Invisible Terror Collection (33 page)

But the trio was still moving. Their momentum on loose stones and gravel made it impossible to stop. All three dug in — flesh and bone against gravel and rock — and cried out in pain. They slowed, then, finally, mercifully, came to a stop. They lay there, bleeding and panting, gasping for air, white billows of breath hovering over their heads. Below, they heard the Jeep explode as it hit bottom.

The noise had barely faded before they heard another sound.

One that was much more chilling. A scream. It was distant. Deep in the woods, across the road. And there was no doubt who it was.

They stumbled to their feet. There were plenty of bruises and cuts and scrapes to go around, but there was no time to whine about them.

Another scream.

They scampered up the soft slope to the road, Philip in the lead, Becka and Ryan on his heels.

Chapter 10

The three ran for all they were worth, crossing the road and starting up a steep, winding driveway. The driveway snaked this way and that for two or three hundred yards. At last they rounded the final turn — and came to a sudden halt.

There was a house in front of them. Well, the skeleton of a house. It was a big, three-story job that was in the process of being built by somebody with lots of bucks. The beams and floors were in, but the walls were only framed, so they could still see through them.

But it wasn’t the house that had brought them up short. It was the giant craft hovering fifty feet above them. Philip, Rebecca, and Ryan stood there, staring in disbelief. It was huge. At least the size of a football field. Round, silvery gray with tiny red, green, and yellow lights flashing along the outside. It seemed to hang motionless and absolutely silent.

Ryan was the first to find his voice. “Do you think it’s real?”

“What do you mean, ‘real’?” Philip asked.

“I mean, is it material or is it …” His voice dropped off.

“Or is it what?” Philip demanded.

Becka answered, “Spiritual.” 

Philip looked at her. “You think all this stuff is spiritual?” Becka continued watching the craft as Ryan explained, “Krissi’s automatic writing, her bizarre behavior, her channeling that so-called alien; that’s all basic occult junk.” Becka continued, “Remember the demon who pretended to be an angel?” Becka said. “How he kept speaking through Julie and telling you how cool all this was supposed to be?”

Philip nodded, his mind clicking as he put the pieces together.

He remembered all too well the demonic showdown up at the Hawthorne mansion just a few weeks before. That had been his and Krissi’s first experience with the supernatural — and Krissi’s first episode of automatic handwriting. His memories of the demon disguised as an angel were equally clear. It had spoken through Julie, telling them how blessed they were to be chosen for this encounter. Philip might not understand it all, but he was painfully clear on one point: He definitely was not feeling blessed.

He took a deep breath to steady himself. “Well, demon or not, Krissi needs our help.” He started toward the house.

Ryan caught his arm. “Philip, if this stuff isn’t physical, you can’t fight it physically.”

“What do you mean?”

“You can’t do it with muscle or with that fancy brain of yours.

You’ve got to fight the spiritual with the spiritual. You’ve got to fight it with faith.”

“No sweat,” Philip said, forcing a smile. “Besides, I have you two along, right?”

There was another scream. Philip spun around and looked up to see a light shoot from the bottom of the craft. It struck something he couldn’t see up on the top floor of the house.

There was another scream. Just as desperate, but more hopeless.

Philip bolted for the house.

“Philip, wait up!”

He didn’t. He couldn’t. In fact, he picked up his pace. If Ryan and Becka wanted to help, great. If not, he’d have to do it on his own. He knew all about faith. He’d had it back at the Jeep when he lunged for Ryan’s hand, when he wouldn’t let go. He’d had faith in Ryan; now he’d have to have faith in himself.

He arrived at the house and stepped though the front framed wall. The dim outline of steps was directly ahead of him. He took them two at a time. There was another scream, followed by pathetic whimpering. His heart pounded harder. She was above him, up on the third level, where the light was shining.

“Hang on, Krissi. Hang on!”

He reached the second floor, then found the next set of stairs.

They were a little trickier to climb, since the steps hadn’t been nailed down. A few slipped and fell, but he took little notice as he scrambled up to the third and final floor.

