop in town and who dabbled in the occult. At one point, up at the Hawthorne mansion, Becka had actually helped her, saving her from a ruthless demonic attack. But it hadn’t taken long for the woman to return to her old ways. When Becka found out she’d gone back to the occult, she’d felt a type of defeat — with plenty of pain and regret.

She suspected that was why Krissi was bringing up the Ascension Lady’s name — to rub a little more salt in the wound.

“Good.” Philip jumped in a little too quickly. “Then we’ll meet after school, okay?”

“Whatever.” Krissi moved away. “Just as long as she doesn’t try any of her hocus-pocus junk. Are you coming?”

“Yeah.” Philip turned. Continuing to avoid Becka’s gaze, he quickly moved to join Krissi as she entered the moving swarm of students heading for the cafeteria. At the last second he turned and called over his shoulder, “Tell Ryan we’ll meet him in the parking lot right after school.”

Before Becka could respond he turned and continued down the hall. She stood a long moment, silent and thoughtful.

She didn’t like what was happening. Not one bit. But if Krissi and Philip needed her special type of help, did she really have any other choice?

**********

The books had cost Scott nearly fifty bucks — a month’s worth of lawn mowing and handyman jobs — but they were worth every penny. He’d gone downtown at lunch to pick them up from the local comic-book store. The first was simply a rule book:
An
Encyclopedia for Crypts and Wizards.
But the second book, that was what really held his interest. It was a careful, step-by-step description with charts and diagrams explaining how to create the very best characters for the game.

Scott had started reading it on the way back to school, and thanks to the book’s size (small enough to fit behind his geometry text), he continued reading and studying it well into fourth period. Carefully, he went through page after page, jotting down notes on armor, weapons, kill abilities, sexual bent, ruthless-ness, passion, using curses, casting spells, speaking with the dead, calling up plagues, divining animal entrails … and the list went on.

Of course, he knew these weren’t characteristics you’d neces-sarily want in real life, but, hey, it was just make-believe. Truth is, it was a rush being someone he could never be, doing things he could never do. In fact, when it came right down to it, fantasizing he was Ttocs had been the high point of the last few weeks.

At the moment he was deeply involved in the “Vengeful Characteristics” — when and how to be vengeful, why it can benefit you during a specific round. It was so fascinating that he hadn’t even heard Mr. Patton call on him.

“Mr. Williams?” the stocky, bald man repeated. “Mr.

Williams?!”

Scott looked up, startled.

“I trust you’re not too bored with our discussion.” Still coming out of the daze, Scott answered, “Yes, sir.” The class chuckled.

“What?”

“I mean, no, sir. I mean, yes, sir, I’m not too bored.”

“Good. Then do try to stay with us. Given your performance on last week’s quiz, I think you’ll find the investment well worth the effort.”

“Yes, sir,” Scott said, feeling his ears start to redden.

Mr. Patton returned to the theorem on the board, and Scott was grateful everyone redirected their attention to the front. 

Everyone but Bonnie Eagleman.

Bonnie sat one row up and to the right. In the past she’d made every effort to let Scott know she was interested in him.

And, though flattered, Scott had made every effort to avoid her.

She was a good kid, just not his type. Now he felt her eyes on him, and she was probably grinning away with those braces.

It was irritating, and Scott was in no mood to deal with it. He’d just been chewed out by Patton and — after spending twenty minutes immersed in vengefulness — he realized he didn’t have to put up with it. Ttocs certainly wouldn’t.

“Hey,” he whispered, motioning for her to come a little closer.

She obeyed, her heart obviously atwitter.

“I’ve got a question.”

She waited eagerly.

“With all that metal in your mouth, when you sleep, does your head, like, point north?”

Bonnie’s smile twitched slightly, then faded. The student in front snickered as Bonnie’s cheeks turned crimson red and she looked back to the front.

It was one of Scott’s better jabs, but he instantly regretted it.

He’d hurt her feelings. Actually, destroyed them was more like it. He hadn’t meant to be cruel. He just wasn’t thinking. Okay, okay, he
was
thinking, but more like the new Ttocs than Scott.

He frowned, trying to fight off the guilt and uneasiness.

What had happened? Being cruel wasn’t his style. Not at all.

But it
was
Ttocs’s style.

**********

“So you think this stuff’s, like, demonic?” Ryan asked.

Becka took in a deep breath and slowly let it out. The two were riding in Ryan’s vintage Mustang and following Philip’s Jeep up Highway 72. 

“I don’t know,” she finally said. “You can’t say everything is from the devil just because you don’t understand it. That’s stupid. I don’t understand electricity, but that doesn’t make it demonic.”

Ryan nodded. “Even so, after all the stuff we’ve been through

… at the mansion, that so-called angel in Julie’s room, Krissi’s automatic writing … and now whatever Philip claimed he saw …”

Becka closed her eyes. Why did she always end up here, involved in something she didn’t like? Pulled into the world of the supernatural?

She felt Ryan’s hand take hers, and she looked at him. Emotions washed over her. She admired him so much — his honesty, his sensitivity … and, of course, his looks didn’t hurt, either.

Especially the way that thick black hair constantly fell into those gorgeous blue eyes.

He’d only been a Chris tian for a few weeks, but he’d been exposed to more spiritual warfare than most would have to face in a lifetime.

The thought didn’t exactly thrill her.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly.

“For what?”

“For you always being pulled into this sort of stuff.” Not missing a beat, he flashed her his killer grin. “Seems a small price to pay for the company I get to keep.” Becka couldn’t help but smile. Once again that wonderful warmth spread through her body. What was with this guy?

Couldn’t he see that she was just your basic nobody with your basic nobody figure and looks? And let’s not forget that wonderful nobody hair … thin, mousy brown, and unable to hold a style for more than thirty seconds.

He squeezed her hand. She gratefully returned it. Apparently she was a somebody to him.

Up ahead, the Jeep slowed and pulled off the road. 

“Looks like we’re here,” Ryan said as he pulled in behind it.

The two climbed out of the Mustang and walked up to Philip and Krissi.

“It’s pretty overgrown in there,” Philip said, motioning to the brush-covered logging road.

“How far is it?” Ryan asked.

“’Bout half a mile. Hop in and we’ll four-wheel it.” Ryan and Becka climbed into the backseat. “What happened to your convertible?” Ryan asked.

“It’s in the shop,” Philip said. “My dad’s letting me borrow this.”

“Cool.”

Philip dropped the Jeep into four-wheel drive, and they started the tooth-rattling, bone-jarring journey up the road.

Before too much silence could fill the car, Ryan asked, “It’s still a little unclear to me. What exactly is it you two saw?”

“Philip saw it,” Krissi corrected. “Not me.”

“But … you were with him, right?”

Krissi nodded. She looked straight ahead, searching the road.

“I just don’t remember. The Ascension Lady says with that type of memory lapse, I’m probably repressing something.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

Philip explained, “There are about ten hours of time that neither Krissi nor I can account for. One minute it was 8:20 at night, the next minute it was 6:30 in the morning.”

“So how do you know you weren’t dreaming?” Philip tried to smile. “What I saw last night — the lights, the field, the burning trees — it was no dream.” Ryan frowned. “How can you be so sure?” He turned to Krissi. “And you don’t remember any of it?”

“Not yet,” Krissi said. “But I talked to the Ascension Lady, and she’s going to hypnotize me and help me remember all the forgotten stuff.”

Ryan and Becka exchanged uneasy glances. They remembered all too well what had happened when Becka had been hypnotized