WHO WAITS

BEHIND THE DOOR?

THOMAS MAINWARING: a medical mind as advanced as it is abnormal.
Convinced he's found the cure for cancer, he kills more often than he

heals.

n

SHANE COVINGTON: a beautiful lesbian with dangerously hypnotic eyes.
Young girls reject her

on pain of death-a slow, slicing death.

n

PAUL ST. DENIS: textbooks call him a homicidal paranoid. Now he moves
through society with all the attributes of a normal personality, until
somebody pulls his trigger.

n

JOHN HUGHES: the rare addict who doesn't lose his sexual desires on
drugs. On heroin he's the most personable man you'll ever see. On PCP he

becomes a killing machine.

n

TINA DUCHIN: wife of one of the richest men in the country. She's a
fanatically devoted satanist.

With a special fondness for human sacrifice.

n

In this hospital

of horrors,

who is crazy?

who is sane?

You may die before

you find out...

i

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ii

A NOVEL BY

FRANK LAMBIRTH

POPULAR LIBRARY

An Imprint of Warner Books, Inc.

A Warner Communications Company

iii POPULAR LIBRARY EDITION

Copyright 1988 by Frank Lambirth All rights reserved.

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Cover illustration by Lisa Falkenstein

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Warner Communications Company Printed in the United States of America
First Printing: January, 1988

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 I

1 PROLOGUE

M

Madeleine Turner reeled off a few choice obscenities as the car swerved
again toward the shoulder of the road. The headlights showed a roadway
alive with wind-driven sprays of leaves, dried weeds, and even
occasional newspapers skidding across the blacktop. She looked down at
the clock on the dash two A.M. Her hard-earned new friends would think
she was scatterbrained if they could see her now.

If it hadn't been for the argument with Benton that afternoon over the
expense of renovating the old farmhouse, she would be asleep in her bed.
Her husband had ducked out of the fracas, off on a business trip to
Kansas City. Madeleine sighed. He was on the road much of the time,
leaving her to make friends in the staid, clannish community.

But now after renting an apartment in town for the first year, they had
bought a farmhouse and she had been working feverishly to get it in
condition to move into. Planning a surprise housewarming party,
Madeleine had decided to tell none of their friends until they had get a
date for the party.

She glanced at the rearview mirror. The headlights were still behind her
the only sign of life she had seen on the otherwise deserted road. The
other car had swung out behind

2

her from a side road just outside town. It was probably someone coming
home late from a party, but still she was nervous, remembering the
horrible crimes that had terrorized the Stoneville area for the last
year and a half.

With a sense of relief she spotted a shiny new aluminum mailbox that
marked the lane leading to their new house.

Madeleine had gone perhaps fifty yards on the gravel lane when for the
first time in her life she suffered a moment of utter terror. The
welcome darkness in her rearview mirror was shattered by the ominous
twin circles of light. This was a private road, and no one had any
business on it. For a foolish second she wanted to believe that Benton
had somehow returned and was following her, but the idea was ridiculous.
Thoroughly frightened, fighting the urge to floorboard the accelerator
and rush down the dead-end lane, she tried to think of what she should do.

The rifle! Of course. If she could reach the farmhouse, she would have
the gun.. Benton had brought the .22 out day before yesterday to use on
the horde of rabbits that infested the place.

Despite her efforts to control herself, she started to drive faster. The
car was bouncing hard on the rutted lane. Her pursuer had to know she
was aware of him.

As the car sped across the top of the dam that formed the big bass pond,
she risked another look into the rearview mirror and an enormous feeling
of relief overwhelmed her. She braked to a stop and shut off the motor,
conscious in the resulting quietness of the wind-driven waves lapping
against the rip-rap of the dam. Torn between relief and anger that she
had been unnecessarily frightened. she rolled down the window as he
leaned over to peer into the car.

?Thank God it's you. I was scared to death. But why didn't you . . . ??-

?Sorry ma'am. My fault. When I saw you turn off into the Terlin place, I
thought maybe you were lost. After all, nobody's lived here since Edgar
died last year.?

Madeleine laughed. ?Oh, what an idiot I am! I should have told you.
Nobody's supposed to know we bought the place. We wanted to surprise our
friends. I have been working

2 3

day and night, getting it ready for the big move. I couldn't sleep, so I
thought I might as well get up and drive out here to work on the floors
for a while.?

He straightened up, his fingers drumming on the car's roof, and glanced
around ostentatiously. His voice had developed an edge. ?Aren't you
worried about being on the roads late at night after all the stories in
the newspapers? It's pretty lonely around here, especially on a night
like this. Doesn't your husband object to an attractive young lady like
you taking chances this way??

Madeleine did attract attention with both her face and form, and when
she blushed guiltily as she was doing now, she was especially pretty.
?He doesn't know I'm here. He left on a business trip to Kansas City
this afternoon. Benton wouldn't much care, anyway. We had a row over
carpet costs for the house.?

He stared at her thoughtfully for an uncomfortably long time. A full
minute must have dragged by, and he said nothing. Something was wrong
very wrong. He abruptly stepped back and nodded. ?Okay. I'm sorry I
frightened you. When I saw you turn in here and then noticed that back
tire, I thought . . .?

Without thinking, she opened the door and slid out of the car. ?Oh, God,
more trouble. What's wrong with the tire??

Madeleine hurried around to the - back of the car and looked. It seemed
perfectly all right. She looked up, startled to find him standing so
close beside her, drawing on a pair of leather gloves that looked black
in the headlights. ?What do you mean? I don't see anything wrong with
the tires.?

He ignored her question and asked one of his own. Nodding toward the
farmhouse, ghostly white in the uncertain light of the cloudy night, he
asked, ?There's a light on in there. Maybe I had better go in and check
it out??

She laughed uneasily, her nerves on a raw edge. He was standing so
close, staring down at her, his body rigid, pounding his gloved fist
into the leather-clad palm of the other hand. ?Oh, no, I . . . I left it
on deliberately. We have some heaters going to dry out the new plaster.
I was coming

4

out very early in the morning to turn them off, so I left the light on.?

?Not someone waiting for your arrival, then??

She stared at him, growing indignant. ?What do you mean??

He nodded toward the dwelling again. ?There's a pickup parked out in
front. Sure you don't have a little late-evening company??

Her voice broke in her anger. ?That's Chad's truck-the plasterer's. It
broke down and I gave him a ride back to town this morning. Besides,
what business is it of-?

?You filthy bitch!?

His fist exploded into her midsection, and she had no breath to scream.
She reeled backward against the car and he followed her, his shoulder
pinning her against the vehicle as he drove his fists *time after time
into her body. The only sounds were those of his grunting and hard
breathing and the soft thud of his fists landing. It was only when he
stepped back to rain blows on her face that her limp body was free to
slide down onto the graveled surface.

For a moment she regained consciousness and mumbled ?Why??through the
ruin of her lips, and then he sprawled atop her, clutching her by the
hair and slamming her head sideways into the steel rim of the wheel with
insane fury.

When, at last, exhaustion forced him to stop, he rolled away from the
body, down on all fours in the lane, head sagging, dry-heaving as he
fought to catch his breath. When he regained his feet, he staggered
across to Madeleine's car. Starting the engine, he lifted her body and
slid it into the front seat. He slipped the gear lever into neutral and
turned the wheels hard toward the steep front slope of the dam.
Straining, he threw his weight against the rear of the car. The effort
was back-breaking against the drag of the soft ground until one front
wheel slipped over the edge of the dam facing and then the car tipped
sideways, plunging downward to disappear with an enormous splash into
the pond, leaving little sign of its passage on the rock rip-rap of the
dam. It was perhaps thirty seconds before it sank out of sight in a
maelstrom of whirlpools and exploding bubbles.

5

Soon the only sound competing with the steadily rising wind was the
diminishing whine of an automatic transmission as the second car backed
down the lane. At the pond, an occasional outburst of bubbles still rose
noisily to pop on the wind-roughened waves.

Madeleine Turner was to lie in her watery grave for eight days.

6

T

The small plane seemed to hang motionless in the blue sky that stretched
over it like a great dome. Beneath the plane a roiling blanket of
sun-etched clouds stretched on a broad front from Michigan to Texas. The
storm was hurling silvery needles of cold rain against the limbs of bare
trees in the Ozark country of Missouri and Arkansas.

Gavin Thorne lowered his gaze from the jet's window to his watch and
turned toward his companions. Elizabeth Shea snapped out of her reverie,
aware that Gavin was talking to them. ?What did you say??

?I said, 'We must be getting close. The plane is losing altitude.?

He was right. The billowing sea of white was nearer now, and the jet
engines had changed their pitch. The pilot's voice burst from the
loudspeaker. ?Mr. Thorne, we will be making our final approach in four
minutes. That soup below us is plenty thick. We're going to be in it for
a while, but don't worry. There is a nine-hundred-foot ceiling. No
problem at all. And don't forget those seat belts.?

As they dipped into the heavy cloud cover, Meredith said,

7

?Damn it, I always hate this. I hate not being able to see where I'm
headed.?

The clouds closed around the plane, and the interior of the cabin
darkened abruptly. The mist around them was so thick that Elizabeth
could barely make out the wing tips.

Meredith Thokne exploded, ?Damn it to hell! What is that stupid son of a
bitch doing? Has he leveled off in the middle of this stuff? For God's
sake!?

Scott leaned toward her. ?Hey, no problem, Meredith. He said the cloud
cover was thick. We'll be out in a minute. Why don't you-?

?Shut it up, Scott! Just shut it up. I don't need any sermonette from
you. If I-?

Gavin Thorne's voice was sharp. ?Meredith, control yourself! We'll be in
the clear in a second.?

He was as good as his word. Before he could finish the sentence, the
plane burst out of the clouds into a dim, grayish world. The land,
flashing by beneath the wing tips, was monochromatic, the color sucked
from it by the strangely lit sky. They had plunged from a world of light
to one of darkness.

The speaker came to life again. ?One minute to touchdown.?

There was a hard jolt, and the plane raced along the ground. The small
jet rushed past a row of low buildings through whose windows the lights
shone brightly in the bleak afternoon.

As the plane taxied slowly back toward the largest of the buildings,
Elizabeth could feel the aircraft being buffeted by a howling gale.
Fifty yards from the terminal, the plane halted on the gleaming asphalt
apron.

The door to the pilot's compartment opened, and a rakish young man
leaned through the opening.

?I'll give you people a minute to get your coats on before I open the
hatch. It's storming like hell outside. Never mind about your bags. The
airport has a man who will take care of them.?

?How about the rental car??asked Gavin. ?Is it here??The pilot shook his
head, smiling. ?Sorry, I couldn't say.

8

The airport has nothing to do with that. You'll have to ask after you
get inside.?

Elizabeth slipped into, her raincoat and was struggling to free her
makeup case from under the seat when the pilot opened the hatch. The
sounds of the raging wind filled the cabin.

Afraid that she would be left behind, Elizabeth hastily buttoned the
collar of her raincoat and sidled down the aisle. As she stepped through
the small opening on to the step, a gust of wind caught her, opening her
coat like a sail, blowing her backwards into the plane. She felt two
arms close on her and twisted around in sudden panic to find the young
pilot's laughing face bare inches from hers.

?Hey, sweet lady, you'd better button that coat or you're going to take
off like a hang glider.?

She started to say something, then blushed, aware that she was still
leaning back into his arms. She pulled herself upright, buttoned her
coat, and stepped 'down into the wild maelstrom of the storm.

She felt like a fool, not even acknowledging his help. Would she ever be
at ease around men again?

The pilot remained in the hatch, watching his attractive passenger
struggling across the windswept concrete. Elizabeth was in her late
twenties, tall-about five-eight, and no more than one hundred and
twenty-five pounds.

Buffeted by, the air blasts that sent her light brown hair whipping
across her face, alternately revealing and concealing the gold earrings
that complemented her deeply tanned skin, she reeled toward the terminal
building, passing an elderly black man in a yellow rain suit pushing a
luggage cart.

When she reached the terminal, she tugged futilely at the heavy glass
door, unable to overcome the pressure of the wind against it. Only when
Scott Sutherlin hurried to her assistance was she able to lurch into the
small waiting room.

He winked. ?I like your new hairdo, kiddo. I will use it in my next
horror movie.?

She looked at her reflected image in the door. ?Oh, Jesus! What a wreck!
I need a major repair job in the little girls' room.?

9 DOOR /

?Meredith's in there, doing her own reconstruction. She took one look at
her reflection in the door, burst out crying, and ran for the ladies'
room.?His face grew serious. ?Listen, Elizabeth, I wonder . . .?

She knew what was coming-more questions about Meredith-and wanted no
part of it. She interrupted him to declare that she was off to repair
herself.

It wasn't that she didn't want to help Scott. Elizabeth liked him as she
might have liked a great, overgrown puppy. He was twenty-seven,
six-four, and always eager to please -a straight shooter. Scott was nice
looking-maybe not attractive-but appealing to the maternal type. His
features were neat except for his oversized ears, which peered through
his brown hair, worn with an old-fashioned part on the side. His only
weakness was Meredith Thorne. He was crazy about her, and his sun rose
and set on her moods.

When Elizabeth entered the small tea room, it appeared empty. She had
expected to see Meredith standing at the lavatory mirrors. She was
puzzled until she heard an odd sound behind her and glanced toward the
enclosed toilet stalls. She could see hose-clad legs standing in the
near stall and recognized Meredith's shoes.

Satisfied, she dug a comb into her tangled tresses, gritting her teeth
in pain, pausing as a sniffling sound came from the stall. Scott had
been right. Not only had Meredith been crying, but she still sounded upset.

?Meredith, are you okay??

Meredith's voice was odd, but certainly not emotion-choked. ?Yeah, I'm
okay, Elizabeth. I'll be out in a minute.??Are you crying? Scott said
you were upset.?

?Oh, no. You know Scott. The cold air gave me the sniffles. I'm okay now.?

When Meredith left the stall, a puzzled Elizabeth saw no trace of tears.
The look of fatigue and the paleness that Elizabeth had noticed on the
plane were gone. Her eyes were sparkling, and her face glowed. When she
was at her best, as she was now, Meredith was a focus of male attention.
From her mother she had inherited the lovely white skin that contrasted
magnificently with her thick, coal-black hair and

10

flashing dark brown eyes. She always dressed to accentuate her trim legs
and petite body, with its pert, pointed breasts.

Meredith giggled. ?My God, Elizabeth, you look like a witch. The
windblown look is definitely not your hairstyle. Excuse me. I'd better
go assure dear Scott that I'm all right before he worries himself to death.?

Dissolving into a fit of giggles, Meredith bounced out of the rest room,
leaving a thoughtful Elizabeth to stare after her. Luckily, it wasn't
one of her secretarial tasks to tell Gavin he should keep a close eye on
his daughter.

When Elizabeth joined her companions in the waiting room, she found an
enraged Gavin Thorne shouting into Scott's face, ?Okay, Scott, you get
those sons of bitches on the telephone. By God, I told them to have a
car here by one-thirty. Tell them I'll sue their, asses if I don't have
a car in fifteen minutes.?

While Scott was thumbing through the phone book, a suit-clad man in a
plastic raincoat burst through the door. He stopped, surveyed the
tenants of the room, and headed toward Gavin.

Before the newcomer could identify himself, Gavin, recognizing his prey,
shouted, ?You must be the car man. Do you realize how long you've kept
me waiting??

Whatever poise the man had vanished, and he sputtered, ?Ah . gee, I'm
sorry, Mr. Thorne. It's the weather-it's terrible for driving.?

?Never mind the crap, buster. Just give me the keys.?

The man sputtered a last apology and fled as Gavin whirled toward Scott.
?Okay, Scott, get the bags in the trunk so we can get out of this burg.?

Since Meredith had brought three suitcases, Scott had to make two trips
to the Cadillac parked at the far end of the parking lot. By the time
the car was ready, he was soaked from head to toe.

At the last moment, while the others waited in the car, Gavin decided to
call his chief accountant to tell him they were on their way. The
accountant, Aaron Blomfeld, had spent the last week at Gavin's vacation
lodge getting the books in shape for the lender's examination. From the
airport at Poplar Bluff, Missouri, they were driving to Bull

11 DOOR / I

Shoals, halfway across Missouri in the Ozarks to rendezvous with
Blomfeld. Gavin intended to drive on to Hot Springs with the financial
records. He needed to borrow three million and forestall a bank
foreclosure. If he failed, Thorne Construction was down the drain and he
would be walking the streets of Chicago, a fifty-five-year-old loser.
And rather than risk that, Gavin was willing to meet a less than
reputable lender in Hot Springs and make a secret deal. The others had
no real idea of just how shady this business was, accepting his story
that he wanted it kept quiet so rivals would not learn that he was in
trouble.

Breathing hard, he barked, ?Okay, Scott, let's get this show on the road.?

Gavin reclined his seat as far as it would go and tried to nap. A few
miles outside Poplar Bluff, the road narrowed and began to rise. The
woods were growing thicker. The bare branches of the deciduous trees
were dark and shiny in the gray light.

The wind-strong enough to push the heavy car across the center line
where the road crossed the gentle rises-made driving difficult. The rain
was growing heavier.

The straight stretches became less frequent, and the curves grew sharper
with less banking. The road's surface was treacherous, especially where
loose gravel was washed onto the pavement.

Gavin's mood darkened as it became evident that they were not going to
reach Bull Shoals before midnight. He was growing angry, making comments
when the wind shoved the car out of its lane. Elizabeth knew he was
looking for a target for his frustration. He found his target in the
outskirts of Doniphan when Scott glanced at the gas gauge.

?We either have a gas leak or they didn't give us a full tank of gas.?

?Why, those cheap sons of bitches!?Gavin exploded. ?Okay, let's fill up
in this burg. God knows when we'll find another filling station
open.?They pulled into Doniphan's one open station. While the, ancient
gasoline pump slowly filled the tank, Gavin paced back and forth in the
driving rain. It did not help his mood when the toothless geezer pumping
the gas called to him, ?Mister, you ought to settle

12

down. The way you're carrying on, a man could end up dead of a heart
attack.?

Startled, Gavin glared at him. ?I'd say you're a good deal closer to
that point than I am, old-timer.?

The old-timer cackled. ?Don't you believe it. You could be spending your
last day on earth, mister.?

Gavin stalked away and stood in the doorway of the station until the
tank was filled. He resolutely ignored the old man's queries about their
destination while he signed the credit card slip.

As they pulled away from the pumps, the elderly man watched them out of
sight, shaking his head.

Full darkness found them still far from Bull Shoals Lake. The driving
conditions, bad as they had been during the afternoon, grew monstrous
after dark. Elizabeth felt relieved when she saw, at last, the Welcome
to Arkansas sign, barely visible through the falling rain.

They had gone only a few miles farther when Gavin shouted, ?Okay, slow
down, Scott. It's not far to the turnoff.?

Fifteen minutes later, the Cadillac halted before a large house of
peeled logs with floodlights illuminating the graveled parking area. The
wind had dropped, but the rain continued to drum against the metal roof
of the car.

A huge fire was burning in the living room fireplace. The accountant
pointed them toward the couches and, moments later, returned, _carrying
four steaming cups of coffee. He looked at Gavin, a faint smile playing
across his face. ?I must admit, I was getting a bit worried. It isn't
much of an evening to be driving through the Ozarks. I should have
known, though, that a bullheaded bastard like you would make it.?

Gavin grumbled, ?I was on that road two years ago, and I don't remember
it being that bad.?

Elizabeth settled back, enjoying the warmth of the coffee, and watched
Gavin unwinding. It was a short break, though. He took a last swallow of
coffee and set the cup on the coffee table.

Blomfeld stood. ?I' m afraid I'm not being a very good

13 DOOR /

host. You people must be starved. I'm not much of a cook, but I can fix
a few things besides coffee.?

Gavin shook his head. ?Don't bother, Aaron. We don't have time, not with
this weather. I think you'd better brief me on the report and let us be
on our way. Show Meredith and Elizabeth what you have for sandwiches.

?Scott, the wood in the bin is getting low. Grab a parka off the rack
and bring some more wood in while we're working. I imagine Aaron will
stay the rest of the weekend, and he is going to need a warm fire.?

Scott choked back an angry retort.

Just as Elizabeth was putting the bread away, an angry Scott, his shoes
sodden, joined them in the kitchen. He grabbed a plate of sandwiches,
filled a mug with coffee, and sat down next to Meredith. He started
talking to her, his voice little more than a whisper.

Embarrassed by the implied intimacy, Elizabeth took a sandwich, refilled
her cup, and went out to sit by the fireplace. She settled on the sofa,
watching the fire and shuddering delicately from time to time when the
rain splattered against the dark windows.

An hour later, Meredith came into the room, looking angry, and slumped
down (into a chair. She was silent for a time and then, without
preamble, announced, ?I don't know how to convince Scott that I want
nothing to do with him. Maybe if I invite him in for a chat sometime
when I'm balling someone, he'll get the idea.?

Rather than offer platitudes-for she had no wish to get involved
Elizabeth grabbed her coat and, to no one in particular, said, ?I need a
breath of fresh air.?

She stepped out onto the front porch and felt her way across its dark
width. The air felt bitterly cold. She had been there only a minute or
so when the door opened-and Scott, clutching two attache cases, hurried
out to the car.

Before he could return to the house Meredith stepped out onto the porch.
She grabbed his arm as he tried to brush past. She sounded angry, but
the rain and the muffled beat of the waves masked her words. Abruptly,
her voice rose. ?I'm warning you, Scott! Keep your mouth shut! You're
acting like a fool . . . jeopardizing my future.?

14

His voice was louder, too. ?I know what you have in your purse,
Meredith. Can't you see that I'm-?

?You just open your mouth, and I'll shaft you good. That's a promise.?

She ran back into the house and he followed, calling her name.

Before Elizabeth could move, Gavin came out the door, his raincoat on.
Obviously the meeting was over. As Blomfeld tried to suggest an
-alternate route, Gavin interrupted, ?Hell, you're acting like an old
woman. I can't take a grand tour of Arkansas. It'll be three or four in
the morning, as it is, before we get to Hot Springs. I don't want the
lender to decide we're not interested and drop the deal. I-er had
difficulty setting it up, you know.?

Scott sounded interested. ?What route do you suggest, Mr. Blomfeld??

?Go down to Mountain Home, turn west on 62, pick up 65, take it to where
it runs into Interstate 40, bypass Little Rock, and take Interstate 30
right into Hot Springs.?

Gavin snorted. ?Hell, that's sixty-sixty-five miles out of the way.?

?I am not saying it isn't, but the state roads will have water standing
on them. For all I know, some of them may be closed. It's rained hard
since early afternoon.?

?Yeah, but the weather reports say the worst is over,?Gavin protested.
?The roads should be clear long before we get there. We're going to
chance it.?

When Meredith joined them, they headed for the car. Gavin paused at the
bottom of the steps. ?Now, Aaron, you'll be back in Chicago when we
return. I'm staying here until I know about the loan either way it will
be my last chance to relax for a while. If anyone at the office wants
something you have the information-take care of it your= self. I don't
want to hear a peep from anyone until next Wednesday.?

As the Caddy eased out of the driveway, Gavin was at the wheel.

Scott looked over his shoulder. ?Okay, folks,?he said with a nervous
laugh, ?get those seat belts on. I bet the captain won't promise a
smooth ride tonight.?

15

Elizabeth reached for her seat belt but Gavin retorted, ?Damn it, Scott,
you are an old woman I've been driving for forty years without those
damned things and I'm sure not starting now.?

Meredith's seat belt snapped shut. Elizabeth wormed her way into the
corner, drowsy in the warm car. Soon she closed her eyes but remained
awake, listening to the whine of the tires against the wet pavement.
From time to time washes of gravel crunched beneath the tires. Gavin
dropped into low gear several times to plow through pools of water
masking the pavement, but immediately brought the car back up to speed.

When they reached Mountain Home, it was after midnight and the rain had
ceased. Elizabeth looked at the road with renewed interest. It was quite
narrow, with inadequate muddy shoulders and no center line, only dots of
paint on the pavement. The land grew steeper, and they climbed lengthy
grades with abrupt switchbacks. Meredith muttered, ?Jesus Christ!?as the
car dived around an abrupt turn, pitching her across the back seat.

Elizabeth found herself growing queasy. She folded a sweater between her
head and the cold glass of the window, and leaned back, determined to
rest. Meredith unbuckled her seat belt and curled up on the back seat,
her head resting against Elizabeth's thigh.

Elizabeth was nearly asleep when she heard Gavin shout, ?Oh, shit!?

The car swung wildly to the left, and she could feel the back wheels
break free of the pavement, sliding sideways across it. There was a
sudden jolt, and a hard shower of gravel and dirt crashed into the
underside of the car. Her eyes flew open, and she saw him fighting the
wheel. The car came back onto the road, crossed it, and almost crashed
into the bank on the uphill side before Gavin could control it. Gravel
and mud continued to pepper the underside as Gavin snarled, ?Son of a
bitch! Don't these crackers put curve signs on their damned roads??

?Hey, there was one back there,?Scott protested.

?Then, by God, they ought to make them big enough to see.?

16

Meredith came upright. ?Damn it! What are you trying to do kill us??

Gavin ignored his daughter, staring fixedly at the dark roadway.

The car surged forward as the angry Gavin slammed his foot against the
accelerator. Elizabeth was growing concerned. He was far too tense to be
fighting a backwoods Arkansas road on a rainy night.

Scott had reached the same conclusion. ?Hey, Mr. Thorne, why don't you
let me take over? We're not going to make good time, anyway. Besides,
you ought to be fresh for your meeting tomorrow.?

Gavin Thorne, not a stupid man, saw through Scott's concern. ?Go to
hell, kid. If you don't like it, I'll let you out right here.?

Even in the darkness, Elizabeth could sense the loneliness of the land
around them. Shortly after leaving Mountain Home, they had passed
through two tiny hamlets. Since then, the countryside had been empty,
Even the muddy lanes leading from the road had become scarce.

They thundered off one particularly tortuous section of pavement onto an
arrow-straight stretch across a small plateau. The car was moving so
fast that Elizabeth was not sure she actually saw the man beside the road.

Gavin's words confirmed her own startled perception. ?My God, Scott, did
you see that poor son of a bitch standing out in the ass end of nowhere
at one o'clock in the morning??

They raced along for three or four minutes at eighty miles an hour as
Gavin took advantage of the unusually straight stretch before Scott
shouted, ?Watch out!?

Gavin only had time for a startled ?What-??before the tires screamed as
he slammed on the brakes.

Elizabeth saw the road drop from view at the same instant Gavin did.
There was nothing ahead but a thick stand of bare-limbed hardwoods. At
the last second, she saw that the road dipped sharply downward to the left.

A panic-stricken Gavin fought the steering wheel as the heavy vehicle
skidded into the curve. He did the only thing he could. He hit the
accelerator, trying to regain traction.

17

The Cadillac, almost airborne, sliding broadside across the road,
skidded onto the shoulder with the right wheels sinking into the mushy
earth. There was a sudden blow as the car's side hit the embankment and
rebounded onto the pavement.

They were still going too fast as they thundered toward the second leg
of the S-curve, a sharp dip to the right. The vehicle's momentum was
carrying it toward the left shoulder. They shot into the curve, and
Gavin yanked the wheel to the right. The front end began to turn
downslope, but inertia was hurling it straight ahead. The right-side
wheels lifted into the air, and the Cadillac started to roll onto its
side as it sailed over the road's edge.

It was the last thing Elizabeth remembered. The screams -hers and the
others-went unheard as the car rolled over again and again before
crashing into the side of a giant maple.

When Elizabeth regained consciousness, she was aware of the odor of
gasoline. She kicked at the door, but it would not open. She expected
the car to burst into flames at any moment. Twisting around, she tried
to teach the other door. An unmoving body, wedged against her, blocked
her efforts.

She blinked. A faint pinpoint of light was approaching the car.

18 2

T

he ancient stepside pickup moved so slowly that its laboring motor
protested loudly at being held in high gear. Its dim headlights barely
illuminated the road ahead.

John Carpenter turned toward his twelve-year-old son, who was peering
anxiously out the side window into the gloom. ?Keep your eyes open,
Billy Joe. If we drive by that old cow without you seeing her, I'm gonna
whip your bottom.?

The boy protested, ?Daddy, it wasn't my fault. I told you that tree came
down in the wind and tore out that section of fence.?

?Don't smart-talk your daddy, boy. There that S-curve is up ahead. I'll
go on through the curve to Mr. Miller's driveway, but if we ain't found
her by then, you're gonna have to walk after her. That heifer won't
stray far off the road. The woods are too thick for her.?

With the straining motor threatening to stall, John Carpenter shifted
into second. As he swung into the turn, his son shouted, ?Stop, Daddy!?

The worn-out brakes squealed, and Carpenter looked

19

toward his son. ?Thank God! Hop old there and get a rope on her, Billy Joe.?

?I didn't see Pearlie,?the boy protested. It's the paddle markers on the
shoulder. Somebody's gone off the road.?

?Well, dadgum it, boy! That coulda happened anytime today. In this
weather, folks is always skidding off this curve.?

?They were okay when I came by on the school bus before dark, Daddy.?

Carpenter was becoming angry. ?Billy Joe, do what your daddy says. Look
for the dadgummed cow! I ain't in no mood for you sassing me.?

Before he could restart the stalled motor, the boy had rolled down his
window and was aiming a flashlight into the darkness. ?Daddy, wait a
minute! There's a car over there, and . . . somebody's in it.?

?Let me see, boy.?

The farmer leaned across the cab to stare past his son's shoulder.

?By golly, I believe you're right. But that car is just parked there.
Those darned fools got that thing over there somehow, and they're bedded
down for the night. The heck with them!?

?Wait, Daddy. Look! There's mud all over it, and it's banged up. It's
been rolled. And look at the ground in front of it, all torn up this
way. Besides, that man is bent up all funny.?

?Tell you what. Slide down the bank and see if they are okay.?

?I don't want to. They might be dead. That man in there ain't moved none.?

John Carpenter reached over and opened the door. ?Boy, get your little
tail to moving.?

Reluctantly, the boy slid from the truck and clambered down the muddy
bank. He worked his way across the soggy ground, anxious to be done with
it and back in the safety of the pickup.

Relief flooded through Elizabeth as she realized that the pinpoint of
light was growing. Someone was coming to help. She was half off the
seat, with one foot caught under

20

it, her legs pinned by Meredith's unmoving body lying across them.

?Is everybody okay??she called. ?Mr. Thorne . . . Mr. Thorne??

She heard a groan from the front seat.

?Scott, are you okay? Scott? Answer me!?

A muffled voice called from outside the car. ,?Hey, is any of you folks
hurt in there??

The light caught her in the face. Blinded, she motioned toward the front
seat. ?Help! Please get help. People are hurt. I can't move. I .?

The bearer of the flashlight jumped away as if he was frightened. After
a silence, the youngster called, ?It's okay, ma'am. I'm gonna get my
daddy. He's up on the road.?

Terrified at being abandoned, Elizabeth begged, ?Wait! Get us out! The
car's going to catch fire!?

Her pleas went unheeded. She could see the light bobbing up and down as
it receded in the distance. Car headlights flared to life. With a
sinking heart, she saw the headlights moving off up the road.

The flashlight bearer returned to announce, ?Daddy's gonna turn around
up at Millers' so he can get the truck off on the shoulder. He'll be
right back.?

Near the breaking point, Elizabeth shouted, ?For God's sake! We don't
need your daddy. We need medical help. Call an ambulance.?

Moments later, she sensed that someone had joined the boy. The
flashlight's rays lanced into the front and then the back seat, resting
on each of them for a moment.

Another voice, more mature and twangy, called, ?Ma'am, can't you move?
Are you hurt??

?For God's sake, open the door.?

?They're jammed, and I'm afraid to break the glass, with all you people
in there.?

There was a moment's silence while John Carpenter decided what he would
do. ?Ma'am, the others look like they need help bad. The nearest phone
is about four miles down the road. I'll leave my boy with you. Ain't
nothing he can do, but maybe he'll be a comfort.?

She heard the boy's sudden objection.

21 DOOR /

?Shut up, Billy Joe! Your daddy will be back in twenty minutes.?

Scott moaned and muttered something about his arm, but when she called
to him, he didn't answer. Only his incoherent rambling disturbed the
awful silence in the car. The cooling engine continued to pop, and an
occasional gust of wind dropped a shower of water from the trees onto
the metal top.

She started to cry, softly at first, and then in great sobs. She was
beginning to feel cold, deadly cold, and she was shivering. Her teeth
were chattering so loudly that she almost missed the distant howl of a
siren.

Its banshee cry grew louder, and soon she saw headlights through the
trees. A car with a flashing red light atop it burst into view. It
slowed to a stop, and she could hear the slamming of doors and see
flashlights bobbing down the slope.

A splash of light from a stronger flashlight hit her face, and a male
voice called, ?Take it easy, ma'am. I'm a deputy sheriff. We'll have you
out of there in a jiffy.?

Another flashlight was playing Over the unmoving bodies of Gavin and
Scott. A second voice softly commented, ?They had better shake a leg.
That one guy doesn't look so hot.?

The first voice spoke again, different, more stilted. Elizabeth
recognized that he was talking over the radio. ?County dispatch, Henry one.?

?Henry one, go ahead.?

?Millie, has Cobb left yet??

?That's negative, Henry one. At least, I don't think so.?

?Then tell him to bring the Hurst tool with him. It looks like we may
have trouble getting them out of the front.?

The deputy struck the window again with his flashlight. ?Ma'am, I'm
gonna break this window out. Work that cloth over your face if you can.
I don't think the glass will fly that far, but I can't be sure.?

The door didn't yield without a struggle. The three men labored over its
sprung metal for five minutes before it surrendered with a shriek.

?Thank God,?Elizabeth muttered.

22

Scott's voice, weak and slurred, asked, ?Elizabeth, is that you? Are you
two okay? We must have had a wreck.??Oh, we did, Scott. How badly are
you hurt??

?I ... I don't know. My arm hurts like hell, and my head. I must have
Sit the windshield. How . . . how's Meredith? Meredith, are you okay?
Meredith? Meredith!?

His voice was rising. Before she could reassure him, a new voice imposed
itself. In the dim light, she could see a man wearing a white jacket
lean into the car. She sighed. The ambulance had arrived.

The Johnson brothers, owners and operators of Beauregard County's only
ambulance, swung into action. Once Elizabeth was freed, she was given a
cursory examination. Meanwhile, Meredith, still unconscious, was carded
up the muddy slope to the waiting ambulance. When the front door proved
impossible to open, Scott was slipped out through the window and borne
away on a stretcher. The two medics, Otis and Chester Johnson, remained
in the car with Gavin.

While Elizabeth watched with mounting concern, they worked feverishly
over his still form. One of them slid across the seat and put his head
out the window, listening. ?I hear a siren, thank God. That must be Cobb.?

Moments later, another police car joined the string of vehicles along
the road, and a man wearing a western-style hat appeared beside the car.

Otis Johnson straightened up from Gavin's unmoving body. ?Cobb, hurry up
and get this thing open. It's touch and go.?

The newcomer and a deputy attacked the car's metal frame with what
looked like a giant pair of shears attached to a battery. The car banged
repeatedly against the big maple it rested against as they worked with
the device. The front door, squealing like a live thing, finally broke
loose.

One of the ambulance men yelled into the darkness. ?Boys, bring that
other gurney down here . . . and shake a leg.?

As they were lowering Gavin onto the gurney, one of the medics leaned
over, looked closely at him, and with a startled ?Damn it!? frantically
began to apply cardiopulmonary

23

massage. The second medic looked up at the hat-clad figure above them.

?Cobb, this fellow isn't going to last until we get to the county
hospital. I think we'd better see if they will take him at Skystone.?

?Skystone! Are you crazy? Why shouldn't he take his chances like
everyone else??

The medic looked at his partner, laboring over the still figure. ?Look
at that car and the clothes this man is wearing. These aren't Ozark dirt
farmers.?His voice dropped. ?Besides, one of these people is going to
remember about that curve sign, and this county's ass is going to be in
a sling.?

?What do you mean about a sign, Chester??

?You know my brother-in-law Archie, who works for the road department?
Well, the sign at the top of the curve got knocked down the other day,
and they didn't have any more S-curve signs, so they figured they
wouldn't put anything up until they got some new ones. Archie was
worried about it.?

The hat-clad officer cursed softly. ?What the hell could they do for him
at Skystone??

?This man's heart needs stabilizing. We can't keep it beating. God
knows, they ought to have had enough experience with that at Skystone.?

The man thought for a moment. ?Okay, but needing to get in and getting
in are two different things. I'll notify the sheriff. You men get him in
the ambulance and be ready to roll if we have a go-ahead.?

He turned away, raising his portable to his mouth. ?County dispatcher,
Henry X.?

There was a burst of static, and an elderly woman replied, ?Henry X,
county dispatcher.?

?Millie, get hold of Toby as quick as you can and have him contact me.
It's an emergency.?

Millie's voice lost its bored quality. ?What's the trouble? Something
wrong with that wreck??

?Damn it, Millie. Do what I tell you. 10-4.?

He turned to one of the deputies. ?Tip, take Ed and Charlie with you and
make a physical plot of the skid marks. I want those measurements
accurate. This may get a little sticky before it's over.?

24

Elizabeth remained by the car, seemingly forgotten. Only a single
officer was still there, removing their personal effects. She was afraid
that she was going to be left, but before she could call out, the tall,
hat-clad officer materialized beside her.

?Ma'am, I'm Cobb Kendall, the night-shift sergeant.?Before he could say
more, a querulous baritone voice

burst from his portable. ?Henry X, this is County one.??Henry X.?

?Cobb, what in the hell do you want? By God, I had just dropped off to
sleep. This had better be good.?

?Sheriff, we have a kid-glover here an accident with four people
injured. I have a man of about sixty experiencing cardiac difficulties.
The Johnson boys say he'll never make it to county hospital. I think,
under the circumstances, you'd better call Skystone and see if they'll
let us admit this patient for emergency treatment. 10-4.?

The voice sputtered. ?Damn it, Cobb, speaking of kid gloves, what do you
think Skystone is? They're not exactly the friendliest folks on earth.
Aren't you aware of that? 10-4.?

?Sheriff, I think you'd better put, yourself in debt if you have to.. I
can't talk now, but we have egg on our face.?

?Okay, boy, but it's your ass for it if old Toby ends up in trouble.
I'll get back to you as soon as I can.?

The man started questioning Elizabeth as if he had not been interrupted,
scribbling her answers in his _notebook. When he was through, he asked
her if she wanted relatives notified.

?There's no one to tell. Mr. Thorne isn't in touch with his ex-wife, and
Scott Sutherlin is an orphan. Mr. Throne was supposed to be away from
his office for ten days, so they don't need to be notified immediately.?

?Okay, ma'am, that covers everything for now. Oh, I suppose one of these
purses is yours??He reached into the back seat and handed her the purse
she indicated, but before she could thank him, the radio came to life.

?Henry X, County one.?

?Henry X.?

?That was the God-damnedest conversation I've ever had,

25

Cobb. The damned man said yes and no a half-dozen times. I hung up on
him the last time he sounded agreeable. Tell the ambulance boys there
will be a man at the gates in ten minutes. I hope to hell you know what
you're doing. As soon as you get back to town, call me. I'll be waiting.
10-4.?

The man turned toward the road and yelled, ?Hey, Chester, head for
Skystone. There will be a man at the gate. I'll have the boys run this
lady up there.?

The ambulance pulled away, its lights flashing. It disappeared almost
immediately around the sharp turn of the S-curve.

Elizabeth looked after it in panic. ?I have to go with them. I must see
that they're okay.?

?Don't worry, little lady. One of our units will run, you up there. I
need to stay here and finish my report.?

Taking her hand, he escorted her toward the road.

She stopped again. ?What is this Skystone? Is it a hospital? I didn't
understand why you were talking about getting permission to go up there.?

Gently he pulled at her elbow to keep her walking. ?You passed it, but
you probably didn't notice it in the dark, especially as fast as your
Mr. Thorne appears to have been driving. It's three miles back up the
road, along McKinstry Flat. It's a convalescent hospital, but not just
your ordinary rest home. It has its own airstrip. I guess it's one of
the fanciest places of its kind in the country. The patients are from
wealthy families. Skystone has very little to do with the people in this
county. We operate on a live-and-let-live basis down here.

?Now, don't you worry. Your friends are in good hands. I think it's time
you headed for the hospital. You should have a checkup yourself.?

Elizabeth allowed herself to be led across the churned-up muck to the
highway. It took the sergeant's assistance to make it up the slope. By
the time she reached the asphalt surface, both her hands and slacks were
muddy, and she was somewhat upset with the unintentional intimacy of the
sergeant's hands.

In the glow from the headlights, she could see that he was grinning.
?You're a big girl, Mrs. Shea. I thought for a

26

minute there we were going to have to rope you and haul you up.?

He shouted toward the distant flashlights, ?Ed, you and Charlie run this
little lady up to Skystone. Then get back here on the double . . . okay??

The distant voice answered, ?Okay, Cobb, we're on our way.?

Cobb reached through the window and lifted the hand mike. ?County Medic,
Henry X.?

There was a burst of static, and a voice answered faintly, ?Henry X,
County Medic.?

?County Medic, are you 10-97??

?10-97. We're waiting at the gate. I can see somebody coming down the
drive now. Everything's 10-4.?

?County Medic, tell the man at the gate to remain there. I'm sending the
last victim, code-3.?

?Negative on that, Cobb. They probably don't want their patients
disturbed with sirens. We'll tell the man to wait until they get here.
Okay??

?10-4.?

The sergeant turned to Elizabeth. ?Mrs. Shea, the deputies will run you
up to Skystone. I'll be out there in the morning to see how you're doing.?

He opened the back door for her. ?Okay, boys, code 2. Drop her off, and
tell the Johnsons to get back to town as quick as they can. With these
wet roads, I wouldn't be surprised if we didn't have another 11-79
before the night's over.?

27 3

T

he ride was short. The deputy drove fast with the red light flashing,
but with a control that Elizabeth had not felt with Gavin at the wheel
of the Cadillac. The car swerved left off the highway onto a graveled
driveway and stopped, its way blocked by a massive iron gate. There was
enough light from the headlights to see, above it, in letters of the
same wrought iron, the name SKYSTONE. On each side of the gate,
twelve-feet-high stone walls paralleled the road as far as she could
see. A heavyset young man in a white tunic appeared out of the dark,
bearing a flashlight. He pulled back the gates, and the sheriff's car
moved slowly through the opening. But as they drew abreast of the man,
the deputy stopped the vehicle.

?Hey, where's Ike??he called. ?Isn't he still grounds keeper??

For an instant it appeared that the man was not going to reply, but then
he shrugged, answering with a brisk Eastern accent: ?You'll have to ask
the doctor. I'm not supposed to say.?

There was another confrontational silence before the deputy asked,
?What's your name??