When he emerged, he was blinded by the light. But it wasn’t shining on him. The beam was directed some thirty feet away, blasting down on a makeshift table — a sheet of plywood stretched between two sawhorses. Six, maybe seven, little creatures huddled around the table. Creatures exactly like the one that had appeared in the cabin doorway. And they were all staring and examining …

“Krissi!”
Philip cried.

She tried to move, to turn and look at him, but something held her down. There were no ropes, no straps. Somehow the light itself held her in place.

He started toward her. Moving across the floor was dangerous since there were only a few loose sheets of plywood laid on the bare joists. But Philip never slowed. He wasn’t sure what the creatures were, but they looked small enough for him to take out two or three at a time if he had to. From the way they refused to step aside, it looked as though he might have to.

He was a dozen feet away when one of them raised its hand. A blow struck Philip in the chest. It was as powerful as a karate kick. 

He staggered back into a wall brace and leaned there a moment, trying to catch his breath.

Ignoring him, the creatures kept their attention on Krissi.

“No!” Krissi screamed. “No, please …” That was all it took. Philip lunged forward, racing toward them.

The first creature looked up and again raised its hand.

This time the blow felt like a Mack truck smashing into him, but instead of throwing Philip into the wall, it lifted and hurled him against a beam in the ceiling. He gasped as the air rushed from his lungs. He tried to move, but something kept pushing him up against the beam. No one held him, nothing touched him — but some invisible force kept pressing his chest, refusing to let him down.

He looked desperately at Krissi. She was deathly pale in the white light. She twisted and screamed as the creatures poked and prodded with various silvery instruments. Her eyes were crazed with fear.

She spotted Philip. “Help me!” she screamed. “Make them stop!”

Using every ounce of his strength, Philip tried to move, but he couldn’t. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Ryan and Becka at the top of the stairs. Becka looked like she was trembling. It could have been from the cold, but Philip didn’t think so.

They stood a moment, checking out the situation. Philip wanted to shout at them to hurry, to
do
something — but he couldn’t breathe well enough to whisper, let alone shout. Then he saw Becka take a deep breath, and something began to settle over her. He couldn’t put his finger on what it was, but … well, it was a type of boldness. It wasn’t something she worked up. There just seemed to be a power that came over her, out of the blue

… naturally, quietly. Philip knew Becka hadn’t wanted another confrontation like this, but when she took a step forward, he saw a determination — a confidence — filling her face.

She spoke, her voice full of quiet authority. “In the name of Jesus Christ, I command you to stop this!” The creatures spun around, startled.

Becka didn’t flinch.

The creatures pulled back a few feet, opening up the circle around the table and Krissi.

Philip watched as Ryan stepped forward. “You heard her.” His voice, too, was calm, filled with confidence. “By the power and authority of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, we command you to leave her alone!”

The light beaming down on the table began to dim and sputter. At the same time, Philip could feel the pressure against his body start to decrease.

“Now!” Becka demanded. “We order you to release her now.”

Immediately the light vanished. So did the hold on Philip. He plummeted to the floor and landed with a thud. For a moment he lay there dazed, but his vision came into focus and he turned to watch Becka and Ryan.

Becka took another step toward the creatures. “Who are you?”

No answer. Just lots of nervous looks and fidgeting.

“Answer me,” she said. “I demand for you to show us who you are.”

Philip was impressed. He had never seen Rebecca talk or act with such strength and authority. Whatever it was, it had made her completely different than the wilting wallflower he normally saw at school.

Not only was he impressed. So were the creatures.

They were terrified.

“Now!” Becka demanded. “Reveal yourselves now!” At first, Philip thought his eyes were playing tricks on him, but the gray, triangular heads were no longer gray and triangular. In fact, the creatures’ entire bodies were changing, mor-phing into small, bizarre animal-like things. Some resembled grotesque gargoyles; others, monkey-faced trolls with sharp, gnashing fangs; still others, leather-winged gremlins. Philip recognized them immediately. He’d seen those kinds of things only once before. Back at the mansion, when Becka, Scott, and Ryan had battled demons.

Ryan stepped forward shaking his head. “You guys never give up, do you?”

“Ryan … ,” Becka warned.

Ryan nodded, then turned back to the creatures. “So what will it be, boys? Feel like being cast into the lake of fire?” He started toward them.

“Ryan …”

“Or maybe just a trip into a local herd of swine?” He’d barely gotten the words out when his foot came down on the far edge of the loose sheet of plywood. The sheet dipped, leaving nothing but space under Ryan’s feet.

Ryan cried out, clawing at the air frantically, trying to keep his balance. Becka tried to grab his arm, but the other edge of the sheet shot up, catching her in the jaw. Her head snapped back, and she fell to the floor as Ryan dropped through the opening and out of sight. Philip heard his cry, then the sickening thud of his body hitting the second-story floor. Then nothing at all.

“Ryan?” he called. “Are you okay?”

No answer.

He rose and hobbled to the edge of the plywood, where he peered down into the darkness. He couldn’t see a thing. “Ry?”

“My ankle … ,” came the faint reply. “I think it’s broken.” Before he could respond, Philip heard faint movement beside him. He turned to see Becka stirring.

“Beck, you all right?”

Before she could answer, Philip heard another sound.

Little feet. And claws and nails and talons. Scurrying across plywood.

He spun around.

The creatures were coming directly at them! He struggled to his feet. “Becka, look out!”

She was too dazed to move, but she didn’t have to worry. The creatures weren’t interested in Becka. They were coming at him!

He stepped back, fighting the panic that screamed in his head. He forced all his logic, all his intellect, to the fore. It was okay. He’d seen and heard everything Ryan and Becka had done.

Their faith, the power in the way they spoke. He could do that.

He glanced over at Krissi, who now lay motionless.

He had to do it.

Grim resolve filled him again as he looked again at the creatures approaching him. He cleared his throat and, in his most commanding voice, shouted, “I, Philip Andrews, command you — ”

“No … ,” Becka mumbled, shaking her head.

“It’s okay,” he answered. “I know what I’m doing.” Directing his attention back to the creatures, he shouted, “I command you to stop!”

But they didn’t. They were a dozen feet away and closing in fast.

“Stop, I said. I command you to stop!”

They gave no response except for a faint twittering — which sounded suspiciously like laughter.

“Philip,” Becka muttered. “You can’t — you don’t have the authority.”

“Stay back!” Philip shouted at them. “I command it!” Nothing worked. They surrounded him, snapping and clawing at his feet. He tried a different tact. “In the name of Jesus Christ, I command — ”

But he never finished. The first one leaped onto his leg.

Another followed. He tried to kick them off, but their claws dug deep through his pants and into his calves. 

“Augh!” he screamed.

Other creatures joined in, scurrying up his legs and grabbing hold of his waist.

“Beck!” he screamed, fighting and trying to slap them off.

“Help me!”

Becka tried to sit up but couldn’t. “Stop … ,” she choked. But it was unclear whether she was speaking to the creatures or to Philip.

“Beck!”

The frenzied mob had reached his chest, scurrying around and around, pulling themselves onto his shoulders, lashing at his face. Philip staggered. Their paws and talons blocked his vision.

He tripped once, twice, then fell to the floor. They swarmed over him relentlessly, tearing at him.

“Help me! Somebody!”

Then another voice spoke out. “In the power and authority of Jesus Christ, I command you to stop!” The creatures froze.

“Now!”

In a flash, they leaped off Philip and raced for the shadows.

At first Philip didn’t recognize the voice, but as he rose to his knees and looked toward the steps, he saw Becka’s little brother, Scott.

“Scotty …” Becka struggled to sit up.

He rushed over to her. “Are you okay?”

She nodded, rubbing her head. “What about you?” He shrugged. “I — I guess I got a little carried away with that game thing.”

“A little?! But you’re okay?”

He nodded. “It’s not every day you get trashed by a ghoul of the fifteenth degree, but I’m all right now.” A groan from below interrupted them.

Concern flooded Becka’s face. “Ryan! He fell …” She moved to look over the edge. “Ryan? Can you hear me?” 

“I’m okay … ,” came the faint answer.