28

The man looked down at the ground, his face masked by the shadows. He
seemed angry. ?You can call me Joe.?

The deputy nodded, his gaze on the man's averted face. ?Okay, whatever
you say . . . Joe.?

Slowly the patrol car moved up the narrow drive, leaving the sullen
tunic-clad figure in the darkness behind them. Swinging to their left,
they drove under a porte cochere and stopped next to the ambulance,
parked with its rear doors open.

Elizabeth had but a moment to view Skystone. It was a single-storied
building with white walls of pre-cast concrete panels. No' light was
visible in any of the windows. The only illumination was from widely
spaced outdoor fixtures mounted on the walls, spilling fans of light
down the facade.

As they stepped out of the car, one of the deputies said, ?We're sure
not causing much excitement. There's not a light on up at the Hall.?

Elizabeth looked at him. ?The hall? What's that??

?This used to be a large private estate. It belonged to the Albritton
family. Their home was called the Hall. It's used now, so they say, by
the employees at Skystone.?

While he was talking, the double doors leading onto the porte cochere
opened, and a nurse stepped out.

?Officer, you can talk about the good old days some other time. We are
waiting for the young lady you have with you.?The deputy smiled
ruefully. ?Yes, ma'am,?

They followed the woman inside. Directly facing them across a tiny,
dimly lit entry hall was a second set of doors. She pushed them open,
and Elizabeth and the .deputies trailed after her into a brightly lit
room that was crowded with people.

Two examination tables were centered under powerful lights. On one of
them lay Gavin Thorne, terribly pale, his eyes shut. It was so quiet in
the room that Elizabeth could hear his quick, shallow breathing. His
clothes had been removed, and a sheet covered his lower body.

A tall man in a doctor's smock leaned over the inert Thorne, and a
pudgy, red-haired woman in her late fifties stood next to him. The
doctor had an extraordinarily craggy face with a pointed, jutting chin
and high cheekbones,

29

across which the skin was tightly stretched. He was a man in his late
fifties, his auburn hair laced with gray, shading to full gray at the
temples. His eyebrows were amazingly heavy, with the hair in them so
long that it swept far past his eyes toward his temples. It was the most
striking face Elizabeth had ever seen.

Meredith was stretched out on the other table. She had a sheet pulled up
to her chin, but it was apparent that she still wore her blouse, since
her arms rested across her chest outside the sheet. To Elizabeth's
intense relief, Meredith's eyes were open. A tall, slender nurse, her
hair escaping from her nurse's cap in a silvery shower, stood next to
Meredith, taking her pulse and staring intently into her eyes.

Scott was sitting in a chair along one wall, watching as one of the
medics used scissors to cut away his sports jacket and dress shirt. The
second medic was sitting beside Scott, talking to him in a low voice.

As Elizabeth entered the room, Scott called to her, his words slurred,
?Thank God you got here, Elizabeth. I was worried.?

He was so heavily drugged that he wore a foolish grin. His unfocused
eyes sought the table where Meredith lay, and he called, ?It's okay,
Meredith. Everything's going to be okay.?

Then his face crumpled as a wave of pain broke through the defenses of
the drugs.

A second doctor was standing beyond the examination tables. As Elizabeth
entered the mom, he was glancing from table to table, worry lines etched
on his face. He was, perhaps, no older than the other doctor, but his
hair was a luminescent silver. He was small, with perfect features, a
man who was quite distinguished looking even handsome in his older years.

Behind him, against the wall, leaned a third nurse, her eyes in constant
motion as she watched the scene before her. She was in her early
forties, wearing a uniform a bit too tight on her, displaying a still
youthful and lush figure. There was about her face the same attractive,
if overdone?quality her body had: full, ripe lips; dark eyes; eyelashes
that seemed too long to be true; and a glowing dark-rose

30

complexion that added to her exotic looks. Her face was without
expression, and her arms were folded across her chest, with a pink
cardigan draped over them.

As Elizabeth turned away from Scott, the short doctor bounded forward,
his hand extended. ?Well, you must be the last of our visitors. I'm
Thomas Mainwaring-Dr. Thomas Mainwaring.?

His offer to shake hands caught Elizabeth off guard, and there was an
awkward moment before she extended her hand. ?I'm Elizabeth Shea,
doctor. How are they? How's Mr. Thorne??

?They're doing splendidly, Mrs. Shea. You can see that the other young
lady has regained consciousness. The young man has a broken arm-a rather
bad break, I'm afraid. We're doing everything we can for the other
gentleman, but there's time for that later. I want you to sit down and
let me take a look at you.?

He grasped her arm but was interrupted by the older medic, Otis Johnson,
a short, pugnacious individual with a sour look on his face. ?Dr.
Mainwaring, I think you should do something for this fellow first. That
arm of his is really busted up, and he keeps threatening to go into shock.?

Mainwaring released Elizabeth's arm and glared at the medic. Annoyance
sharpened his voice. ?Dr. Caudillo, check the young man. I'm sure that
Mrs. Farmington can keep an eye on your patient for a few moments.?

The craggy-faced doctor whirled toward the speaker, his face reddening
before he nodded abruptly. ?Let me know, Lena, if there is any change in
his heart action.?

The deputies took advantage of the sudden awkward silence to excuse
themselves. The older of the two said, ?Folks, it looks like you're in
good hands, so I think we'd better hit the road. We have a lot of calls
stacked up out there.?

He smiled at Elizabeth. ?I'm sure your friends will be all right now,
Mrs. Shea. Somebody from the office will be by in the morning to check
on you.?

As they disappeared through the swinging doors, the pugnacious medic,
Otis, rose to follow them. Dr. Mainwaring's voice stopped him in
midstride. ?Wait a minute. This isn't a

31

public emergency ward, you know. I want a written statement detailing
the circumstances that brought you to Sky-stone. We will need it for our
records.?

Otis flushed. ?Don't worry; I'll sign your paper in a minute. I just
want to talk with the deputy. Something funny-?

?Listen. You'll sit here and write that report now, or you can load
these people back into your ambulance and leave. We're doing this as a
favor to everybody concerned, and we aren't assuming any liability.?

The second medic, Chester, who was assisting the craggy-faced doctor as
he worked over Scott's arm, looked up. ?Cool it, Otis. The doctor is
right. This isn't a public hospital, after all.?

The sound of the sheriff's car backing out of the porte cochere was
barely audible in the brightly lit room. Mainwaring came to his feet and
disappeared into the hall, returning a few minutes later with a
clipboard and paper. He pushed them at the still upset Otis Johnson.

?And now, sir, if you'll jot down the names of the patients, the
circumstances under which you encountered them, and why you brought them
to Skystone, that will be all that is necessary. Both of you sign it,
and you can be on your way.?

He turned back to Elizabeth. ?Okay, my dear, if you'll sit down, I'll
check you over.?

As he hovered over her, peering into her eyes with a penlight and
checking her reflexes, the swinging doors opened and the heavyset man
that had opened the gate for them walked in. He was in his mid-twenties,
about six feet tall, and packed some two hundred and twenty pounds on
his heavy frame. He had an olive complexion and black hair. As he came
through the doors, he grinned at Dr. Mainwaring. ?Surprised, doc??

Mainwaring frowned at him. ?I want you to help Nurse Boulanger get Miss
Thorne into bed.?

He looked at the other doctor who was working over the moaning Scott.
?Dr. Caudillo, do you agree? Go ahead and put Miss Thorne to bed??

Dr. Caudillo looked up. ?She appears to be okay-a slight concussion but
she will have to be watched. She should be

32

checked regularly for the next twelve hours.?Immediately he transferred
his attention back to Scott.

Dr. Mainwaring nodded at the beefy orderly. ?Joe, go get the gurney.?

?Gurney??

?Yes, the gurney. Don't be so dense. We're going to move Miss Thorne to
a room. Place her in number eight. Nurse Boulanger will help you.?

The orderly hurried from the room, and Dr. Mainwaring, accompanied by
the young nurse, soon followed. The three of them reappeared in a few
moments and, lifting Meredith onto the gurney, rolled her through the
double doors.

When the trio returned, Dr. Caudillo was again standing over Gavin
Thorne. He looked at Mainwaring and then nodded toward Scott. Scott was
slumped in the chair, his plaster-encased arm suspended in a sling. His
eyes were closed.

?I had to shoot him up quite heavily. He's pretty much out of it, but if
you get a wheelchair, I think he can be put to bed easily enough. He
should sleep like a baby until noon.?

Nurse Boulanger and the orderly vanished again. When they reentered the
room they were pushing a wheelchair. Not until Dr. Mainwaring angrily
instructed Joe to help did they succeed in placing the half-conscious
Scott in the chair. The silver-blond nurse rolled him out through the
doors, followed by the increasingly sullen orderly.

Otis Johnson, who had been doggedly writing the accident report, slapped
the paper down onto the seat. ?Okay, here's what you want, I hope. I'm
sure the hell not writing it again.?

His brother protested, but Otis was having none of it. He looked toward
Elizabeth apologetically. ?I'm sorry, ma'am. I know I shouldn't be
carrying on like this especially with your friend so badly hurt but, by
God . . .?

Chester Johnson, hurriedly signed the paper and, grabbing his brother by
the arm, hustled him toward the door. ?Shut up, Otis, and let's get out
of here.?

He turned toward the room's occupants. ?I'm sorry about, this. Otis is a
little tired. . . It's been a hard night. It was nice of you to take
these people in, I'm sure. Good night.?

33 DOOR /

Dr. Caudillo, who had been studying them intently, said, ?Don't worry
about it. We'll take care of everything here.?

Mainwaring's voice was sharp. ?Wait a minute, gentlemen. I want you to
understand that I didn't mean to hassle you. Our insurance company
insists on this sort of thing... liability, you know.?

He turned as the orderly hurried back into the room. ?Joe, go out and
help these fellows get turned around. After you take care of them, walk
down and lock the gate. Better be safe than sorry.?

Nodding, the burly young man grinned at the two medics. ?Hey, fellows,
mind giving me a ride to the gate? It would save me a few steps.?

Chester shrugged. ?Why not??

As the three of them disappeared, the black-haired nurse, who had been
standing all this time against the back wall, sat down on a chair.

Dr. Mainwaring turned to Elizabeth with a smile. ?Okay, my dear, at last
it's your turn. Let's get you into bed.?

She rose, was dizzy for a second, and then walked out the door ahead of him.

The treatment room, which had served as an emergency ward, discharged
into a long, tenebrous hall. At the far end of the corridor, where a
large ice machine rested, Elizabeth could see a glow of fluorescent
light spilling across the passage. They passed, on the left, a massive
steel door painted a brilliant red.

?What on earth is in there??Elizabeth asked.

The doctor chuckled. ?Nothing to concern yourself about. It's the
emergency exit.?

At the end of the hall, they encountered the nurses' station. Elizabeth
realized that the building was L-shaped, with another corridor
stretching away at a right angle. The nurses' station sat in the angle
of the L. Nurse Boulanger leaned against the counter next to a small,
very pretty girl. The petite girl was younger she didn't look
eighteen-and had a lovely face that still held a bit of baby fat. Her
face was framed by masses of curly, medium brown hair. Her uniform was
not like the others. She wore a nurse's cap, but

34

her white uniform was a jumper with a pale blue blouse under it.

Dr. Mainwaring introduced her as Molly, but Elizabeth's attention was
taken by the woman sitting at a desk on which rested two heart monitors.
She was a girl who would have been noticed anywhere. Like the others,
she wore a nurse's uniform. All Elizabeth noticed at first was her face.
She had golden blond hair drawn back into a bun, with her nurse's cap
resting jauntily atop it. Her eyes were so stunning that it was hard to
notice much else. In a face that was pure Caucasian, she had the
sloe-eyed look of the Far East. Her eyes were the most incredible jade
green that Elizabeth had ever seen. They seemed incandescent, literally
glowing, with a light behind them. Elizabeth stood, transfixed. When the
girl realized how she had captured Elizabeth's attention, she laughed-a
low, feline laugh and her hands automatically went to her hair. Lazily
she came to her feet and stretched, preening before her audience.

She studied Elizabeth, then looked at the doctor. ?Well, this is the
last of the lot, eh? And where do we put this one??

Dr. Mainwaring frowned. ?This is Mrs. Shea-Elizabeth Shea. She was
fortunate enough to escape serious injury. I think room two. Is that
room free??

The girl with the incredible eyes laughed. ?Yes, Dr. Mainwaring. Luckily
that one's free.?

Her expression hardened, and she looked toward the silvery-haired nurse,
?Boulanger, why don't you help the doctor get Mrs. Shea into bed??

At the door to room 2, the doctor flipped on the light switch. She
stared in amazement. It was like no hospital room she had ever seen before.

There was a standard hospital bed, but there the resemblance stopped.
The lighting was discreet, hidden behind valances-. The room was large,
its walls wood-paneled and hung with several original if not worthwhile
oils. The same tile flooring as in the ,corridor covered the area around
the bed, but the rest of the room was richly carpeted. The furnishings
included leather chairs, a coffee table, and floor lamps. Suspended
above the foot of the bed was a color television, with impressive
speakers mounted on the walls

35

facing the bed. The bedside table, a massive, permanent console,
contained a built-in panel of television, stereo, and bed controls.

?What is this? I've never seen a hospital room like this in my life.?

The doctor smiled. ?I believe you could say that's the whole idea, Mrs.
Shea to make these appear as much like ordinary bedrooms as possible.
This is a convalescent hospital. The families of our patients are
willing to pay whatever is necessary to make their loved ones
comfortable. Sky stone's rooms are probably as luxurious as any in the
country.?

Gently he nudged her into the room. ?Nurse Boulanger will help you get
ready for bed. You'll be happy to know that we offer some choice of bed
wear here. You won't have to run around with your rear end exposed.?

To her surprise, the doctor did not leave while the tall nurse was
helping her. Instead, he sat in a chair and stared ostentatiously toward
the ceiling while the nurse helped her into a gown and then washed the
mud from her face, hands, and legs. When she was through, the doctor
rose and-herding the nurse ahead of him-said, ?I'll be back in a few
moments, Mrs. Shea.?

Stretched out on the bed, Elizabeth realized that she was more bruised
than she had thought nothing bad, but she was going to be plenty sore
come morning.

Her eyes popped open, and -she was startled to find the doctor standing
by the bed, placing a small metal tray on the console. He had entered
the room as quietly as a stalking cat.

?Now, Mrs. Shea. There doesn't seem to be much wrong with you except for
a few bumps and bruises, but we always worry a little when somebody has
lost consciousness. I'm going to give you a shot to help you sleep, and
we'll check you in the morning.?

A flicker of fear ran through her at the idea of being rendered
unconscious among strangers in this isolated, unfamiliar place. She
tried to stall him.

?But, doctor . . . uh . . .?She could not think of his name.

36

He frowned, regarding her steadily. ?Dr. Mainwaring, my dear, Dr.
Mainwaring.?

?But, doctor, how is Mr. Thorne? Does he have a chance??

He raised a small vial, slipped the syringe needle through its rubber
nipple, and -drew out its contents all before he answered her.

?I'll be honest with you, Mrs. Shea. I don't know. Now let me have your
ann.?

The sharp prick of the needle stung her. It bounced off her arm, and
then the pain hit a second time and she felt the needle sliding into her
flesh.

?Sorry,?he muttered as he pulled the needle away and dabbed at her arm
with the alcohol-soaked cotton. ?Now, you sleep well, my dear. I don't
think you have anything to worry about.?

37 4

While Elizabeth could still hear his footsteps in the corridor, the drug
rushed through her with a startling suddenness. Panicked, she reached
for the buzzer, but then felt so incredibly relaxed that she sank back
on the bed, yielding to the sensation. She lay, staring at the ceiling,
illuminated by a streak of light coming through the crack in the door.
Sleep rolled over her like a giant breaker.

Sometime later she became aware that she was lying flat on a bed that
was too hard to be hers. Startled, she opened her eyes and peered about
the unfamiliar surroundings, trying to remember where she was.

Her attempts to reason, to remember, were being overwhelmed by a
breathtaking physical awareness of herself. The sheet and light blanket
were gripping her in a tight embrace, clinging to her, pressing her
against the bed. Grunting with the effort, she raised her heavy arm,
aware of the thick air flowing around it. The muscles of her arm glided
smoothly over one another. It was incredible.

She did not want to move. Her body was so alive and pulsating. She
reveled in her enjoyment of it, not worrying that she was in a strange bed.

Unbidden, an uneasiness stirred in Elizabeth.. Something

38

about the bed triggered an awareness that she was in a hospital. As
quickly, the memory of the accident flashed into her mind. Her recall
was vivid and immediate-the wild chaos inside the Cadillac as it rolled
over and over, her body wrenching at her seat belt, her head bouncing
against the unyielding window. She thought of Scott moaning in the quiet
car and of Meredith's weight pinning her. The thought of the gravely
injured Gavin Thome came into her mind, and she thought she should
summon a nurse to find out if he was still alive.

But before she could act, something jarred against the corridor wall
outside the room. She recognized the sound as one she had heard before
in the shadow land of sleep. It was what had awakened her.

The sounds of a struggle, muffled but distinct, floated through the
partly open door. Elizabeth could hear labored breathing, and then a
female voice gasped, ?No, Shana, don't!?

Silence followed, a long, provocative silence broken suddenly by more
heavy breathing. The same female voice begged, ?Shana, don't! It ain't
natural.?

There was another outbreak of scuffling and a heavy thud against the
wall that made the picture frames rattle. The voice sounded surprised,
?Oh!?and then alarmed: ?Please, Shana, you're going to tear my uniform.
Stop!?

It was quiet again until the voice moaned, ?You're hurting me.?

Another female voice, harsher, commanded, ?Kiss me again.?

This time the silence lasted longer, dissolving into another struggle,
but shorter this time. The scuffing feet moved away from the wall.

The softer voice pleaded, ?No . . . no. Where are you taking me? Shana,
let me go! No. What are you doing to me??

She heard a door opening, and abruptly the footsteps ceased. It was
quiet again.

Elizabeth pushed herself upright in bed. She wondered if her mind could
be playing tricks on her. Could what she heard have been Meredith
begging for help?

The effort to think exhausted her, and she fell heavily onto

39

her back. Why did Meredith sound so different? It had to be some quirk
of Elizabeth's mind . . some confusion caused by the accident.

She raised herself again. The room spun slowly before her eyes, and she
found it hard to tell where the light-outlined door was. Carefully she
swung her legs over the side of the bed and held on grimly as it rocked
under her. Gradually it steadied.

She gasped in surprise. She was huge. Her head was an immense distance
from her hips. She felt powerful, able to grapple with whatever
threatened Meredith.

Sliding forward, Elizabeth lowered her feet to the floor. The agony of
the frigid tiles shot through her legs. Taking a step forward, she
struggled to maintain her equilibrium. Her head, tremendously heavy, was
pitching forward, while her feet, feather light, threatened to float
upward. As she floundered about, trying to keep her feet on the ground,
the bed crashed into the back of her legs and she tumbled backwards onto it.

The room tilted, swaying gently for several moments. Again, Elizabeth
stood, more cautious now, and carefully extended a foot.- Gingerly, she
tested her balance before she dared move again. She took two reeling
steps and staggered into the wall, almost falling. Her knees buckled,
and she grabbed the door frame. For long moments she clung to it in
desperation, but all at once she felt perfectly all right. She laughed
aloud.

Elizabeth thought of returning to bed. She remembered Meredith that
somewhere in the quiet hall Meredith was struggling with some enemy.

The corridor was dimly lit. Cautiously she leaned through the doorway to
examine the passage. To her left, it was lined with doors on both sides
and was lighted by small illuminated glass panels located along the
baseboards. Light showed from a single open doorway across the hall.

Turning, Elizabeth glanced toward the nurses' station. The harsh
fluorescent lights revealed an empty corridor, but as she watched, they
dimmed. The hall began filling with mist, a mist that grew ever thicker,
threatening to render her sightless. She slipped slowly to her knees,
gripping the door

40

frame with all her strength. Closing her eyes, she huddled there for
several minutes. When she risked opening them again,' the mist was
clearing and the nurses' station was emerging like a developing photograph.

She pushed herself upright. Immediately the hall began to rock, a slow,
sickening swing, and she clung to the door frame until the floor
steadied. While she stood there, trying to understand what was happening
to her, a soft breeze was gently stroking her face and molding her gown
to the curves of her body. The nipples of her breasts hardened under the
silky caress of the fabric. Embarrassed, she looked toward the nurses'
station to see if anyone' was watching. The corridor was still empty.

Her hearing was terribly acute, and she could hear the sound of the air
rushing through the vents in a never-ending whisper. Another noise, more
human, floated clown the empty passageway. A long-held moan, a living
thread of sound, stretched long and thin as it trailed past her ears.

Sighs, breathy and thrilling, followed . . . dark, misty streamers
flowing from the half-closed door of that one lighted room across the
corridor.

Elizabeth stepped into the hallway, lifting her arms to balance herself.
She knew it was unnecessary ... that she could lift her feet and float
wherever she wanted, like a white puffball sailing on the wind. She was
so delighted with herself that she barely stopped in time to avoid
crashing into the wall.

She stared, bewildered. There was the door in front of her, but it was
closed. There was no light around it, and the smoky streamers of soft
sounds were not coming from behind its wooden barrier.

A feeling of betrayal overwhelmed her. Tears slid down her cheeks, huge
and wet, leaving great sticky tracks. She wanted to turn away, to seek
her mother's arms, but then she felt herself vibrating like a tuning
fork to a sustained, rising keening.

Looking about, she saw the lighted room again, trying to skip away down
the hall. Determined not to let it escape her, she staggered after it,
her hands clutching at the wall to hold it back. Then she was at the
door, and the lighted room was

41 DOOR /

alive with noises. Metal cried in shrill protest; fabric rustled with a
dry, powdery sound; and the air was filled with gasps and cries and
whimpers.

For a moment the room was a kaleidoscope of convulsing shapes and
colors, painful against her eyes. She closed them to shut out the sight,
and when she reopened them, the scene was steadying. Abruptly it
sharpened into crystal-clear focus.

She crept forward until she could see the whole room. The only light was
from a small fixture attached to the head of the bed, but it was quite
enough. The floor before her was strewn with clothing and lingerie.
Sprawled on the bed, naked, was Molly, the pretty young brown-haired
girl she had seen earlier at the nurses' station. Leaning over her,
supported by one hip on the edge of the bed, was the nurse with the
disturbing eyes, Shana. She was also nude.

She was kissing the prone girl. One hand clutched the smaller girl
behind the neck, and the other, its painted nails like bright drops of
blood, traced its way over the white flesh of the girl's thigh, molded
her hip, and slithered over the smooth, faintly rounded stomach. The
hand slid and shaped, teased and caressed-the sound, to Elizabeth's
terribly sensitive ears, a silken susurrus.

Their lips would part with a wet sound that exploded through Elizabeth's
head and then the blond's mouth would fasten again on the tender lips
with a devouring hunger. Molly seized the probing hand which kneaded and
stroked her soft flesh, staying its course a moment until her fingers
appeared to weaken, freeing the pillaging intruder to continue its
search, then she stiffened as the stroking, seeking hand found what it
sought. Molly tried to strike Shade's face, but her hand was knocked
away, falling limply beside her own hip.

Elizabeth, with her hawk's vision, saw the two mouths come apart, the
moist pink lips barely touching, while Shade's tongue, like a swollen,
angry serpent, struck time and time again through the open lips that
were clinging in mute surrender. Suddenly, she shifted her position, and
she hungrily sucked Molly' s breasts. Her hand was moving rhythmically
now. One of the younger girl's arms lay like a

42

rag doll's across Shade's back and the other by her own side, both hands
clenching and unclenching spasmodically.

Molly' s mouth was open, and her tongue licked at her lips. She was
shaking her head slowly from side to side, as if to deny the body that
was betraying her. She was beginning to pant, her breathing broken only
by soft wails of pleasure.

Her knees weak, Elizabeth clutched at the door frame. She could feel
what the girl on the bed was feeling, and her own loins were afire.

With a swift movement, Shana turned on the bed, settling between the
slack legs of her conquest. She fell atop her aroused prey in a frenzied
assault, her mouth devouring the pulpy red lips beneath her own, her
hands clasping the yielding white flesh on which she was feeding.

Elizabeth was bewildered by the sudden shift of scene. She remembered.
The Lansford gardener was atop the girl, his hard, muscled body driving
into her, using her and she was letting him. An intense sweetness shot
through Elizabeth. She was unable to look away, helpless to move, as
unaware as the two women writhing on the bed that a toneless wailing was
issuing from her throat.

The image before her eyes altered, changing shape and color until she
could see the blond's golden skin rippling over her muscular back and
firm buttocks as she rocked in ever faster thrusts against the soft
flesh imprisoned beneath her. Abruptly Molly pulled her mouth free and
buried her lips in the neck of her ravisher. Her arms flashed around the
straining body atop her, trying to draw Shana closer still, and she
cried out in her pleasure as the two bodies twisted in the final
uncontrollable spasm.

In her heated confusion, Elizabeth clutched at herself, trying to slake
her own desires. She stumbled out into the hall, desperate to get over
the edge. An ear-bursting shout thundered through the corridor. ?My God!
Mrs. Shea, what are you doing out of bed??

A dark-haired woman in a nurse's uniform and pink cardigan was running
toward her. It was the woman who had stood, silent, earlier in the
treatment room. Elizabeth tried to

43

escape from her, still concerned only with getting her hand under her gown.

The woman seized her in her strong arms. ?There, there, dear. It's Mrs.
Eddy. I'm here to help you. What are you doing out here??

She looked at Elizabeth, who was sobbing in her unrelieved excitement,
her eyes dull and unfocused. The nurse laughed. ?You don't even know
where you are. Let me put you back to bed.?

She tried to resist, but she was like a child in the woman's grasp. It
was all very confusing for a moment, but then she was back in her bed
with the covers over her and the room dark save for the sliver of light
from the door left ajar.

She yanked at the hem of her gown, desperate for fulfillment, and as she
did, the room brightened and she was in her bedroom in California. Jack
was at her, like a crazed stallion, and she was almost there. But the
glow began to fade, and she heard herself calling to him, ?No, please,
please! Don't stop now.?

It was dark again, and she was lying there, miserable, ashamed of where
she had her hand. She jerked it away, rolled over onto her side, and cried.

The tears passed quickly, and a dark warmth crept insidiously through
her body. She fought it for a second, then gave in and slipped beneath
the surface.

44 5

S

omewhere in the distance Elizabeth could hear voices. She opened her
eyes to a darkness marred only by the narrow vertical bar of light
beyond her shoulder. Puzzlement quickened to fear before she remembered
that she was in the hospital, lying in bed with a sheet tangled around
her body. She was sweaty and had a pounding headache.

She heard the voices again, closer and quite distinct, and tried to
raise up on one elbow. She was not dizzy, but her limbs felt leaden. The
approaching footsteps halted right outside her door. One of the voices
stirred vague memories of the wreck. Its owner was trying to speak
softly, but she could hear every word.

?Doctor, I want to thank you for seeing me. I'm sorry that you had to
walk all the way down to the gate, but it couldn't wait until morning. I
thought you had an automatic system on your gate. Our responsible sheet
at the office shows that you do.?

She recognized the second voice, more jovial and louder, as that of Dr.
Mainwaring. ?Oh, we do, but the darned thing went out yesterday morning.
Wouldn't you know it! Normally that gate is only opened a couple of
times a week to let

45 DOOR /

supply trucks pass, and here we have needed it several times tonight.
Now, why do you think we can help you with your missing ambulance,
Sergeant Kendall??

?Maybe we should go to the office to talk, sir. God knows, I wouldn't
want to disturb your patients.?

The doctor laughed loudly. ?No problems there, officer. At Skystone the
rooms are soundproof. After all, it's expected at our level of
operation. But if it will make you more comfortable, let's step into the
visitors' lounge.?

When the doctor spoke again, his voice was almost as loud as it had been
in the hall. She decided the lounge must be directly across from her room.

?Now, Sergeant, about the ambulance.?

?Well, after it left here, it flat-out disappeared. As a matter of fact,
the county dispatcher never received a ten-eight from them. That's a
radio designation that indicates they're back in service and ready to
receive calls. It should have been sent within a minute or so after they
walked out of your emergency room. It's been a busy night. The phone has
been ringing off the hook all night . . . flooded roads that need
barricades, calls for the fire department to pump out basements,
fender-benders. The county doesn't have the resources to handle this
sort of thing. The dispatcher was running so far behind on calls, it was
over an hour after the ambulance left Skystone before she realized she
had not heard from them. To tell you the honest-to-God's truth, I don't
know when she would have noticed if we hadn't had another accident call.
We spent about thirty minutes trying to contact them, and then put out
an APB. So far, none of our units or any other police agency has spotted
them.?

?Ah, that's why you wanted us to run a bed check. You're wondering if
perhaps one of our more active guests might have commandeered your
ambulance.?

There was a brief pause before the sergeant replied. ?Well, with all due
respect, Dr. Mainwaring, we have to check every possibility.?

?Here's the night supervisor, Mrs. Eddy. She must have finished the bed
check.?

Elizabeth recognized the voice as that of the nurse who had discovered
her in the corridor. ?Doctor, all the patients

46

are accounted for, although I'm afraid we may have brought a bit of work
on ourselves. Two or three of the old dears have managed to upset
themselves at being awakened.?

She laughed, and Mainwaring joined her. ?Well, after all, nurse, the
day-shift people claim that you night folks have it too easy anyway.?

?By the way, doctor, I woke the orderly that let the ambulance out the
gate. I assumed the sergeant would want to talk to him.?

?Thank you, ma'am,?the sergeant said. ?That's very thoughtful of you.?

Elizabeth heard the nurse's footsteps fading away in the corridor. She
had been so intent on the conversation that her headache was forgotten.
The doctor started to chatter to pass the time, but the sergeant
interrupted him.

?How is the badly injured man, Mr. Thorne??

?Sergeant, to be honest with you, he's not going to make it. It's a
matter of time-a day or two, at most. Maybe any moment. That's why we're
shorthanded tonight, why I'm staying up all night, and why you don't see
our usual staff. We've set up an intensive-care unit for him. A nurse
will remain by his bedside all night.?

?Hmmm. I wondered why I didn't see your Cardiac monitors going at the
nurses' station. Perhaps, doctor, we can consider moving him tomorrow.?

?I certainly wouldn't recommend it. The expense would be enormous and
needless. Mr. Thorne has irreversible brain damage. If he were
surrounded at this moment by the finest neurosurgeon s in the United
States, it would do him no good. Believe me, I know. Of course, when
Miss Thorne is capable of making a decision, it's her say, but until
then we won't release him because we don't think it's wise.?

?How about the others? Any problems there??

?Well, a physician hates to venture an opinion this early after a
trauma, but I rather think not. Miss Thorne caught a terrific wallop on
the head. There's no question she has a moderate concussion, but if
there are no complications, she should be ready for discharge in four or
five days. The young man, Mr. Sutherlin, has a badly fractured bone in
his left arm, but Dr. Caudillo is an excellent man at that sort of

47

thing. We have quite a bit of experience with broken bones here, as you
might imagine. He's healthy, and he's young. I foresee no problems just
time.?

?How about the other girl, doctor? Elizabeth Shea? She didn't look as if
she was hurt beyond being a little shaken up.?

?Darn it, what's keeping that orderly? Oh . . . Elizabeth Shea? They are
the tricky ones, Sergeant. The medical profession used to release people
like her after a cursory examination. On occasion-rare, I'll grant-the
patient would drop dead in a day or two with a massive hematoma. After
all, the girl has no idea how long she was unconscious. I'm going to
recommend we keep ha for observation at least seventy-two hours. If
there is a problem, it should show up by then. Oh, I hear the orderly
coming.?

Elizabeth also heard the slow, heavy tread approaching the door.

The heavily accented voice complained, ?Jesus Christ, man, I'm dead on
my feet. I need sleep. What do you want now??

?I'm sorry to have to awaken you, but the officer here has a problem.?

?You mean that stupid ambulance? The nurse said something about it. It
didn't make any sense. Why did you wake me up??

Dr. Mainwaring sounded as if he was getting a bit annoyed with his
sleepy employee. ?Joe, their ambulance is missing. According to the
sergeant, they have had no contact with it since it left Skystone. This
is a serious concern to these people. I told the deputy he has our full
cooperation. I know you would want to lend him every assistance
possible. Isn't that right??

Elizabeth heard a noncommittal ?Yeah?that was more a grunt than a word.

?May I have your name for my report??asked the deputy. ?Hey, why have
you gotta have my name??

Mainwaring's voice was sharp. ?Give him your name, Joe.?

?Okay, okay. My name's Joe Rogers. . . . Satisfied??

Cobb Kendall choked back a retort. He wanted to ask

48

Mainwaring why a snooty place like this had such a sullen bastard
working for it. It was the thought of Mainwaring's complaining to
Sheriff Toby Mears or Judge Lynch that stopped him. Instead, his voice
became monotonic, devoid of nuances.

?Mr. Rogers, the doctor has told you why we wanted to see you. It seems
you're the last known person to see our ambulance.?

?Well, what does that make me, copper??

Mainwaring's voice developed a distinct chill. ?Mr. Rogers, I would
suggest that you adopt a more reasonable tone. I told you Skystone
intends to cooperate with the local authorities in every way we can.?

hi the lounge, the orderly assumed a smile that was more sickly than
acceptable. ?I'm sorry, sir. Guess I'm tired-didn't get a lot of sleep
last night, either. What can I tell you??

Cobb opened his notebook. ?The ambulance left here at about twelve
forty-five-right??

Rogers smiled again. It was a better effort, if not totally convincing.
?Why, I couldn't rightly say. I know it was long enough before one
o'clock for me to get back inside by then.?

Cobb nodded. ?You went outside to assist them backing out of the porte
cochere and then followed them down the drive to take care of the gate.
Is that correct??

?Yes, sir. It's what Dr. Mainwaring told me to do, and I did it.?

?I don't suppose they mentioned what they intended to do??

The heavyset Rogers shook his head. ?No. The one guy was a real sour
head. He started acting pissed while he was still inside. He wouldn't
say a word to me. The other guy talked on the way down to the gate.?

Cobb looked up in surprise. ?Down to the gate? You rode down to the gate
with them??

?Yeah. I asked them for a ride. I didn't see any reason to

take a two-way hike on a wet night when I didn't have to.??Did they use
the radio while you were with them??

He shook his head again. ?No. The one fellow-the

49

pleasant one-talked with me the whole time. He- was asking about
Skystone. That sullen bastard driving the ambulance didn't say a word.?

Cobb drummed his pen against the notebook. ?Hnumn. I guess that explains
why we didn't get an immediate ten-eight from them, bur-he was lost for
a moment in thought-?why didn't we get the ten-eight after they reached
the road? Say . . . did you notice which way they turned??

The heavyset man stared at Cobb as if he had not heard the question, and
Cobb repeated it. Rogers shot a look at Mainwaring before facing the
sergeant again. ?Why . . . by God, I'm not sure. I think it was .. .
yeah . . . he turned left.?

Comb's voice was incredulous. ?Left! But five more miles in that
direction would have taken them out of the county.?

Mainwaring intruded. ?Joe, you told me they turned right. Don't you
remember??

The orderly nodded, staring at the doctor. ?Uh . yeah. By God, that's
true. It was right. I'm sorry, officer. They turned right.?

Cobb was puzzled. ?Dr. Mainwaring, I don't understand. Why were you and
Mr. Rogers talking about which way the ambulance turned??

Mainwaring chuckled. ?No big deal. It's just that when he came back into
the treatment room last night, he mentioned it. I believe Joe's exact
words were, 'Man, that son of a bitch drives like a maniac. He did a
sharp right onto the highway and. took off like a' . . . I believe his
rather eloquent phrase was 'a scalded jackrabbit.?'

He peered at the orderly. ?Am I right, Mr. Rogers??

The man grinned. ?By God, you're a wonder, doc.?

Cobb closed his notebook. ?Huh! That doesn't quite sound like the
Johnson boys. Well, thank you, Mr. Rogers. If I need to talk to you
again, I know where to find you.?

The man's heavy shoulders sagged. He nodded, gave Mainwaring a last
look, and shuffled from the room.

Cobb waited until the footsteps had faded away before saying, ?Mr.
Rogers is not quite the type I would picture working here, doctor.?

?How right you are, Sergeant, but I don't hire them and I

50

don't fire them. I'm one of the lackeys here myself. But I will tell you
this. It would really amaze you to see how gentle that man can be with
the elderly. Now, it's rather late. Is there anything else I can do for
you??

Cobb Kendall was not going anywhere for a moment. ?Dr. Mainwaring, just
how effective is your security system . . . considering the difficulties
you're having with your front gate??

?As I'm sure you know, we have extensive grounds here. There is a
twelve-feet-high stone wall running the length of the front footage and
a ten-feet electrified fence enclosing the rest of the estate perimeter.
They say you would have to dig down four feet to get under the thing.
It's like everything else around here-first-class.

?The yardman has a trail bike and responds to any alarms. There must be
two or three a month. Usually it's a large bird or something like that
which has enough bulk to disrupt the circuit, setting off the alarms. To
answer your question, the gate is normally opened by remote control from
a panel in the office. Codes are punched in both to release the gate and
to deactivate the horn alarms. If the control malfunctions, there is an
override that allows the gate to be opened manually. The silent alarms
operate anytime the gates are open and can't be deactivated.

?The silent alarms, large red globes, flash at the nurses' stations. We
use a visual device because it does not disturb the patients, and of
course nurses are always on duty in those areas. There are two horn
alarms, one in the business office and one in the yardman's quarters. At
Skystone, what's in stays in and what's out stays out. Why your sudden
interest in our security system, Sergeant??

?Oh, I was wondering if someone could have commandeered the ambulance
and then sneaked back in later.?

Mainwaring laughed. ?I can promise you that would have been absolutely
impossible. I'll guarantee it.?

As the men moved into the hall, Cobb said, ?This is shaping up to be
quite a puzzle. There must be a rational explanation, but it has me
stumped. I want to thank you for your time. We'll be over about nine
o'clock in the morning to take statements from the accident victims.?

51 DOOR / SI

They moved out of Elizabeth's hearing. Her head had grown so heavy while
she listened, propped on one arm, that she could no longer support it.
She sank down on the pillow to rest a moment.

Elizabeth lolled like a limp doll under the vigorous shaking. Forcing
her eyes open, she found' the exotic face of Mrs. Eddy hovering above
her. There was enough outside light from the window that she could make
out the woman's features.-

?Wake up, Mrs. Shea. Wake up. Dr. Caudillo is coming in to look you
over. He's been busy all night with Mr. Thome.?

Elizabeth struggled to a sitting position. ?Oh, my God, how is he? Is he
okay??

Before the nurse could answer, the door swung open to reveal Caudillos
craggy face. Behind him, for a split second, the sloe-eyed blond nurse
was visible, peering into the room. When the doctor came close, she
could see that his face was gaunt and strained.

?Well, Mrs. Shea,?he said. ?Did you sleep well? How do you feel??

?Doctor, how is he? How is Mr. Thome??

The doctor looked at her gravely. ?I understand he was your employer,
Mrs. Shea. Is that right??

She nodded, straining toward the word was.

When he spoke again, his voice was low, as if he intended it for her
alone. ?I'm afraid that Mr. Thorne is dead.?

He glanced at his watch. ?He passed away about thirty-five minutes ago.
Nothing could have saved him, even if he had been in the finest
neurosurgical center in the country. I want his daughter and the rest of
you to understand that he never had a chance. Now . . . how about you??

Elizabeth sank back on the pillow, fighting against crying. She was in
the best physical condition of the three of them to do what had to be
done. She looked up at the doctor, who was viewing her with some concern
as the silent tears escaped, tracing tear tracks down her cheeks.

?Excuse me, doctor. I don't know why I'm crying this way. I didn't know
Gavin Thorne all that well. It's just that, somehow, this doesn't seem
the right place for him to have died.?

52

The doctor patted her hand. ?But you, Mrs. Shea. How are you??

She told him about waking during the night and the odd tricks that her
mind had played on her-her sight, her hearing, her sense of smell, and
her distorted sense of dimension. She made no mention, though, of what
she had seen across the hall.

?You were out of bed??he interrupted. ?And in that condition??

?Yes. I went out . . .?

He interrupted her, turning to the nurse, demanding in a harsh voice,
?What was it??

She shrugged. ?Ask Mainwaring.?

53 6

H

e wheeled about without another word and left the room. The nurse seemed
uncertain about whether to follow him. She shrugged and reached for
Elizabeth's wrist. Dr. Caudillo returned as the nurse finished taking
her pulse.

Using a small penlight, he peered into Elizabeth's eyes, tersely
commanding her to look in first one direction and then another. Then he
had her move her neck and arms while he scrutinized her carefully.
Satisfied, he straightened up.

?Mrs. Shea, here is a tranquilizer. It should be sufficient to make you
quite relaxed. I want you to stay in this room -in bed all day. Your
problem last evening was that you were hallucinating. It's a normal
reaction to the drug you were given.?

?But, doctor, I know what happened. It was strange. I heard them
talking, so I followed them, and-?

His voice was harsh. ?Mrs. Shea, I'm busy. I have no time to listen to
your drug-induced fantasies. I would certainly advise you to keep them
to yourself because that's all they are-hallucinations.?

He left the room before she could protest further. Elizabeth looked
after him in bewilderment. Tears trickled from

54

her eyes. She wondered why she was bursting into tears with each slight
provocation; it was totally unlike her.

Mrs. Eddy sat down on the bed and took Elizabeth's hand between hers,
patting it. ?Now, now, Mrs. Shea, there's no point in upsetting
yourself. The doctor doesn't mean to be gruff. He's busy . . . he's been
up all night because of the accident. I want you to tell me what you
think you saw.?

Elizabeth protested, ?It isn't what I think I saw . . . it's what
happened. My senses may be all screwed up, but I know what I saw.?

The nurse plucked a Kleenex from the table and wiped Elizabeth's eyes as
she would a child's: ?Okay, tell me what you did see.?

?But I shouldn't. I . . . I don't want to get anyone in trouble. It's
just that they . . . they shouldn't do that here?

The woman chuckled. ?My dear, you're making quite a mystery of this. Go
ahead and tell me.?

A reluctant Elizabeth, her voice little more than a whisper, related
what she had seen and heard during the night, beginning with the
struggle in the hall and ending with her last glimpse of the entangled
bodies of the lovers. By the time she finished, the smile had vanished
from Mrs. Eddy's face and she was looking at Elizabeth very thoughtfully.

?I'm afraid Dr. Caudillo is right. It was a hallucination, pure and
simple. If you think about it, you will realize how absurd your story
is. After all, things like that couldn't go on in a hospital without
people being aware of it.?

?But I heard Dr. Mainwaring say the rooms are soundproof.?

The .nurse smiled again. ?That's very true, but you said yourself the
two doors were open. Besides, both nurses were on duty with me during
the night. Don't you think I would have missed them? One or the other
was in view almost constantly.?

A stubborn note invaded Elizabeth's voice. ?But I know what I saw. It
happened just as I told you.?

Mrs. Eddy slipped off the bed. ?Mrs. Shea, we might as well settle this,
embarrassing though it is. be back in a few minutes.?

Five minutes passed before the supervisor stepped back

55 THE DOOR / SS

into the _room. Elizabeth's eyes widened in disbelief. The two lovers,
clad in their nurses' uniforms, trailed behind their superior. Her face
flaming with embarrassment, Elizabeth flung herself around so that she
faced the window, refusing to acknowledge them.

?Mrs. Shea, look at me!?

She wanted to crawl under the mattress and die.

?Mrs. Shea, I'm asking you to look at these young ladies face-to-face.
You have made accusations against them that are quite serious that could
terminate their careers. The least you can do is face them and repeat
your charges. The woman's grip on her arm was strong. Reluctantly, she
turned toward the waiting nurses.

The two girls were a study in contrast. The younger, shorter girl was as
red and confused as Elizabeth, looking down at the floor. The blond, the
one with the unearthly jade eyes, was staring straight at Elizabeth, at
ease and amused.

. Mrs. Eddy's voice was unrelenting. ?Mrs. Shea, this is Shana-Shana
Covington.?

The exotic blond jerked her head around, staring at the supervisor in
surprise.

Mrs. Eddy ignored her and nodded toward the younger girl. ?This pretty
young lady, our student nurse, is Molly Hitcher. Girls, Mrs. Shea was
wandering about in the corridor last night, and she says she observed,
you committing a homosexual act.?

The supervising nurse was eyeing the younger nurse as she spoke. Molly
again blushed furiously and stared at her feet, nervously interlacing
her hands. Mrs. Eddy smiled. ?Look at Molly. She's a good Southern
Baptist girl. I'm not sure she knows what I mean. Molly, were you loving
and kissing Shana last night??

Molly shot a quick look at her questioner. ?No, ma'am. That's a terrible
thing to say.?

The supervisor turned to the grinning Shana. ?And, Shana, how about you?
What's your answer??

?I would suggest that Mrs. Shea talk to my boyfriend the next time he's
here if she has any doubts.?

The head nurse faced Elizabeth. ?Well? You heard the

56

girls deny your charges. I assure you there was probably no interval
longer than three or four minutes all night long when one or the other
of them was out of my sight. I hate to mention this, but you force me
to. Quite frankly, you were rubbing your pubic area through your gown
when I found you in the hall. That could explain the erotic nature of
your hallucination.?

She turned to the two young women, now listening avidly. ?Very well,
ladies, get back to your stations. That will be all.?

The nurses filed solemnly from the room.

Elizabeth lay with her eyes closed, her lips trembling, dying with shame
at the knowledge that the woman had seen what she was doing.

The supervisor gripped her shoulder. ?Mrs. Shea-Elizabeth-I'm not trying
to embarrass you. Hospital employees have to be above suspicion: We must
make a patient understand when she is confusing reality with
hallucination. We cannot allow innocent women to be maligned. If, for
example, you were to mention this to the police when they come to see
you, it would be painful to two innocent girls and end up making you
look like a fool, or worse. Now, let's take your Valium and let you rest
for a while.?

Despite the Valium, Elizabeth could not go to sleep. She lay, deeply
relaxed, lids heavy, but still awake, watching the curtains brighten as
the sun angle slowly changed.

She remembered that she had not yet been fed and reached lazily for the
call button. As she was about to press it, the door swung open and the
sloe-eyed Shana slipped into the room, carrying a breakfast tray.

?I was about to buzz. I wondered when breakfast was going to be served.?

Without bothering to acknowledge the greeting, Shana yanked up the
folding table leaf on the console and slammed down the tray.

Elizabeth's anticipation of a breakfast in keeping with her luxurious
room vanished in a twinkling. The tray held a bowl of cornflakes, burnt
toast, and a carton of milk. She looked at Shana in bewilderment.

57 DOOR /

?Is this it? This isn't much of a breakfast, and besides, I don't like
cold cereal.?

The nurse's face flushed with anger, but as quickly her features
relaxed. ?I'm sorry, but everything is going wrong. There is no gas
pressure in the lines. We're having to serve everyone a cold breakfast
this morning, and everyone's griping, just like you.?

?I didn't mean to. gripe. It's just that I figured Skystone would serve
elaborate meals. I'm a little woozy from the Valium. Would you mind
moving the table over me and cranking the bed up??

The girl snapped the leaf on its pivot to where it was across the bed,
but her face darkened again. ?I ought to let you fix your own damned
bed, princess,?she snarled. ?Maybe you wouldn't have so much time to be
shooting your mouth off.?

Shana placed a long, red-tipped finger on one of a row of buttons built
into the side of the bed console, and with a low hum, the upper part of
the bed rose. She released the button and stepped back before it was
high enough for Elizabeth to sit up comfortably. She favored Elizabeth
with an indecipherable look.

?There, you know how to adjust your bed now. Enjoy your breakfast.?She
marched out of the room.

Feeling a bit better after the food, Elizabeth decided to explore the
other mysteries of the bedside console. In the first drawer she found a
folded sheet of heavy cardboard. It was the week's menu for the
hospital. It took but a moment's browsing to make her regret the kitchen
difficulties.

As she read, the menu kept falling across her face, and she laughed
lazily. The effects of the Valium were not gone, after all. She started
to replace the menu and blushed.

Standing in the doorway, observing her, were two men. One was short with
sparse gray hair and a face like an owl: flat and round, with big eyes,
and the strangest little beak of a nose she had ever seen. His tiny
mouth was stretched in a grin.

Behind him was a taller man dressed in a deputy's uniform and a western
hat. He was a bit over six feet tall and in his mid-thirties. His dark
brown hair was cut unfashionably

58

short. He had an intelligent face with regular features. Despite his
smile, she could sense an intensity in the way he held himself.

The older man removed his pearl-gray hat and advanced into the room.
?Mrs. Shea, I'm the local sheriff, Toby Mears, and this is Sergeant Cobb
Kendall. He serves as county detective when we need one.?

The tall, intense man nodded, and when he spoke, she recognized him as
the policeman who had talked to the doctor during the night about the
missing ambulance. He had also been in charge at the crash scene.

The sheriff crossed to the bed and extended his hand.

Elizabeth was embarrassed. Her coordination was so bad that she grabbed
his thumb and then walked her fingers across his palm until she could
grasp his entire hand. She wondered what he must think of her.

He laughed. ?I'd say you are feeling no pain, young lady. I'm sorry to
hear about-Mr. Thorne. I'm sure all was done for him that could be done.
As a matter of fact, the Skystone people went out of their way to try to
help him. Usually they don't allow outsiders on their grounds.

?If you don't mind, I'd like to ask a few questions about you folks . .
. Mr. Thorne's next of kin, and things like that.?

Elizabeth nodded, trying to shake off the effects of the drug. ?I know.
I'll try to help all I can, Sheriff. His daughter Meredith and Scott
Sutherlin were injured worse than I was.?

?Don't you worry about them, Mrs. Shea. As a matter of fact, when I
talked to the doctor, he said Miss Thorne was much better this morning.
At first they thought she had a severe head injury, but they have
decided it was probably psychological shock as much as anything what
they call disassociation. She does have quite a bump on her head. And
the gentleman, Mr. Sutherlin-he's as big as a mule and twice as strong.
He's hurt, all right, but they may have to tie him to the bed to keep
him in it. Now, don't you worry about your friends.

?By the way, Mrs. Shea, when Mr. Sutherlin was brought in, he was
carrying a weapon in a shoulder holster. In his wallet there was a
permit for it issued in Cook County, Illinois.

59

Do you know why he would be carrying a concealed firearm??

Elizabeth sensed that she needed to be as exact as possible with her
answer. ?Scott-Mr. Sutherlin was Mr. Thorne's personal assistant ... I
suppose you might say, in some instances, his bodyguard. Normally he
didn't carry a gun, but Mr. Thorne was extraordinarily afraid of his
daughter being kidnapped. I don't know the story, but something happened
in his own family when he was quite young. Oftentimes he had Scott arm
himself when he accompanied Meredith, even on shopping trips. Many
times, on trips, Mr. Thorne carried a good deal of expensive jewelry,
and he insisted that Scott carry a weapon then.?

She looked up expectantly at the sheriff.

He nodded. ?Don't you worry none, young lady, but we are going to take
that gun into town and hold it until Mr. Sutherlin is ready to leave the
county. Unfortunately, we can't honor a county license from Illinois.?

Then he started asking her about the accident. As he plied her with
questions, the younger man took notes in his notebook. When the sheriff
asked her if she had been watching the road prior to the wreck and she
said no, he glanced at the sergeant. The younger man shrugged.

When the sheriff finished, he nodded. ?Okay, young lady. Just one thing
. . . Before you leave the county, I want you to drop by the office and
sign your statement. Okay??

Elizabeth nodded, and he turned toward the sergeant. ?Well, Cobb, do you
have any more questions??

Approaching the bed, the younger man smiled. The intensity she sensed in
him earlier had vanished. The smile grew warmer as Cobb Kendall slipped
on one of his interrogation faces. ?I'd like to call you Elizabeth, if
you don't mind.?

She nodded wordlessly.

?Elizabeth, we seem to have lost, misplaced, or thrown away the
ambulance that brought your friends here last night. I don't suppose you
know anything that might help us, do you??

Before she could stop herself, she said, ?You can call me Liz.?

He favored her with an even broader smile.

60

There was little she could tell him. She related what she remembered of
the hectic hour after they arrived at Sky-stone The sheriff looked
rather uninterested, but the sergeant listened gravely as she described
how upset the medic had become when Dr. Mainwaring insisted that he
write a summary of the incident.

When she finished, the younger man gave her a long, searching look and
frowned. Elizabeth was flabbergasted at the change in him. His face had
that tense, determined look once more. There was no warmth or
obsequiousness in the manner in which he addressed his superior.

?Okay, Toby, that's all the questions I have. I need to go find an
ambulance.?

The sheriff clapped him on the back and winked at Elizabeth. ?I've got a
real bloodhound here, Mrs. Shea, a real bloodhound.?

He tipped his hat to her as he disappeared into the corridor.

Elizabeth's lassitude vanished with the interview, and soon she was
sitting up in bed, increasingly restless. One feature of luxury
convalescent hospitals was most disconcerting-the incredible silence.
She had not been a patient in a hospital since she was sixteen, but she
remembered the hustle and bustle, the voices, the clatter of equipment

noises that lasted far into the night and made it difficult to sleep.
She was tempted to sneak out and try to find Meredith's room, but the
thought of another encounter with the formidable Mrs. Eddy deterred her.

She had never been much of a television viewer, but restlessness drove
her to explore the TV controls. Dr. Mainwaring appeared as she was
trying to figure them out.

61 7

((y T yell, I know it.?

Louise raised her head, squinting at Elizabeth. ?Huh??

Elizabeth blushed. ?That was strange. I thought I heard someone say I
was fourteen. It was like they were talking in my head.?

?Honestly, Liz, if you had brain one you . . . sssh!. Did you hear that?
I think someone is in the cabanas. Come on!?

Louise scrambled to her feet. Elizabeth, uncertain whether her friend
had actually heard something, hesitantly followed the redhead as they
tiptoed over the tiles around the Lansford pool, tiles reflecting the
fierce August heat. Louise first stopped outside the men's and then the
women's cabana and put her ear to the doors. They heard nothing.

Elizabeth was about to protest the game they were playing when the sound
of a woman giggling filtered through the heavy door. The confirmation of
Louise's suspicions caused Elizabeth a moment of fear, and she reached
for Louise's arm to pull her back. She was too late.

Louise stepped into the room, followed by Elizabeth. In the dim light,
they saw a man and a woman-the woman with her skirt up around her waist
and the man nude lying

62

,on a low bench, making love. The woman, one of the Lansford' maids,
became aware of their presence at the same moment Louise shouted, ?Theresa!?

With a twist of her supple body, the woman sent her lover crashing to
the floor. She came upright in one fluid move and ran past the girls.

Louise whirled to confront the man, whom she recognized as a transient
hired two weeks earlier as an assistant gardener. As he came to his
feet, Elizabeth saw that he was still aroused, his organ glistening in
the reflected light from the pool.

Louise yelled, ?How dare you do this! I'm going to tell my father.?

The man seemed beside himself with lust, paying no attention to her.
Elizabeth knew instinctively that he was. aware of nothing but their
bodies, almost nude in the tiny bikinis. Panic welling in her, she fled
from the cabana, followed by the deserted Louise.

As Elizabeth ran, she could hear the man's bare feet slapping against
the tiles. Running behind her, Louise shouted a warning, but it was too
late.

Two paths opened through the tall shrubbery border at the far end of the
pool. The right-hand path climbed the slope to the house, while the
other one ran past the gardener's shed into the Lansford' extensive gardens.

With stoic resignation, Louise followed Elizabeth along the left-hand
path, moving farther from help with each stride.

Gasping for breath, Elizabeth knew she could not go much farther.
Topping a rise in the path, she saw, to her left, the gardener's shed,
its door open. She swerved through the opening, hoping that she could
find something inside with which to wedge the door shut.

Louise started to follow but, glancing over her shoulder, saw their
pursuer a bare ten feet behind her. She stayed on the descending path
through the trees. The sounds of pursuit vanished, and she glanced back
to find the path empty.

Elizabeth slammed the shed door and threw her weight against it, but as
she sought something to wedge against the door, it crashed open,
flinging her across the narrow room.

63

Before she could raise her hands to defend herself, he had his arms
around her, driving her against the wall. His arms tightened, and his
body crushed hers against the rough planks. She tried futilely to push
him away, but he was a stocky man, his muscles hard and thick. Her
struggling served to excite him further.

Elizabeth became aware of his penis, hard and wet, moving against the
bare flesh of her stomach. She tried a last, desperate attempt to slip
under his arms. It allowed him to slide his hands around her buttocks,
cupping them and lifting her. He made no attempt to remove her bikini
bottom, content to hold her tight against his loins. He thrust
rhythmically against her, grunting.

She surrendered, near to fainting. She was aware of little but his
sweat-slick, rock-hard torso pounding, like one vast muscle, into her
soft, defenseless body. Elizabeth was vaguely aware of yelling behind
him. Louise had raced back to the gardener's shed and launched herself,
with fearless abandon, at the man's back, futilely pounding him with her
fists.

Her attacker gasped, and a hot, thick liquid splashed over Elizabeth's
stomach. For several moments he was motionless, leaning against her.
Then he released her, and she sagged to the ground, betrayed by
nerveless legs. He spun around, sent Louise reeling across the shed, and
disappeared out the door. Louise rushed after him, returning only when
she was satisfied that he was long gone. She found Elizabeth still
huddled where she had fallen, crying.

When she showed no signs of stopping, the impatient Louise pulled her to
her feet. Elizabeth's tears continued, and Louise shook her, none too
gently.

?Stop it, Liz. Are you hurt??

Elizabeth stared at her, bewildered at Louise's lack of sympathy.

When she still did not react, Louise asked with growing concern, ?What
is wrong with you? He is gone. That son of a bitch won't dare show his
face around here again.?

?Oh, God, Lou, don't you understand??

?Understand what? He didn't hurt you. Nothing really

64

happened. Nobody will ever know about it. Now, come on, Liz, quit acting
like a baby.?

Elizabeth started to cry again, her words barely intelligible through
her sobs. ?Please, listen to me. I let him do it to me. I let him.?

Awkwardly Louise embraced her friend. ?What are you saying? That guy was
as strong as an ox. You couldn't have stopped him with a two-by-four.?

No, she couldn't have stopped him with a two-by-four. She didn't even
know he was still in the house.

The morning was no different from any other. When Jack Ringsted, Tee's
obnoxious buddy arrived, she retreated to her bedroom. Elizabeth always
used her enforced confinement to complete a leisurely toilet. She
lingered longer than usual in her shower. When she came out, she
discovered she had forgotten to put the fresh toothpaste in the bathroom
when she unloaded the groceries the day before. Quickly she pulled a
short, mid-thigh-length robe over her nude body and opened the bedroom
door, listening, although she was sure that Ted and Jack had long since
gone. The house was silent. She ran down the hall to the kitchen.

Because of the noise of the shower, Elizabeth didn't hear the phone. It
was Tee's office, telling him that a client was arriving unexpectedly
early. Having just poured Jack a cup of coffee, Ted insisted that he
stay to finish it.

As Jack raised the cup for a last swallow, Tee's Jaguar was disappearing
up the hill. He was rising to carry the cup to the sink when he heard
Elizabeth running barefoot along the hall.

She ran past him-standing in the corner by the table-without seeing him,
opened a cupboard, and reached high on to the shelf where she had stowed
the toilet articles. Standing on tiptoes, she stretched, the short green
robe riding high in the back, sliding up to reveal the shapely rounds of
her buttocks. The rustling of the paper bag hid the sound of the three
quick steps. The first she knew Jack was there was when his calloused
hands closed on her hips.

Fear surged through her, and she turned her head, unable to twist her
body around in his vise like grip. She saw that it

65

was Jack, but a different Jack from the crude but jovial neighbor she
knew. His face bore a dull, expressionless look, and his eyes were half
closed. As he pulled her against his hard-muscled body, terror swept
through her. She remembered where she had seen that same look before.

Panic gave her strength to break free of his hands, and she ran from the
room, thinking only of the sanctuary of her bedroom.

She veered into her room, eyes rolling in fright, gasping for breath.
Confused and terrified, she tried to think-to know what to do. She could
hear him in the hall, moving toward the bedroom. She thought of the door
and its lock. Turning, she lunged for the door, pushing against it with
the palms of her hands.

Jack slammed into it with his shoulder, sending her reeling toward the
bed. She turned her back toward him, holding her face in her hands. She
thought of dashing across the room and out the patio door but knew she
would never make it. She could sense him behind her, watching her. Her
legs were so weak she very nearly sank to the floor. There was movement
behind her and the sounds of clothing rustling.

Jack, his voice husky, commanded, ?Turn around.?

He took a step toward her, and unable to stop herself, Elizabeth turned
to face him. He was standing only a couple of feet from her, his nudity
revealing the thick ridges of muscles across his stomach. Slowly he
raised his hands and grasped the zipper of her robe.

?Jack, don't. Oh, God, please don't.?

She caught at his thick wrists with her hands but had no strength to
resist. As her powerless arms fell to her sides, he lowered the zipper
until it parted. Jack slipped the robe from her shoulders, and it fell
around her ankles in a soft whisper. She felt his eyes feasting on her
flesh and watched him growing erect. It was how she expected him to be.

She stammered, almost beyond coherency, ?Are you crazy? This is rape.
Oh, Jesus, you're going to rape me.?

He surged forward, his strong arms gathering her soft, vulnerable body
against him. It was against her stomach, powerful, the way it was in the
shed. Clutching her hair, he pulled her head back and brought his mouth
down against

66

her tender lips, kissing her hard. She jerked her head away, struggling
against him for a moment, but his arms tightened and she was helpless.
He was going to finish what had been started at Lansford'. She had to
let him. Let him? God, she wanted him to finish it.

He stepped forward; pushing her before him, and they tumbled onto the
bed. For a moment they were side by side, one of his hands on her back
and the other fondling her buttocks while she embraced his thick, brawny
body. He sensed her excitement, and in one violent motion, rolled her
onto her back and entered her. She gasped at the fury of the assault as
Jack, beyond control, crushed her beneath him. She closed her eyes
tightly, staring at the walls of the garden shed, feeling the hard,
sinewy body, like one great muscle, pistoning against her.

She was being borne away in a building tidal wave of unbearable
pleasure. Sobbing wildly, she clutched at the iron-hard buttocks, trying
to impale herself still deeper, and exploded into an ecstatic chaos,
vaguely conscious of his loud groans.

Elizabeth lay there for long moments, desperate to remain safely in the
shed.

Growing impatient, Jack struggled free of her embrace and climbed from
the bed. He stood, looking down at her body. She was too sated to cover
herself or turn away.

Jack, shook his head in disbelief, pulled on his cutoffs and T-shirt,
and clumped down the hall without as much as a good-bye.

The days passed, three of them, days filled with guilt, anger, and
disgust, days with no sign of Jack. On the fourth morning, she heard a
knock at the sliding glass door in the master bedroom. She hurried into
the room, a bit frightened that there might be an intruder on the deck,
to discover Jack standing outside on the patio. Her rage at the sight of
her violator swept caution from her mind. She charged across to the door
and yanked it open.

Her voice was far louder than she intended. ?You dirty, miserable son of
a bitch! You have a lot of nerve! What

67

He walked straight into her, knocking her backwards, and once inside the
bedroom, slid the door closed behind him.

Elizabeth sputtered, trying to maintain her outrage. ?Bastard! Where is
Adele? Where is your wife??

Jack's hand clasped the back of her neck and drew her close. ?She works
in her studio until noon every day. She won't bother us.?

She tried to pull away from him, but his grip tightened. Holding her
powerless, he unbuttoned her blouse and slipped it off. Then he reached
around her and unhooked her brassiere. As it dropped away, he stepped
back to look at her breasts.

She knew she could be away from him and out the patio door before he
could stop her, but she looked up into his face. Already- it wore the
dull, heavy-lidded look she had seen the first time.

She whispered her absurd question. ?What do you want???The same as
you,?he growled.

Pleasure arced through her loins, and she could not have moved had her
life depended on it. She stood stock still while he unbuttoned and then
drew off her shorts and panties. Quickly he stripped, stepped forward,
and wrapped her in his embrace.

They stumbled to the bed, their tongues coiling around each other within
their locked' mouths. She rolled under him.

It was as it had been the first day no words of love, no
endearments-just a quick, violent coupling, with her hands digging at
the hard, thrusting body, shrieking at the end with a pleasure beyond
anything she had known.

His only words came as he reclothed himself. ?Don't waste time tomorrow
wearing all that crap.?

The next morning she kept her nightgown on, ignoring Tee's question
about whether she was feeling well. After Jack arrived, she stood apart
from him and slowly, teasingly, pulled the gown over her head. Her
excitement at the lasciviousness of the act was thrilling. As he came
toward her, she looked past him at the mirror. She barely recognized her
own face, transformed by the same dulled look she had seen on Jack's.

After that, their coupling was a daily thing. The fever of

68

their lovemaking did not diminish in her. In fact, it grew and with it
her loathing of both Jack and herself.

She saw Jack's leering face looming above her and lashed out at it with
her hand. As she struggled against the arms holding her down, the face
began to change. It was someone in a white coat . . . a doctor.

?Where am I? What's wrong with me? Help! . . . Oh, Dr. Mainwaring.?

Her vision had come into focus, and she recognized Mainwaring standing
by the bed, glasses askew, eyeing her warily. Cautiously he extended his
arm and patted her foot. ?Relax, Elizabeth, everything is fine.?

It came back to her in a rush. He had come into the room shortly after
the sheriff left to announce, ?Well, Mrs. Shea, time for your medication.?

She looked at him in surprise. ?Medication? I don't understand. Dr.
Caudillo said that I was okay. He told me to stay in bed and get plenty
of rest, but there was no mention of shots.?

?Elizabeth, we are a bit concerned about the hallucinations you
experienced last night.?

He raised his hand when he saw the sudden fear in her eyes. ?No, no, no.
It has nothing to do with your injury. In maybe one case in a thousand,
the drug you received last night produces this phenomenon. Normally it
is not a problem. The attending physician simply discontinues its use.
However, there is the rare case where there are flashbacks-. the sort of
thing that is popularly ascribed to LSD. You see, what happens is that
some of the drug is absorbed into the brain tissue. With Most people, it
breaks down so quickly that there are no post-hallucinatory episodes.
Still, better safe than sorry. I would like to inject an antidote and be
one-hundred-percent positive that it doesn't occur in your case. It will
allow us to release you a day or two earlier, too. What do you say??

?No, wait! I don't know what to . . . you people should know. You're
doctors. Yes . . . go ahead. God, I wouldn't want that to happen to me
again. It's just that it didn't seem like a hallucination.?

69

?I'm sure it didn't. This type of event is quite vivid. I'll be right back.?

He returned with a small metal cart on which two bottles were suspended
together with some lengths of rubber tubing.

She looked warily at the tubing and glass pipes. ?Doctor, what is the
drug you are going to give me??

?The name is quite a mouthful, and you have never heard of it.?

Finding her vein was not such a simple job. It took four electric
pinpricks of pain before his ?Ahhh?indicated success. ?Sorry, my dear.
An old man shouldn't be trying to find a difficult vein after being up
all night. I hope I didn't hurt you too much.?

She watched as the first drop tumbled into the lower part of the clear
tubing past the valve, and a moment later felt a stinging as it entered
her arm. Elizabeth felt the drug invading her senses and found it
extremely relaxing. It was an effect that went far beyond that of the
Valium. The doctor was talking to her, and she struggled to concentrate
on his words. It was fantastic. Within moments, she was aware of nothing
but his voice, and her own as she effortlessly answered his questions.

With memory came indignation and then anger. She glared at the doctor.
?What did you give me? It was some sort of truth serum, wasn't it? How
dare you!?

?Please, Elizabeth, calm down. Yes, it was a form of truth serum,
something newer and more sophisticated. But I did it for your own good.
. . . I swear to you.?

She yanked the covers down, forgetting the inadequacy of her gown. ?My
own good? I am getting my clothes and getting out of here. And I'm
coming back with the sheriff to get the others.?

?Shut up! Shut up and listen to me.?

Their gazes dueled for several seconds and then she looked away.

He sat down on the edge of the bed and seized her hand. She struggled to
free it. ?Elizabeth, look at me. Do you think I want to hurt you? My
God, I didn't know you had had such problems. You're lucky you are not a
patient in . . . a mental hospital.?

70

She wanted to stay angry, but she could see into his eyes. The deep
concern in them was genuine. Her anger gone, the effect of the drug
returned and she slumped back, barely awake.

?Elizabeth, I want to help you, but I need to know more. How did you
become acquainted with this Ringsted??

She tried to resist, but it was hopeless. She found herself telling
Mainwaring everything. She had met Jack during the sixth year of her
marriage to Ted Shea, a successful young architect in Carmel,
California. Elizabeth enjoyed life as a young wife in the upper echelons
of Cannel society. The marriage had not been physically satisfying for
her, but it was sufficient compensation that her husband needed her.

Jack and Adele Ringsted had moved into the home next door to the Sheas.
Adele had the money and Jack had the youth, some fifteen years of it
over Adele. Adele had bought herself what she considered a noble savage.
Elizabeth found him uneducated, vulgar in every sense of the word, and
able to converse only in schoolboy obscenities. At first she could not
see that he favored the gardener's assistant in looks and body type and
that his foul mouth was how she had imagined the assistant would talk.

She found him intolerable, but Ted seemed fascinated by the man. Jack,
with nothing but time on his hands, started every day with a long run on
the beach. Ted began inviting him in each morning for coffee before Ted
left for work.- Thal was how he came to be in the house on the morning
he attacked her.

Thomas Mainwaring patted her hand. ?My dear, one thing puzzles me. You
keep referring to what happened that first day as rape, yet you told
neither the authorities or your husband. Why was that??

?I was so confused-not about him, about me. During the three days until
he came the second time, I went from recrimination to self-justification
because Ted had invited him over. I tried to convince myself that I had
been raped, powerless to stop what had happened. I would ask myself why
it had brought such unbelievable pleasure if it was rape. I kept
thinking about Ridgeview and my behavior there. I

71 DOOR /

wondered if I was a tramp who gave off signals to every man passing by.
I was so afraid Ted would find out. I watched his every word, his every
expression.?

Long seconds dragged by before Mainwaring asked, ?And how did you
finally come to end it, Elizabeth??

Her laugh was harsh. ?Me end it? I didn't have the courage to do that.
It was Adele Ringsted who ended it. One early evening while Ted was at a
meeting, Adele .showed up, unannounced, well along in her cups.

?It wasn't the abuse that bothered me. It was what I saw in Adele as she
began to wind down. God, the pain and humiliation in her eyes! It was
like she had finally realized that money alone couldn't hold a man. She
finally broke down then and started to cry. The last thing she said to
me was, 'What have I ever done to any of you? I want to die.'

?The next morning, I left for San Francisco. A week later, I wrote Ted
from San Francisco. I knew it would hurt him, but I couldn't lie. I told
him everything.

?I decided to go to Chicago and stay with my aunt. Three weeks after I
arrived, I went to work for Gavin Thorne.?

Mainwaring arose, walked over to the window, and stood for a minute
staring out, before returning to look down at Elizabeth. ?My dear, over
and over again you kept referring to Ridgecrest, almost as if it were
the lair of monsters. What is Ridgecrest??

?It was the school where my parents sent me when I was fourteen after
what happened at Louise's. You know, I never would have been sent there
if Mother hadn't caught me coming in that day. I started crying and
blurted out the whole story. Daddy said all the kids would find out
about it and start teasing me, so he decided to send me to a private school.

?Daddy thought I might be traumatized by what had happened at Lansford'
and insisted I have special help from the school psychologist, Eunice
Blakely. God, I hated her. Every day she would meet me in her office,
and she would make me tell every detail of what had happened in the
shed. Then she told me I had to think about it every night before I went
to bed. She said I would get it out of my system. But I

72

began to masturbate at night, thinking about it. When I told Miss
Blakely this, she said I was repressed and tried to make me use filthy
words. Oh God, I hardly knew some of those words, much less used them. I
thought I was turning into a sex fiend. I ran away the next day, and
Mother and Daddy let me go back to regular school.?Elizabeth's voice
broke. ?Please help me, Dr. Mainwaring. I don't know what I am.?

The room was filled with the sounds of Elizabeth's sobbing while he
stood, watching helplessly. When she subsided at last, Thomas Mainwaring
spoke quietly. ?Elizabeth, I don't know how to help you. Promise me you
will see a psychiatrist when you leave here. You should have long ago.
Elizabeth, I'm sorry about what I did to you. I didn't know.?

He turned away from her and moved toward the door. He stopped abruptly
and faced her. Thomas Mainwaring had undergone an amazing metamorphosis
in a few seconds. ?Elizabeth, about your hallucination last night. It
was just that-a hallucination. To lessen your guilt in thinking about
your ex-lover, your mind cast the roles in your erotic fantasy as
female. You talked of seeing the muscles flexing under the skin of
Shade's back and buttocks as she made love to Molly. You sensed Shana as
the more aggressive, so you cast her as the male figure. Your
description confirms that. In the final consummating act, her figure was
turned in such a way that the feminine characteristics lost their shapes
and appeared male.

?You have found gratification in being mastered by a dominant male
figure. You equate pampering, the manners of your social group, with
being effete. The men in your social class ask rather than take. Your
conflict is within yourself. Recognize that you need aggressive sexual
partners, or you will be forever in conflict with your own perceptions
of sexuality. Elizabeth, you saw nothing. Your hallucination can have a
therapeutic effect if you will only accept the reality of your sexual needs.

?If I hadn't made you understand, you would have added another thorn to
the crown you wear. You would have begun to wonder if you were
homosexual. You have enough

BEHIND THE DOOR / 73

problems, Elizabeth Shea, without that. Never speak of this fantasy
again. It will only hurt you and others.?

He started to roll the cart out of the room.

Upset at the anger she had displayed toward him, she called, ?Dr.
Mainwaring.?

?It's okay, Elizabeth. I'll see you later.?

He disappeared into the corridor.

74 8

A

fter the doctor left, Elizabeth lay there for along time. After her
experience with Eunice Blakely, she did not put much stock in
pyschoanalysis and was able to put out of her mind much of what he had
said. She noticed the telephone, mounted low on the side of the console.
There was no dial, which meant it was routed through a switchboard. She
would call Meredith! Surely they would not object to her talking to
Meredith and trying to console her.

The phone was dead not even a hum. Jiggling the hook brought no
response. She tried a dozen times during the next half hour, finally
putting the receiver down in disgust.

As she lowered the phone, the door opened and a woman leaned in. It was
no one that Elizabeth had seen before. She was about sixty-five, with
gray hair that tumbled about her head in wild disarray. She was wearing
an unadorned blue dress that looked institutional. She appeared ready to
flee at the slightest provocation and did when Elizabeth ventured a
tentative greeting.

She smiled when the door closed behind the w'man. At least she had met
one of the patients. She decided she was part of a game when the woman
went through the same routine twice more.

75

A considerable time passed before the door opened a fourth time, and the
woman slipped through. The disheveled crone closed it behind her and
stood with her ear pressed against the wood panel. Turning toward
Elizabeth, she made a moist hushing sound. Then, ignoring Elizabeth, she
toured the room, running her hands over the paneling, looking at the
paintings, and sitting briefly in one of the leather chairs. On her feet
again, she opened the bathroom door, looked in, and whistled. Then she
grinned at Elizabeth. It was not a pleasant grin, for she was without
her dentures.

?Pretty spiffy,?she lisped.

Elizabeth smiled. ?You mean they are not all like this??The woman rolled
her eyes. ?Oh, no, dear. Not hardly. Not very likely.?

The woman moved to the window with an odd, scurrying step and pulled the
heavy curtain aside. ?Oooh, it's so pretty out there. You know, I often
think about being outside, feeling the sun on me and smelling the
flowers. I want to feel the wind against my face one more time. I dream
of it so.?

Elizabeth's reservations about her visitor disappeared, and she felt
sorry for the poor creature, who must know that part of her world was
gone forever.

Elizabeth found herself mouthing the usual comforting falsehoods. ?I'm
sure things will get better. You'll soon be out of here. You have many
years ahead to walk in the sunshine.?

The woman shook her head vigorously and, releasing the curtain, asked,
?What's your name??

?Elizabeth Shea.?

Her visitor nodded thoughtfully, as though it was somehow important that
she remember the name. She turned toward the bed. ?You . . . you sound
different.?Peering at Elizabeth, she squinted. ?Why, you're young. Are .
. . are you one of us??

Elizabeth chuckled. ?Oh, no. I came in last night. We were in a bad
automobile accident, and the doctors agreed to let us come here to be
treated.?

?It was a mistake, all a mistake. I remember ... I heard them talking
about it . . . about the accident and about you coming here . . . but
it's all so unfortunate.?

76

Elizabeth, not knowing how to answer, decided to change the subject.
?Where do you stay??

The woman's expression changed quickly from one of inquisitiveness to
one of infinite sadness. ?Where do I stay? Why . . . I stay in hell.?

A sense of disquietude stirred in Elizabeth. She had accepted the
intruder as a lonely older patient who had sneaked out of her room
unobserved, curious about the newcomer. It wasn't that the woman was
threatening, but her replies went farther than idle prattling. Elizabeth
knew that some patients, sinking into senility, became delusional and
dangerous.

As unobtrusively as possible, she edged toward the call button. She knew
it was important that she keep talking and not upset her guest. ?Oh,
surely it isn't that bad. I don't know your name yet. I told you mine.?

The woman grinned, brushing her hand across her untidy hair, trying to
smooth it into some semblance of order, a feminine gesture that.
disarmed Elizabeth's concern. In a soft, whispery voice, she said, ?I'm
Carrie Dalton, but I don't suppose you'd know about us.?

?I . . . I'm afraid not. You see, until about midnight last night, I
didn't know there was a Skystone.?

The sad look returned to her odd companion's face. ?I know, dear. Not
many people know about Skystone. That's why it's here . . . so not many
people will know. It's like a treasure chest. Treasure is buried . . .
only here, they bury people. Don't you think it's a disgrace??

Elizabeth knew she was in over her head again. ?I . . . I don't
understand you, Mrs. Dalton-Carrie. A disgrace??

?Oh, we're a disgrace . . . this place . . . this Skystone is a
disgrace. All we do here-for whatever reason we're here -is to sleep and
eat and wait. Many of us sleep very little. When we're awake, we sit and
while the hours away until we can sleep again. We cast away the
remaining days of our lives. You're so young, so pretty. It's a shame
you had to come. Skystone has an easy way in-doors, pretty lady, like
any other building-so easy to walk in, but only one way out: death. This
is a place for dying, for sitting and rotting. You sit here and think,
'If only I could get away from them.

77

If only I could be where they couldn't watch me, then I could leave. I
could escape.' But, no. Even you, you poor child . . .?

The elderly woman moved toward her, and Elizabeth's hand closed on the
buzzer, frantically pressing it.

Elizabeth held her breath, trying to tell herself she had nothing to
fear. Physically she was stronger than Carrie Dalton, but there was a
vehemence, a burning in the woman. That was what frightened Elizabeth.

Without warning, the woman reached for her, but the heavily veined,
tissue-skinned hand did no more than briefly pat her calf.

?I know I'm frightening you, dear. Don't worry. It will be quick. You
will not have to sit, staring at the walls day after day, as I have. Look.?

She took three wooden matches from the single pocket of the blue
garment. ?We can find our salvation, our cleansing . . . the end of our
wait. Fire, the glorious, God-given cleansing of fire. And the old and
the weak, the useless, the demented, the vicious, and the evil shall be
redeemed in the destruction of the flesh and the purification of the soul.?

Elizabeth, uncertain of what to do, stared in fascination at Carrie
Dayton's face. It had been transformed as she spoke. There was a
radiance in it. Her eyes were aglow, and her voice was vibrant with a
strength that had got been there before.

The door crashed open, and a young man in an orderly's uniform raced
into the room. In a split second, Carrie Dalton reverted to the
timorous, frightened creature that had first entered Elizabeth's
quarters. She backed a couple of steps toward the bathroom before the
orderly caught her, locking his arms around her. She struggled for a
moment and then, abruptly, hung limp in his grasp.

He peered toward Elizabeth, who had come to her feet. ?I'm sorry, ma'am.
Carrie tricked me. I wasn't supposed to let her out of my sight. She's
as slick as pond ice on a cold day. Come on, Carrie, let's go.?

Carrie, struggling again, begged, ?Please . . . please... please,?but
her threshing about availed her nothing.

As they staggered through the' door, Elizabeth, hating it

78

but knowing it was necessary, called, ?She has matches in her pocket.
She said she was going to burn something.?

The orderly roughly pinioned the elderly woman against the wall, her
face flattened against the paneling, while he searched her pocket.

Producing the matches, he chuckled. ?God, Carrie, you do love fire,
don't you??

Her resistance vanished, and she hung limply against him as he paused at
the door.

?I'll be -back in a few moments, ma'am, after I take care of Came.?

It was a quarter of an hour before she looked up, startled, to see the
same orderly standing in the door. The television had masked his
approach. He was in his late twenties, of medium height and medium
build. His eyes, too close together, and his mouth, in a perpetual pout,
gave him a ferret look. His receding mousy brown hair was too thin to be
worn as long as he had it, looking stringy and unkempt.

?Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. I . . . I hope Carrie didn't cause
you any problems. It won't happen. again . . . I guarantee it.?

She resisted the urge to tell him it was plenty uncomfortable, seeing
Carrie Dalton evolve from a forlorn old lady to a wild-eyed fanatic, but
it would do nothing but alienate the attendant, who, no doubt, was
feeling bad enough about his poor supervision.

?Oh, that's all right. It's just that she startled me the way she
changed right before my eyes.?

?Oh? What did she do??

?You know . . . she was raving a bit.?

The orderly grew attentive. ?Raving? Mrs. Dalton usually doesn't do
that. What did she say? I'm sure her doctor will want to know.?

?Well, she said that this place should be burned-that it was full of the
old and the demented and the evil ... that sort of thing. Just ranting .
. . almost like a hell-and-brimstone preacher.?

The attendant laughed. ?Well, I guess I can't dispute that, not after
you saw Carrie. She's living proof of the demented,

79

and God knows this place has plenty of old people lying around. Oh,
well, I promise you've seen the last of her.?He started to leave, but
she stopped him.

?Listen, I wonder if you would tell the nurses -that I haven't had my
lunch yet. I hate to ask you, but the call button doesn't seem to work.?

He looked annoyed. ?Nobody's brought you lunch? I'll go check on it
myself. I don't know why they would have forgotten you . . . probably
because you aren't a regular patient.?

?I thought maybe it was because of the problem with the gas in the kitchen.?

?The gas in the kitchen? Oh, yeah, that's probably it. I'll check and be
back.?

He was almost out the door when she stopped him again. ?Say, could I ask
you about the other lady who was brought in with me-Meredith Thorne??

He grinned. ?Sure. What about Meredith??

?Oh, you must have met her already.?

?Yeah, you got it.?

?I wonder if I could see her.?

He laughed, and the formality slid off him as easily as a-silk shirt.
?Hey, old Meredith is swacked right out of her living mind. I'll bet she
wouldn't know you from the Queen of England.?

Concern surged through Elizabeth. ?You mean she's worse??

?Hey, don't you worry about that, honey. You know .. . she's great, but
she's got a few aches, so doc gave her something to make her
comfortable. I'll tell you what. I'll guarantee you see her later, and
that's a promise. Okay? Now, I'll go check on your lunch. We've got to
keep you in prime shape.?

Before she could question him further, he was gone.

80 9

I

t was over an hour before the balding attendant reappeared. He paused at
the door and winked at her. ?Hey-you're sure enough going to hate us,
but I want you to remember, mama, before you start throwing things, that
it ain't Johnny's fault.?

Despite her annoyance at the way she had been neglected, Elizabeth
appreciated the orderly's friendliness. He was the first member of the
hospital staff that did not appear to resent her being there. ?No
promises, Johnny. What's the problem??

?I don't know how they overlooked a good-looking chick like you, but
honest to God, they forgot you when they delivered lunches. Man,
everything's shut down and the cooks are out of the building. But I
didn't fail you. I have two peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwiches and a
glass of milk for you. Just like school days, huh??

He looked at her like a puppy waiting to be petted. Elizabeth tried to
rekindle her anger. She knew that when Sky-stone presented the bill to
her insurance company, it would be astronomical, but it- was not the
orderly's fault. He was doing the best he could.

Grudgingly, she yielded to his charm. ?Okay, Johnny, but

81 DOOR /

you tell those idiots in the kitchen that I want double helpings at
dinner. My brains may be scrambled, but there's nothing wrong with my
stomach.?

He pulled the table leaf -up and swung it over the bed. Unfolding a
paper napkin with a ridiculous flourish, he laid it across her.

?Wait just one minute,?he said. ?I forgot dessert.?

The orderly Johnny dashed out into the corridor, only to return a minute
later bearing a candy bar in one hand and a soft drink in the other.
?Hey, the management aims to please.?

His gaiety was infectious, and she laughed, her worries forgotten for
the moment.

?Uh-oh, I'd better get out of here before they think I'm having my way
with you. I don't get you as a present. Oh, by the way, later in the
afternoon, one of the nurses will take you out onto the patio for a
little air. Bye-bye, now.?

She thought of Meredith again, but he was gone before she could ask
about seeing her.

The sandwiches tasted awful, but her stomach demanded food. At least the
soft drink washed away most of the taste. Elizabeth pushed the tray
aside and slumped down in bed. Her eyelids grew heavy, and soon she was
asleep.

She awoke to find Mrs. Eddy beside her bed. The nurse was looking
somewhat the worse for wear. There were bags . under her eyes, and
fatigue had eroded her carefully made-up face.

?Hi,?Elizabeth said. ?I didn't expect to see you. I thought you were the
night-shift supervisor.?

Nurse Eddy grimaced. ?Well, as you see, dear, the consensus is that I
can do without sleep.?

?Gee. I hope our coming here this way hasn't caused you a lot of extra
work.?

?Well it certainly hasn't made it any easier, Mrs. Shea. But I find that
everything has its compensations, doesn't it? I understand you've been
getting a little antsy, closed off by yourself. Dr. Mainwaring thought
you might like a bit of fresh air on the patio. It's a little late, but
some of the old ones may still be outside.?

82

As Elizabeth sat up, she saw the wheelchair. ?What's this? I'm perfectly
capable of walking.?

?Sorry, Mrs. Shea, but the doctor's orders are that you be treated like
any other patient. You ride in the wheelchair, and you stay in it.?

?But what do the patients do for exercise??

Mrs. Eddy patted the-wheelchair, looking a little annoyed. ?You
certainly are an inquisitive young woman, but for your information,
there is a gymnasium for patients able to use it. Now, if I've satisfied
your curiosity, I suggest we go.?

Mrs. Eddy stopped the wheelchair in mid-hall to readjust the footrest.
While she bent to her task, Elizabeth stole a quick glance toward the
room where she thought she had seen the two. nurses. The door, closed
now, bore the numeral 13. She wondered how she could have imagined such
a scene. She had never entertained a fantasy like that. Dr. Mainwaring
must be right. In a way she hoped he was. It would explain so much that
she did not understand about herself.

Mrs. Eddy rolled Elizabeth into a large room filled with sofas, chairs,
and several coffee tables burdened with an assortment of magazines. One
end of the room was dominated by a large-screen television. Directly
across from them were double steel doors, each with a foot-square glass
pane reinforced with wire mesh.

Mrs. Eddy pivoted the wheelchair so Elizabeth could view the entire
room. ?Since you are so curious, Mrs. Shea, this is the lounge. It's
where ambulatory patients come to socialize and where visitors wait to
be conducted to the patient's rooms. Dr. Mainwaring thought it best we
not expose our more active patients to you. They become excited, and
then they don't sleep well. Most of the poor dears out on the patio now
are semi-comatose. They show little response to stimuli. I thought I
should warn you.?

The patio was a large concrete slab tucked into the angle of the
L-shaped building. The two open sides, girded with a waist-high
wrought-iron railing, overlooked a strip of well-tended lawn. Beyond the
grass strip lay the driveway leading to the porte cochere.

As she was pushed out onto the patio, she saw the orderly

83 DOOR /

Johnny standing behind another wheelchair, waving to her. She gasped
when she saw the chair's occupant. It was Carrie Dalton, but her
appearance was so altered it was hard to recognize her. On the side of
her face was a vast purple bruise running from her cheek, high onto her
forehead, and back into her temple. One eye was swollen shut. She looked
ghastly.

Startled, Elizabeth looked at Mrs. Eddy, who was setting the brake on
her wheelchair. ?My God, I . . . I know that woman. She was in my room.
What happened to her??

?I am aware you met her, Mrs. Shea. I heard all about Carrie's visit.
When Mrs. Dalton was returned to her room, she had a temper tantrum not
an unknown thing with the dear lady. Only this time, she fell out of bed
and struck the side of her head against the console.?

?Please, push me over there.. I want to see how she is. She may be a
little unhinged, but I feel so sorry for the -poor thing.?

Mrs. Eddy motioned to Johnny, who, after a quick glance at Mrs. Dalton,
joined them.

?Johnny, our Mrs. Shea is concerned about Mrs. Dalton. Is she still
sulking??

When he nodded, she continued, ?Come back in five minutes and take her
in. She's going to be quite uncomfortable when her shot wears off.?

Johnny laughed. ?Hey, you're talking bad times now. Okay, I'll be back
in five, darling.?

As he vanished through the double doors, Mrs. Eddy glared after him.
?Impudent little . . .?

She caught herself. ?I'm afraid you're stuck with me, Mrs. Shea. I don't
think our other two sun worshipers are going to do any socializing.?

She nodded toward the two huddled figures in their wheelchairs at the
far end of the patio. Elizabeth followed her glance.

One was an elderly gray-haired man with weather-cured skin like brown
leather. He slumped in his wheelchair with his head thrown far back. He
had a bandanna knotted around his neck and a hat pulled down over his
eyes to shade his face from the afternoon sun.

84

The other chair was occupied by a middle-aged woman whose plump body
sagged sideways in the seat, her head lolling forward on her chest. The
most extraordinary thing about her was her flaming red hair, glowing
with the rays of the sun.

Elizabeth stared at her, then at Mrs. Eddy. ?Why, she really doesn't
seem old enough to be here . . . certainly not in that condition.?

?Oh, Mrs. Mueller isn't here because of her age. She suffered brain
damage. It was an accident . . . a sad case.?

That said, Mrs. Eddy walked across the patio and leaned back, resting
her hips against the wrought-iron railing, glancing first at one and the
other of her comatose charges. She closed her eyes, arched her body, and
stood, breathing deeply. Elizabeth sensed that the woman, despite her
words, was not interested in conversation.

Johnny popped through the double doors and approached Elizabeth. ?Hi,
chickie. Anything old Johnny can get for you? Something from the bar or
the grill? Maybe another soda pop? Another candy bar? Hmmm??

Elizabeth basked in his good-natured bantering and had started to thank
him for cheering her up when he whistled softly. As she turned to follow
his glance, he muttered, ?Not too shabby for an old broad . . . not
shabby at all.?

Mrs. Eddy had removed her nurse's cap, and her raven-black
shoulder-length hair was loose. She stood, her body bowed back over the
rail, breasts out thrust, legs wide apart. The steady wind had plastered
her uniform like a second skin against her lush body. Elizabeth thought
of her husband for the first time in weeks. Ted would have sized up Mrs.
Eddy as a rose in its fullest bloom before the first falling petal
signaled disintegration.

Johnny shook himself free of whatever spell the pagan imagery had
evoked. ?Hey, chickie, I'd better get old Carrie in before the power
starts' going to Tina's head again. See you later.?

As he wheeled Mrs. Dalton past Elizabeth, she saw the woman watching her
with her one good eye. Softly, Elizabeth called, ?I'm sorry you're hurt,
Mrs. Dalton. I hope you'll be better soon.?

85 DOOR /

A sudden tear appeared in the corner of Carrie Dayton's undamaged eye as
she passed from Elizabeth's sight.

Across the patio, Mrs. Eddy stirred, trying to recapture her windblown
coils of hair to confine them under the white cap. When she finally
succeeded, she rejoined Elizabeth.

?Okay, Mrs. Shea, time to get you back in.?

Elizabeth looked at the two inert forms remaining on the patio. ?If you
like, Mrs. Eddy, you can take them in first. I'm comfortable, and there
is quite a wind coming up.?

A tight little smile did nothing to soften the sarcasm of the nurse's
answer. ?Oh, I don't think they will complain. Do you, Mrs. Shea??

The woman said no more until Elizabeth was back in her bed. Mrs. Eddy
stopped in the act of pushing the wheelchair into the hall.

?By the way, I understand that you are having difficulty being served.
We are having trouble in the kitchen. Your dinner may be late, but you
will get your meal. Bye-bye.?

Elizabeth had a miserable time the rest of the afternoon, tossing and
turning on the bed. She wished the nurse had not said anything about
dinner. All she could think of was food.

At five o'clock the door swung open, revealing Johnny, smiling
infectiously, a finger across his lips. With exaggerated stealth, he
crept across the room, slid a soft drink and a couple of candy bars onto
the console, blew her a kiss, and departed.

Elizabeth had never been a big candy eater, but she devoured the sweets
with dispatch, if not appreciation.

The curtains lost their snowy-white light, became gray, and finally were
a vague ghostly lightness in the dark. The digital display on the small
console clock read 8:15 when Elizabeth gave up all hope of dinner. But
as she slid off the bed, determined to find someone who could explain
why she wasn't being fed, a small figure darted into the room.

Her heart sank. It was all she needed-starving to death, and another old
loony to deal with.

Without ceremony, her visitor plopped down on the bed, illuminated by a
shaft of light from the corridor. Elizabeth was overjoyed. It was Meredith.

86

Meredith kissed her on the cheek. ?Liz, darling. I'm' so glad to see
you. I've been so worried.?

Elizabeth blinked in astonishment. This was a Meredith she didn't know.
Meredith Thorne had never called her Liz -always the more formal
Elizabeth and had never displayed an iota of affection toward her.
Certainly she had never kissed Elizabeth on the cheek before. Elizabeth
wondered if Meredith, left alone by the death of her father, was trying
to use affection as a lure to buy sympathy.

Awkwardly she patted Meredith's knee through the thin hospital gown.
?Oh, God, Meredith, I'm so terribly sorry about Gavin. He was a fine
man, and I know he was a good father to you. I am going to miss him.

?When you're feeling better, we'll talk over what you want to do about
the funeral, and I will start calling people. But take your time.
Everyone understands what a shock it

is.

?Hey, now, Liz, let's don't get all maudlin. Gavin's gone, you know? So,
we all gotta go. God, did you see his head? He would have been a total
vegetable if he had lived. Listen, I want you to make all the
arrangements. I mean . . . what do I know about funerals? You know where
I'm coming from??

Elizabeth stirred uneasily, uncertain of how to reply. It was not at all
the response that she had anticipated from a grieving daughter. ?Yes,
Meredith, but . . . I mean . . . you're the only family he had. You
should decide.?

Meredith yawned. ?Come on, Liz, help me out. I'm asking you. I've always
treated you right, haven't I??

Elizabeth did not think it was the time to discuss their relationship.
There was nothing she could do but agree.

Meredith industriously patted the bed for a moment and then, realizing
her mistake, shifted her hand to Elizabeth's thigh. ?Good girl! And now
my public calls. I wonder where old Scotty, my overgrown lapdog, is.?

Elizabeth told her what Dr. Mainwaring had said about Scott. ?I know you
want to see him, Meredith. Why don't you ask one of the nurses where his
room is? Maybe you'll have better luck with them than I did.?

Meredith laughed-a slow, dark laugh. ?Hey, I can relate

87

to that. You have to use the old barter system around here, Liz baby.
It's been working for several thousand years now.?

Elizabeth realized what was different about Meredith. She was talking so
slowly, and her words were slurred. Elizabeth started to worry about
her, wondering if it was a residual effect from her concussion or if
they still had her on painkillers.

?Meredith, you . . . you sound funny . . . the way you talk. Maybe you
should ask the doctor to check you again.?

Meredith laughed again, peals of brittle, excited laughter. ?Poor little
Liz such a worrywart. Not to worry, honey. Old Meredith is just a bit
spaced out, courtesy of the joy chest. You know how it is. Nobody wants
the patients to be hurting, and, honey, I'm not hurting. Hey, I'd better
go. Little Meredith has to be a regular Boy Scout. You know, 'Always
ready.' Take care, Lizzie. And, you know, take care of Gavin's funeral
something real nice. Okay? Bye-bye.?

She was outlined for a brief second against the lighted doorway and then
disappeared before Elizabeth could stop her. There were male orderlies
around, and in the thin hospital gown Meredith might as well have been nude.

Meredith was right. She was a worrywart. Still, she thought she would
mention Meredith's odd behavior to Dr. Mainwaring or Dr. Caudillo.

Five minutes later, the light came on and Dr. Mainwaring entered. As
with Mrs. Eddy, fatigue had taken its toll on his distinguished face.
Still, he greeted her with the same hearty manner as earlier.

?Hi, Elizabeth. How are you doing??

?Hungry.?

He tweaked her toe. ?Yes, I know you've been mistreated, young lady.
Well, don't won-y. I left a nasty little note with the cooks. I expect
they will be along, within a half hour or so, with a meal that will
knock your eyes out. But first we need to take our shot.?

Elizabeth shrank back. ?Shot? What shot is this??

The doctor chuckled. ?I'll swear to God, Nurse Eddy is right. If all our
patients were as curious as you, we wouldn't have enough tithe in the day.?

He lowered the tray bearing they syringe and vial to the

88

console and, leaning over Elizabeth, fumbled in his coat pocket. He
brought out a penlight and examined her eyes. When he was through he
returned the penlight to his pocket and looked thoughtful.

?Elizabeth, you still have a slight contraction of your pupils. Dr.
Caudillo and I both think that may be caused from the blows you received
when the car rolled. The effects of a mild concussion usually disappear
within forty-eight to seventy-two hours. These shots are intended to
lessen the irritation to your brain tissue. I haven't killed you yet,
have I??

He winked at her.

Embarrassment swept over her. She knew she was acting like a baby. ?I'm
sorry. Go ahead. I'll try to quit being such a pain in the neck.?

But as Dr. Mainwaring picked up the syringe, she sat up in bed. ?Doctor,
I want to talk to you about Meredith.?

He lowered the syringe, and she could tell he was fighting to keep the
exasperation out of his voice.

?What about Miss Thorne??

?When she was in the room a few minutes ago . . .??In the room! She came
in here??

Elizabeth nodded, startled at his vehemence. Mainwaring chewed his lip
in vexation.

?Damn it! She wasn't to be allowed out of that room.?

He shot a glance at Elizabeth and blushed. ?I'm sorry, my dear. I'm
afraid our staff hasn't been exposed to people as active as your crew.
You folks are running around like a Chinese fire drill. But you said you
were worried. Why? What did Miss Thorne say??

?It wasn't what she said. It was the way she acted. She appeared as if
she was high on drugs, doctor. When I said something to her about it,
she said it was painkillers.?

He picked up the hypodermic syringe. ?Well, that is true,. Miss Thome is
unusually sensitive to medication. As a matter of' fact, that's why I
was so insistent that she be watched closely. Was that all 'that happened??

?Yes. She wasn't here over two minutes. I tried to talk to her about
arrangements for her father, but it was useless.?He nodded in
satisfaction. ?Well, that's good. At least she

89

seems to have no side effects except a high good humor and the will to
roam. Don't worry. She'll be fine.?

?What room is she in, doctor? I thought I would talk to her in the morning.?

He rubbed the alcohol-soaked cotton over her arm and slipped the slender
silver needle into her yielding flesh. ?Let's get this shot into you,
Elizabeth, and I'll go make a note for the nurse to admit you. Okay??

He withdrew the needle, dabbed her arm again, picked up his tray, and
left the room. He left the door ajar.

She sank back onto the pillow as a wave of intensely pleasurable
relaxation swept through her. There was a moment's fear at the
unexpected reaction, and she started to reach for the buzzer; but before
her hand could complete its journey, she wanted nothing to disturb the
effect. She rolled onto her back and surrendered to it, sinking down and
down until there was nothing.

90

E

lizabeth struggled awake, trying to shake free of the delicious darkness
drawing her back into unconsciousness. A scream hammered at her eardrums
and she tried to turn her head, but her body was not the servant of her
mind. Her nose twitched to the acrid smell of smoke. Fear jolted her,
but she couldn't move, even knowing there must be a fire nearby.

A second scream sliced into the confusion of her mind, coming from
somewhere down the hall. She tried again to rise, clutching at the edge
of the mattress. There was no strength in her, and her body rebelled at
being roused from its reverie.

The smoke grew heavier, and she heard an excited male voice shout, ?Get
another extinguisher, damn it!?

A woman's voice, near hysteria, shouted, ?Finish it, you son of a bitch!?

There was another scream, and then another, sabers of sound slashing
through the darkness.

In the distance, someone shouted, ?Okay, I got it out, thank God.?

The same voice rose in a second cry. ?For God's sake, Howe, do it!?

91 BEHIND THE DOOR /

Another horrible cry shattered the silence, but ceased as abruptly as if
a knife had severed it.

There was a moment of quiet before a faint, disturbingly familiar voice
cried, ?What in the hell is going on . . . ??

The sounds of a violent struggle stilled the voice. Elizabeth heard a
woman call, ?Get Mainwaring!?

The struggle subsided, except for an occasional flurry Elizabeth heard
someone running, and then Mainwaring shouted, ?Shut up! All of you! I'll
take care of it.?

There was one last scuffle . . . and then silence. Elizabeth could
struggle no longer against her body's demand for oblivion. The bar of
light, coming in past the slightly ajar door, wavered and then disappeared.

Some time later, Elizabeth awoke again. This time she managed to raise
herself on her elbow, ignoring the sweet bonds that still held her.

Somewhere far off, someone was crying. The sobs would grow louder and
then fade in volume until they ceased. Soon she could hear, barely
audible, the single syllable ?No?repeated again and again, building
slowly into more sobs. Struggling mightily, she came to an upright
position. She was dizzy, throwing out her arm to avoid pitching over
backwards.

The strange sorrows continued for a long time and then ended abruptly
with cries of ?Please!? that rose to a scream.

After that, all she could hear was an ill-definable far-off sound that
sounded vaguely like chanting. She strained, but she could not be sure
of what she heard. There was an odd clunk, and the sound ceased.

Elizabeth huddled in the dark, frightened, wondering what to do, trying
to regain control of her body. The room light flared before her
unfocused eyes, revealing a vaguely distorted Dr. Mainwaring standing in
the doorway.

Aware that she was practically naked in the thin gown pulled up to
mid-thigh, Elizabeth clawed at the sheet upon which she sat, unable to
understand why she could not pull it free.

The doctor muttered, ?Just what I thought,?and walked out, leaving the
room light on.

Elizabeth tumbled backwards onto the bed, puzzled by

92

why the sheet was suddenly free. Fumbling with its intricate folds, she
drew it over her.

Dr. Mainwaring returned, but it was only when he leaned over her that
she realized he had a syringe.

?Please, Dr. Mainwaring,?she begged. ?Don't. I don't want to be like this.?

She tried to pull free, but was far too weak. She felt the cool brush of
alcohol against her skin and then the sting of the needle. After he had
discarded the syringe, he brushed the light brown hair away from her
eyes. ?My child, don't you understand why I'm doing this??He patted her
cheek. ?Maybe someday you will.?

Thomas Mainwaring looked down at her again with affection and said
something that Elizabeth couldn't understand. She was whirling down into
a deep, blissful tunnel, watching him grow ever smaller and finally
disappear.

93 II

E

lizabeth opened her eyes and sought the clock. It read 10:18. The warm
morning sunlight was back lighting the white curtains. Her mouth was
dry, and her stomach was so empty that she felt slightly nauseated.

A long shower did wonders for her, and by the time she finished, she
felt halfway normal but still hungry. Back in the bedroom, she punched
the call button. She was determined to have a good breakfast if she had
to cook it herself.

For ten long minutes she worried the button without results. She grabbed
the telephone and jiggled the hook, but there was that same disturbing
deadness to the phone that she had noticed the day before. It was
strange that the phones had not been fixed. They had had at least a full
day to effect repairs.

It was the last straw for Elizabeth. She was mad. She had endured
indignities that the worst hospitals didn't force on their patients. The
phones didn't work; neither did the call buttons; no one had asked about
the disposition of Gavin Thorne's body; she had received no cooked food.

She had been drugged without reason. She suffered headaches and
dizziness only after being injected with drugs. She

94

had examined her eyes in the bathroom mirror. The pupils appeared normal
to her.

It was time for a confrontation. While on the patio, she had noticed a
sign reading Office, with an arrow pointing toward the front of the wing
in which her room was located. It would get their attention when she
appeared there clad in nothing but a hospital gown. She wanted the right
to use the telephone; to see Meredith and Scott; to be fed.

Cautiously, she peeked into the corridor. It was empty, but for some
reason the night-lights along the baseboard were still burning. The only
thing that disturbed the silence was the soft rush of air through the
ventilating system. That a hospital could be so quiet defied belief. It
was well along in the morning, but no rooms were being cleaned; no
nurses were hurrying about their rounds; no staff members were gathered
around the nurses' station, chattering.

She took a deep breath and stepped out into the corridor. The air was
warm, but the tiles were cold against her bare feet. The closet in her
room had been empty no clothes, no shoes. That was one thing she was
going to see about. Even her purse was gone.

Elizabeth started for the office at a brisk pace, but her determination
was eroded by each step she took down the too-quiet corridor. Her senses
thrilled in anticipation of a shout marking her discovery. The Exit sign
above the double doors filled the darkness at the end of the hall with a
sinister crimson glow. The silence of the place was getting on her
nerves. Could the staff be in conference? They surely needed it, the way
the hospital was being run. But would they have dared leave the nurses'
station unattended?

Growing more uneasy by the moment, she slowed her pace. A film of dust
felt gritty beneath her bare feet. The corridor had not been swept for
several days.

Elizabeth pushed through the swinging doors into the short entry hall
beyond. The outside walls and the entry doors were fashioned of thick,
clear glass. Through the glass wall, she could see the driveway curving
past the building. Beyond the drive was a park like setting of
bare-limbed hardwood trees.

She glanced nervously back into the corridor behind her. It

95

was a long, dark tunnel too quiet, too empty, and scary. Panicking, she
bolted for the outer door, desperate to be away from the place. The
unyielding door brought her to an abrupt stop. Grasping the push bar
with both hands, she lunged against it several times. Near the edge of
hysteria, she backed away a step and rammed her shoulder into the door.
It was as unyielding as a solid steel plate. As she turned away,
frightened at the prospect of retracing her steps down that corridor,
she remembered why she had entered this part of the building. She had
forgotten all about the office when she saw the outdoors beckoning
through the glass walls.

The business office was to her right. Its wall was, like the outer one,
of glass, and she could see the entire area at a glance. It was
surprisingly small, housing two desks and a row of file cabinets. The
front third of the office contained an enclosure of wood and frosted
glass panels, obviously the director's office. The lights were off, and
both sections appeared vacant.

She stared at the empty office in dismay, her plan shattered. For a
moment Elizabeth was close to giving up and returning docilely to her
bed. But she was too much like her father-stubborn and determined.
Mainwaring might be right about how screwed up she was sexually, but
still he and his lackeys were going to find out that she couldn't be
mistreated.

Burning with righteous indignation, she turned back to face the dark
passage. Why not try to locate one of the patients? Surely one of them
was coherent enough to explain the hospital routine. There must be more
patients like Carrie Dalton than the two unfortunates on the patio
yesterday.

She glanced at the number on the door immediately to her right. It was
room 8, she realized, so there were only thirteen rooms.

Elizabeth tapped at the door. There was no response. She knocked again,
a bit harder. Still there was no reply. She was afraid to knock any
harder. As it was, the light blows seemed to reverberate throughout the
vacant hallway. She grasped the doorknob and tried to turn it, but the
door was locked. Why would a patient be locked in?

The darkness, unabated except for the ghastly red of the Exit sign
staining the walls of the corridor, gave the shadowed

96

doorways a sinister quality. She forced herself to try one more room.

Uncertain whether she might find all the doors locked, she stepped
across the hall to room 9 and gripped the knob. The door opened with
quiet precision, revealing a room like hers, except that the carpets
were a different color, the chairs of another style, and the drapes a
dissimilar pattern. The hospital bed was like hers, with one difference:
it was empty and the bedding was rumpled, as though someone had just
left it. She crept hesitantly into the room and, crossing to the closed
bathroom door, tapped gently on it. There was no answer. The door opened
into an empty bathroom.

She shivered. Room 9 suddenly was unpleasant, and she fled into the
hall. She started to close the door behind her, but the corridor looked
more comforting with the natural light spilling into it.

Desperate now to find someone-anyone-to be with, Elizabeth crossed to
room 10 and rapped on the door, which swung open at the blow. This
room's layout was reversed, with the bed at the far end, but this was
not what had her attention. She was staring, transfixed, at the bed. The
bed linens were strewn around the foot of the empty bed.

Knowing it was useless, Elizabeth looked into the bathroom. Retracing
her steps, she spotted the call buzzer looped around the bed's side rail
and jabbed at it. She hurried to the door to wait. The tiny blue call
light was on above the door.

She was so scared that she was close to losing control. Her fear was all
the more terrible because it was so unfocused.

Elizabeth broke from the doorway, moving with timorous haste along the
corridor, opening doors, glancing into empty rooms with bedding
scattered across the beds. Her heart was beating furiously. Reaching her
room, she paused, trying to catch her breath. It was so hard to breathe.

Ahead of her, the lights of the nurses' station beckoned. It didn't
matter what they thought of her. She had to know what was going on. She
rushed toward the lights.

There was no one there. The cold illumination from the fluorescent
panels glittered off a cheerless expanse of stainless

97

steel. But there was something peculiar. A heavy scent permeated the
air-a smoky smell with a sour, caustic overtone that made her eyes
water. Here memories of the night of the screams and of the smoke
exploded into her mind.

Elizabeth clutched at the counter, her mind reeling. Oh, God! Was she
hallucinating again? She wondered if she any longer knew what was dream
and what was reality.

Caution forgotten, she yelled, ?Hey . . . where is everybody??

There was an eerie echo to her words, bouncing off the corridor walls.
Instantly, she was terrorized by her thoughtless indiscretion. A fearful
idea hit her. Pushing against the counter, she raised herself to where
she could see behind it. There was, no one on the floor. 'A single water
glass, half-filled with an orange liquid, sat next to the blank-screened
heart monitors. On the back wall, between the cabinets and under the
clock, two blue lights glowed in futile summons on the call board. One
was hers, and the other was the one for room 10.

An electric motor came on, and Elizabeth jumped. Whirling around, she
identified it as coming from the ice machine sitting in the corner at
the junction of the corridors. It was a low affair shaped like a home
freezer, and long enough for a person to stretch out in. The ice machine
failed to mask a steady dripping from somewhere down the connecting
passageway. These familiar sounds seemed so lonely-tiny mementos of
familiarity in a terrible silence.

She peered around the corner into the shorter corridor. It was brighter,
thanks to a large frosted skylight illuminated by the morning sun. On
the right-hand side of the hall was the gleaming red steel door she had
noticed the night she arrived.

Eyeing the opening at the rear of the nurses' station, she slipped
behind the counter and stepped into a medication. supply room.

Whatever hopes she had retained of finding a reasonable explanation
vanished when she looked about her. The room was in disarray, with
cabinet doors open and counter drawers pulled out. Several glass bottles
lay, broken, on the counter tops. A large floor safe, with NARCOTICS
CHEST stenciled

98

across its gray steel door, was at one end of the narrow room. It was
closed and locked, but the door was badly dented, as if it had been
battered with a heavy object. Her nose led her to peer into the corner
beside the safe. The walls were stained, and the tiles were covered with
a foul-smelling mixture of powders, encrusted with a colorful topping of
capsules and pills. Sprays of glass fragments from countless broken
bottles were mixed with the chemical debris.

A destructive rampage had taken place in the storage room, and a feeble
effort had been made to conceal it.

As Elizabeth stared about at the destruction, her thoughts flashed back
to last night. The screams, the smell of smoke, and the piteous begging
were again vivid in her mind. Something awful must have happened during
the wee hours.

She stepped out into the hall and glanced up, surprised at the skylight.
A grid of heavy iron bars was suspended under the glass panel. The
hospital was making certain that no interlopers gained entry that way.
The bright light lent an alien quality to a hospital hallway that should
have been bustling with activity. Her passage had stirred up dust, and
she could see the tiny motes dancing in the glare from the skylight.
There was a feeling of disuse, of abandonment, about the hospital, of a
place that had not been inhabited for a long time. Absentmindedly, she
bit her lip, not wanting to think about it.

The dripping was louder-a slow, measured sound that never varied, liquid
landing with a muted, mushy sound. It was coming from the next room. She
had to know.

Reluctantly she headed toward the sound. It was coming from a smaller
room furnished as a lounge. The dripping was at the side of the room,
blocked from her view by the door.

As Elizabeth stepped into the room, her nose was assailed by a harsh,
acrid odor. Her eyes were drawn to the sofa against the far wall, a
sodden, fire-gutted wreck. The charred remains of the fabric and the
ugly black mass of melted plastic padding were covered with white
powder. The wall behind the sofa was blistered and discolored all the
way to the ceiling. Her skin crawled with the ,knowledge that behind her
the steady drip demanded her attention. Slowly she turned to confront it.

A small counter, attached to the wall held a large coffee

99

urn. A stainless steel sink was built into the countertop, and from its
faucet water was dripping with monotonous regularity onto a sponge. Pegs
on the Wall held at least twenty coffee mugs marked with first names or
illustrations. There was a sizable cork board on the wall, crowded with
a miscellany of cartoons, short articles, and pictures. A quick glance
at some of them confirmed that this was not an area open to visitors.

A thought struck her, and she reached for the coffee urn. Its sides were
cold. Though it was still morning, no coffee had been heated in the
appliance for quite a while.

Elizabeth grabbed the faucet handle and slammed it shut with far more
.strength than necessary. The sudden cessation of sound was as bad as
the dripping had been. She fled from-the room with its burned sofa and
bitter stench.

The lounge door was directly opposite the strange fire door. Up close,
it looked more like the door to a bank vault than an emergency exit.

Elizabeth tapped its flat metal surface. It conveyed a feeling of
massive solidity. There was a heavy handgrip on the door, and
immediately below it a bright steel locking mechanism was affixed to the
surface of the door.

She grabbed the handgrip with both hands and pulled at it, at first
easily, and then as hard as she, could, but it was as solid as the wall.

A movable steel plate sliding on tracks was set into the door at eye
level. She gripped the knob on the plate and pulled. At last she would
see what was beyond the red door. It slid easily.

She groaned in disappointment. The plate covered a four inch-square
opening that pierced the door, but there was a similar sliding plate on
the other side. Her curiosity aroused, Elizabeth pressed her fingers
against the plate, trying to work it free. The plate started to slide.
But after a half inch it stopped, as though it was jammed or something
was holding it. She turned away, unaware that the plate had slid gently
back into place.

The last room off the corridor was the kitchen. A large commercial stove
and ovens lined one wall. Opposite it were three upright frozen-food
lockers standing higher than her

100 Frank Lambirth

head, their stainless steel fronts gleaming moistly in the dim light. A
trickle of water ran from the base of one of the lockers to the drain in
the middle of the concrete floor. At the far end were sinks,
dishwashers, a large steam table, and several rolling carts for food trays.

Only the treatment room-the one where they had been received-remained to
be searched. There was nowhere else to look.

She saw three vending machines near the end of the hall and hurried
toward them, forgetting her anxiety at the memory of Johnny's kidding
around yesterday.

She froze in midstride. Her eyes widened, and she felt weak-kneed.

The glass had been broken out of the cigarette machine and two candy
machines. A carpet of glass fragments littered the hall in front of the
dispensers. Much of the candy and all of the cigarettes were missing.

Elizabeth found herself biting her finger, trying to stifle a scream.
She was trembling uncontrollably. Staring back at the horrible emptiness
of the corridor, she knew she had to get out of the building. Beyond
thinking, she whirled and lunged through the double doors into the
treatment room.

Slumping against the wall of the empty room, she fought to regain her
composure. She started for the doors leading to the porte cochere, but
stopped abruptly, unable to credit her eyes.

The treatment room had not been cleaned since they were brought in. The
sheeting on top of the nearer table was rumpled and smeared with mud. On
the far table, bloodstain remained where Gavin Thorne's head had rested.
Against the far wall, in the shadow beneath the windows with their heavy
steel mesh covering, she could see Gavin's crumpled clothes lying where
they had been thrown.

Elizabeth averted her eyes, sick of finding nothing but more puzzles,
and pushed through the doors into the tiny hall that she remembered from
the first night. Caution was forgotten. She would lose her mind if she
didn't get out of the place.

With a sigh of relief she hit the push bars of the windowless outside
doors. Her hands slipped off the unyielding

101 THE DOOR /

bars, and her shoulder hit the door. She pushed again with all her
strength, but they wouldn't budge. She moaned, terrified now. She was
locked in the deserted building.

She reentered the treatment room, trying to gather her wits, to find
some rational answer. What had happened? Why had everyone in the
hospital-patients, doctors, and nurses disappeared? Had there been a
nuclear war? Had some natural disaster forced them to flee? Maybe
something even more horrible had come to the hospital.

She shuddered as she glanced about her refuge . . . seeing Gavin Thorn's
clothes and the rumpled examination tables.

She hated the Goddamned silence. Elizabeth wanted laughter, talk, people
moving around-the sounds a hospital should have. It was horrible. She
slumped onto a chair and started to cry, very close to cracking.

She sat there for five minutes, her defenses down, before her sobs
subsided, leaving her numb. The sound of an electric motor switching on
caused her to jump.

It came from the shadowy far corner of the room, from something that
looked like a low, overlong file cabinet. The metal box was about eight
feet long and had two pull-out drawers, one above the other. At the rear
were vents, emitting the busy hum of an electric motor.

For a moment Elizabeth was puzzled, and then she knew what it was. It
was a body cabinet, like the movies showed in morgues. Skystone would
certainly be no stranger to death. The cabinet must have been used more
than a few times.

She turned away from it, but as she did, she heard a noise -a brief
metallic ping from somewhere behind her. She spun around, the flesh of
her neck crawling. There was nothing behind her.

The only sound was the humming. Her imagination was running wild. She
started to relax. The noise came again, not loud-a sort of metallic
drumming. She cried out in alarm. All was quiet for a moment, and then
the drumming came back, so faint she would have missed it had she not
been straining to hear. She was close to screaming. She knew where it
was coming from.

Something was alive in the body case.

102 12

E

lizabeth leapt to her feet. She pushed her fist hard against her lips,
trying to stifle the screams, knowing that if she started she would
never stop. Not wanting to but unable to control herself, she started
toward the case, past the examination table on which Gavin had spilled
his life's blood, unaware that she was whimpering. She halted before the
metal container, trying to control the tremors racking her body.

The sound came again-a sort of metallic squeaking.

Her hand, moving with a will of its own, grasped the icy-cold handle of
the lower drawer and pulled it open. Staring up at her were the dead
eyes of Gavin Thorne. The mangled side of his head was exposed, and his
face was distorted in the hideous smile of the death rictus.

She put her foot against the drawer and pushed it shut. The cabinet came
alive with thumps and thuds. She screeched, ?Oh, God!?

Beyond coherent thought, she seized the upper handle and pulled it with
all her strength. The drawer shot out. The sight of motionless bare legs
greeted her, but then the feet, taped together above the ankles, started
wigwagging. She pulled aside the cloth covering the upper part of the body.

103 DOOR /

Looking up at her, his eyes wild, was Scott Sutherlin, clad in shorts
and a T-shirt. His mouth was taped shut. One arm was in a cast, but the
entire upper part of his body was wrapped in elastic bandages, pinning
both arms against his sides. He shivered violently and looked up at her
with pleading eyes. He was trying to talk, mumbling behind the tape.

Elizabeth spotted a pair' of scissors lying atop Gavin's clothes.
Quickly she cut the tape from around Scott's feet. Grasping his
shoulders, she helped him into an upright position, still sitting in the
cabinet.

She set to work on the tape around his mouth. It was not an easy job,
and she had to cut away great swatches of hair to clear it from the back
of his head. Once the tape was away from his mouth, he began to gag.
Scott opened his mouth, revealing a glob of white inside. Gritting her
teeth in distaste, she pulled out a sodden wad of gauze.

He tried several times before he could say, ?Water.?

After he downed several swallows, he was able to talk, his voice little
more than a scratchy whisper.

While he was struggling to find his voice, she unwrapped the elastic
from his body and helped him out of the cabinet. She had to support him
to a chair.

Scott's problems were as much emotional as physical. He had been lying
too long in that frigid, claustrophobic chamber, just above Gavin
Thorne's body.

For a short, giddy time Elizabeth forgot she had any problems. She was
not alone anymore, and that was all that counted.

When Scott was able to tell his story, it did not turn out to be much
different from hers. He had been confined, apparently next door to her,
in room 1. Like Elizabeth, he had been checked a couple of times_ by Dr.
Caudillo but had not seen him since yesterday morning. Dr. Mainwaring
had plied him with the same strong drugs that Elizabeth had been forced
to take. Last night everything had changed.,

?I . . . don't remember . . . honestly don't remember much of what has
happened. I remember our being brought here, and I remember Dr. Caudillo
putting the cast on my arm; but once they put me to bed, I slept all
night. Dr. Mainwaring -is that the short doctor's name?-gave me a shot
of something

104

yesterday morning, and I went back to sleep. It was after I saw the
other doctor.

?God, I'm hungry. I was so wasted that I didn't think much about food
yesterday. A nurse an older, black-haired lady-brought me a tray
yesterday morning. I remember thinking how odd it was because all that
was on the tray was a bowl of canned peaches. I ate a few spoonfuls, but
I didn't want them.

?I kept drifting off to sleep, I would wake up briefly, but I would soon
be asleep again. Before I knew it, it was dark outside. The best I can
recall, the black-haired nurse came in a couple of times during the day,
and Dr. Mainwaring came in once and gave me another shot. Then, sometime
last night, all hell broke loose. I was awakened by those screams.

?I panicked and crawled from the bed. My God, that was a job! I couldn't
get my arms and legs to do what I wanted. When I stood, I was so dizzy
that. I was afraid to let go of the bed. Finally I was able to stagger
to the door.

?It was weird. There was smoke in the corridor, so thick near the
ceiling it formed a blue haze. Several people were coughing. When I
stuck my head out the door, they acted paralyzed, staring at me. One of
the orderlies the heavyset guy who was in the treatment room was holding
an elderly woman in a headlock. Her face was red, and she was drooling.
There were several nurses in the hall. The older nurse was there-the
black-haired one and there were some nice-looking young gals. They were
all watching the orderly holding the old lady. Two of the nurses looked
plenty scared, but the others didn't seem to give a damn. The heavyset
dude released the woman, and she just slithered down his leg to the
floor. Before I understood what he was after, he had grabbed me. If my
arm had been okay, I would have dropped that clown on the spot, but I
was as weak as a baby. He clamped me in a bear hug. And that was it.

?Toward this end of the corridor, another guy was carrying a fire
extinguisher. They started yelling for Mainwaring, -and he rushed out of
a doorway near where the fellow was with the fire extinguisher. When
Mainwaring saw me, he shouted, 'Howe, don't, let him go!'

105 THE DOOR / IDS

?Mainwaring looked mad as hell. He yelled at the black haired_ nurse,
'Why in the hell didn't you watch her? This never would have happened if
you had done as I told you.'

?Then he told the guy holding me to put me back to bed. A few moments
later, Mainwaring came in, carrying his trusty hypodermic syringe. I
tried to stay away from him, but it was useless. I couldn't move a
muscle with that dude holding me. It wasn't thirty seconds before I
passed out.

?The next thing I knew I was cold as hell, lying on icy metal. I tried
to raise up, but I hit my head. I could sense the closeness around me
and went bananas. At first I was unaware that I was tied hand and foot.
I must have thrashed about for ten minutes before calming down. I never
understood until now what claustrophobia is like. Jesus! It was terrible!?

Scott closed his eyes, fighting his memories. ?My God, Elizabeth, if I
had known where I was . . . if I had known that Gavin was just a few
inches away . .. I swear to God I believe I would have gone crazy.?

He whirled toward Elizabeth. ?Meredith! Where is Meredith? '&11 me. They
. . . haven't hurt her, have they??

Elizabeth struggled to organize her thoughts, to try to explain about
Meredith's odd behavior. Scott mistook her silence for bad news. His
fingers dug into her shoulder.

?God in heaven! She'd dead, isn't she? Something has happened to her.
Damn you, Elizabeth! Tell me!?

Pulling herself free of his painful grip, she gave him a judiciously
censored account of Meredith's nocturnal visit and of Mainwaring's
remarks. After she finished, Scott continued to stare at her, silently
demanding a more satisfactory conclusion to her story.

?We've got to find her. I'll take this damned place apart brick by brick
if I have to. If any bastard has hurt her... Come on, Elizabeth, we are
wasting time.?

?Scott, listen to me. Listen!?

The wild look faded from his eyes as the vehemence of her voice found
its way through his churning emotions.

?The hospital isn't that big. I' ye searched it from one end to the
other. There is no one here-no Meredith, no living soul. They have all
gone . . . somewhere. We need help..

106

for Meredith and for us. We have to get out of here and find somebody.
We're locked in the building.?

Scott's shoulders sagged in sudden surrender. He looked very young and
very vulnerable as the intensity faded from his face, replaced by etched
lines of pain from his broken arm.

?What are we going to do, Elizabeth??

?Something is terribly wrong here. At first I thought maybe there had
been a nuclear war or something like that, but that doesn't explain the
way things have been vandalized. It doesn't explain why you were treated
the way you were.?

It dawned on her that she was talking to a man clad only in boxer
shorts. She glanced down at herself, embarrassed to see how clearly her
breasts were outlined beneath the hospital gown's thin material.

?The first thing we need to do is find suitable clothing.?

Scott looked bewildered at her sudden change of topic.

They searched the treatment room. Scott rummaged through Gavin's
discarded clothes. Beneath the pile, he found his unfortunate employer's
shoes, which proved to be uncomfortably small but wearable. Meanwhile,
in a metal locker, Elizabeth discovered three uniforms of white pants
and tunics as well as a pair of badly worn sandals that would fit her.
The garments were all too large for her and too small for Scott.
However, they managed to struggle into the clothing. Since she had no
panties or bra, she pulled the garments on over her gown.

Feeling less vulnerable now they were together, they reentered the
corridor and headed for the shelter of Elizabeth's room.

They paused at the nurses' station while Scott examined the cabinets. He
pointed to a panel on the wall that Elizabeth had overlooked. There were
numbers on the panel, and above each one a small, unlit red bulb.

Scott whistled. ?Jesus! They have quite a security system here! I don't
know whether this is intended to keep people out or in. It looks far too
elaborate for the building alone. There must be a fence around the place
that is tied into this board.?

107

?But what does it mean, Scott??

?Christ, don't ask me. Buttell you one thing. This place is guarded like
Fort Knox.?

Again, an unpleasantly cold sensation played along her spine. ?Please,
Scott, let's go. We have to make some plans.?

Once in Elizabeth's room, Scott checked the windows. Outside they could
see a well-tended lawn, its edge marked by a low border a concrete
blocks. Beyond that were thick stands of young hardwood trees. In its
way, it was a landscape as lifeless as the inside of the hospital.

He tapped at the window. ?These windows sure are odd. There is another
piece of glass on the outside like a storm window, only it doesn't have
a frame. These things aren't intended to open.?

He pulled the curtain back. ?Look, Elizabeth. Both panels are fitted
into a metal plate. Apparently, it is fixed this way to muffle sound as
well as for insulation.?

A puzzled Scott tapped the panel as Elizabeth looked on. ?This doesn't
sound like glass. It must be that acrylic stuff that's supposed to be
unbreakable.?

She joined him at the window, suddenly interested in the outer pane.
?Look, Scott, see those metal strips on the top and bottom of the glass.
See with the tiny wires running into the frame. What are those for??

Scott whistled. ?Like I said, this place is another Fort Knox. These
windows are wired into the security system. It's a wonder I didn't set
it off banging on the glass. Say, that's an idea. Why don't we set off
the alarms? That should bring somebody on the double.?

Elizabeth stopped him as he was pulling off his shoe. ?Wait, Scott. I'm
not sure we should call attention to ourselves yet.?

When Scott looked at her questioning, she stared back, defiant. ?Okay,
I'll say it. Maybe we were overlooked. Maybe it's a good thing we were.
Look around us-the medication room ransacked, the vending machines
robbed. I'm afraid something bad happened to them the staff, the
patients. We must get away from this place. Then we can seek help.?

108

Scott blushed. ?You're right, Elizabeth. Damn it, I can't think about
anything but Meredith. Anyway, we couldn't batter our way through this
plastic with a sledgehammer.?

Elizabeth sank onto the bed, her head in her hands, while Scott remained
at the window, staring morosely at the unattainable outdoors. They
remained that way for several minutes before he whirled around, animated
again.

?I wonder about the garbage.?

?What??

?I said I wonder about the garbage. How do they get the garbage out of
the kitchen? Surely they don't roll it down the corridors. Did you
notice an outside door in there??

She tried to visualize the kitchen but could only remember the stainless
steel cabinets and food lockers gleaming in the shadows.

?I'm almost sure there wasn't.?

Scott pulled her toward the door. ?Come on. I have an idea how we can
get out. I worked in a place like this once.?

They surveyed the outside wall of the kitchen. Most of the wall next to
them was taken up by the freezers. The motors were running, as they had
been during Elizabeth's first exploration. She tugged at Scott's sleeve,
pointing.

?Look. One of the freezer doors is ajar. No wonder it's running so much.?

Not only was the door open, but the liquid which Elizabeth had noticed
earlier running into the floor drain was dripping from the open door.
She started over to close the freezer, and as she did, her nose was
assailed by the odor of putrification.

109 13

S

cott saw that there was something wrong with Elizabeth. Her extended arm
hovered in midair, not touching the handle, and her face was blanched.
She backed away a couple of steps, her eyes wide, staring at the
freezer. ?For God's sake, Elizabeth, what's wrong??

She didn't acknowledge his question. He tugged at her arm.

?I . . . I smell something funny in there.?Her voice broke, growing
shrill. ?I think something's dead.?

Roughly, he pushed her aside and yanked the door open. The sickening
odor billowed out around them, and Elizabeth fought to keep from
vomiting. The compartment was crammed full, with mounds of thawed
packets standing in a shallow film of water. The worst of the odor was
emanating from the plastic-wrapped trays of hamburger stacked along the
side of the compartment.

?It's all right, Elizabeth. Some of the food is spoiled, especially the
meat. That's what you smell.?

She still was not reassured. ?But why was the door left open? Why didn't
someone notice it? This must've happened a couple of days ago for it to
be in this condition.?

110

Refusing to meet her gaze, he shrugged and closed the freezer door. He
pulled her past the frozen-food lockers.

Elizabeth scanned the far wall, knowing as she did that it was all so
hopeless. She could not stifle the absurd accusation: ?You said there
would be a door. God, we're never going to get out of here.?

?Wait a minute. Help .me move those tray carts and that steam table.?

They cleared the corner, working as quietly as possible. When the last
cart was out of the way, Scott pointed into the shadows. There was a
hinged steel door, perhaps four feet high and three feet across, secured
with a heavy padlock.

He squatted before it, examining the edges of the frame. He rose with a
sigh. ?Thank God it's not wired. Now all we have to do is find the key
for the padlock.

?The only people using this hatch would be the kitchen staff. I can't
see them going to a doctor or nurse every time they need to take a
garbage can out. The medical staff wouldn't want to waste time on that.
The key has to be in here somewhere.?

?There must be a thousand places here to hide a small key.?

Scott ignored her comment, studying the area around the garbage port.
?They wouldn't make any big deal out of it. The key to the cutlery
drawer-I can see that on somebody's key ring but not the garbage key.
Now . . . where would it be??

Elizabeth pointed to the wall above the sink. ?Well, I would put it
about where that key is on the hook above the sink. You know . . . hide
it in plain view.?

The job proved too difficult for Scott-trying to hold the padlock and
unlock it with one hand. He smiled apologetically as he surrendered the
key to her.

After the padlock was freed, Elizabeth slowly opened the steel door. It
swung easily on heavy, well-oiled hinges.

A head-high enclosure of concrete blocks faced them across a small
concrete apron. The narrow gap in the concrete wall revealed at least a
dozen large garbage cans in its interior.

111 DOOR /

Elizabeth peeked around the edge of the metal door -and then jerked her
head back. ?Oh, no!?

?What's wrong? Who is out there? Did they see you??

She shook her head. ?No . . . at least I don't think so. It's the patio.
Those same elderly people .. . you know . . . the ones I told you were
on the patio yesterday. They're out there again.?

?Who is with them??

She leaned through the port again and then stepped out into the open. A
moment later, she ducked back inside.

?I don't see anybody just the two of them sitting there. But that can't
be! Who could have rolled them out there when the hospital is deserted?
Scott, we had better go-?

Scott pulled her back. ?Stop it, Elizabeth . . . we have to get out
while we can. If you aren't confused about what you saw when the -cops
brought you here the other night, all we have to do is slip past the
office, and the driveway will lead us to the gate. Right??

She nodded.

?Okay, let me take a look. When I give the word, go.?

Thinking about the two pathetic figures on the patio, she started to
object but bit her tongue, sensing Scott's need to assert himself.

Groaning as his cast brushed against the hatchway, he squirmed past her,
peeked toward the patio, and then motioned for her to follow. Ducking
her head, she dived through the door after him.

Walking fast, they moved along the side of the building, feeling
uncomfortable as they passed the windows. Soon they stood at the front
corner of the hospital. Behind them, the comatose sunbathers sat,
unmoving, on the patio.

Scott's voice was strained. ?I think we'd better stay off the driveway.
It looks like easy going through the woods. Head for the trees across
the driveway.?

?What if there's somebody in the office??

?Hell, it's too late to worry about that now. Let's go.? Grunting
painfully with each jarring step, Scott dashed

across the graveled strip. Elizabeth followed him into the

grove of trees, running easily despite the floppy sandals.

He was breathing hard, sweating, his face white. He

112

gasped, ?Okay so far. I'm going to have to take it easy. I think We got
away . . . I don't hear anything: It shouldn't be too far to the gate.?

As they moved slowly through the trees, conscious of the crackling
leaves beneath their feet, she glanced at the sun. It was directly overhead.

As she looked down, she spotted something moving among the trees ahead
of them. Startled, she clutched at Scott's injured arm, puffing him up
short.

?Elizabeth, for God's sake . . . my arm. What are you-?

?Sssh! I saw something through the trees. See . . . there it is
again-that flash of white. It is near the gate. It must be one of the
orderlies.?

?You're right! I see it, too. Quick! Duck back farther into the woods.?

?No. He might hear us moving in these leaves. Get behind a tree trunk.?

Faintly, they could hear movement through the carpet of dry leaves. The
sounds died away, and after waiting a short while longer, they started
toward the gate again, moving at a snail's pace, taking a few steps and
then stopping to listen. Before they had traversed twenty yards, Scott
stopped, pointing. ?Look, there it is the gate. See? Past that tree.?

They began to walk faster, keenly aware that they were clad in the same
brilliant white as whomever they had seen near the gate. The trees
thinned, and they no longer had any cover.

They ran the last few yards to the gate, with Scott beginning to limp
noticeably in the pinched confines of Gavin's shoes. He halted a few
feet away, but Elizabeth ran past him, arms extended, reaching for the
gate latch.

?Watch out!?he shouted, grabbing her with his good arm, stopping her
bare inches short of the wrought-iron gate.

She looked at him with offended dignity. ?Damn you, Scott. What is wrong
with you??

He pointed toward the gate. ?Jesus Christ, Elizabeth, you're a walking
disaster. Didn't you see those insulators??

She looked at him, puzzled. ?Insulators? So what? What are insulators??

113

?The damned gate is electrified. God knows what the voltage is. There's
no telling what you might have done to yourself.?

She jumped back, her eyes growing wide. ?Oh God, Scott. I owe you one. I
forgot it might be electrified.?Her face brightened. ?Maybe it isn't on.?

He turned aside to search the grass. Locating a small branch, he flipped
it against the wrought-iron bars. There was a sun-white flash, and the
branch exploded into smoking bits of wood. His one-word expletive
?Jesus!? was eloquent enough for Elizabeth.

?God, I'll bet you set off the alarm,?she 'complained.

?Nope . there wouldn't be that sensitive an alarm on the live wires.
Small animals, branches, and things like .that must brush against it all
the time. An alarm would sound only if the circuit was broken. Come on.
Let's check along the wall.?

They walked about fifty yards back into the woods before Scott stopped,
looking up into a small, many-branched tree. He grinned at Elizabeth.
?What kind of tree climber are you, kiddo??

?When I was a kid, I could climb a pretty mean tree. Why??

?That stone wall is too tall for us to see the top, and I can't climb
with this arm. You'll have to shimmy up and see if it's wired.?

Discarding the clumsy sandals, she ascended the tree with surprising
agility. When she had climbed high enough to see over the wall, her ?Oh,
no!?told Scott all he needed to know. She descended from her perch, not
bothering to hide her disappointment.

?I'm sorry, Scott. There is glass embedded in the crown, and steel posts
set in the top, angled outward. They have three strands of barbed wire
strung along them and two other wires with those insulators on them.?

He looked thoughtfully at the stone enclosure. ?They can't have a wall
like that all the way around this place. It would cost a fortune. Let's
keep looking.?

They turned back toward the hospital, moving through the

114

woods. Just as they caught sight of the building, they encountered a
narrow gravel lane badly overgrown with weeds. It turned off the
driveway to the right. The lane ran straight for a bit before curving to
the left as if to circle the building. After a moment's hesitation, they
turned into the lane.

They lingered among the trees a couple of minutes, watching the woods
ahead of them. By the time they resumed their exploration, they were
shivering. There was a sharp, steady wind blowing, and in the shade of
the trees, the air was chilly. The light cotton uniforms provided little
defense against the cold.

The lane curved in an ever-wider arc away from the hospital. Soon it
left the trees altogether, running through an open field. A high
chain-link fence toothed up ahead of them, across a stretch of rank weeds.

The fence was topped with an angled rack of barbed wire. From the lane
they could see the white insulators glistening in the sun. The entire
perimeter of the hospital grounds was electrified.

?Maybe we could crawl under the fence,?Elizabeth offered hopefully.

They left the dust of the lane, wading through a sea of knee-high weeds.
Before they had gone very far, her feet and legs were a mess, scratched
and itching. She was moving so slowly that Scott ordered her to wait
while he went ahead to inspect the fence.

She looked back toward the hospital and was surprised to discover that
across the intervening treetops she could see part of its flat roof. Her
gaze sharpened. She was having trouble understanding what she was
seeing. The roof was not the L-shape it should have been. It looked like
a T.

Confused, she lowered her gaze to scan the woods between the lane and
the hospital. Her heart skipped a beat. In the woods, perhaps a hundred
yards to the rear of the hospital, she saw a flash of white. She found
it a second time, and realized it was not moving. It was not the sort of
brilliant white that the uniforms were.

115

When Scott rejoined her, his expression was so forlorn that she didn't
have the heart to question him.

?It's bad news. That fence is built right into the ground to prevent
anyone's burrowing under it. It's no use we have nothing to dig with.
Besides, I'll bet there are alarm sensors underground.?

She pointed toward the distant hospital. ?Scott, do you see the roof??

?Yeah, sure. Why??

?What shape is that building??

?Why, it's an L-shape. It's . . .? He fell silent, then he whistled.
?Hell, that baby is T-shaped. That means there's a section we didn't
know existed. I'll bet that is where Meredith is. By God, that has to be
it! Let's go, Elizabeth. I should have looked closer. This is a
wild-goose chase.?

He dragged Elizabeth several steps before she could stop him. She tugged
several times at his tunic before he became aware of her.

?Scott, calm down. We have to find out what is going on if we are to
help Meredith.?

Turning him around, she pointed her finger where she had seen the flash
of white in the woods. ?Look there.??Where??

?There. See something white, but not like these uniforms. It looks shiny.?

. ?Yeah, I see it. I wonder what it could-be.?

?Let's cut through the woods. We need to take a look at the other wing
of Skystone. Besides, I think we should find out what the white thing is
behind the hospital.?

They crossed the gravel lane and plunged into the grove. The woods on
this side of the hospital was thick and unkempt, unlike the front where
the brush was kept cleared to create a park like setting.

Elizabeth's feet were growing more uncomfortable all the time. Blood
droplets showed on several of the scratches. It was colder with the
woods-heavier here shielding them from the sun. Her toes were beginning
to ache with the cold.

The brush-choked woodland seemed endless. When they reached the
building, they were so exhausted, hungry, and

116

cold that they blundered out into the open. They dived back out of sight
behind a clump of bushes.

Directly before them, the part of the hospital with which they were
familiar-the part constructed of concrete panels -was joined with an
older wing, one built of brick. The second part was single story and
appeared of equal length to the newer wing. Here were no acrylic window
panels, but heavy steel mesh painted a dark green that blended with the
ivy growing rampant up the walls. It was a dismal-looking place in the
lengthening shadows-dark-windowed and silent.

Elizabeth glanced at Scott and saw that their discovery had only
deepened the mystery for him, as it had for her. He touched her
shoulder. ?Hey, we're not going to figure it out standing here. Come on
let's try to find what it was we saw back of the building.?

?Scott, I'm getting cold.?

A more confident Scott grinned at her. ?So, what else is new??

They retraced their arduous journey through the heavy underbrush to the
gravel lane. By the time they stumbled onto the lane, Elizabeth longed
for the warmth of the sinister building behind them. Her strength fast
diminishing, she followed the limping Scott along the graveled ruts.

They were about ready to give up when he cried, ?Hey, look. A car has
been driven off into the woods here. See how these seedlings are
flattened? And here are the tire tracks. Come on.?

They were about forty paces into the timber when she tugged at his tunic.

?Scott, look!?

The sun was reflected off a shiny white object ahead of them. Cautious
now, they crept forward, and then, as they moved past a clump of trees,
they saw glittering red glass catching brilliant highlights from the
afternoon sun. A few more steps, and they saw the white object in its
entirety.

The front of the ambulance was wedged between two 'trees. Limbs and
small bushes were piled atop it and along the sides.

117 DOOR / 117

Elizabeth's voice was barely audible. ?Oh, my God! It's the ambulance!
What on earth is it doing here??

Scott shook his head, speechless.

She took a step to her left for a clearer view. She jumped backward,
almost falling as she stumbled over his feet.

?Oh, Scott! I think they spotted me. The medics... they're sitting in
the ambulance!?

118 14

W

hen there was no outcry, Scott peeked around the tree trunk toward the
vehicle. He started to say something, then stepped into the open,
looking toward the ambulance.

?Wait here,?he said. ?Something is wrong.?

She went with him.

When they were still ten feet away, they could clearly see the lattice
of dried blood decorating the driver's face, like a bizarre mask. He sat
with his hands on the steering wheel, his eyes open, staring straight
ahead. Across the seat, slumped against the door as if he were asleep,
was the second medic. His face was battered beyond recognition. His
mouth gaped open, a red wound without teeth. His nose was badly smashed,
with a long shard of bone jutting through the bridge. One eye rested
against his cheek below the empty socket, from which a river of blood
had flowed. The ruined face was alive with a moving mask of flies
feeding on it.

Scott spun away from Elizabeth, vomiting, while she struggled to stay on
her feet in a world that threatened to go black.

This time she waited, as he ordered, while the pale Scott limped over to
the ambulance and peered inside. From

119

where she stood, she could hear the incessant buzzing of the flies. She
watched as Scott opened the rear doors of the ambulance. He trudged back
to her and stood with his eyes closed. She knew she would have to ask.

?Scott, tell me! I have to know.?

?They were beaten to death with something heavy. The one called Otis was
beaten until he is like pulp. God, he doesn't have a face anymore. The
back of the ambulance is a mess . . . there is blood all over the place.
The key is still in the ignition. I'll swear to God, I believe that-?

He stopped and swallowed noisily, looking around at the quiet, waiting
woods. ?I believe they were dumped in the back and driven here and then
propped up like that. I swear it's the work of a madman!?

?But why??She was struggling to control herself, her voice breaking.
?Oh, please, dear God! What kind of place is this? What in the name of
God has happened here??

Scott shook her. ?Shut up! You're getting hysterical. Forget about them.
We have to find a way to turn the power off to the fence. We can't stay
out here indefinitely, anyway. It feels as if it will get down to
freezing tonight.?

?You mean . . . you want to go back in there? Back in that building??

He nodded. ?It's the only way. Besides, I have to find how to get into
the other wing of that building. I'm not leaving Meredith. If she's
here, I'll find her.?

?Maybe we can attract attention some other way, Scott. Listen, maybe we
can set the woods on fire. Surely someone would see that.?

He shook his head. ?Do you have any matches? I don't. Besides, we don't
know which way the fire would burn. What if it burned the building? We
can't just destroy someone's property. And what about Meredith? Damn
you, Elizabeth! Don't you care about Meredith??

She turned her back, ignoring his emotional outburst, and made her way
back to the lane. Scott was limping so badly that she soon outdistanced him.

As they neared the junction of the lane and the driveway, the lagging
Scott called to her. ?Elizabeth, wait up. I'm sorry. I spoke out of
turn. Please stop. They'll see you.?

120

She waited until he caught up. She couldn't control herself. Her voice
was scornful. ?Who, Scott? Who will see me? Those poor men in the
ambulance? The nurses and doctors that have disappeared? Just who is it
that will see me??

Elizabeth Shea had grown up believing that she owned her share of the
world. She had been urged to treat people with dignity and respect, to
understand that she would receive equal measure. Her family had
indoctrinated her with the belief that people of class persevered in the
knowledge that everything would always be all right in the end. There
had been no lessons that men could be beaten to death and stuffed into
the front seat of an ambulance or that hospitals -hospitals for
gentlefolk could suddenly turn into unfathomable, silent Orisons.
Whatever she did, she would not cower.

Elizabeth marched out into the open, past the front door of Skystone
Institute. Scott, awed by her bravado, mutely followed her. They paused
by the corner housing the office.

?Wait a minute,?Elizabeth commanded. ?Let me check.?

She pulled her head back quickly. ?Scott, how long have we been out here??

He shrugged. ?At least two hours. Why??

?Those . . . those old people are still sitting on the patio. Do you
guess they were forgotten when the building was evacuated??

?I don't know, and I don't plan on finding out.?

?We have to do something. This wind is cold. They could catch pneumonia.?

?For God's sake, Elizabeth, I don't believe you. Don't you remember? We
saw somebody checking the gate, and then we found those poor bastards in
the ambulance. There is a killer loose out here. Look at me! I'm not
chicken, but I only have one good arm, and my feet are a mess. We have
to stay out of sight.?

She yielded reluctantly. ?I feel so funny about it. They are people.
They are somebody's relatives.?

?Can't you understand? We don't know what in the hell is going on. We
can't take chances. We have to keep going for her . . . our own sakes.?

Elizabeth's nose twitched, and she brushed by him, her

121 DOOR /

face contorted. ?God, that garbage smells terrible. I didn't notice it
when we left the building.?

?It's the wind it's changed: It's blowing this way now. Jesus, you're
right. It really smells rotten.?

?I don't like this. Come on-quick!?

When they reached the garbage hatch, Scott realized that Elizabeth was
looking toward the patio again.

?What's wrong??

?Scott, that dead smell-it's worse here, and we're past the garbage
enclosure.?

Choking back his irritation at her obstinacy, he sniffed the air. She
was right. It was a different smell. Before, there had been the complex
odors of garbage with the overtone of decay. Here, the pungent odor of
garbage was missing, but the trenchant smell of decay-death-choked the air.

They looked at each other, their eyes wide with fear, before Elizabeth
spoke. ?Come on, Scott. We have to find out. You know we do.?

She had taken three or four steps before he understood what she was
doing. He called after her to stop, but she gave no sign she had heard.
Elizabeth slowly crossed the strip of lawn.

Scott caught up with her as she reached the edge of the patio. She
stopped, looking at the two silent figures in their wheelchairs.

The woman with the bright red hair sat exactly as she had yesterday,
with her plump body slumped sideways and her head against her chest. The
breeze gently moved strands of her red hair across her forehead and
ruffled the light scarf around her neck. Her eyes were closed, and her
mouth was open. Her parted lips looked dry and cracked.

The elderly man in the other wheelchair was several yards away. His body
sprawled backwards in the chair, with his head thrown back as it had
been yesterday. A hat was pulled low over his eyes, its brim fluttering
in the wind, threatening to blow off. A strong gust hit the hat, and it
lifted enough to let the sunshine fall full on his face, and they could
see his open eyes.

Elizabeth looked at Scott, her eyes pleading with him. He felt angry at
her for what she was asking, but he climbed

122 122Frank Lambirth

over the wrought-iron railing onto the patio. The smell was ghastly, and
his stomach churned. Biting his lower lip, he leaned forward and touched
the woman on the shoulder, calling, ?Ma'am.?

Even' the gentle touch was enough to upset her balance in the chair, and
her body pitched forward, tumbling headfirst onto the flagstones.
Elizabeth's shriek frightened a covey of quail feeding along the far
side of the driveway; with a great fluttering of wings, they rose into
the air.

Scott stared at the body in disbelief. When he glanced toward Elizabeth,
she had her knuckles pressed against her lips, shaking her head. He
walked quickly to the other wheelchair.

The smell of death was even stronger here. He lifted the stained fedora
from the man's head. The eyes gazed directly into the sunlight without
flinching, the pupils huge. Scott put the man's hat back over his face.

He refused to look again at the corpses, gazing across the drive into
the woods climbing toward the crest of the small hill. He stiffened.
Above the distant tree line, a roof was visible.

The bodies forgotten for the moment, he turned toward Elizabeth. Before
he could say anything, she said, ?Scott, put her back in her chair.?

A look of disbelief spread across his face. ?Are you crazy? God, she's
been dead for days. She smells terrible.?

?Put her back in her chair. We can't leave her out here.?

He was angry again. ?Take her in? How? Through the garbage hatch? Where
do I put her? Do you want me to walk down the corridor pushing a
Goddamned rotting corpse??

Elizabeth burst into tears, and Scott, ashamed of himself, slipped his
good arm around her.

She looked up through tear-blurred eyes. ?It's my fault, Scott. I was
talking nonsense. God, I am so scared.?

A mute pact made, they bent to the loathsome remains of the poor
creature at their feet and reseated her corpse in the chair. It was the
most terrible task Elizabeth had ever undertaken.

Leaning over the railing, trying to ease the queasiness in her stomach,
she did not hear Scott until he called a second

123

time. He was pointing toward the steeply pitched roof visible along the
hilltop.

?Look. There is a house over there. Maybe we can get someone's attention
if it's near the boundary fence.?

She nodded in silent assent and followed him as he vaulted the
wrought-iron railing onto the lawn.

?Scott, wait a minute!?

He stiffened in anticipation of a fresh disaster.

?Let's circle around toward the front to climb the hill.??Why? What
difference does it make??

?I think I've figured out what the old section of this hospital is used
for. Look there's no parking area here, is there??

He shook his head.

?It's obvious that these people don't commute to work, so there have to
be living quarters for them. That's what the old section is dormitories
for the employees.?

He whistled. ?By God, that has got to be the answer. Why don't we go
back there-?

?No, we still don't know what happened to them. It doesn't explain where
the patients are. We need help. The authorities must be informed about
this. To be on the safe side, let's stay out of sight until we figure
out how to attract somebody's attention.?

Soon they were climbing the slope in the direction .of the distant roof.
As they came out into a tiny clearing, Scott pointed back downslope.

?The driveway doesn't end at the porte cochere. It comes out the rear
and then disappears into the trees.?

The brush was thicker on the slope., and their progress slowed.
Gradually, Elizabeth left the sore-footed Scott behind.

He was about forty feet behind when she stopped and cried, ?Oh, no!?

He joined her. ?What's wrong??

?Look.?

The woods ended abruptly a few yards ahead of them, revealing a large
three-story house that looked to be an authentic Victorian. Its symmetry
was marred by a new single-story addition to the rear. The long,
many-windowed

124

structure made no attempt to imitate the architecture of the main
structure. A paved driveway passed on their right, opening onto a
concrete apron before an attached five-car garage. Beyond the garage,
alongside the barracks-like addition, were two tennis courts.

Scott, his arm throbbing from the climb, looked questioningly at Elizabeth.

?Look beyond the house, Scott across the lawn. Isn't that the fence??

?Yeah, it sure is.?

?Don't you see? That means this house is on Skystone property. It's part
of the hospital. ,That must be a dormitory at the back . . . and with
the tennis courts . . . this is ... Oh, God, this is where the employees
live not down there. That's what the cop said when we arrived here. I
had forgotten.?

Nearby, a squirrel was working in a tree, and his angry chatter at their
presence was the only sign of life. There were wind chimes somewhere
around the place, and each chilly gust of wind set them to their
tinkling clatter. The windows of the silent house revealed nothing of
its shadowed interior.

?Well??Elizabeth asked.

?Let's go back in the bushes for a while.?

She giggled, a lopsided smile on her face. ?Why, Scott Sutherlin, do you
think this is the time for that sort of thing??

The tension broke in him, and they stood there for a moment, red-faced,
hands over their mouths, laughing like children until the tears ran down
their cheeks.

Their hilarity vanished all too soon. Scott hustled her back down the
slope to a thick clump of brush.

?Elizabeth, you stay here. I'm going in there. Jesus, I am scared to death!

?I shouldn't tell you, Elizabeth, but I will. The old man on the patio
his neck was badly bruised. I think he was strangled. We have to find a
weapon with which we can defend ourselves, and we need shelter until we
figure out how to short out the fence. If I'm not back in thirty
minutes, it means I'm not coming back. I can't tell you what you

125 THE DOOR /

should do because I don't know, but for God's sake, don't come after me.?

He stepped out into plain view on the lawn and hobbled slowly across the
grass. His heart was beating far too fast, and he had a metallic taste
in his mouth like when he broke his nose. At any moment he expected to
be discovered.

He reached the foot of the steps that led onto the high porch fronting
the house. There was no movement behind the dark windows. Slowly, he
mounted the stairs.

The front door failed to yield to his hand, but at the end of the porch,
where it was shadowed by a vine-covered trellis, there was another door.
He saw, with a start, that it was standing open. He paused outside the
screen door, listening.

From somewhere inside, a radio was playing. It sounded muffled and far
off. Quickly, he stepped through the door-' way.

The room in which he stood, an old-fashioned area with a twelve-foot
ceiling, had been made into an office. In one corner was a large gun
cabinet, its glass door standing open. There were no guns in the cabinet
racks. Nothing else in the room appeared disturbed.

Scott crossed the room and found himself in a narrow cross passage that
led into the main hall. In the large, dimly lit entry, the hollow
ticking of a clock supplied a rhythm for the distant radio. A few steps
into the hall revealed the source of the ticking. A magnificent
grandfather's clock stood along the wall, its brass pendulum gleaming
dully in the limited light.

Quickly, he peered into the four large rooms that opened onto the entry
hall. A cursory glance was enough to convince him that he was not in an
ordinary residence. The first room, entered through an open arch, held a
large-screen television similar to those in the lounge at the hospital.
It was obviously used as a living room, furnished with several sofas in
the room and a Ping-Pong table, which was pushed against the back wall.

Across the hall the partition had been removed between two smaller rooms
to make one large chamber. It contained two long dining tables with an
ornate chandelier above the far one. He counted the chairs. There were
twenty-six. The

126

windows were narrow and tall, reaching almost from floor to ceiling,
typically Victorian in style. Without lights, the dining hall had a
dark, forbidding aspect.

The fourth room contained several painted tables with overhead lights. A
small pile of books was on one of the tables. Obviously, the area had
been used as a study.

He turned toward the closed green door at the rear of the broad hall. It
concealed a short hallway with a door to each side. The hall's limit was
marked by a glass-paned door. He could see through the pane into a
low-ceilinged corridor beyond. It was the new addition at the rear of
the old house.

Letting the green door swing shut, he returned to the main hall and an
ornate staircase that led to the second floor. The sense of terror had
not diminished since he entered the house, but its effect had changed.
There was an inevitability about it. As he mounted the first step he was
overwhelmed by a terrible premonition. Revulsion swept over him as he
turned his gaze toward the gloom at the top of the stairs. Scott knew,
somehow, that he would never descend those steps as the same person who
climbed them. He was entering hell.

Grimly, he mounted the stairs and paused at the top, knowing now what he
would find. The upstairs was heavy with the putrid odor of decaying
flesh, of blood, of human excrement.

The hallway was dim, illuminated only by open doors from which the sun
was spilling its chilly light. Somewhere above him on the third floor,
violins cried in the anguished discords of Rookie. Scott turned toward
the front of the house, with the floorboards betraying his every step.
The door to one of the front rooms was not quite shut, and he pushed it
open with his foot.

He had found the first of them: a tall-redheaded man lying stiffly in
the middle of the room, his stained hands gripping the blood-sodden
midriff of his pajamas, his face frozen in surprised terror.

Scott edged around the body. The man's quarters, fixed up as a small
apartment, showed no signs of a struggle.

He closed the door behind him and renewed his search. There were two
other apartments opening off the front hall,

127

but these were mercifully empty. Nothing had been disturbed.

In the first of the single bedrooms he found the body of an older woman.
The covers were still drawn about her, and across the foot of the bed
lay a blue robe with the name Opal embroidered on it. Her throat had
been cut with a single long slash. She had-died with perhaps no more
awareness than a single terrible moment of strangulation.

In the next bedroom, a man lay facedown in the bed, the covers down to
his waist. There were, two deep stab wounds in his uncovered back, and
the blood-soaked pillow gave evidence of a severed throat.

In shock, feeling nothing, Scott went from room to room. The killer had
been remarkably successful in his silent pursuit of death. Only two of
the eight dead gave any indication of having struggled.

The last victim was out of bed, lying near the window, apparently
overtaken as she prepared to dive headfirst from the second floor to
escape the horror pursuing her. In her room, as in those of several of
the other women, was a gift-wrapped package. The attached tag read,
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, OPAL, FROM YOUR LOVING SISTER.

Like a robot, Scott came back down the stairs, paused for a moment near
the front door, and then turned toward the green door leading to the new
addition.

Passing the kitchen, he saw, from the corner of his eye, a form crouched
behind one of the refrigerators, between it and the side wall. Scott
cried out in sudden terror, crashing backwards into the corridor wall.
He stood there, helpless, but the form never moved. He peered across the
kitchen and then relaxed.

The young girl would never move again.

128 15

H

e stared down at the young girl, perhaps eighteen, who had tried so hard
to make herself invisible in that cranny before the slashing steel found
her. The murders in the upper floor were aesthetic masterpieces compared
to what Scott found in the dormitory. Small monastic cubicles, holding
little more than a bed and chair with a tiny closet, opened off each
side of the passageway. No knives had been used in the dormitory.
Immediately inside the building, he began to encounter them, bright red,
their brass glittering in the sunlight: spent shotgun shells by the
dozens littering the corridor. The floor was marred with rivulets and
pools of blood dried to a rusty brown. Seven male bodies lay strewn
along the corridor, flesh ravaged by steely storms of bird shot.

There was no way to avoid the blood. It was dry, and yet there was a
stickiness, a smacking sound, as Scott's soles pulled free of it with
each step. The dead were in a bewildering array of postures. Some had
seen that blinding flash of sun fire as they prayed, others while
clawing desperately at the walls or trying to crawl under their bunks.
There had been no real resistance, unless it had been by the males
sprawled in the hallway, who had perhaps made some mad,

129

chivalrous gesture to protect the women in the dorm. The expenditure of
ammunition had been prodigious, for the walls of the corridor had been
shredded where blast after blast of bird shot ripped into them.

No one person could have done it, but several, reloading as they made
their inexorable and deadly sweep through the dormitory.

In the large room at the end of the hall-a commons room with a table,
cheap sofas, and a coffee machine-death wore a more puzzling face. There
were five bodies, all young women and all nude. The five of them had
been severely beaten about the body and the face. Two of the girls had
broken necks, their heads at grotesque angles to their bodies. Two
others had hemorrhaged badly from their vaginas. A blood-caked softball
bat-lying across the stomach of one girl spoke its own grim story of how
this had happened.

Scott's stomach was rumbling, threatening to erupt again, and he knew he
was losing his emotional isolation. The area was more confined than the
main house had been, and the stench of death was heavy. He wanted to
take the baseball bat with him as a weapon, but knowing how it had been
used, he could not bring himself to touch it. He turned away, dry-heaving.

Leaping over the bodies of those who had sacrificed themselves in futile
heroics, he hurried back into the older part of the house. Here he
stopped, weakened, dizzy, leaning against the wall and gasping for
breath. He was staring at a fireplace, and there was a poker by it.
Scott had found his weapon.

He grabbed the iron bar and slumped wearily onto a chair, groaning as
the pain from his arm flared into his body. He tried to remember what he
had seen, to count the bodies. There were twenty-six-twenty-six people
dead in the house, an old man and old woman dead on the patio, and the
two murdered medics. Thirty people were dead ail murdered.

The distant music drew his attention again. It served as a reminder.
that the third floor had not been searched. For a second he considered
mounting the stairs again and seeking

130

the source of the radio. He was not likely to find a maniacal killer
calmly listening to music. The radio played for those who would never
again hear it.

Had he climbed those gloomy flights of stairs to the third floor with
its spacious but dingy rooms, he would have found six more bodies. If he
had walked into the room, where the radio played he would have found a
pretty nineteen-year her face calm and tranquil, the breeze-coming
through the crack in the window she had opened to the night air-gently
moving her soft brown hair across her smooth but far too pale forehead.
Kari Burnett had possessed a sense of humor and, had she not carried
that angry red slash across her throat, might have appreciated the irony
of Rachmaninoff's ISLE OF THE DEAD floating through the high-ceilinged
mausoleum.

Scott came to his feet, knowing that he had exhausted the time limit he
had given Elizabeth. He shot a quick glance out the window. Directly
below him was the roof of the garage addition. The oddly placed door in
the corner of the dining room must lead down to the garage.

Scott had an idea-a lifesaver of an idea. There had to be cars in the
garage; and with a car, they could crash through the electrified gate
and be on their way to freedom. He hurried across the dining room, never
thinking of the food or the coats that they needed so badly. The poker
lay forgotten where he had put it on the floor by the chair.

Stumbling down the narrow stairway, he grunted as his cast-laden arm
bounced against the sidewall of the confined passage. He stepped out
into the large, well-lit garage, confronted by four vehicles: two large
luxury cars, a panel truck, and a pickup truck.

His hopes crashed to earth. The hoods of all four vehicles were up, and
he could see into the engine compartment of the nearest car. A rat's
nest of wiring lay across the engine, and the carburetor and air cleaner
were battered into shapeless metal. A large steel maul was propped
against the front fender.

He forced himself to walk along the line of vehicles, looking at the
destruction wrought on each by the heavy maul. The panel truck was last
in line. He glanced into the

131 DOOR /

motor compartment and then, raising his eyes, looked beyond it into the
empty fifth space. The sense of detachment that had sustained him vanished.

There, piled in a grotesque heap, was a collection of dead bodies. The
gowns of many of them were twisted around their bodies, unmercifully
exposing match stick limbs and wasted bodies. Opened eyes, set in dead,
wrinkled faces framed in scraggly gray hair with deeply sunken mouths
agape-stared owlishly at Scott.

He had found the patients of Skystone Institute.

He remembered nothing of the next few seconds, unaware that he had
lurched through the garage and out the side door. Only when he saw
Elizabeth step out into the open, her eyes wide with fear, did he manage
to control himself. He grabbed her, unable to breathe, and clung weakly
to her. Only vaguely did he hear her cry, ?What is it, Scott? What is it??

As Elizabeth stared at him, her gaze never leaving his face, he told her
in devastating detail of the horrors of the old Victorian structure
looming above them, sheltering its butchered dead from the cruel,
capricious winds. While he talked, trying to maintain a monotone that
threatened at times to splinter like glass into a shrill-toned hysteria,
his hands, always moving, had pulled the keys from his pocket. He thrust
his finger through the key ring, slowly turning it with his other hand.

He finished his story to find Elizabeth no longer watching his face but
staring at his hand, twisting the shiny metal ring. The ghastly scene at
the ambulance had profoundly affected her. The cataloguing of the
terrors felt by another had little effect on her.

?The keys, Scott. Where did you get them??

He stared at them in surprise. ?Why . . . I don't know . . . I must have
. . . that's right. There's a side door on the porch. The first room I
entered was an office. I remember seeing a ring of keys on the desk. I
must have picked them up without thinking and put them in my pocket.?

She pulled the keys from his hand and examined them. Talking about the
horrors of the house had purged Scott of a burden that threatened to
explode within him. Much

132

calmer, he raised his eyes to look at the old mansion. Shuddering at
what he would never forget, he slipped his arm over Elizabeth's
shoulder, as much for his own comfort as hers. Thinking only of the
keys, she shrugged his arm away. Scott blushed, embarrassed by the
unthinking rejection.

Elizabeth was growing excited. ?Look at these keys-all shapes and sizes.
The house wouldn't have that many locks. They must belong to one of the
doctors. I think we've hit the jackpot. I believe they are for the
hospital. Come on . . . let's go.?

?Wait a minute. Go and do what??

?Look, one man couldn't have done this. A gang, maybe bikers, came in
here and killed them all. God knows why. Maybe robbery. We must get into
the office. There has to be a master switch for the fence. They would
have to have a way of turning it on and off, and there has to be a
telephone.?

?But how do you know they're not still here??

?Where, Scott??

?I don't know. Maybe they're in the other part of the hospital-the older
part.?

?Why would they hide? There are only two of us left alive. They
certainly have nothing to fear from us-especially if they have shotguns.
You said it yourself. We can't stay outdoors, doing nothing.?

?Listen, Elizabeth, let's sneak back in and get food, blankets, and . .?

She frowned. ?No! We have to get out of here and contact the police.
Scott, you can come with me or not, but I'm taking these keys. Now, I'm
going back to the hospital. God, yes, I want to stay here, out in the
open, clear of the buildings, but I'm hungry and I'm cold and I'm not
doing a thing standing here to change that.?

She started down the slope the way they had come. Scott watched her
passing through the sharp shadows drawn by a cheerless winter sun on the
dormant earth, never glancing back to see if he was coming. He hesitated
and then followed.

The newer part of Skystone glared brightly in the afternoon sunlight.
The older portion crouched darkly behind its

133 DOOR /

screen of vines and meshed windows. Only the trees moved in the gusts of
chilly wind. The hospital remained lifeless. Scott pointed. ?Look!?

The door of the garbage hatch stood open. They could see it swinging to
and fro in the building wind.

?Elizabeth, did you leave the hatch open??

?I ... I don't remember.?

Scott choked back his irritation.

They came out on the driveway to be confronted by the two silent figures
sitting without complaint in the cold sunlight. When they reached the
garbage hatch, they paused, reluctant to face whatever awaited them in
the kitchen.

Elizabeth took a deep breath, dodged past Scott, and disappeared through
the opening before he could object. She blinked, trying to see clearly
in the dim kitchen after coming out of the bright sunlight. Scott bumped
into her as he followed.

While he rearranged the food carts around the hatch, she stared idly at
the small pool remaining on the floor beneath the freezer they had found
open. She thought again of the food crammed into the locker, and then
she understood why so much food was in the one freezer. A chill arced
down her spine.

?Scott, we won't be using food from the other freezers. You know that,
don't you??

His eyes widened as he understood, but his voice denied it. ?Oh, shut
up, Elizabeth! You don't know what you're talking about.?

?Open the door.?

When he failed to move, she said, her tone shrill with a tremolo to it,
?Go ahead, damn it! Open it, or I will!?

Crossing the room quickly, he yanked open the heavy door of the second
locker.

Elizabeth's first impression was that a large bundle of clothes had
fallen from the locker, but the solid weight with which it hit the floor
told her what it, was.

Scott's voice broke. ?Christ, that's the woman that was in the hall last
night-the one that was screaming.?

?God, yes, I knew her. She was the old lady that came to

134

my room to talk to me. She was so sad, so unhappy. Her name was Carrie.?

He looked into the open freezer. ?My God! There's another one stuffed in
the back.?

He slammed the door shut.

Her voice was trembling. ?Do you want to open the third locker? Do we
have enough bodies yet??

?Shut up, Elizabeth! Damn it, shut up!?

Averting their eyes, they stepped past the solidly frozen corpse of
Carrie Dalton and out into the corridor. She threw her arms around his
waist.

?I'm sorry, Scott. I shouldn't have acted like that.?

Scott, looking pale and desperately tired, patted her arm.

The sun, rapidly sliding down the western sky, was striking the skylight
at an acute angle, and the interior was much darker than when they had
left the building.

Elizabeth stopped before the red steel door, her voice a whisper.
?Scott, this can't be a fire door. It must lead into the other part of
the hospital. But why is it painted red . . . and why is it so massive?
Why does it have the viewing panel and the heavy lock??

Without waiting for the answer that she knew he couldn't give, she moved
on past the door. At the nurses' station the two blue lights still
silently pleaded for nurses that were not here. All the doors along the
corridor remained open. Everything seemed exactly as it had been, but it
wasn't. Their innocence, had been taken from them, and nothing was the same.

The quiet, dusty halls, the empty rooms with pools of sunlight spilling
onto the floors were components of a waking nightmare, a silent stage
that awaited its actors.

Scott slipped behind the counter of the nurses' station to try the keys
from the house. in the lock of a gray steel box suspended on the wall.
He had tried most of them before he grunted in satisfaction and swung
the cover open.

?Just what I thought. This is one of the security control stations, but
damn it, there aren't enough switches in here. This must be an interior
system for this wing only. There are no diagrams, so I'll just turn them
all off.?

135 DOOR /

She watched as he flipped the toggles and closed the box with a
flourish. There was a bit of the old Scott in his grin. ?Okay, let's go
open that office.?

She stood behind him as he squatted before the office door, trying the
keys. Within the office, the venetian blinds to the west had been left
open, and the sun was sending long streamers of yellowish light across
the dark green carpeting. The bright light spilling across the desk tops
brought into bold illumination the light film of dust on their surfaces,
giving the whole office an air of neglect.

The bolt slid back with a click.

?At last!?Scott said. ?I think things are beginning to go our way.?

Inside the office, Scott waved in the direction of the desks.

?Check the file cabinets, Liz. Try to find out something about this
place. I'll go into the inner office and call the cops. No point in
being overheard.?

Elizabeth watched as he closed the door behind him. She. opened a file
drawer, but before she could examine its files, Scott stuck his head out
of the small room.

?Jesus, everything is against us. I found the control panel for the
front gate, but it operates on codes that have to be punched in. We
can't do anything with it. Incidentally, you'll have to call from out
there. Ask the operator for the sheriff's number. I'll search through
the desk here.?

She pushed the file drawer shut, turning to find the phone. The near
desk had very little on it and certainly no phone. She switched her
attention to the second desk. It was more cluttered, but there was no
phone. Despair overwhelmed her. There wouldn't be a phone. She raced
about the room in a futile search. She was right. There were no telephones.

As she backed across the office, she noticed loose coils of white cord
partially hidden under one- of the desks. The cord terminated in a bare
phone plug.

She stepped into the inner office where Scott was examining one of the
open file drawers. His face brightened.?What did they say? How long is
it going to be??

She shook her head, not wanting to put it into words. She

did not need to.

136

His shoulders sagged. ?Like in here, huh? The phones have been taken away.?

He slammed his fist down onto the metal cabinet. ?They are smarter than
we are, aren't they? One step ahead of us in everything.?

He pointed at the files. ?Most of these files are full of patients'
histories, but there's one with building blueprints in it. We have to
find out how to unplug the perimeter circuits. You look through it.
Maybe you can find the answer. After all, your husband was an architect.?

?But, Scott, I didn't know anything about his business absolutely nothing.?

?Damn it, do what the hell I ask you. My God, we've got to get out of here.?

She choked off an angry reply when she saw how close he was to going
over the edge. He watched her for a moment before disappearing into the
outer room.

Fifteen minutes later, she was sitting at the desk, staring forlornly at
an incomprehensible wiring plan, acutely aware that the room was
growing. darker and that the sunlight streaming into the office was a
bright orange.

She looked up, startled to see Scott standing in the doorway, holding a
colorful brochure in his hand. She waited for him to speak, but he
seemed beyond words.

?What's wrong? What is it??

He flipped the pamphlet onto the desk, took a deep breath, and blurted
out, ?Elizabeth, we're in an insane asylum!?

137 16

S

funned, she looked at him, shaking her head, begging, ?No, Scott. Oh,
please, no. It can't be.?He slapped the pamphlet down on the desk. ?It's
true. Read it.?

The brochure was a slick professional production suggesting money and
stability and loaded with euphemistic language, beginning with a
sprightly tale of how Dr. Caudillo had named the institute after a
meteorite that fell in the area in 1923. The rest of the text hammered
home the themes of anonymity and security. The interior panel of the
brochure proclaimed Skystone ready to enfold all those who chose ?in
their golden years to seek the sylvan glades of privacy where they can
meditate upon life's great lessons, ,untroubled by trivial family demands.?

She read it over a second time before glancing sharply at Scott, puzzled
at how he could find such sinister meaning in - the words. He yanked the
pamphlet from her hands and, turning it to the last fold, tapped the
single paragraph. She read, ?Skystone maintains a counseling staff for
those that struggle to cope with the extraordinary demands in life. The
staff is trained to provide comfort and safety for psychiatric

138

participants. The most modern technological devices are employed to
ensure the inviolability of our guests.?

She closed the pamphlet, laid it on the desk, and stared at it. ?No,
Scott. We're reading too much into this. How could it be? These rooms
aren't designed for that kind of patient. Maybe it means some sort of
counseling for the elderly.?

?Elizabeth, beyond the red door that is what's beyond the red door. The
other wing of the building it's a madhouse.?

She refused to meet his gaze. ?Don't use that word. Many people see
psychiatrists. It sounds horrible. You must be wrong . . . you have to
be wrong.?

?Look at me, Elizabeth. Why do you think this place is in an isolated
area like this? Why does it have such elaborate security? We wondered
why that door is built like a bank vault. Well, now we know.?

He unfolded the pamphlet and, pointing to it, said, ?The cost averages
four thousand dollars a month. That's forty-eight thousand a year. This
place is for the rich. It's where they hide family members that
embarrass them that are old and senile or that are raving mad. Oh, yes,
this is a madhouse!?

Roughly, he pulled her to her feet, and she protested, ?Scott, for God's
sake, calm down! This isn't helping.?

?Damn it. Can't you see now what happened? Somebody with a grudge maybe
an ex-patient-came in here and killed everybody, patients and staff. Or
. . . or maybe one of the maniacs got loose and killed them. It doesn't
matter. They are dead either way.?

?But why not us? Why weren't we killed??

?Maybe they didn't know we were here. Maybe they knew we were outsiders.?

?But that doesn't make sense. Why . . .?

He struck his open palm against the side of his head several times.
?Please quit asking so Goddamned many questions. I don't know the
answers. Just do what I tell you. Go to your room while I try to find
some food. I'm going to bring Meredith to your room. We'll hole up
there. Sooner or later, somebody will get curious and come. There are
grocery

139 DOOR /

orders not being placed, phone calls not being made. It can't be too
long before somebody comes to check.?

She stared at him in bewilderment. ?Meredith? You know where Meredith
is? But why didn't you tell-?

?There's just one place she can be. Damn it, she has to be there.?

?Where, Scott??

Reaching past her, he snapped off the light in the office. The sun was
below the horizon now, and it was growing quite dark.

He leaned close to her ear. ?It's obvious where she is, Elizabeth. She's
in the locked room you found at the end of this hall room eight.
Meredith is a lot sharper than you or I. She must have suspected right
away that something was wrong, locked herself in, and plugged the keyhole.?

?Then why don't we just get her??

By now they were out of the office and standing in the corridor. His
voice was a fierce whisper. ?No! Listen to me. I want you safely in your
room with enough food for us to wait it out. Then I'll go for her.?

?But why get her last??

?Because Meredith isn't going to open the door until she knows it's me,
so I'll have to raise my voice. Maybe the killer is still lurking around
here somewhere. Remember the guy in white we saw by the gate this
afternoon? We may have to make a run for it. You have the door ready,
and as soon as we are inside your room, we'll barricade it.?

They stopped by the double doors that led into the inner corridor and
peered through the glass panes. The distant glow of fluorescent light
from the nurses' station revealed a hall still deserted. Elizabeth
paused in the red glow of the exit light by room 8, but Scott pulled her
past the door. He led her into her room, but as he turned to go, she
reached for him.

She threw her arms around his waist, frightened by a sudden premonition.
?Please . . . don't leave me alone.. I don't like it. We'll have a
better chance if we stick together.?

Awkwardly, he struggled out of her embrace. ?My God, Liz, don't you
understand? I love her.?

She could see his face in the dim light, his lips trembling

140

as he tried to suppress his emotions. ?I . . . I can't live without her
... I don't want to. It's for me to find Meredith and bring her back
here safely. Now do what I ask . . . I beg you.?

Her eyes teared at the sight of his naked emotion. ?Good luck, Scott. Be
careful.?

He was not gone long, but in the short interval, the twilight had
vanished and it had become difficult to see the stand of trees beyond
the lawn. She drew the curtains and was debating whether to turn on the
light when Scott reentered the room, limping badly, struggling to hold a
large cardboard box with his one good arm. He did his best to sound
cheerful.

?Hey, Santa Claus is here. There wasn't a lot of canned stuff, but I
found some processed meat and canned fruit. What bread I located was as
hard as a rock, so I brought some crackers. Here are some big bottles of
cola, too. We can ice down the lavatory with ice from the ice machine.?

Quickly, they ate some of the processed meat and crackers. There was the
temptation to keep eating, but they knew the food might have to last for
several days.

After they finished, not wanting to ask the question, she said, ?Scott,
did you hear anything . . . notice anything different??

In the faint light, she saw him shake his head.

He slumped against the wall, saying nothing. The one brief flash of the
old Scott, youthful and exuberant, was gone. When he spoke, hopelessness
clung to each word.

?Elizabeth, you know why I put off looking for Meredith, don't you??

It was not a question that sought an answer.

?It's because I'm afraid I'll find her dead, like the others. Oh, God, I
can't stand the thought of that. I keep telling myself that she's locked
in that room, scared, hoping one of us will come for her. I'm so afraid.?

She knew that what she was saying was madness. ?Go ahead, Scott. Go look
for her. You have to know, don't you??

He pushed away from the wall, and she caught at his arm.

141

?Leave the key to the room with me. I... I think I'd better lock myself in.?

?I can't do that. I may need it if we get trapped on the way back.
There's just the one master key for the patients' rooms. I know because
I checked the other keys on some of the locks when I went for food. I
don't think I'd better lock you in because if . . . if something happens
to me, you wouldn't be able to get out. Just keep the door closed. If
Meredith is in here, it won't take long to bring her back.?

Elizabeth clutched at him as he started for the door. ?Scott, maybe you-?

?No, I've got to do it my way.?

He was out the door before she could remonstrate further. She closed it
softly behind him.

It was full dark outside when Elizabeth sank down on the hospital bed
and looked at the console clock: it was 7:22.

For a while she sat, staring bleakly into the darkness, willing the door
to open on Scott and Meredith. She fought against the awareness that too
much time was passing. Unwillingly, she turned to look at the clock
again. It read 7:43. Scott had been gone twenty-one minutes.

Eight o'clock found Elizabeth twisting the sheet back and forth in her
damp hands, her mind in turmoil. A terrifying feeling that Scott was
dead was overwhelming her. She wanted to believe that he had found some
clue in room 8 that had led him outside into the night. Dear God, how
she wanted to believe that, but she knew it wasn't so. He would have
come back and told her what he planned. No, poor Scott was dead like all
the others. She was the only one left.

Finally, at 8:40, she knew she had to do something before she went
crazy. She thought of the bottles of cola. Quickly, she emptied the
meager food supplies from the cardboard box so she could use it to carry
ice from the ice machine to the lavatory. Irrationality was the child of
fear. If she iced the cola for Scott and Meredith, then surely they
would have to come back to drink it.

Elizabeth leaned out into the hall, looking toward room 8. It was
impossible to see if the door was open. She looked in the other
direction. The stainless steel of the ice machine gleamed softly in the
corner of the hall.

142

When she reached the ice machine, she placed the flimsy pasteboard box
on the floor and squatted next to it to load the ice. From the corner of
her eye, she could see down the other hallway. Something seemed odd. For
a moment she was puzzled. Then she saw what it was.

The red door was open, perhaps no more than an inch, but it was open.
Whatever it imprisoned was loose.

Terrified, she remained on her knees, feeling for the lid of the ice
machine, afraid now to show that she had noticed the door but unwilling
to turn away. She tried to tell herself she would be safe if she refused
to recognize that it was ajar. She wanted to turn her back to ignore
it-but it was as if she was paralyzed. She remained on her haunches,
covertly watching the red door. She raised her arm, feeling for the lid
of the ice machine.

Reaching over the rim, she fumbled for the ice. Gathering a handful of
small icy cubes, she put them, as quietly as possible, into the box. Her
gaze never left the red door. She could swear it was moving ever so
slightly, even as she watched. She reached into the ice machine again,
burrowing into the packed ice. Before she could react, her hand had
slipped across stiff fingers and was gripping a cold hand.

It seemed to clutch at her own hand as she shot to her feet. She stared
down at the corpse of Scott Sutherlin under a scattering of ice cubes.
She shrieked and pushed her clenched fist hard against her mouth, trying
to stifle her screams.

Scott had been crammed into the narrow confines of his icy tomb, his
distorted face with its protruding eyes glaring at Elizabeth. Around his
neck, tightly twisted, was a cotton hospital gown like the one she wore
under the uniform. She whirled away to shield herself from the machine's
terrible burden.

Dr. Mainwaring was standing a few yards away, his hand lifted to placate
her. She felt another scream welling up into her throat and fought
against it, realizing instinctively the need to be quiet.

He begged, ?Please . . . don't make that -noise. I'm not going to hurt
you. I've had chances, haven't I? Have I hurt you? You must be quiet . .
. listen to me.?

143 DOOR /

He took another step toward her, and Elizabeth recoiled against the cold
side of the dreadful ice machine.

Watching her, Mainwaring coaxed, ?No, my dear, no. I just want to talk.
You must understand me believe in me. I'm sure you realize by now what
has happened here. These people around us are insane. If I am to keep
the two of us alive, you must do as I say. You must keep out of harm's way.?

?You . . . you're a doctor? You're not one of them??

He shook his head slowly, almost sadly, and continued to move closer, so
close now that he could touch her. She found herself relaxing despite
her terror.

?No, I'm not one of them. But they have the power of life and death
here. You mustn't provoke them before we can get away. Let me take you
to your room . . . please. You must not attract their attention. I'll
tell you everything that has happened and what we have to clop stay alive.?

He slid his arm around her shoulders, and though her flesh cringed under
his touch, she accepted it.

?Good girl! You poor child, look at me. It's going to be all right. The
young man in the icebox did a very stupid thing, but it's going to be
all right. Now, let's get out of sight before they see us.?

Elizabeth yielded to the insistent pressure of his arm, wanting to
believe that she had found a protector.

They moved down the hallway. Behind them, beyond their line of sight,
the red door stirred.

144 17

C

obb Kendall stared across the sergeant's desk at the dingy wall, the
telephone receiver tight against his ear. He could see Emmalena, the
daytime county radio dispatcher, smiling at him from her cubicle as she
always did when Margaret called. His attention snapped back to his
wife's soft voice. It held that inflection, the combination of pleading
and hope, that tore him apart.

?I know I should have reminded you earlier, honey. It's just that I was
afraid I would be like a little girl asking Santa Claus if he was coming
to visit on Christmas Day and him saying no.?She laughed nervously.
?Now, isn't that silly? I . . . I just finished decorating your cake,
but Wilhelm Ina says that she isn't going to prepare a big dinner unless
she's sure you are coming home. . . .?

?Margaret, I've told you this a dozen times. I have to know beforehand
when I need time off. This is a small department. Every time I take off,
it puts the monkey on somebody else's back. It isn't fair.?

She was silent for a moment, and then the pleading grew more abject.
?But, darling, your birthday! You know I always have something for your
birthday. I've been talking about it for two weeks. I didn't ever intend
to call you until

145 DOOR /

Wilhelm Ina started grumbling. Please, I'm sure the sheriff and the
other men will understand. I wanted this to be something special with us.?

Emmalena was watching him again. He spoke as quietly as he could.
?Margaret, I'm sorry. I don't mean to hurt your feelings, but it's
impossible. I can't afford to take the time off. We have something
important going on here.?

?Oh, Cobb. Is it anything to do with those poor women??

?We haven't found a trace of Madeleine Turner or her car, and Toby is
raising holy hell about it. My theory is that she got tired of Benton
being away so much and took off, but Toby won't bother to check it out.
We have bigger problems than Madeleine Turner. There's something fishy
going on out at Skystone, and I can't get Toby to move off his rear end
about it. I have to go, Margaret. I'm sorry about tonight.?

He heard her sigh. ?It's not your fault, baby. It's mine for taking it
for granted. Listen . . . the cake's fixed, so I'll leave it out on the
table. When you get home-I don't care what time of night it is-you wake
me, and we'll cut it. Okay??

?We'll see, Margaret. I have to get off the phone.?

?I love you, Cobb . . . always.?

He lowered the receiver and felt the rage flare through him. He couldn't
understand how life could be so damned unfair. He rested his head
against his forearms, his eyes closed, unaware that the inquisitive
Emmalena was watching him, her brows showing her perplexity.

Cobb did not know how much longer he could take it. He was being torn
apart-emotionally and mentally.

He and Margaret had been married for ten years. They had been childhood
sweethearts who grew up together in Stoneville. Cobb had spent three
years on the New Orleans police force in what amounted to an
apprenticeship before they were married. Margaret had insisted that they
live in their hometown, and since Toby Mears was her uncle, Cobb was
quickly offered a job by the Sheriff Department.

It had been a good if not ideal marriage. Margaret was very social, very
outgoing, while Cobb tended to be introspective, caught up in his police
work which he saw as a never-ending struggle of good against evil with
no compromises.

146

Though he would not have admitted it, he had been enormously pleased
with his wife's popularity. It seemed to him that Margaret was active in
every social activity in town.

When they found themselves with just each other for company, she would
look at him with a degree of unrest, wishing that he could be more
unbending. Still, the community found them to be a most acceptable young
couple; and the marriage settled, as all good marriages do, into an
unstrained relationship.

When disaster struck, it had been complete and without warning. Cobb had
gone to Mobile, Alabama, to pick up a prisoner. He was awakened in his
motel room that morning at two-thirty with the news that Margaret had
been severely injured in an automobile accident. He rushed home in open
defiance of the speed limits, arriving the next afternoon to find her
condition stabilized, though she was paralyzed below the waist.

It was a bizarre accident. The Kendall car had come around a curve to
find a loose cow standing in the middle of the road. Margaret swerved,
but the car struck the rear of the cow. The impact had sent the vehicle
tumbling down a steep, brush-covered embankment, out of sight of the road.

The first week had been a nightmare for Cobb as Margaret fought for her
life. The second week was no better. He had watched helplessly as it
dawned on her that she was paralyzed for life. it was thirteen days
before he read the police report on the incident and ingested the first
dram of the suspicion that was to poison his life.

The county road where the accident had occurred was so lightly traveled
at night that it was likely it would have been some time in the morning
before the accident was discovered, -had not a peculiar incident
occurred. Margaret might well have been dead by that time. It was as
fortunate for her as it was unfortunate for her marriage that the
Sheriff's Department had received an anonymous phone call about the
wreck soon after it occurred. A male adult had called, giving not only
the specific location of the accident but adding that the victim had
been thrown clear and was unconscious. The call must have been made
within minutes of the accident, for

147

when the police and ambulance arrived, the car's engine was still warm.

The odd call disturbed Cobb enough that he had asked the other deputies
if they had any idea who made it. He was tempted to talk to Margaret
about it, even though she had been unconscious after the crash.

The seed took root about a week and a half later. It was a slow, hot day
in town, with only an occasional pedestrian wandering down the walks
under the porches of the old-fashioned stores. Cobb was standing in the
shaded doorway of the sheriff's office, shirttail out, trying to catch
any stray air current that might pass. Outside, sitting on a bench on
the sidewalk, shaded by the huge maple tree overhead, was Tip Curable, a
young deputy.

Guiltily, Cobb began to stuff his shirt into his pants when he heard
someone addressing Tip. It was Mace Bellman, the local barber.

?Well, Tip, is it hot enough for you today??

?It sure as hell is. What are you doing out of the shop, Mace? Closed
for the day??

?Yep. When it gets this hot, people don't come in to get their hair
cut-don't matter how shabby it is. By the way, how's Cobb doing??

?Cobb??

?Yeah, Cobb. I mean . . . it must have been an awful big shock to that boy.?

?Well, I guess he's doing all right. It hasn't been easy, though, I
guarantee you.?

There was a pause in the conversation, and though he couldn't see Mace,
Cobb knew what he was doing. The barber was lighting the corncob pipe
that he always puffed while he was walking along Main Street.

?Well, it's a real shame. Margaret sure is a pretty little thing. Of
course, I think the town believes it was as much his doing as hers.?

?His doing? What in the hell are you talking about??

Mace chuckled nastily. ?Well, I always say, when you turn a young mare
out to pasture, somebody is going to ride her if you don't watch out.
You don't think Margaret

148

Kendall was out there that time of night by herself, do you, Tip??

Comb's ears rang with the words, and before he knew what he was doing he
was out on the walk, grabbing Mace Bellman by his shirtfront. ?You
miserable son of a bitch! If you ever open your mouth about my wife
again, I'll beat you to death.?

The pipe had fallen from Mate's mouth, leaving a trail of ashes and
glowing bits of tobacco down the front of his white shirt. He was deadly
pale, and Tip was on his feet, trying to pull Cobb away. The old man was
repeating himself, his voice quavering. ?I'm sorry ... I'm sorry.?

Finally, Tip wrestled Cobb away from him, shouting, ?For God's sake,
Mace, get out of here!?

The fury left Cobb at the sight of the frightened old man lurching down
the sidewalk in headlong flight.

Comb's voice was icy cold. ?Get your hands off me, Tip. I'm okay.?

Without another word, he walked back into the station and never spoke
about the incident again.

The next day, Tip tried to talk to him about it, but he had no more than
opened his mouth when Cobb looked up, his eyes glittering, and said,
?Shut up!?

He never confronted Margaret with his doubts. From time to time over the
next two years, he would ask her with studied casualness why she had
been out that night. The question came at unexpected moments, asked in
different ways, but always it was the same question. Why had she been
out that night? The answer was as consistent as the question. She had
been unable to sleep, had felt strangely restless, and had decided to go
for a late-night drive. It was something she had never felt the need to
do before.

During the first months of her recovery, he fought the urge to lay his
suspicions before her, to relieve the growing pain bottled within him,
yet he couldn't. He was not insensitive to the terrible demons with
which she struggled. Despite the brutal finality of the doctor's words,
she clung for a while to the foolish hope that she would walk again. As
that hope vanished, she tried to convince herself that there was a place
for a Margaret Kendall who would always be dependent on

149 THE DOOR /

others and who would never again move through her little world with that
bouncy walk of hers.

The intensity of his anguish could not be maintained, and with time it
had dwindled. Cobb, a puritan at heart, was beginning to look at
Margaret with a smug satisfaction that she was paying, and paying
dearly, for what she had done. But as quickly as these thoughts would
bloom in his mind, remorse would engulf him, a shame that he could
convict her in his mind with evidence that would be laughed out of any
court of law.

Now, four years later, he did his best not to think of those things that
prompted the pain-the need to hurt, the remorse. He had built a wall
between them against which she beat futilely. Cobb vented his anger
against the world that conducted itself in such a way that he could have
his doubts. It was a wall built of frustration and had grown to the
point that it threatened his sanity. When it seemed he would crack, he
had found some process within his mind that served as a safety valve to
the pressure. He had no idea of how it worked, but for the past two
years he had ridden a roller coaster of ups and downs with which he
could cope.

Cobb lifted his head as the telephone buzzer sounded. Looking up, he saw
Emmalena mouth the words, ?For you.?

It was Tip Curable, the same young deputy who had heard Mace Bellman's
accusation four years ago. ?Cobb, this is Tip. Is Toby around??

?Nope. I don't expect him in before noon. Why, Tip?' ?I've got a man
with me I believe you'd like to chat with.

I don't think you'd want Toby to overhear him, though.??What in hell are
you talking about?'

?I was visiting my brother this morning-the one that's a cop over in
Ducktown. He responded to a prowler call last night at old lady
Berkeley's place. They found a fellow-a vagrant up in the hayloft of her
barn. They threw him in jail overnight just to roust him up a little.
They were going to turn him loose about eleven.

?It seems he was over near Skystone Monday night. The reason Jimmy knew
that was because this bum asked him what all the excitement was about.
He saw our patrol car

150

turn into Skystone. It might not be a bad idea to talk to him about that
ambulance, Cobb.?

?You say they have him there right now??

?Well, they must have released him by now, but that dude couldn't have
gotten far walking, and nobody around here would give him a ride. I can
have him here in thirty minutes. What do you say??

Cobb hesitated. ?I don't know. We don't have a charge against him.?

?Hell, this ain't going to take no charge. This sucker will do anything
you tell him to.?

Forty minutes later, Cobb, figuring it was about time for Tip and the
vagrant to arrive, went into Emma line's cubicle. After asking her a
couple of short questions, he ducked out, closing the door behind him.
He was under no illusions about her loyalty to Toby.

The transient was an emaciated man in his early thirties, with long,
unkempt black hair falling to his shoulders. His eyes, under the heavy
black brows, had burned out, and his face had the lines of a much older
man's. He made no effort to hide the old needle tracks that dotted his
arms. When he saw Cobb looking, he said, ?I'm clean now, copper.?

The vagrant started on his- story without much prompting. His name was
Bertram Cuts. On Monday morning, driven to shelter by the hard rain, he
had ducked into an abandoned barn several miles beyond Skystone. He had
found little warmth and many leaks. Finally, shivering violently and
disgusted, he had packed his gear and left, determined to walk through
the night until he found a decent shelter.

Whatever else he was, Bertram was a good witness. He had been less than
two miles from Skystone when the big Cadillac thundered past him like ?a
black bat out of hell.?He was within a few hundred feet of Sky stone's
gates when he saw the flashing emergency lights of a vehicle coming
toward him at high speed. Bert ram's life had been such that he headed
for cover when he saw flashing lights. He had been close enough to see
clearly as the ambulance pulled into the drive, sat there for perhaps a
minute before the gates were opened, and then disappeared inside.

Bertram, despite the cold and the lingering mist, had felt a

151 BEHIND THE DOOR /

need to answer a call of nature at that moment. By the time he was again
on the road and walking, the second vehicle with a flashing red dome
light that spelled cop to Bertram was approaching. Hunkered down in the
wet, clinging weeds, he watched the police car disappear through the gate.

Bertram knew he had the deputies' interest and decided to play his trump
card. He smiled at Cobb. ?Gentlemen, all this talk has made me so dry I
can hardly go on. I don't suppose there's a bit of . . . er . . .
spirits about that might alleviate my thirst.?

After regarding him steadily for a moment, Cobb left the room. He
grabbed a paper cup from the bottled-water dispenser and entered Toy's
office. From the lower desk drawer, he extracted the always present
bottle of bourbon and poured a hefty double jigger into the cup. Back in
the sergeants' office, he watched as the aromatic Bertram belted down
the three ounces of whiskey in two swallows.

Comb's tone was as grim as his look. ?Okay, buddy-boy, that's your pay.
Now get on with your story.?

Bertram nodded and flashed him a smile as big as it was insincere.

?Somewhat piqued with curiosity, I walked up to the gates. I tried to
make out the name over the gates, but it was too dark. Then I noted an
odd construction to the stone pillars supporting the gates. Each of them
had a squarish niche in its front that runs all the way from the
capstone to the bottom. It was wide enough to sit down in if you kinda
rolled in a ball, and it provided a blessed relief from the wind. I must
have dozed off, because I didn't hear the one car coming back down the
driveway. The sound of somebody opening the gate awoke me. I wanted to
run, but it was too late. Besides, I didn't think they would notice me,
tucked into that niche. Actually, somebody did point a flashlight in
that direction, but I was out of sight. A police car-one painted like
the one you brought me here in drove out, and I heard the gates being
locked again.

?The scare I got did wake me up, though. I must have stayed awake for at
least an hour. Then, just as I was dozing off, another cop car drove in,
stayed maybe twenty minutes, and left.?

152

Cobb nodded. ?Right-that was me.?

The vagrant ignored the interruption. ?Finally, I went to sleep, and the
next thing I knew the cold light of dawn-and I do mean cold was breaking.?

Cobb was watching him closely. ?How about the third vehicle the ambulance.?

?Ambulance??

?Are you saying that no ambulance came out??

?That's right. Nothing else came out. What's the big deal? I thought
ambulances stay at hospitals.?

?Maybe it came out after you went to sleep.?

Bertram grinned slyly. ?My friend, when you live the life I do, you soon
learn to sleep lightly. I guarantee you I would have heard anything
coming out that gate.?

Tip leaned forward. ?You mean you didn't hear any vehicle except the two
sheriff's cars??

?Officer, I didn't say that. The wind was blowing from that direction. I
said no other vehicles came out. I heard another car. It started, backed
up, and then drove forward. As a matter of fact, the headlights swung in
my direction. Then it stopped. It must have stayed there ten minutes or
so maybe more with the lights on and the engine running. Then it backed
up again and went off in some other direction. The lights disappeared,
but I heard the motor running for a while, growing fainter. Then I heard
nothing but the wind until the second cop car came.?

?And you will swear that the ambulance never came out that gate.?

Bertram, relaxed by the hefty shot of whiskey, laughed happily. ?What's
the matter? Has the local heat misplaced its ambulance??

Cobb looked at Tip. ?Toby will never stand still for holding this creep
as a material witness. The best we can do is get his statement on tape.
When you get through, give him the rest of the whiskey from Toy's desk,
and replace it with a fresh bottle. He keeps several in the closet. Then
run this bird up the road a couple of miles and dump him . okay??

When Tip returned, he found Cobb sitting on the bench before the office.
After rolling down the car windows to rid

153

the car of the olfactory evidence that Bertram had left behind, Tip
stopped in front of the bench. -

?What in the hell are you doing out here in the cold, Cobb??

?Thinking.?

Cobb continued to stare at the cirrus clouds high over Stoneville, while
Tip shuffled his feet nervously. When this produced no effect, he
cleared his throat several times and dropped onto the bench beside Cobb.

?Well, what did you make of his story, Cobb??

?It confirms what I've thought all along. The ambulance never left. God,
what do we have to do before we can get Toby to act? Who really knows
what goes on at Skystone? They're immune to the law. Did the Johnsons
see something they shouldn't? Toby should be on his way out there this
minute.?

?You're damned right, Cobb. Six women have been killed around Stoneville
here in the last two years without a clue. Now the Turner woman
disappears, and the Johnson boys are missing. But what can you do about it??

Cobb rose. ?Forget about the Turner woman until we check for a
boyfriend. I'll tell you what I'm going to do: when Toby gets here, I'm
going to get this ambulance thing settled.?

Tip bounced to his feet. ?Damn it, you can count on me. I'll go in with
you to back up what that bum said.??I appreciate that. I really do.?

Toby Mears had dominated county politics for so long that he no longer
bothered to make excuses for the mornings he took off to go squirrel
hunting. When he arrived an hour later, Cobb gave him fifteen minutes to
settle down before he rapped on the office door.

The double-barreled Remington stood in the corner, and Toby was seated
at his desk; comfortable in his camouflaged hunting gear and L. L. Bean
boots. He gave Tip no more than a cursory glance before he transfixed
Cobb with a baleful look.

?Okay, Cobb, spill it. I can tell you have. a hair up your ass. I want
to get out to the house and wash up. I knew

154

damned good and well I shouldn't have stopped by here on the way home.
Go on, boy. Speak up!?

Cobb had suffered through too many encounters with Toby to be disturbed
by his opening thrust. He grimaced at Tip and settled down, in the chair
facing Toby. He looked at the sheriff without a trace of a smile.

?Bad day, huh? What was it no squirrels, or shaky hands??

Toby tried to stop himself from frowning. He did not care for the
shaky-hands remark. He wondered what the surly, self-righteous son of a
bitch was trying to tell him that he thought he was too old or drinking
too much? He had never cared much for Cobb, but the boy had two things
going for him. He was married to Margaret, for whom Toby would have done
anything, and second, he was the best lawman Toby had ever seen. He saw
right through the bullshit the local punks tried to put out. He was like
a bulldog when he got on a case. Still, they were going to have a
private chat soon about his mouth.

Toby grinned weakly. ?No, I was worrying about what was happening with
the people I left in charge here. Now, what's your problem??

Cobb looked at Tip. ?You tell him. He always accuses me of dramatizing.?

A stolid Toby sat without interruption and heard Tip through. When he
finished, Toby looked at Cobb.

?So you're still dancing to that tune, eh, Cobb? The mad doctors at
Skystone made off with our ambulance and the Johnson boys. Well, let me
tell you something. I just had a call from that one doctor-not the guy
who owns the place, but one of the others, that . . . ah . . .
Mainwaring the one we talked to yesterday. He did some checking with the
staff.

?If you ask me, them damned Johnsons were acting peculiar last night. He
said they were getting kinda high-spirited out there. As a matter of
fact, the head doctor, Caudillo, finally asked them to leave. Mainwaring
said they were disturbing the accident victims. One of them. Johnsons
came out with a smart-ass remark. He said something about the only thing
that kept them in business were Yankees that

155 DOOR /

didn't know how to drive. They started laughing so hard that he had the
orderly put them out.

?Let me give you a little something to think about. You know Orrville
Johnson is kin to them, and he's the biggest bootlegger in this county.
Maybe them boys got themselves mixed up with something back in the hills
that they couldn't handle. Well, Cobb? What have you got to say about that??

?Toby, you know as well as I do that neither of those boys has ever had
a drop to drink. They haven't been in any worse scrapes than other boys
growing ups in this town. I'm telling you, that ambulance never left
Skystone. What we need is a search warrant.?

Toby turned red. ?You listen to me, Cobb, and you listen well. You, too,
Tip. In the last two years, six defenseless women have been killed in
this jurisdiction. The press treated the first two as insignificant
local cases. They were nice women fine little ladies and nothing was
made of it. But after the third murder, a reporter showed up from Little
Rock. Last January, after the fourth one, reporters came from Memphis,
Saint Louis, and New Orleans. After Elaine Richey was murdered in
August, we had four television crews here. Now you say Mrs. Turner has
run off from her husband. You find me the boyfriend. You find me one
person that can say she and Benton were on the outs.?

?Listen, I-?

?You shut up while I'm talking. You started to get a burr under your
saddle regarding Skystone about a year and a half ago. Just sly little
digs, but I noticed. So did a lot of other people in town. Judge Lynch
got wind of it, and so did the county commissioners. Now, with no
evidence whatsoever beyond the ramblings of a drunk vagrant you want me
to search a hospital full of elderly and emotionally disturbed people,
looking for an ambulance that could be anywhere.?

?I don't think that's very-?

?In the meanwhile, what are you doing about this maniac that has
Beauregard County petrified with fear-that is giving this county a black
eye on national TV? You haven't come up with one solid lead yet. Your
only contribution has been an unauthorized crime-prevention scheme that
has made the county look ridiculous. You have stopped nineteen

156

women driving alone on county roads at night and ordered them not
suggested, but ordered them to go home; in some cases, even followed
them home. That's nineteen you entered on your log sheets. God knows if
there are more. Of those nineteen, seven have complained. They want to
know what constitutional authority you have to do that, and, Cobb
Kendall, I didn't have an answer.

?But maybe I'm being unfair. Tell me. Just what have you found out about
this sick bastard??

He whirled toward Tip. ?What, Tip? The cat has Comb's tongue. Everybody
in the department receives briefings.? ?But it's not my case, Toby. I-?

?It doesn't matter whose case it is. You know as much as anybody else.
Tell me what we know about this maniac.?

?Shoot, Sheriff! I feel silly telling you what you already know.?

When Cobb saw the storm clouds gathering on Toy's brows, he intervened:
?We know that these women were beaten-savagely beaten. They were struck
so often it is obvious the killer was possessed by a maniacal rage. Some
of the bodies bore evidence of strangulation, but there was no
indication of sexual molestation on any of them. They all drove away
with the killer, abandoning their cars. They were all killed where their
bodies were found. The first one was located out in Black's Woods on
Mill Valley Road. Three others were found in isolated barns or
outbuildings. Two of them were taken back to their own houses. All were
younger women. In each case, the victim's car was found abandoned
alongside the road. There were no signs of a struggle around the
vehicles, so they must have entered the killer's car willingly.

?We questioned the folks living around where the cars were found, but we
haven't had any luck. We questioned most of the husbands, of the victims
and they had alibis at least, we couldn't place them on the scene. We
dug up a couple of boyfriends, but we didn't have any better luck there.
The only common denominator among these women was that they were alone,
making them easy pickings for the

157 DOOR /

killer. It takes time, Sheriff. Someday we'll get a break and-?

?Takes time, hell!?the sheriff cut in. ?You damned right it takes time
when you have people lollygagging around trying to make tigers out of
pussycats.

?You listen to me, Cobb! You ought to thank your lucky stars Judge Lynch
is in Europe on vacation. The Judge has done a damn fine job of making
sure Skystone and the people of Stoneville get along together. If the
businessmen in this town found out that you're trying to stir up trouble
with Skystone, they'd be after your ass. Don't fool yourself! Just
because you don't see the Skystone people on our streets, don't think
they're not important economically to this town.?

Cobb looked at him, his face hard. ?What does that mean, Toby? We have
to sacrifice victims to them??

?Don't interrupt me, Cobb. This is a poor county, and Skystone puts more
money into the county than any other single business. They order special
foods through our grocers. Most folks in this town never even heard of
some of them foods. Our local merchants make a mint off of it. We
special-order fancy sheets for them. Hell, they buy hundreds of sheets
and blankets and towels. They are rich people out there, and they spend
like rich people. All they ask in return is not to be bothered. Hell,
there are even a couple of local people working out there: Gladys
Mueller she's a cook-and Ike Brown. You've known Ice's family all your
life. Do you think he would put up with working at Skystone if there was
anything wrong with it? Answer me!?

?Maybe he doesn't know what's going on,?Cobb mumbled.

?Maybe, maybe, maybe! Hell, you live here. Open your ears.. Women in
this town are afraid to go out at night. These are people you grew up
with. They want help. They need your protection. Now, you quit chasing
straws.?Abruptly, Toby shot upright out of his chair. ?I'm going
home!?The sheriff, looking annoyed, grabbed his shotgun from the corner
and stormed out the door.

The two deputies remained seated, with Cobb trying to rid

158

himself of his anger and Tip wondering about his job security.

The silence was broken by an ancient voice. ?Cobb??Alex Knox was
standing in the doorway.

Alex surely had some claim to being the world's oldest deputy. He was a
white-haired man with rimless glasses perched on his hawk like nose. His
dentures, ill-fitting on his shrinking gums, provided their own rhythmic
accompaniment as he spoke. His voluminous pants were suspended from his
frail shoulders by wide red suspenders from another era. Toby, a
sympathetic man, had retained Alex decades past his usefulness.

?Cobb, I couldn't help hearing you and Toby. To tell the truth, a man
could have stood out in the middle of the street and heard what you two
were saying. Maybe you ought to have a chat with Dr. Witherspoon.?

Tip looked impatiently at the elderly man. ?Just who in the hell is Dr.
Witherspoon? I've never heard of him.?

?He worked at Skystone until about two weeks ago. Andy Witherspoon was
born and raised here.?

Comb's eyes were bright with interest. ?How could he help us, Alex??

?I heard someone say that Doc Witherspoon and that Caudillo fellow got
into a scrap, and Doc flat-out quit. He had been out there since
Caudillo opened the place about twelve years ago.?

Alex Knox had Comb's complete attention now.

?I knew the Wither spoons to speak to them, Alex. They kind of kept to
themselves, but I didn't know there was a doctor in the family.?

?He's quite a bit older than you, Cobb, but he's not as old as me. He
never did practice medicine here. He did his doctoring down in Fort
Smith. I heard folks say that Caudillo wanted somebody known in these
parts to help him get started smoothly when he opened Skystone. I never
saw Andy in town but two or three times. Of course, his mama and daddy
are dead. He was an only child.?

?You're damned right I'd like to talk to him. Where is he living, Alex??

?He's staying at his mama and daddy's farm. He leased

159 DOOR /

the land, but there's another house on the place. I hear he moved in and
is fixing it up.?

His last words were addressed at Comb's back, as the lawman was
disappearing through the door.

Tip shrugged, and tapped the ancient deputy on the shoulder. ?Alex, if I
were you, I'd forget about this conversation when I talked to Toby.?

160 18

T

he small white house glistened under a fresh coat of paint. It was the
centerpiece in a tranquil setting of plowed fields, but the hammering
issuing from inside the house was at odds with the quiet Arkansas
morning. Cobb waited for a moment beside the car, wondering it the
house's occupant had heard him. The hammering ceased, only to be
followed by the whine of a power saw.

Cobb climbed the porch steps and paused at the open door. ?Hey, is
anybody here??

The power saw wound down as if it were embarrassed to be caught in such
a shrill mood, and a masculine voice called, ?Just a minute . . . be
right there.?

Dr. Andrew Witherspoon was as short as any of the diminutive Witherspoon
clan. He could not have been more than five-five, with a slender build.
His thick hair, mostly white now save for a last outpost of dark brown
on top-was combed back from his forehead. He wore work jeans and a
T-shirt. The doctor lent some credence to the aphorism that people, like
wine, grow better with age. He exuded an air of youthful dynamism.

Appearing in the doorway, he cocked his head to the side.. ?I don't know
what it is, officer, but I didn't do it.?

161

Cobb, somewhat intimidated by an energy he had not expected in a man of
Wither spoon's years, formally extended his hand. ?Dr. Witherspoon? I'm
Cobb Kendall. I don't think we've ever met.?

?You must be Larry Kendall's boy. I remember Larry well.?

Cobb and the doctor meandered through a few minutes of polite
conversation until Witherspoon stopped in mid-sentence. ?Sergeant, I
don't think you came out here in uniform to chitchat. Come on into my
study. At least I have that fixed up. It's the first room a doctor puts
to order when he moves into new quarters. Let's hear what your problem is.?

Seated across the desk from Andy Witherspoon, Cobb told the story of the
missing ambulance, the circumstances that had brought it to Skystone,
and Bertram Cutt's claim that it never left.

When he finished, the doctor eyed him shrewdly, sizing him up. ?You
don't care very much for Skystone, do you, Sergeant??

Cobb shrugged.

Witherspoon nodded thoughtfully. ?I suspect it bothers you that it's an
inviolable sanctuary, doesn't it? It more or less defies the territorial
imperative that every policeman feels toward his beat.?

?Doctor, I don't care for a lesson in psychology. There is more to it
than a matter of jurisdiction. As you must have heard, we have had six
unsolved murders here in the past year and a half. Because of the nature
of the crimes, I don't think it unreasonable to wonder if all the
patients at Skystone were home on those nights.?

?Carleton Lynch doesn't know you're out here talking to me, does he?
Why? Where is the old bastard? Isn't he still the man Caudillo deals
with in Stoneville??

Cobb made a futile attempt to stare the doctor into silence, but he was
already learning that Andy Witherspoon was a hard man to discourage.

?Where is the sheriff? I would have thought that old ass licker Mears
would have been Lynch's errand boy. Why you, Sergeant??

Cobb struggled to keep the hostility out of his voice. ?Sir,

162

I'm out here to ask for your cooperation, not to discuss the internal
politics of Stoneville or the sheriff's office.?

The, petite Witherspoon laughed. ?Don't get upset, Sergeant. I know Al
Caudillo has Lynch on a leash. He has convinced him that Skystone is too
important to the local merchants to be hassled. I want to make it clear
that I don't give a damn about them . . . or Al Caudillo.?

The little doctor had found the words that unlocked Cobb. ?Judge Lynch
is in Europe, and I don't think Toby knows how to get hold of him. He's
scared shitless without the judge around to tell him what to do.?

Nodding, Andy Witherspoon reached into the desk drawer, brought out a
pipe, and went through the ritual of filling and lighting it. Cobb
squirmed uncomfortably, wondering where it was gong to lead if he had
come on a wild-goose chase.

The doctor squinted at him through the curling smoke. ?I find your story
about the ambulance interesting, but I can sit here and say in all
honesty that I am not convinced you are on the right track.

?There's a matter of ethics involved in talking with you-a doctor's
ethics toward his fellow professionals. Ordinarily, I'd dismiss you
right out of hand, but you see, Sergeant, I left a job that was the most
important thing in my life because I developed concerns about the
operation of Skystone. I'm going to tell you what I know, and then I
want you to leave me alone.

?When Al Caudillo approached me about Skystone twelve years ago, I
thought he had a hell of a good idea. Certain people with money and
power are so mercilessly exposed to the public eye that they need a
place to put family members who can no longer maintain a public image.
That was what Dr. Caudillo proposed-a so-called convalescent facility
with luxurious surroundings commensurate with the financial status of
the families involved-a place of absolute privacy. At first, the
facilities were intended for elderly people whose bodies were so eroded
by age that they could no longer function properly, yet still had mind
enough to appreciate the amenities of the good life. Skystone was also
intended for patients who developed mild mental aberrations such as

163 DOOR /

kleptomania that made them an embarrassment to themselves and their
families.?

?That's not how the place has been described to me,?Cobb interrupted.

?Unfortunately, there's more than a grain of truth in what you've heard.
Things went well until four years ago. Then Al changed. Our fees went up
at an astronomical rate, and Al, who exercises the prerogative on who
would be accepted at the facility, began to admit patients in a state of
advanced senility. In some cases the patients were comatose. Of more
concern, younger patients with violent histories were being accepted in
our mental ward. Homicidal behavior became a common denominator in our
patients' profiles, behavior in many cases known to the families but not
the authorities. On occasion, Skystone would accept a patient sent to us
as a result of negotiations between the authorities and influential
families, patients whose acts are never publicized nor likely to be
successfully prosecuted.?

?Are you telling me, Doctor, that a bunch of homicidal maniacs are
locked up at that place??

The doctor allowed himself a slight smile at the dramatics of Comb's
question. ?Let's say that we reached the point where most of our ward
population, were they adjudged sane, would be tried for capital crimes.?

?And that's why you left??

?I left for two reasons . . . first, because the institution no longer
functioned with its original intent. Second, I left because Skystone had
neither the staff skills nor physical facilities to deal with violent
patients.

?Skystone has an excellent electronic security system. It was designed
to keep intruders out of the grounds, but it functions equally well in
keeping people in. Still, the facility has become a dangerous place for
both the staff and our elderly patients.?

Cobb was on point now like a bird dog, following the man's words. ?Then
you're saying it is possible just possible-that one of the patients is
responsible for the disappearance of the ambulance. Is that right??

?Skystone is actually two buildings joined together, one much older than
the other. The older part is used as the

164 '164 I Frank Lambirth

mental ward. The two parts have but one common connection, a massive
steel door painted red. It was our defense in case the population of the
mental wing went beyond our control. That was 'a nightmare that haunted
me with increasing frequency. What would happen if they got beyond the
red door?

?I knew they would quickly seize control of the whole building. I'm sure
you know that the entire staff lives in the old Albritton mansion on the
property. If the hospital was seized, that would hale to be our rallying
point. If I asked Al Caudillo once, I asked him twenty times to install
a security system in the house and to get that damned collection of
shotguns out of the glass case in his office. Unfortunately, Dr.
Caudillo has reached the point where he's willing to spend money only to
make more money, not for safety.?

He dropped the pipe carelessly into the ashtray and leaned back. Cobb
could feel the bitterness spilling from him like a physical thing.

?Doctor, do you think that could have happened??

?Why do you suggest it has? ... That is, beyond your missing ambulance.?

?I've run several patrols by there today. We have seen no activity, and
they haven't answered our phone calls.?

?But I thought you said you were out there after the ambulance
disappeared, and everything appeared normal. It's certainly not unusual
for them not to answer the phone. You don't phone Skystone about
admitting a relative. That's not the way it works. Besides, why do you
think the two sheriff's deputies were allowed to leave and not the medics??

Cobb tried to find the right words. He knew he had to say the right
thing or else he was gong to lose Wither spoon's interest. ?Maybe
something was wrong in the treatment room . . . you know some procedure.
The Johnsons might have noticed it where our deputies wouldn't have.?

The doctor nodded.

?When we went out to the hospital the next morning, it didn't cross our
minds that anything could be wrong. For all I know, the doctor could
have been covered from a doorway by a shotgun.?

?Whom did you talk to? Caudillo or Fischer??

165

?No, that doesn't sound right. His name was . . . ah . oh, what was his
name? . . . yeah . Mainwaring.?

Cobb happened to be looking into Andy Wither spoon's face at that moment
and saw him go white.

?What . . . what name did you say??the doctor sputtered.

?Mainwaring. That was the name, for sure. Why??

The doctor's small hands clenched into fists. ?Because, Sergeant, he's
one of the patients, a man under the delusion that he's a medical
doctor. Oh, God! It's not just a nightmare anymore. They must have
seized the hospital.?

?Doctor, I would appreciate it if you'd tell me a little something about
the mental-ward patients and what we're up against.?Comb's voice was
controlled.

It was a different Andy Witherspoon before him now, the energy -drained,
ashen-faced, his voice a monotone. ?Mainwaring-his first name is Thomas
has practiced medicine illegally. He has an excellent mind, abnormal
though it is. He's like a blotter. He listens and learns the jargon. He
watches, and he can mimic the technique. He believes he's being held at
Skystone because he's discovered a cancer cure and the drug companies
had him locked up to keep from being deprived of vast profits. Without
question, Mainwaring is responsible for the deaths of three people in
his bogus role as a surgeon. One of them was his own daughter, Ruth. He
will not accept the fact of her death.

?Then there's Shana Covington, a beautiful woman in her late twenties
with the most unusual eyes you'll ever see. She's an aggressive lesbian
who will not tolerate rejection by her lovers. She has killed one girl
and sliced another to pieces scarred her for life.

?Sergeant, do you want a professional analysis of their illnesses or the
sort of anecdotal record I'm giving you??

Cobb looked up from his writing. ?You're giving me just what I want. Is
there any chance this girl would attack the young ladies from the
accident if they refused her advances??

?Oh, no. I think she is vicious enough to kill as an expedient, perhaps
even in a murderous orgy, but her violence to date has been directed
toward once accepting lovers who later rejected her.?

166

He paused a moment before continuing. ?Carrie Dalton is in her
mid-sixties. She became a pyromaniac an arsonist -about ten years ago.
Mrs. Dalton set at least six fires before she was identified. After
that, she set two more, for which her family paid the damages. But then
she got away from them and fired a rooming house. Six people died in
that house.?

?Are you saying that she sets fire to commit murder??

?No, she has been a building burner. Unfortunately, people live in
buildings. I'll guarantee you she would have burned Skystone a thousand
times over if she weren't under close supervision. There have been some
disturbing changes in Carrie. Before I left she added a certain Old
Testament fervor to her interviews, speaking of fire as an agent of
purification.

?We have a man in his late twenties, John Hughes. John is the most
personable man you'll ever see. He's a heroin addict, but unfortunately,
he also takes PCP, 'angel dust.' When he is on PCP, he becomes a killing
machine. John Hughes has killed one time, for sure, and probably on
three other occasions.?

Cobb looked up from his notes again. ?Would there be any PCP obtainable
at Skystone??

?No, thank God. John will do a lot to get heroin, but I'm not sure he
would kill to obtain it. Incidentally, he is the only addict I've ever
seen who has not lost his sexual desires after becoming addicted. I
can't promise that he wouldn't be a danger to your young ladies.?

?All we can do is hope that they are decent girls and won't encourage him.?

The doctor looked surprised at Comb's puritanical statement, then asked,
?Did you ever hear of Duchin Chemicals, one of the two or three biggest
chemical companies in the United States? Well, we have the owner's wife
with us

Tina Duchin. Somewhere along the line, Tina converted from Christianity
or paganism or whatever the hell it was to Satanism. It became a big
number on the West Coast, really popular in weirdo circles. The
popularity disappeared in the wake of a lot of bad publicity after three
girls were kidnapped. They were used as living altars and raped. The

167 THE DOOR /

diehards went underground and became more violent. Human sacrifice
became part of their rituals. Tina Duchin surfaced as a high priestess
in the cult. She presided at three murders.?

Cobb whistled softly. ?Holy smoke! She's a walking time bomb, isn't she??

?Yes and no. Most of the time, Mrs. Duchin will strike you as a socially
acceptable woman of wealth. Her dress and makeup are a bit garish, if
not bizarre, but her manners are impeccable. But I don't believe that
she could be free twenty-four hours without doing that Black Mass
mumbo-jumbo, and I think most of the others would join her just for the
hell of it. She is one of your big worries, especially with the girls
you brought into the hospital.

?The most dangerous of our wards is a young man who, unless my memory
fails me, is thirty-two years old. His name is Howe Delgado. Howe is a
stocky bruiser, sullen, and pushy. He is constantly seeking sexual
outlets. Unfortunately, he can only achieve sexual arousal by inflicting
pain on whatever hapless soul happens to be nearby. His response to this
stimuli seems inexhaustible. He's an absolutely frightening individual.

?Skystone gained a new patient the- day I quit, Paul St. Denis. I think
I may say he is the straw that broke this camel's back. St. Denis is
afflicted with a homicidal paranoia. His records indicate that his is a
classic case of this disorder. He is what popular literature calls a
homicidal maniac. St. Denis is the sort of man who can move easily
through society with all the attributes of a normal personality. This
type of individual, depending on what his triggers are, can be moved to
violence a half-dozen times a day or, just as likely, go a year or ten
years without any sign of aberrant conduct. These patients do much
better in isolated situations where they don't have a lot of stress
particularly the stress from other disturbed personalities. The day
Caudillo agreed to accept him was the day I resigned. As far as I know,
those are all the mental patients at Skystone.?

?My Lord, this St. Denis sounds like something out of a horror movie.?

Witherspoon was picking up his pipe again. ?Not really,

168

as long as he's identified. He is a menace because of his protective
coloration. Delgado is the most dangerous person in there if you can
keep Carrie Dalton away from the matches, that is.?

His eyes narrowed. ?If, Kendall, in some way that I cannot imagine, one
of our wards found a way to leave Sky-stone unobserved and kill your six
women, I think it must have been Howe Delgado.?

Cobb came out of the chair, but the doctor raised his hand to stop him.

?Let me finish. If there is, in truth, an escape route, there's the
danger that Delgado has shared the information with others. God help the
countryside if that's so.?The doctor climbed wearily to his feet. ?You
want me to go in with you and talk to your sheriff, don't you??

Without waiting for an answer, the little man, stoop-shouldered and
somehow older now, walked past Cobb.

169 19

a

E

lizabeth's flesh cringed under Dr. Mainwaring's hands as he gently
pushed her through the door into her room. He stepped through after her
and eased the door shut. The panic surged into her again, and she backed
across the room. He remained by the door, his arms by his sides, a
solicitous look on his face.

?Please, my dear, you're overwrought. There's nothing to be afraid of. I
won't let anything happen to you.?

She stopped, wanting desperately to believe him.

Seeing her hesitate, he continued. ?You know I would never hurt you.
You're upset over finding that poor boy. God knows, I can't blame you.
It was terrible. He was so foolish -so brave but so foolish. You can't
use threats against people as violent as these.?.

Fighting to hold back the sobs, she begged for an answer that would give
some rationale to the horrors around her. ?But . . . what happened? Why
did they have to do that to poor Scott??

Carefully he came forward, reached into his pocket, and brought out a
vial of pills, which he laid on the bed. ?I think you should take two of
these. They are Valium. That's why I left them in the vial so you could
tell. Take them. Then

170

I'll tell you what happened. It's very important, because you and I must
do the things necessary for us to get out of here alive. Please, I
promise you it'll be all right.?

His soft words wove a, hypnotic net around Elizabeth. She wanted so
desperately to believe him, to believe she was safe, especially with
Scott gone. She forced herself to reach for the pills.

?Please, doctor, don't hurt me.?

?You're the last person that I would hurt. Do what I ask you.?

Still watching him, she took two pills from the tube and reached for the
water from the bedside console. Quickly, she swallowed the pills.

?Sit on the bed while they're taking effect. I'll sit in a chair so I
won't be between you and the door. Perhaps that will make you feel safer.?

?Thank you,?she mumbled.

Twenty minutes later, the Valium had done its work and Elizabeth was
stretched out on the bed. That horrible moment of finding Scott had been
drained of its emotional residue. It didn't really seem to matter.
Elizabeth knew she should be grieving for him, but she could find no
tears. It was as if she were dead inside. The only thing that seemed
important was to keep the doctor talking. She asked the first thing that
came to mind.

?Doctor, what's happened here? I know that some of the patients have
seized control of the hospital.?

?Yes, they have, Elizabeth. Let me caution you again. The only way we
can stay alive is to cooperate with them.

?It happened Monday morning, about three A.M. It started with the new
patient in the mental ward-Paul St. Denis, a terrifying creature. Dr.
Fischer, the new staff psychiatrist, worked with him in the wee hours
because he was so easily disturbed by the other inmates. Mrs. Dalton, a
rather harmless old creature except when she has matches in her hand, is
allowed to wander around the ward, unsecured, at night. She has
claustrophobia. The doctor, being new, didn't know this. He and the
orderly had just placed St. Denis back in his cell when Carrie that's
Mrs. Dalton-appeared. Apparently, it rattled Dr. Fischer. He told the
orderly to lock her in her

171

room. Carrie started screaming and ran down the corridor, with the
orderly after her.

?Dr. Fischer had forgotten to lock St. Denis' door when he stepped back
outside to confront Carrie. St. Denis followed him out, and the doctor,
without thinking, yelled at him to get back in his room. It's ,not a
safe thing to alarm Paul St. Denis. Somehow, St. Denis killed Fischer
without much outcry and pulled the doctor's body back into his room with
him.

?Meanwhile, Carrie had fled to the nurses' station, which is located
just inside the red door. The nurse understood the situation at once and
realized that Fischer did not know about Carrie. She knew Carrie would
require sedation and sent the orderly into the convalescent wing to the
drug room. To calm Carrie, she promised the old gal that she would
accompany her back to locate the doctor and explain to him. The nurse
violated one of the cardinal rules of Skystone.

?There is a button at the nurses' station-a panic button -that, when
pressed, will automatically lock the door between the two wings. Once
locked, it cannot be opened except from the other side. Staff rules are
that a staff member is always at the nurses' station. If the duty nurse
must leave that station, she is required to use the panic button.

?When the nurse turned into the corridor, she saw it empty and decided
that Dr. Fischer must have gone on back into the therapy room to clean
up. She told Carrie to wait in her room, and she would find the doctor.

?Unfortunately, she went by St. Denis' room, and he stepped out into the
passageway after her. When she saw him, she made no attempt to reason
with him, but simply tried to shove him back in his room. Of course,
that was her last mistake.

?Everyone else awoke during St. Denis' struggle with the nurse. When
things quieted down, they asked Carrie to get the keys from the nurse's
body, which St. Denis had left in the hall. Carrie is a stubborn old
woman and somewhat of a tease, and it was several minutes before she
did. Finally, she let everybody out.

?Of course, the first thing they did was to lock the door on

172

St. Denis, who was back in his room. Even Howe finds him more than he
wants to deal with.

?Believe it or not, I slept through the whole thing. I hadn't been
sleeping well and had saved up four sleeping pills-?

?Saved? Why did you have to save pills??

He seemed puzzled for a moment. ?Oh, that . . . that's the quota I have
for myself. Anyway, I slept through all of it, unfortunately.

?I think Tina that's Mrs. Duchin-organized the group well enough that
when they went through the red door, no one had a chance in the
convalescent wing. Howe was the one who thought of the staff sleeping up
at the large house and realized they had to be disposed of, too. Shana
Covington, John Hughes, and Howe went up to the house. They carried
knives from the kitchen, but once they got into the house, John and Howe
found the shotguns. They used those on the staff, while Shana used her
carving knife. They butchered all the staff in just a few minutes.

?By then, the blood lust was up in Howe. He drove one of the panel
trucks down from the big house and went from room to room, killing those
poor convalescent patients with his bare hands.

?Because of one circumstance or the other, six of the staff were not
killed. Dr. Caudillo and two of the nurses, Lena Farmington and Valerie
Boulanger, together with one little student nurse, Molly Hitcher,
managed to survive. The early cook, a woman named Gladys who had just
come on duty, was spared, as was Ike Brown, the man who works on the
grounds.?

?Doctor, is . . . is Meredith Thorne still alive??

He smiled for the first time. ?Yes, I've been able to keep your friend
alive. It isn't easy.?

His face reddened and, bounding to his feet, he started to pace back and
forth. When he looked at Elizabeth again, she was frightened at the
change in him.

?I'm going to say it. I don't like your associating with her.?

?Associating with whom? What do you mean??

173 DOOR /

?Did you know your friend is a narcotics addict-a stoner??

?A stoner? I I. . . I don't believe it.?

?Oh, you can believe it, all right, and a little slut in the bargain.
She'll do anything to get drugs.?

Elizabeth's rejoinder died with Mainwaring's sharp order. ?Shut up! We
will not talk about her anymore.?

He stared angrily at Elizabeth for a moment before relaxing. ?Oh, you
youngster so naive. She's not worth your concern.?

?Where are the others-the ones that were left alive??

His face underwent another of its mercurial transformations. There was
bitterness and disappointment in his eyes. ?They're . . . they're dead
now, all but Molly Hitcher.?

?Oh, my God! They killed Dr. Caudillo??

Looking down dejectedly at his hands, meshed together across his knees,
Mainwaring muttered, ?No. Yesterday morning after I talked to the
sheriff, Caudillo managed to slip into the medication storeroom for a
few moments. Later, after he and Mrs. Farmington were locked into a room
in the mental wing, they took an overdose of something. Mrs. Du-chin
found them dead. Howe caught the yardman and the cook in the garage at
the house. The old man was trying to repair one of the cars. We put the
bodies in the wheelchairs on the patio so you wouldn't be suspicious
about the absence of patients.?

She blinked and looked at him, a chill creeping over her. ?We? You helped??

Awkwardly, he reached for her foot and patted it. ?Don't be alarmed.
Don't you see? With these unstable people around, I couldn't let you
become hysterical. It would have triggered an outburst among them. I did
it for you.?

She searched his face, seeking the truth.

He looked at her blandly. ?You know, I'd often wondered how they would
act-the inmates of Skystone-if they were allowed freedom. Now I know.?He
chuckled softly. ?They're like the rest of the world-greedy, violent,
lustful. The insane are as corrupt as the sane, but they didn't corrupt me.?

Again Elizabeth felt a coldness envelop her. She stared at

174

Thomas Mainwaring's smiling, innocuous face and saw the truth. She said
what she had intended not to say. ?You . . . you were a patient in the
mental ward, weren't you??

He looked at her, lifting his eyebrows in surprise. ?Why, of course I
was. Didn't your mother admit what she and the big drug companies did to
me? . . . that they had me locked up??

Elizabeth's voice was barely audible. ?My mother??

Mainwaring gave no indication he had heard her. ?They would have lost
their unholy millions-taken from the unfortunate-if news of my cure had
leaked out to the world. Didn't I I. .?

His face collapsed, and he lunged forward, clapping his arms around her
legs. Elizabeth struggled to free herself of _his embrace, barely aware
of his words muffled against the sheet.

?Oh, God, Ruth, I didn't hurt you not my own daughter. They said I hurt
you, but I didn't. I cured you. Don't you understand? I cured you.
That's why I must get out of here. I must be free. I'll cure you again.
You didn't die. I knew you didn't. They lied.?

He released her and jumped up. She stared at him in horrified
fascination. He looked toward the door and then back to her, his voice
so low she could barely hear it.

?Ruthie, I called Harvey Figuroa yesterday morning. There is a private
airstrip here, and he is going to fly his plane in late tomorrow
afternoon. He will fly us out take us to Mexico where they can't find
us. All we have to do is to stall this bunch and divert their attention
from you. They listen to me because they know I'm a medical man, the
only one who can get them out. They think I'm taking all of them to
Mexico. Stay out of sight until tomorrow, Ruthie, and we shall be free.?

There was a sudden crash in the hall, followed by a shrill female curse.

?Oh, Christ!?he exclaimed. ?The animals are at it again. At least there
is one that is dependable, John Hughes. He's a drug addict, and I'm the
only one who has the combination to the narcotics safe. I own him, body
and soul. If, for some

175

reason, I can't come to you, I'll send John. You can depend on him. Do
you understand??

When she remained silent, he returned to the bed, took her hand, and
looked down at her. It was a look of such loving solicitude that
Elizabeth sensed that, even though he was as mad as a hatter, he would
give his life for her, somehow convinced that she was his daughter. She
forced herself to meet his eyes.

?Thank you,?she said. Taking a deep breath, she added, ?Father.?

Thomas Mainwaring left the room with a sprightly step.

176 20

T

he cigar in Toby Mears' mouth was rapidly being chewed into a sodden
ruin. He glanced from Andy Witherspoon to Cobb and back again. ?So,
doctor, you believe the lunatics have taken over Skystone, killed the
ambulance crew, and put the lives of everyone at the hospital in
jeopardy. Right??

Andy gave as good as he had received. ?I didn't say that, damn it! I
said that it may have happened. This affair with Mainwaring needs
looking into immediately.?

The sheriff smirked. ?Doctor, I thought you said there were times that
this Mainwaring was allowed into the convalescent wing-that the staff
found it good therapy to let him do menial tasks normally done by
orderlies. I believe you said Mainwaring is not considered violent-right??

?Now, listen here . . .?

?Doctor, I asked you a question, and I want a yes or no answer.?

?Yes, but he would never have been unsupervised. He certainly would not
have been allowed to represent himself as a doctor.?

The sheriff continued, ?Now, Cobb thinks it highly significant that we
haven't been able to contact Skystone by telephone. Are the phones
usually manned out there??

177 DOOR /

Witherspoon glanced at Cobb before replying, some of the fire gone out
of him. ?I have already admitted they aren't, Sheriff. The office is not
operated in a conventional manner. Al used it mainly as a storage area
to keep his files secure from staff and patients and as window dressing
when state officials came for inspections. Actually, he used an
accounting firm in New Orleans to handle Sky stone's books. He feels it
helps preserve privacy.?

Toby glanced across the room to. where the county commissioner sat,
silently taking in the drama. ?Well, Commissioner, do you have anything
you want to ask these fellows??

The grizzled, rotund man sitting in the chair, wearing a brown suit
whose shiny seat indicated far too many years of service, allowed
himself a brief guffaw. ?Hell, Toby, it looks to me like you're doing
pretty good by yourself. The judge would be proud of you.?

Nodding in satisfaction, the sheriff renewed his assault. ?Now, that
being the case, Dr. Witherspoon, just why did you bother to come in here
with the sergeant??

For a moment Andy Witherspoon was close to storming out of the office.
All he could see was a stupid political hack putting on a show for one
of his bosses, but he thought of Comb's concern and yielded. ?I guess
because of the ambulance, Sheriff. Those boys have seen enough ER
treatment to recognize if anything was wrong. I like Sergeant Kendall's
rationale. I think the medics may have spotted patients masquerading as
staff members.?

The sheriff's smile was triumphant. Coming to his feet, he opened the
door and yelled toward the radio room. ?Emmalena, do you have my call on
the line from Memphis??

When she replied in the affirmative, he picked up the phone. ?Lieutenant
Crabb? This is Sheriff Mears again from Stoneville, Arkansas. I
appreciate your calling me about our ambulance. I hate to bother you
again, but I wish you'd tell Sergeant Kendall what you found this
morning. Just a minute.? He thrust the phone toward Cobb. ?Here!?

?This is Kendall.?

?Sergeant, we received your APB yesterday and alerted our patrol units.
This morning about four A.M., we logged a

178

call from an RP who claimed he heard a car being driven into the river
south of the city limits. We sent a unit out to check. They found tire
tracks leading into the river, but it certainly wasn't an accident. The
car went in at very low speed. This sort of thing happens on occasion.
Car strippers will dump them in the river. We usually pinpoint the
locations of obvious dumps and send a diver down about twice a month to
check them. We remembered your APB and decided to have our man check the
vehicle this morning.

?The water's-quite murky in that area, and the current is a son of a
bitch. The diver was working solo, and it was too dangerous to take
chances without a second swimmer in the boat. But he did see that the
vehicle's top was white and thought it was the right length for your
ambulance. More to the point, Sergeant, it had a Decton light bar on it.
Decton just made two hundred of those things altogether before they went
out of business. They must be scattered all over the eastern United States.?

Cobb was stunned, and when the lieutenant realized that he had no
comments, he added, ?I'm sorry to say that our man didn't get a look
into the cab to see if your men were there. We're going to pull it out
the first thing in the morning. I'll phone you people as soon as I know
anything.?

Again, there was an awkward silence, and the lieutenant asked, ?Well . .
. any questions, Sergeant??

?No, I don't suppose there are, Lieutenant. Thank you a lot for your call.?

He raised his eyes to find Toby staring at him, his face all business
now. ?I hope to God, Kendall, that answers your questions about the
ambulance. I would just as soon not hear any more about it until it's
raised and we find out if the Johnsons are in it.?

The sheriff turned back toward the doctor. ?Dr. Witherspoon, the mental
ward of Skystone is quite old, isn't it??

?Yes, it is. I think it was built in 1923. It was originally a
tuberculosis sanitarium.?

?Then I assume, sir, that you people installed modern heating and air
conditioning when you assumed ownership. Is that correct??

Andy Witherspoon nodded.

179 THE DOOR /

?Where did you place the ducting for these systems??

Too late, Andy saw what was coming. ?I think you know the answer,
Sheriff. We installed false ceilings and placed the ducting in the space
we created there.?

?There's a vent in each room-right? How often do you inspect those vents
to see if they've been loosened??The doctor shrugged.

?And how many times do you run a bed check during the night??

Andy Wither spoon's face reddened. ?Not at all, Sheriff. Why should we?
The rooms are secure. Even if a patient could climb into the ducting,
where could he go??

Toby Mears ignored the question. Cobb had known him long enough to know
that he was like a bloodhound on the trail now.

?Doctor, are there roof hatches over the mental ward??

?Yes, one, but it is ?locked from the outside. When we remodeled the
mental ward, we ran the wing's wiring through the attic. There are a lot
of heavy cables in there. Some of the machines take a tremendous amount
of electricity.?

?If someone entered the ducts and found a way to loosen a section of it
from within, he could climb out through the' hatch and be free. Isn't
that correct? How long since that hatch lock has been checked??

The doctor sat up straight, and Cobb knew he had found a loophole in the
sheriff 's case. ?It's never been checked that I know of, but you are
forgetting one thing. The hospital grounds are surrounded by an
electrified fence. There's no way a patient could crawl over or. tunnel
under that fence. So you see, Sheriff, your whole theory is, to put it
quite bluntly, a crock of shit.?

A look of glee flitted across Toy's visage. ?I suppose that the fence is
controlled from the convalescent wing, and the circuit breakers are
there. Right??

Witherspoon shook his head. ?No, the control panels are there, but the
circuit breakers are up in the attic where the-?

Carefully, the sheriff placed the shredded remnant of his cigar in the
foul ashtray and leaned back. ?In other words, if an inmate climbed into
ducts which are never checked, flipped a circuit breaker which is in the
attic, and climbed

180

through a hatch that is never inspected, he could go from here to China
and back without a worry on earth.?

He turned away from a chagrined Witherspoon and fixed Cobb with his
baleful stare. ?Well, Mr. Cobb Kendall, they say that you're the hotshot
in this department. They say that . Toby Mears is too old to do anything
except keep winning elections. Now, Mr. Hotshot, I've given you one lead
in investigating these murders. In a couple of days when Judge Lynch
gets home, we will go out there and talk to Doc Caudillo-maybe check out
that roof hatch. Until then, you forget about Skystone. That's an order.
Now if you will excuse me, we have wasted enough time talking about
inmate takeovers. Doctor, I want to thank you for coming in.?

With a spryness that Cobb hadn't witnessed in years, Toby came to his
feet and shook the hand of the embarrassed doctor. Andy looked
apologetically at Cobb.

As Cobb started to follow him out of the office, the sheriff called,
?Just a minute, Cobb,? and motioned him back into his seat.

He looked toward the commissioner and then at Cobb. ?Cobb, I hated like
hell to do that to you. You've been a good man, but damn it, boy, you've
gotten so uppity you won't listen to old Toby. Not only are you getting
this town nervous, but you're at a dead end. Remember what I said . . .
no free lancing. You don't have any excuse to go out to that hospital.

?Ignore what I said in front of Witherspoon. I want you to start getting
the fingerprints of Sky stone's mental patients, but get them through
their hometown's, not here. The doctor already gave you their names and
addresses. The day we're sure who is sneaking out of that place at
night, we'll go out there and bring him in. I'll guarantee you Caudillo
will not object. He will be grateful because we'll handle it discreetly,
and he will make sure it never happens again. The judge says he is a
reasonable man.

?The citizenry will be safe, yet nothing will have happened to threaten
the existence of Skystone. The families of the victims will be happy.
They will have their privacy. And I'll be happy, Cobb, because we did it
the right way.?

He looked toward the commissioner. ?Anything to add, Commissioner??

181 DOOR /

The fat man guffawed. ?Cobb, you're damned lucky to have an old warhorse
here to help you out. By God, Toby, you're something else.?

Cobb closed the door after him, muffling the volleys of compliments
ricocheting off the walls.

Tip Curable was standing by the sergeants' room. He rolled his eyes
upward, giving Cobb a sympathetic slap on the back as he walked past.

The doctor waited at the front door, his hands balled into fists. He
wasted no time on gratuitous statements. ?Well, what are you going to do
now??

Cobb shrugged. ?What can I do? He sure as hell shot holes in our case,
plus making me look like a stupid ass. I have been ranting about our
killer coming from Skystone, yet I never bothered to formulate a theory
of how it could be done.?

Comb's comments did not satisfy the little gamecock of a physician. He
stomped his foot against the boards of the walk. ?Goddamn it, I thought
you had more balls than that, Kendall. I never thought you would let an
old fart like that fuck around with you. When do you get off work??

?I'm off work now. The shift was over an hour and a half ago.?-

?Then I'm going to haul that worthless ass of yours out to my place and
get you stoked up on some good whiskey. Then you and I are going to
figure a way to check on Sky-stone. I have the feeling in my bones that
we don't have any time to waste, and crotchety old sons of a bitch like
me are right more often than we are wrong.?

Cobb grinned. Men like Andy Witherspoon were a new experience in his
life. ?Listen, if you don't mind, I'm going to ask Tip to come with us.
He's a damned good cop.?

Twenty-five minutes later, the three of them were trooping through the
unfinished living room of Wither spoon's house into the study.

182 21

T

he tranquilizer (what was it her husband had once -called it?-Prince
Valium, because it demanded tribute from a great part of American
society) had done its work well with Elizabeth. The hospital room seemed
a safe haven from the rapacious inmates of Skystone. She found herself
comfortable with Mainwaring's reassurances that nothing would happen to her.

The door opened abruptly and closed as quickly. The light came on,
revealing a grinning John Hughes standing before her.

?Hey, mama, how's it going??

With the explosion of light in the room, she had yelped and shot up into
a sitting position, the sheet drawn tightly around her. Remembering what
Mainwaring had said, she tried to be flippant, to mask her fear of him.
?Johnny, you scared me to death!?

?Hey, not to worry, pretty thing. The main man told me to keep an eye on
you. As a matter of fact, he laid a little bit of heaven on Johnny as a
bonus. I'm here to tell you, mama, this dude is flying high.?

As Elizabeth watched him swaying slightly, his eyes unfocused, whatever
satisfaction she had gained from

183

Mainwaring's promise that Johnny would help protect her faded. He was so
stoned he could barely walk. Oddly enough, he sensed her concern and winked.

?Hey, not to worry, doll. Johnny comes down in a hurry. I'll be real
cool in a few ticks. Can you dig that? Hey, I can't stay. Some of those
creeps will be wondering what I'm doing in here. It wouldn't be good for
little Elizabeth if old Tina got to thinking about you.?

His laugh became a cackle and lasted and lasted. ?Tina? What about Tina??

He stepped away from the door for the first time and came nearer. She
eased backwards across the bed. When he saw what she was doing, he
raised his hands above his head.

?Hey, chickie, I'm not gonna hurt you-promise. Let's don't talk about
the Dragon Lady. I don't want that broad to hex old John.?

?Hex you!?

?Yeah, Tina claims she is an honest-to-God priestess of Satan. I used to
think the old bitch was just fucking off at the mouth, but after last
night, no shit. I mean . . . Jesus Christ! I've_ got a strong stomach,
but it was too much for me. It started out great horny as hell-but, oh,
brother!?

?What do you mean? What happened last night??

?Swear to God you won't tell??

She nodded.

?We kind of jived around last night, all of us on a natural high after
creaming the fuzz. About midnight Tina said she had to give thanks to
almighty Satan for her deliverance. I mean, nobody started dropping
cookies over it, if you get my meaning. But then Howe got kinda
interested. You could tell Doc Mainwaring didn't like the idea worth a
shit, but, hell, he was trying to do the same as me keep them crazy
bastards happy so we can get our asses out of here in one piece.

?Tina dug up some candles from the kitchen and got one of those rolling
tables they put you on to examine you. By that time, everybody was
getting tuned. I mean, Shana was getting to where she was all for it.
That little bull-dyke bitch is ready for anything. Nobody was paying
much attention to old Carrie, so she copped some of Tina's matches and
split.

184

All at once, we smelled smoke. Of course, that scared the. shit out of
everybody. Apparently, somebody had been fucking around and trashed the
smoke alarm.

?We hauled ass out of there and found old Carrie in the staff lounge,
trying to burn one of the sofas. I thought, 'fuck this shit.' I grabbed
an extinguisher and started to put the fire out, and that son of a bitch
Delgado grabbed her. Hell, I mean he stood right there in front of us in
the hall and broke her neck-literally broke her neck and was laughing
about it. I thought that was probably the end of the Satan crap. The doc
had me put Carrie's body into the same freezer locker we had stuffed
Caudillos nurse in. By the time I finished and got back, I heard that
slinky blond chick Valerie screaming her fucking head off.?

Elizabeth knew she should be denying any interest in his story, but she
couldn't help asking, ?Valerie? Who's she??

?She was the nicest little old nursie here really sweet, you know.
Always made me feel like I was somebody, not a locked-up crazy.
Good-looking chick, too-tall, silvery blond hair.

?I hurried back into our ward. By then, they were all in the therapy
room and all the lights were out. The candles were burning, and Valerie
was tied down on the table, stripped naked. Old Tina was standing there
in front of her, stripped down to her panties and chanting some kind of
damned gibberish. I'll tell you something, Tina's a little plump and
smears a ton of makeup on her face, but she's still a prime piece of
ass. She was chanting like hell, and Shana and Howe were both trying to
join in . . . you know, sing along time. All at once Tina signals to
Howe. I hadn't been noticing him. Looking at Valerie lying there and
seeing Tina in next to nothing was enough to give a statue a hard-on.
All at once, Howe stepped in between Valerie's legs and threw the meat
to her.

?Well, that was all Mainwaring could stand. He cut out. Hell, I had a
bone-on. Who wouldn't? Old Howe was just humping away. Tina and Shana
were chanting, and damn if Molly didn't join in!?

Elizabeth had her face in her hands now, willing him to shut up. She
managed to moan, ?Stop!?

185 DOOR /

But the memory and the poison in his blood had deafened John Hughes to
such remonstrations. ?Christ, I'll tell you I was thinking about joining
Tina's religion or whatever the hell it is-so I would get the next crack
at Valerie, but no way. When Howe got off her, Tina tied her,
spread-eagle, against those weight machines at the far end of the room.
Do you know where I mean??

He peered at her, blinking. The silence grew.

?Ah . . . yeah,?she finally said. ?Yeah, I know where you mean.?

He grinned. ?You're a damned liar, baby, you know that? I mean, do you
think I'm stoned out of my fucking mind? I know you've never been in
there. Now what-??

?Please, I'm sorry. I . . . I wasn't thinking.?

He nodded. ?Jesus, I've never seen anything like it. Tina must have had
old Howe collect leather belts from up at the house. She took off her
panties, and she and Howe stood there naked, whipping the hide off
Valerie. She was screaming. God damn, she looked sexy, writhing around
like that, but I knew they were killing her. Christ! I liked Valerie,
but I was afraid to say anything. I looked over at Shana, and she and
Molly were all wrapped up in each other's arms, kissing and panting. A
week ago Molly wouldn't have said shit if she had a mouthful, and now
she's a Goddamn les-nymphomaniac. I couldn't take it, and I left.

?After a while it was quiet, and I came back in. Poor Valerie was
already dead-I'm sure of it and that bitch Shana and Molly weren't in
sight. I heard this grunting noise, and I walked around the examination
table. Old Howe and Tina were lying on the floor, screwing their brains
out. Hell, it was a freakout . you know what I mean??

As he asked the question, his hand closed on Elizabeth's ankle. She was
so upset by the horror of his story that her voice held a note of menace
that she had never heard in herself.

?You get your damned hand off me, or I'll kill you!?

John Hughes jerked his hand away from her ankle as if it were red hot..
A fatuous grin spread across his face as he backed away. ?Hey, sweet
thing, don't get excited. I mean,

186

John's cool not making a pass at you. I. know you're a high-class broad.
I mean, don't go telling Doc Mainwaring that I'm trying to hit on you.
You dig it??

?You just remember that.?

Elizabeth thrilled to the realization that John Hughes was afraid of
her. The thrill disappeared when she realized it was the loss of his.
drug supply that he really feared.

He paused at the door. ?Hey, baby, gotta split. Like I say, you be cool
around Tina. Better watch that Howe, too. Man, he's got a cock like a
bar of iron it never wears out. See you later, 'gater.?

Elizabeth rolled over, buried her face in her pillows, and cried. She
was going to die. She did not know which one would kill her or how
terrible it would be, but she knew she would never leave Skystone alive.

187 22

The study had an unreal quality in the stark light of the Coleman
lantern. The power company had not finished stringing a line to the
house, and so the three men sat around a table in the middle of the
study, staring owlishly at the cloud of light bugs circling the
lantern's glass globe. Well into their cups, they sat in morose silence
broken by occasional flurries of conversation. An empty bottle of
Tennessee sipping whiskey lay on its side atop the table. A second
bottle, half full, was lifted with reverence from time to time by one of
the trio. They had long since eschewed the use of glasses.

Andy Whitherspoon roused himself and took a wild swing at the light
bugs, his hand precariously near the glass chimney. ?If one of you
bastards hadn't left the door open, we wouldn't have the damned bug
problem.?

This remark produced gales of laughter from his companions.

Tip drew himself up with alcoholic dignity. ?Just one damned minute,
Witherspoon. We're here to talk about the fucking Bluestone, or whatever
the hell it's-?

?It's Skystone, you bastard,?the doctor shouted. ?Well, whatever the
hell it is. Now, Cobb has an idea.?

188

They leaned forward with exaggerated emphasis, looking at Cobb who sat
peering fixedly into the glowing brilliance of the lantern's mantle.

?Listen, Curable, I don't mind talking about Skyspot, but-?

Andy smashed his palm against the table, causing the gas lantern to
teeter. ?Damn it to hell, it's Skystone!?

?Okay . . . Skystone. But I'm not going to talk about any damned woman
killer.?

He lunged upright. ?By God, you people keep harping on the wonderful
Madeleine Turner and those other women. If you are, so all-fired smart,
you find the damned bastard. My wife good old Margaret is at home right
now waiting for me. Do you know that this is my birthday? She's sitting
there waiting for my rear end, and I haven't even called her. Everybody
talks about brave, adorable Margaret. She sure as hell sits, I guarantee
that. You don't know a damned thing about Margaret.?Tears glistened in
his eyes. ?Goddamn her, anyway.?

Tip stumbled drunkenly to his feet. ?Okay . .. okay . . . I'm sorry.
Christ, am I sorry! I don't know what in the hell I've done to your
wife, but whatever it is, I'm sorry as hell. I'll swear to you, I just
want to figure a way to get the Johnson boys out of Skystone. Now please
sit down, Cobb. You know you're the best friend I have.?

The diminutive Witherspoon jumped up, grabbed the whiskey bottle, and
poured three generous dollops into the empty glasses. Lifting his glass,
he cried, ?A toast. A toast to whatever the hell Cobb wants to do. I
sure as hell don't know what to say.?

The three glasses shot aloft, sending whiskey sloshing onto the table.
They collapsed into their seats, with Tip and Andy looking expectantly
at Cobb.

Cobb motioned them closer. He whispered, ?Gentlemen, if this rat hole of
a house had a telephone-?

?Whoa,?Andy shouted. ?I won't have my damned house slandered. This
rathole of a shack has a frigging telephone. No doctor worth shit does
without a phone. It might not have light . . . it might not have water .
. . but, by God, this doctor's house sure as hell has a telephone.?

189

?Okay, then. I'm going to call that guy again in Memphis -that
Lieutenant Crabb. I have an idea.?

Tip clapped his hands. ?What is it??

Andy suddenly seemed more sober. He was looking speculatively at Cobb.
?You'll have to sound a hell of a lot less drunk than you are if you're
going to get anywhere.?

Cobb ruefully nodded.

Andy and Tip stood by the phone, listening. Cobb was talking very
slowly, trying not to slur his words.

?Yes, Sergeant, I'm aware the Lieutenant needs time away from his job.
We feel the same way here. But this is important. It's a matter of life
and death.?

The connection wasn't a good one, and the distant voice came and went.
?I'm going to put you through to Lieutenant Roper. He'll have to decide
about going against department regulations.?

Again Cobb related the circumstances of the APB and Crabb's call. The
Memphis lieutenant seemed more uninterested with every word. Finally a
desperate Cobb told him what they believed the situation might be at
Skystone.

There was a long pause before the lieutenant said, ?I can't understand
why Sheriff Mears hasn't called for mutual aid from all over this area.?

The wall broke on Comb's frustration and, his voice badly slurred, he
shouted into the phone: ?Because, by God, there may be thirty or forty
people out there that will die if we make the wrong move. We have a
political hack for a sheriff who doesn't know what the hell to do.?

There was a longer pause. Cobb was certain that he had not only ruined
his chances of contacting Crabb, but that this Memphis officer would be
on the phone to Toby within five minutes.

?By God, I'm going to do it, Kendall. If Crabb complains, I'll be up
there looking for a job with you, but I'm going to do it.? He rattled
off a telephone number and slammed down the phone without bothering to
say goodbye.

Lieutenant Crabb answered on the second ring.

?Lieutenant, I apologize for calling you at this time of night, but
there's one thing I need to know. Are you aware

190

of any other theft reports involving ambulances around
Memphis-especially in the last year??

Crabb's shrill whistle burst from the receiver. ?By God, I hadn't
thought of that. I remember . . . I believe . . . yes, I remember two
being mentioned in briefings.?

?Have they been found??

?No, they haven't. You're suggesting that the ambulance in the river is
one of ours.?

It was a statement, not a question, and Cobb waited for the lieutenant
to continue.

?Whoever had it may have found out about the APB and decided it was too
hot to keep. You know, there's been a rash of ambulance thefts
nationally the last couple of years. We suspect they've been used to
haul aliens, dope-you name it. After all, if an ambulance isn't running
Code Three, the patrol units usually won't question its being in the
area-even one from quite a ways off. They figure it's a long-distance
hospital transfer. It could be our ambulance. I'll call you in the
morning. I hope I haven't screwed up your thinking on the case.?

Cobb was jubilant. ?Hell, no, you haven't. You may have gotten us back
on the right track.?

He put down the phone. ?By God, I'm calling Toby.?

Tip moaned. ?Oh God, this is where the shit hits the fan.?

The phone rang for so long that Cobb was about to hang up, deciding he
was mistaken about Toy's having a dinner party. As he was lowering the
receiver, there was a click, and Rose Mears' waspish voice stated,
importantly, ?This is the Mears residence.?

?Rose, this is Cobb. May I speak to Toby??

Her voice immediately grew hostile. ?Cobb, you aren't on duty. I have
the roster right here. Besides, the sheriff and I are entertaining
tonight, and he doesn't wish to be disturbed.?

?True, ma'am, but this is important, or I wouldn't have called.?

With a note of long-suffering tolerance, Rose relented. ?Well, if you
must, but I can guarantee that the sheriff will not be pleased.?

191

The crash of the phone against the tabletop was enough to make Tip and
Andy wince.

An interminable length of time went by so long that Andy grumbled,
?Where in the hell is the old fart? Sitting on the crapper??

Toy's first words made it apparent that Rose had not overstated the
case. His voice dripped ice water. ?Cobb, this had better be good. A man
with the responsibilities I have needs some recreation without being
bothered about petty details. That's why we have sergeants. Now, what is
it??

Quickly, Cobb summarized his conversation with Lieutenant Crabb.

There was a long, painful sigh at the other end of the line. ?Well,
thanks for the information. I'm glad to hear that ours isn't the only
ambulance ever stolen in the U.S.A.?

Toby sounded as mean as Cobb had ever heard him. ?Now let me refresh
your memory. I told you this afternoon that I wanted you to hump
your-?Apparently the fastidious Rose was lurking nearby. ?Er hurry up on
these murders. I'm appalled that the fair ladies of this town have to
live in fear of a madman.?

Cobb heard someone talking to Toby, too low and too far off to be
intelligible. There was a long pause, and then the sheriff snarled,
?Now, you listen to me, you son of a bitch. I love Margaret. By God,
she's a fine girl and I don't want to hurt her. But if I hear one more
word about Skystone, by, God, your ass is going to have a two-week
suspension without pay. I told you I'll call you when I hear about the
ambulance.?

The crash that came through the receiver gave ample evidence that Rose's
annoyance was no more than a pale imitation of her husband's.

Cobb stared morosely at the phone. ?Well, what do we do now??

Andy belched loudly, and Tip said, ?I guess the doc summed up our whole
evening.?

Andy glared at him. ?The hell it does. I'm going to make a pot of strong
coffee and get this poison out of us. Then we'll sit down and form a
vigilante committee to take action. Right, Cobb??

192

Cobb, still disconsolate, shrugged.

The little man glared at him. ?I said, right, Cobb??Cobb grinned.
?Right, you little banty rooster.?

With the lantern out, they sat in the coffee-scented darkness, talking,
able to see one another only as vague shapes.

?Cobb, I can't understand why you say speed is more important than
numbers. I mean ... it seems to me what you need is to surround the
grounds and burst in from all sides.?

?Doc, in an operation like this, you have to establish your priorities.
In other words, is our primary interest to ensure the safety of the
hostages or simply to subdue and recapture the escapees??

Tip broke in, ?I don't think there's any question about that. How far
could an inmate run, even if one or two slipped past? I'm not saying
they're not dangerous or somebody might not get hurt, but we're
balancing that risk against the lives of a lot of innocent people.?

Cobb took another swallow of coffee. ?Doc, you said you thought they
were capable of organizing, particularly when they have somebody as
sharp as Mainwaring. That's another reason why speed is more important.
It would take time to recruit a large assault team.?

?What do you mean??Tip asked.

?If Mainwaring is bright, he won't stay holed up in there. He would have
already made a break for it unless he has a plan that will take him a
long way in a hurry.?

The doctor grinned. ?By God, I hadn't thought of that-the airstrip.?

?Yes, that's one possibility. We need to be on top of them before they
know we're there, and we can't wait much longer. We don't want them to
have time to think about using the hostages.?

Andy began to see what Cobb meant. ?Cobb, if we crash the gate and cut
through the trees, maybe using a four wheel-drive vehicle, we should be
on the porte cochere within thirty seconds. With the soundproofing, they
won't know what is happening until we are on that last stretch of driveway.?

It was the first plan Cobb had considered and discarded. He waited to
see if Andy would see the obstacle.

193 DOOR /

The little doctor struck the table, sending the mugs into a clattering
dance. ?Damn! I forgot that electrified fence. The second the gate is
breached, the alarm will go off. It will give them time to barricade the
doors and do whatever they want with the hostages.?

Tip moaned. ?Another idea down the drain. We're getting nowhere fast.?

?I keep thinking about what Andy said about the circuit breakers in the
crawl space. If we could turn them off, our problems would be solved.?

?Just how db you plan to do that??Tip asked. ?Do we phone and ask them
if they would mind running up and disconnecting them??

Andy became excited. ?By God, you've got it! If we can get to the
circuits, we have it made.?

?The only problem is that's a mighty big if,?Cobb said.

The doctor bounced out of his chair. ?Wait a minute. I know how to reach
the attic. We use a helicopter.?

Tip was incredulous. ?A helicopter! Are you out of your mind? Why, they
would hear it coming a half-mile away and know something was up.?

?Wait a minute, Tip,?Cobb said. ?I don't think they would. There is a
high-voltage transmission line a little way north of Sky stone's
property boundary. A helicopter patrols that line, checking for trouble.
Everybody at the hospital must have heard it a thousand times.?

Andy whistled appreciatively. ?You're right! I used to hear that chopper
several times a week.?

Cobb continued, ?If the chopper barrels in low from the north, they
shouldn't have over ten seconds' warning that something is wrong. Tip or
I will drop onto the roof, go down the hatch, and turn off the power.
After the juice is cut, we'll bust through the gate and that will be the
end of it. Shoot! This should be as slick as that Israeli raid on Entebbe.?

?Hold the phone,?Andy protested. ?Where do you get that Tip or I crap?
I'm the man to drop to the roof. I've been in the attic and know the
layout. You two guys can make like the cavalry riding to the rescue.?

Sensing their resistance, he continued. ?It's my idea.

194 Land**

And, besides, where are you planning to get the helicopter? Will the
county pay for it??

Tip answered before Cobb could. ?It will be a cold day in hell before
they do that. Well, it was a great idea, anyway.?

?It's still a great idea. You miss my point, Tip. Somebody has to dig
into his pocket to rent a helicopter, and you're looking at the guy that
has the money for it. So what I'm saying is that I own the basketball.
Do I get to play, or do I go home and take my ball with me??

Tip chuckled. ?By God, you're all right for a doctor. You're a feisty
little son of a bitch.?

Andy leaned over, feeling for the unlit lantern. ?I know the man for the
job. He has a chopper in Little Rock. The guy's name is Smitty Plunkett.
We've used him two or three times to transport people to Skystone. He
doesn't have any more sense than we do. Several times he's flown out
there with a damned psychopath serving as copilot, sitting beside him.
Let me at the phone.?

195 23

T

he glowing red numbers of the digital clock blurred before her eyes. She
blinked to clear the mist. It was 1:57. The Valium had long since worn
off, leaving Elizabeth to toss fitfully on the bed.

Several times she thought she had heard the metallic whisper of the
doorknob turning and had peered fearfully toward the corridor. Her many
short naps had left her hot and sticky.

She sat up in bed, unbuttoned the hospital tunic, and pulled it off. She
worked her gown out of her uniform slacks, yanked it over her head, and
flung it across the room toward the window. Hurriedly she slipped back
into the tunic, afraid that John Hughes would catch her bare-breasted.

She looked at the clock again and groaned in frustration. Time was at a
standstill. Only two minutes had passed since her last glance.

Elizabeth slipped off the bed, glancing a last time at the clock 2:01
A.M. Dr. Mainwaring had warned her about wandering about the hospital.
She thought again about building a barricade across the door. Could it
hold if they really tried to get in? And what about Mainwaring? He
seemed to be her only hope of escaping. A barricade would cut her off

196

from his help. Thinking was getting her nowhere. She had to know what
was happening.

Feeling her way across the dark room, she located the doorknob. The
velvet-smooth hinges did not betray her. Cautiously, she peered out.

It was quiet in the dimly lit hallway. She wondered if Mainwaring's
dangerous charges were herded safely into the mental wing for the night.

She was about to go back to the bed when she heard feminine laughter in
the distance. Opening the door still more, she heard the rumble of a
male voice and then peals of laughter.

A second male voice, higher in pitch, angry, intervened. She glanced
first toward the nurses' station and then down the hall, and her eyes
widened in surprise. Light spilled across the hall from room 8.

Again, the sound of giggling broke the silence. Recognition left her
bewildered. She had heard that sound a thousand times. It was Meredith!

She had to know what was going on.

Elizabeth started down the hall, aware of the faint slap of her sandals,
terribly afraid but determined to contact Meredith, whatever the cost.
She slipped her sandals off, feeling the gritty tiles beneath her feet
as she tiptoed from doorway to doorway. Her journey seemed endless.

When she reached the darkened room 7, she slipped inside. She strained
to hear Meredith again, but in vain. Finally, frustrated and keenly
aware of her vulnerability, she stepped back into the hall where she
couldn't be trapped. Staying close to the wall, she crept to a spot
beside room 8's door.

The room came alive. The sounds of soft moans and hard breathing floated
through the door.

John Hughes snarled, ?Goddamn you, Howe, get out of here! Mainwaring
promised her to me. You hear?-to me!?

The other voice she recognized as the one who had called himself Joe
Rogers- the night they arrived. ?Horseshit! You stashed this little
piece away and kept her full of dope so that she would be your private
stock, but Howie's taking over.?

197

Even as he talked, Meredith's husky voice was imploring, ?Hey, what's
wrong? Don't stop. What's wrong??

?Goddamn you, Howe! That's not so. Ask Mainwaring. She freaked out the
night she got here. She's a real fricking junk head.?

Howe laughed, a' low, caressing laugh, one full of confidence and
contempt for the distraught Hughes. ?Okay, you little prick, let the
pretty lady decide.?

There was a rustling, and the rapid breathing grew louder.

Elizabeth could not believe what she was hearing. She knew Meredith
probably had done pot with her crowd, but she had far too much sense to
become a drug addict. She would never allow these two lowlife types to
touch her. Meredith might not be a virgin, but she sure had chosen men
with money in Chicago. She must be scared to death-mid yet she sounded
so willing!

Elizabeth stepped across the hall to where she could peep into the room.
Her eyes widened.

Meredith was on her knees atop the bed, her arms wrapped around Howie's
thick-set body. They were feasting on each other's mouths, his hand
molding her back and buttocks with heavy strokes. She pulled her mouth
free, arched her body, and moaned. Howe released her, stepped back, and
quickly pulled off his tunic and pants.

Elizabeth gaped in astonishment at his body. She had never seen a man so
covered with hair. Meredith's eyes were devouring him, her tongue
licking greedily over her lips. Elizabeth gasped as he turned,
apparently to look at 'his unseen companion. He reached down to display
himself and sneered at Hughes.

?Okay, you cocksucker, ask her what she wants-that shriveled-up tool of
yours ... or this.?

He turned back to Meredith. ?How about it, baby??

Meredith came off her haunches and reached for him. He drew her close
and slid his hand over her flat stomach. Suddenly, she shrieked in pain,
pushing futilely against him with her arms. Elizabeth, her senses
reeling, could see the sudden cruel thrust of his fingers. Then
Meredith's arras were back around him, and she was shuddering against
him. He took a

198

step forward and, lifting her body, turned it in midair as though she
weighed nothing.

Placing her on her hands and knees in one swift motion, he vaulted onto
the bed behind her and, clasping her hips with his hands, entered her
with one driving thrust. Her head reared and she shrieked again,
struggling against him for a second, but to no more effect than a child.
Within moments she was seconding his lunges with her own.

As Elizabeth watched, Howie's eyes glazed over with lust. Meredith
dropped her head, her hair falling about her face, her moans timed to
his thrusts.

Lifting her head, she looked toward John Hughes and screamed, ?What are
you waiting for, you bastard!?

John stepped into Elizabeth's view and stood, staring at the furious
rhythm of their bodies. She screamed at him again. ?Now, bastard! Now!?

He climbed onto the bed and grabbed her by the hair, sobbing in his
excitement.

Elizabeth's last view was of Meredith, her pale body sandwiched between
the two darker, muscular forms that struggled against her. Elizabeth
fled back up the corridor, the noise of her feet against the gritty
surface covered by the shuddering cries of the entwined trio.

She dashed into her room, sending the door crashing against the wall,
and leaned over the corner of the bed, trying to drive the erotic
memories from her mind. The darkness before her was filled with images
of the interlocked bodies on Meredith's bed. She became aware that she
was crouching over the mattress, rhythmically moving against its corner.
With a cry of shame, she fell forward onto the bed, pounding the pillow
with her fist. Long minutes went by before the lingering heat left her
loins.

Elizabeth pushed herself upright, stung by the remembrance of one of
Mainwaring's comments. He had said that people inside the mental ward
were like those outside, only more transparent, concerned only with
satisfying their lusts, their egos, and their thirst for violence.
Anxious to shut off the memory of her own body's betrayal, she slid off
the bed and closed the door, trying to ignore the building cries from
the far end of the hall.

199

Elizabeth felt her way through the unlit room to the bathroom. Standing
in the dark before the lavatory, she washed her face. She closed the
door and turned on the lights, conscious of a sudden need to see
herself. She stared at herself long in the mirror-at her hair, her skin,
her eyes, and her lips and wondered what the two men thought of her . .
. if they wanted to use her as they used Meredith.

Her hand moved as if it had a life of its own, slowly unbuttoning her
tunic. A part of her mind protested, shocked, and she was frightened
because she could not stop herself. The warmth stirred in her as her
hands opened the tunic and exposed her breasts. Her hands closed on
them, cupping them, and the nipples swelled under the caress.

Something seemed to explode in her mind, and she cried aloud, ?My God,
what am I doing??

Frantically drawing the tunic shut, she buttoned it.

Elizabeth extinguished the light and stood in the dark, trembling. She
was beginning to fear for her sanity. She had grown up in a religious
family, and until she was in college had believed that her body must be
a sanctified temple for her husband. Even when she yielded to the clumsy
temptations in college, there had been a shadow of shame, elusive but
very real, in the far chambers of her mind.

The trouble was that, without her realizing it, her nicely ordered
fantasy world had begun to come apart that day in the gardener's shack.
Until that moment, a devoutly religious Elizabeth had believed the
romanticized garbage she had read about sex as some unmentionable reward
of the perfect marriage, some vague sort of touching that produced music
like the sweep of one hundred violins, performed on marital couches with
the fragrance and softness of a million rose petals. Despite the near
rape and her fumbling failures in college, she had still expected a
romantic fantasy in her marriage, not a husband who acted as though she
were a complex piece of machinery that had to be primed and pampered
before it could be used.

She left the bathroom and felt her way to a chair, aware that Sky
stone's atmosphere had changed abruptly and she was no longer afraid.
The darkness seemed warm and inviting, alive with an electrifying
energy. She laughed aloud.

200 Lambirth

She should have known her mother would have a fairy tale about sex, the
same way mothers sugarcoated every unappealing need or want.

It was Jack who had shown her what sex could be. At first it seemed
dirty because he had been so direct, caring for nothing but the sweet
ecstasy of it. But that first morning she had discovered the animal in
herself, had found she was no different from Jack and the man in the
gardener's shed. She had loved it. She needed to wallow in it, to be
treated like a bitch in heat. Without that, it was like doing push-ups.

Grinning, she came to her feet and moved across to the bed. She pulled
off the confining slacks and began to caress herself. Eagerly she
thought of Meredith and the two men ravishing her. All too soon, a
keening, gasping cry escaped her lips and she shuddered deliciously.
Looking down at her body, she thought of what John Hughes and the hairy
one would do to her if they caught her that way. She groaned at the
vivid imagery of her thoughts and opened herself again to her caressing
hand.

Later, she pulled free of her sated reverie, stretched luxuriously, and
drew the slacks back on. It had been more intense than anything she had
known.

201 24

T

he sounds of slamming drawers, the rustle of stacks of paper, and a
recitation of innovative curses streamed from the study. With a groan,
Cobb rose from the living room chair, sidestepped the dozing Tip's feet,
and-groggy with fatigue-entered the lantern-lit study.

Andy looked up at him as though the whole thing was Comb's fault. ?Damn
it! Of all the nights for the son of a bitch not to be at home! He gave
me his girlfriend's phone number, and it's in this desk. I put all my
files from Sky-stone into this damned thing. But, by God, I don't know
where in the hell it is.?

Cobb dug his knuckles into his bleary eyes. ?Shut up for a minute, doc,
and listen. There's no point in us sitting here taking catnaps while
you're trying to find that phone number. We can run down to the
sheriff's office and pick up the flare gun.?

?What flare gun? You didn't say anything about a flare gun. Why in the
hell do you want it??

?How do you think we're going to know when the juice has been turned
off-grab the gate and see if we electrocute ourselves? After you throw
the circuit breakers, you will have to fire a flare to let us know.?

202

?What good is a flare in the daytime? How can you see it???Those things
put out smoke as well as a ball of fire. We'll see it.?

Back in the living room, Cobb kicked Tip's boot to awaken him. ?Okay,
old buddy, let's go commit a bit of petty larceny.?

The farmhouses along the road lay dark and quiet, like sleeping beasts
hunkered down in their night lairs. Cobb had never minded working the
graveyard shift. It was a fresh, quiet world free of the inconsequential
bickerings and frictions of his fellow beings. He always felt a sense of
aloof power as he moved through the night guarding the hapless citizenry
defenseless in their beds.

Parked along quiet country roads in the wee hours on stakeouts, he had
been aware of the microcosm of life around him in the road weeds. He had
heard the slithering rustle of the predators, sliding powerfully through
the vegetation until a tiny scream of terror signified their success.

Cobb had grown to where he spent those long hours of solitude toying
with the illusion that he, too, was a predator, stalking the lawbreakers
that sought the shelter of the night for their deeds. The night world
was his world. He punished and he rewarded. Soon Skystone would no
longer be forbidden ground, immune to the retribution of the law.

As they came over the hill, passing through the pale bluish circle of
the town's outermost street .light, Cobb shook Tip. ?Come on,
sleepyhead. Wake up.?

The deep breathing ceased abruptly. Tip sniffled, and wiped the back of
his hand across his nose.

?God Almighty, I'm worn out.?He yawned. ?What time is it??

?Two twenty-three.?

?Jesus, I wish we hadn't drunk that whiskey. How do you figure on
getting that flare gun out of the office??

?Wipe your nose, for God's sake.?Cobb pointed to the box of tissues
posed precariously on the transmission hump.

?Listen to me, Tip. Either J.T. or Curtis will be in the office. The
other one will be on patrol.?

?I hope to hell J.T. ain't at the station. That son of a bitch

203

is such a stickler he wouldn't let you borrow a match without getting an
okay from Toby.?

?Well, we'll just have to risk it.?

It was quite dark on Main Street. There were only three street lights
along its length the old-fashioned incandescent types. Most of the
storefronts were dimly lit by single low-wattage bulbs burning inside.
Stoneville was safely tucked within its walls by ten o'clock each night,
many miles away from the tourist traffic that was attracted to brightly
lit store windows.

A single one-hundred-watt bulb lighted the doorway of the sheriff's
office, barely illuminating the weather-beaten plaque reading Beauregard
County Sheriff's Department.

The slamming of the car doors sounded startlingly loud in the deserted
street. Their footsteps were hollow on the boardwalk before the office.
As they turned into the doorway, J. T. Carruthers' head popped out of
the doorway of the sergeants' room.

?It's just us, J.T.,?Cobb called.

J.T. sounded petulant. ?Well, shit! You startled me. You're not supposed
to be around now.?

Cobb, followed by Tip, pushed past J.T., catching a glimpse, as he did,
of the tiny radio room. Millie, the night dispatcher, was sprawled
forward over her desk, her head resting on her fat arms, sound asleep.

Cobb hurried around the desk and slipped into the chair. It was a game
he and J.T. had played more than once, and losing it now didn't help
J.T.'s mood.

?Damn it, Cobb, what do you and Tip want??

Before answering, Cobb rose and offered the chair to J.T. He swallowed
noisily, stalked with enormous dignity around the desk, and settled into
the chair. He swung his feet on to the desk and smirked at Cobb.

?Well, Cobb, I understand you're walking on thin ice these days. Working
overtime to try to get back into Toy's good graces??

?No, not exactly, J.T. Tip and I were sitting around talking, and-?

J.T. laughed-a dry hacking more like a cough than a

204

laugh. ?It appears to me you two have been doing more drinking than
sitting.?

The smugness of his voice matched the smugness of his expression.
?Besides, big shot, your little wife called here twice tonight,
wondering where you were.?

?J.T., you've always been a pain in the ass. I was taking Tip home and
remembered I was supposed to check the emergency equipment in the
morning. I thought I'd just drop by and get things laid out.?

?Check emergency equipment? Nobody told me anything about checking
equipment. The sheriff would have told all of us about that. Listen
here. You're not going to take anything out of the office until I check
with Toby, and I sure the hell don't plan on calling him in the middle
of the night.?

Cobb turned to Tip. ?Well, okay, Tip, I tried. Toy's not going to be
happy about this.?

They started toward the door, but Cobb stopped again. ?By the way, why
is Curtis back in the alley by the furniture store checking the windows??

J.T. blinked. ?You saw Curtis doing what? You're crazy! He's out on patrol.?

Cobb nodded toward Tip. ?Ask him.?

?It kinds looked like him, J.T.,?Tip said. ?Besides, why would anybody
else be fooling around at the furniture store this time of night??

J.T. pushed past Tip, drawing his gun. ?Come on, boys. Follow me.
Someone's trying to rob the furniture store.?He ran out the front door.

Cobb looked at the grinning Tip. ?Go with him and keep him busy. Stall
him until you hear me getting in the car.?

The various emergency kits had been picked up willy-nilly over the years
and were stored under the shelving or in the closet of the sergeant's
room. Cobb cursed silently. The kit, stored in a small metal suitcase,
was not where he had last noticed it.

He got off his knees, knowing that he had very little time, and rushed
to the closet, only to find the door locked. He turned back to the desk
and, opening the top drawer, reached for the old iron key.

J.T.'s voice stopped him in mid-reach. It sounded as if he

205

was right outside, on the walk. He was shouting, ?You stay there, Tip.
I'm gonna have Millie call Curtis in. We're gonna need more help to
search the woodlot behind the store.?

Before Cobb could shut the desk drawer, Tip yelled from the distance,
?Come here, J.T., quick! I thought I heard someone on the roof.?

J.T. shuffled about the boardwalk in indecision before shouting,
?Coming,?and racing off to a volley of echoes from the loose boards.

Securing the key, Cobb unlocked the closet door. The air-sea rescue kit
was in a white metal case sitting in the corner. Pulling the flare
pistol from the case, he tucked it inside his uniform blouse. The flares
took forever to free from the case. As he removed the last of them, he
heard J.T. shouting, ?I'm calling Curtis. If we don't watch out, he'll
get away.?

Cobb shoved the case back into the closet and crammed the cartridges
into his bulging pants pockets. Just as he put the key back in the
drawer, J.T. charged through the door.

?Damn you, Cobb! Toy's gonna hear about you sitting on your ass while we
were trying to catch that sucker.?

Cobb shrugged. ?I'm riot going to stay around here and be insulted. The
hell with you!?

He started out the door. J.T. called 'after him, ?I'm gonna tell Toby
about you coming in here asking for equipment.?

When Cobb and Tip reached the Witherspoon house, they found Andy on the
phone. He was not happy.

?Hold it a minute . . . my colleagues just walked in. Let me fill them in.?

He put his hand over the mouthpiece. ?We've got trouble. His chopper's
out of service for its FAA inspection. Besides, he's not too happy with
me for calling him at this hour. He must have been pouring the old pork
to the little lady when I called. Any suggestions??

?If we could find another helicopter, maybe we could rent it and let him
fly it,?Cobb said.

Andy thought for a moment. ?That's not a bad idea. Let me try it on.?

?Smitty, is there any chance of you renting a chopper??He listened in
silence.

?Hell, no, I don't want another helicopter service. I want

206

you. Listen. I need a tough son of a bitch like you to fly this job. I
told you it's a matter of life and death.?

He paused again.

?No, I can't guarantee that. They may have a couple of shotguns.?

This time his face relaxed as he listened.

?Hell, the damned thing would have to have insurance on it-right?
Listen, Smitty, there's an extra five hundred for you and an extra five
hundred to the chopper owner if we do it.?

He nodded toward the two deputies.

?Yeah, I know it's a hell of a time to be calling, but I told you what
we're up against. That's why I'm offering extra money.?

He massaged his temple as he listened.

?Okay, call me back the minute you hear. Listen, buddy, there may be a
hell of a lot of lives riding on this mine included. That's why I want
you. Understand??

There was a last pause before he said, ?I know you will,?and lowered the
receiver.

He looked at Cobb and Tip. ?I'm going to make some coffee. What some??

Cobb grabbed him by the arm. ?Wait a minute. What did he say??

?It's a bad season to rent a helicopter on short notice. Everybody wants
work done before winter sets in. He heard a guy talking last
Friday-griping-something about having a job canceled for the middle of
this week. Smitty's going to call him.?

He shook his head, and Cobb knew the little man had lost most of the
emotional surge that carried him through the night.

?I'm sorry, fellows. It was my best bet. We tried, damn it, we tried.
Now we're going to need some luck.?

The two deputies settled into living room chairs, listening to Andy
stirring in the kitchen. Soon the aroma of frying eggs reached Cobb, and
he remembered that he hadn't eaten for hours.

207 25

W

ith the curtain drawn back, the stars, smeared by the double panes of
glass, filled the frame of the window. Elizabeth sat in the heavy chair
she had pulled to the window, staring out. The shame and self-loathing,
which overwhelmed her in the aftermath of her masturbation orgy, had
receded, leaving her empty, stunned at the enormity of her disgusting
passion. The question raced through her mind in unanswered repetition.
Why had she so. abjectly surrendered her values after the disgusting
spectacle she had witnessed?

She remembered a book she had read, a suspense novel about an American
couple in England. They had moved into an ancient monastery that had
been used, at some earlier date, as an insane asylum. The couple had
invited several American friends to join them for a week. Soon the group
was acting strangely, and as the days went by, they plunged into
licentiousness and brutality. The novel ended with hosts and guests
being destroyed by a fire that engulfed the old monastery. The author's
premise had been that the evil in the minds of the lunatics had lingered
to infect the vulnerable group with vile and thwarted desires.

She wondered if the same thing could be happening to

208

her, remembering her reaction to the encounter between the nurses, as
well as the debasement of Meredith. In the past, such sights-even
hearing of them-would have filled her with revulsion. That must be it.
The deranged degenerates in Skystone were emanating such vile thoughts
that they were infecting her like some foul contagion.

It .had grown chilly in the room, and she was ready to return to the bed
when the door flew open and the light came on. Startled, she came out of
the chair.

Shana stood in the doorway, smiling, one arm behind her back. She had
changed since Elizabeth last saw her. The nurse's cap was gone, and the
golden hair, so neatly arranged on Tuesday morning, hung loose and
unkempt around her face. Even her magnificent jade eyes seemed dull. Her
uniform was badly rumpled and unbuttoned to the waist.

Without speaking, she glided toward Elizabeth, the smile slowly fading.
Elizabeth was so frightened that she couldn't move until it was too
late. Cut off from the refuge of the bathroom, she backed toward the
corner until the converging walls brought her to a halt. Shana stopped
within arm's reach.

Her voice was mocking. ?Well, if it isn't Dr. Mainwaring's long-lost
Ruthie.?

Elizabeth stammered, ?My name is Elizabeth.?

?I don't give a shit what your name is.?

Slowly she brought her left arm from behind her back. It held a carving
knife, which gleamed dully in the overhead light. She slid her other
hand caressingly along its cutting edge as her gaze roamed over
Elizabeth's body.

?So wholesome looking-the all-American girl,?Shana murmured.

She took a quick step, and the blade was touching Elizabeth's stomach.
?How would you like to have that luscious, all-American body slashed
into bloody ribbons? Hmmm??

Elizabeth shook her head, too terrified to answer.

Shana whipped the knife upward, and Elizabeth, shrieking, threw her
hands over her face. The crazed girl's free hand struck with blinding
speed, seizing Elizabeth's uplifted arm and jerking her off balance.
Quick as a cat, Shana was

209

behind her, gripping her around the waist with one um, the other holding
the knife against the side of her neck.

Gleefully, she whispered in Elizabeth's ear, ?Put those pretty arms
down, my dear. We wouldn't want to cut you, would we??

Elizabeth froze, her skin crawling in revulsion at the contact. The
girl's body pressed hard against her.

?I'm not going to hurt you, you stupid bitch. Relax. I have a very
special invitation for you . . . to a party.?

In an awkward lockstep, they left the room. Just before they reached the
red door, Shana jerked her to a stop, with the deadly edge of the
carving knife hungry against Elizabeth's throat.

?Just one moment, my dear. You are the guest of honor tonight-a very
special guest of honor. Dear Tina didn't forget you, you lucky little
devil.?

The red door swung open, and Howe Delgado stepped out into the hall. He
wore a bed sheet that had been fashioned into a sort of robe.

?Here the stupid bitch is, Howe. I guess Tina's little party can start now.?

Howe grabbed Elizabeth by her hair, twisting it in his hand, and pulled
her away from Shana. She groaned with the pain.

He spoke sharply to Shana. ?We're not ready yet. Tina wants you to find
John. The wimp's been sulking since I kicked his ass.?

?I'm nobody's errand girl. I-?

Howe looked at her, anger blazing into his face. ?You're not gonna be
anybody's nothing if you don't do what I tell you. Don't fuck with me,
dyke.?

Reluctantly, she backed away and stalked down the hall. Howe pulled
Elizabeth forward, controlling her by her hair.

She gasped, ?Oh, God! Please. You're pulling my hair out.?

They were inside the red door now in an unlit corridor. He pulled her
against him, his lips near her ear. ?That ain't all I'm gonna pull out
of you before it's over, baby.?

He released her, sending her reeling down the hall with a

210

hard shove. The reflected light of candles coming through a doorway
illuminated the hall. ?In there!?he ordered.

She stepped into the room, instantly recognizing the scene from John
Hughes' description. Terror flooded through her as the meaning of
Shade's words became all too clear.

In panic, she turned to run at the same moment that Howe appeared in the
doorway. Arms grabbed her from behind and pulled her aside. She
struggled vainly until she recognized Mainwaring's soft voice.

?Relax. It will be okay. They're not going to hurt you.?

Her gaze sought the top of the table. It was bare, but beyond the table
stood the woman she had known as Mrs. Eddy, Tina Duchin.

Tina was stroking a long length of leather and looking down. Elizabeth
took a step past Dr. Mainwaring to see what the Duchin woman was looking
at. She couldn't suppress a cry.

Molly Hitcher was on the floor, nude, resting on her knees with her
forehead pressed against the floor. Her hands were bound with nylon
stockings. The pale perfection of her milky white hips and buttocks was
marred by several dark, glistening threads that Elizabeth knew were blood.

Tina Duchin placed a bare foot atop the arched back for a moment,
rocking the lovely body. Then she removed it and, in a blur of motion,
brought the length of leather whistling across the girl's buttocks.
Molly screamed, a sound that coursed through Elizabeth like an electric
shock.

She heard Mainwaring groan. From the corner of her eye she could see
Howe, his eyes glazed as they had been in Meredith's room.

Moments passed with no sound except Molly' s choking sobs. Then her
tormentor bent forward and ran her hand along the flaring curves of the
girl's hip. The hand moved slowly, stroking the soft flesh, and
Elizabeth couldn't turn her eyes away. It slipped down under the
trembling flanks to caress the smooth stomach. Elizabeth grasped the
edge of the table, her knees suddenly weak, as Tina's bejeweled hand
glided across the rib cage to cup the heavy, swaying mound of a lovely
breast.

She heard Tina sigh, ?God, you're a luscious little piece. I

211 DOOR / 211

can understand what Shana sees in you. What a bride you'll make for the
Homed One.?

As Tina's hand continued to weigh the heavy breast, Elizabeth chewed on
her lower lip, trying to stifle the sudden sensation flashing through
her loins. She felt all rational control slipping away from her.

A scream from the doorway startled her, and John Hughes reeled in,
propelled by a hard shove.

Shana charged past him, the carving knife raised, shouting, ?No, you old
slut! Not her! I'll kill you!?

Tina tried to leap away, stumbling, a look of terror on her face. Shana
had almost reached her when Howie's fist, with all of his two hundred
pounds behind it, thundered into the side of her face. It lifted her off
her feet, and she crashed to the floor, the carving knife skittering
into the corner. She rolled up on all fours, crawling toward the knife.
Howe sent his foot whistling into her ribs. She screamed in pain as he
leaped over her to retrieve the weapon. Still, she didn't stop. She
pushed herself up on one hand, shaking her head, begging, ?No . . . no .
. . no.?

Tina, her composure recovered, returned to her improvised altar. She
eyed the fallen Shana, her face distorted with hatred. ?Why, Shana, how
ungrateful. I thought you'd want to be present when we offered your
lovely Molly to the Master.?

Shana got her knees under her and crawled to where Molly lay. She left a
trail of blood from her ruined mouth. When she reached the girl, she
patted the naked shoulder with her bloody hand.

Elizabeth could barely hear Shade's voice. ?I'm sorry, Molly. I'm sorry.
I really love you. At last, it is real.?

She looked up, her eyes directly on Elizabeth. ?And it's too late. Far
too late for us.?

Tina's sharp voice cut through Shade's words. ?Howe, get her out of here.?

Grabbing Shana by her hair, Howe pulled her up to her knees and dragged
her across the room and out through the doorway. In the corridor, he
released her, and she collapsed to the floor, semiconscious.

Tina and Howe, working together, lifted Molly onto the

212

table \ and tied her down. Elizabeth turned her head aside. She could
sense the overpowering temptation to yield to the ecstatic excitement of
evil drawing her toward the crazed circle.

Tina began a chant, a recitation that slowly grew in volume, answered,
syllable for syllable, by Howie's husky voice.

Elizabeth looked at Mainwaring. He was unaware of her presence, his eyes
fixed on the table, his hands clenching and unclenching.

She leaned toward him and whispered, ?Please take me out of here. I
can't stand this.?

Mainwaring, the muscles of his face rigid, his breathing quick and hard,
ignored her.

Tina ceased her chanting and cried, ?Oh, great Lord Satan, to this man,
thy surrogate, show the lustful pleasure thou find in this, our gift.?

Elizabeth heard Howie's animal howl and the sounds of the table
protesting the surges of his weight.

?Give forth thy homage, Lord Satan,?Tina screamed.

Howie's howl rose in volume with his lust, and then all was quiet.
Mainwaring slumped against the wall, releasing his breath in a long shudder.

Tina called out again, panting. ?Oh, Master of Lust, oh, Prince of
Pleasure, we send thy handmaiden to join thee.?

Elizabeth, hearing the clatter of the table, opened her eyes. Tina,
stripped of her panties, was tugging at the limp Molly. Her big breasts,
with their dark aureoles, bounced in the candlelight as she and Howe
dragged the unresisting girl to the exercise machine against the wall
and quickly suspended her to its steel arms.

As Tina stepped away, the burly Howe caught her from behind, his hands
clutching her breasts, his mouth buried against her neck. She arched
against him, groaning, but then her eyes opened wide. She struggled to
free herself, and, breaking free, swung the leather strap into her
companion's face. It curled across his forehead with a loud splat. He
staggered backward, but was so crazed with lust, the blow had little effect.

213 DOOR /

?Damn it, Howe!?Tina shouted. ?She's gone. Shade's gone! Quick!?

She dodged under his lunging embrace, shoved John Hughes from her path,
and raced out the door. From the passageway, she shrieked, ?Oh, God,
she's coming back! Quick, Howe, she must have the knife. Stop her!?

Howe lumbered past Elizabeth, and she was borne after him by
Mainwaring's shove.

In the dim hallway, she could see the white of Shade's uniform as she
moved slowly and erratically toward them, illuminated by the narrow bar
of light lancing through the gap in the red door.

?Shana??Tina called.

There was no answer.

They could hear her labored breathing. Tina clutched Howie's thick
bicep, pulling at him. ?Howe, what's wrong with her? Make her answer.?

He jerked himself free as Shana came even with the red door. She swayed,
and put out an arm to brace herself against the ponderous door that
opened more so that the light from the other hallway shone on her.

John Hughes whistled. ?What the hell is that on her? It's all red.?

Shana spoke, slowly, with effort. There was a gurgling to her words.
?Tina, I let ... Paul . . . out. I I. .?

She coughed, a horrible, hacking cough, and red liquid spilled from her
mouth. ?Told him . . . you wanted . . . to hurt him.?

Tina moaned, ?Oh, God, where is her knife? She gave him her knife.?

?No, she didn't,?Howe shouted. ?I kicked it away after she dropped it.
She didn't have anything to give him.?

?The hell she didn't!?cried John Hughes. ?Remember the straight razor
she found at the house??

Shana was gurgling now with each word. ?Yes . . . razor . . . for . . .
you, Tina.?

Failing to brace herself against the wall, she slid noiselessly to the
floor, sat upright a moment, and then slumped over, rolling onto her back.

Howe whirled, knocking Elizabeth and Mainwaring out

214

of his way. He rushed back into the therapy room. He found the knife
lying by the feet of Molly Hitcher, whose limp body hung bonelessly from
its bindings, still lovely in the flickering candlelight.

Flipping on the electric lights, Howe and Tina rushed down the hall and
disappeared around the corner. Elizabeth, Mainwaring, and John Hughes
remained huddled together outside the therapy room.

Elizabeth thought of trying to sneak back and free the injured Molly,
but her fear of Howe was too great.

They heard someone running toward them, and John Hughes grasped
Elizabeth, holding her in front of him as a shield.

Howe rounded the corner and raced toward them. Tina was far behind him,
running unsteadily, gasping for breath. ?Howe, wait!?Tina pleaded.

He paid no attention. Elizabeth jumped out of his way as he ran past her
into the therapy room. Tina skidded to a stop in front .of them,
breathing so hard she could hardly talk.

?He must have taken off after he attacked Shana. He got away.?

She looked back at Shana, lying in a spreading pool of blood. ?Is she dead??

Mainwaring, his complexion an ashen gray, muttered, ?I don't know. I
haven't examined her.?

He took a couple of steps, staring at the gap in the red door. Then he
whirled, glaring wild-eyed at Tina.

?You bitch! This wouldn't have happened if you hadn't done all this if
you had waited until we were out of here!?He waved his hand vaguely
toward the therapy room.

Anger flared in Tina's flushed face. ?Why didn't you ask me to stop, old
man? Why don't you tell the truth??

She looked at Elizabeth. ?Why don't you tell your little Ruthie the
truth? Nobody made you attend our invocations. You stood there,
quivering with lust, wanting to take Howie's place. You horny old
bastard, tell her about today. Tell her what happened when I stuck my
fit in your face-that you slobbered all over it.?

?Stop it!?he shouted. ?Damn you, stop it!?

He turned to Elizabeth, who was staring at him in disbelief.

215 DOOR /

?Don't listen to her, Ruthie. Please don't. She's lying. I . . . I was
there to try to keep them from killing Molly. I. . .?

Howe, back in his uniform, hurried out of the therapy room and, grabbing
John Hughes /by the arm, pulled him through the open door.

?Wait, Howe!?Tina shouted. ?Don't leave me here!?

As she reached the red door, it slammed shut in her face. While she
struggled with the heavy door, Thomas Mainwaring bent over Shana.

A straining Tina shouldered the door open and peeked into the corridor,
ignoring Mainwaring's muttered, ?She's dead.?

?They've disappeared! I can't see them. He has killed . them both.?

Mainwaring came to his feet, eyeing Shade's body in horror. ?God, he
slashed her to pieces at least twenty deep cuts. How on earth did she
get this far??

His face changed as he turned to Tina. ?My dear, her hatred must have
been beyond comprehension. I wonder if she managed to convey it to St.
Denis.?

?Shut up! Goddamn you, shut up, you old man!?

The three of them froze when they heard someone running in the
convalescent-wing corridor. The heavy door swung open, revealing Howe
and John Hughes. They carried shotguns.

?We're going after the bastard,?Howe said. ?It's every son of a bitch
for himself.?

?No, don't leave me like this,?Tina cried.

Howe pulled the carving knife from his waistband and slapped it into her
hand. ?Here, Tina. Like I said, it's every son of a bitch for himself now.?

Without another word, he disappeared through the door. John Hughes
looked as if he wanted to say something to Mainwaring, but shrugged and
followed Howe, calling, ?Wait for me, you asshole!?

?Don't leave me behind,? Tina screamed. She vanished into the other
corridor.

Mainwaring and Elizabeth heard the clash of the treatment room doors
being flung open, and then it was quiet.

216

?Dr. Mainwaring.?

He ignored her, still staring at Shade's body.

?Dr. Mainwaring, please! Let's cut Molly down and do something to help her.?

He blinked and became aware of her for the first time. ?Didn't you hear,
Ruthie? Howe said it's every man for himself. They went outside. St.
Denis may still be in the building. I must save you. You're all I have.
Quick!?

She resisted, but he was stronger than she. He pulled her past the red
door into the convalescent wing and dragged her, still resisting, toward
the treatment room.

She clutched at his coat lapel. ?Listen to me! We can't go out that way.
They may be waiting outside with those shotguns. They will shoot
anything that moves.?

His hysteria passed, and, he stopped to think. ?Come on! The kitchen!
I'll let you out through the garbage hatch.??No!?she cried. ?I don't
want to be alone.?

He wrapped his arms around her and drew her to him. ?Ruthie, you have to
get into the woods and hide. Find a spot and lie low. They won't find
you. When the plane arrives tomorrow, head northward past the rear of
the building. The airstrip is near the north fence. If I don't show up,
tell Harvey to take off without me. Now, hurry!?

Despite the persistent image of his avid face as he watched Molly
Hatcher's humiliation, she wanted to be around him anything but be
alone. He was insane, but he was different from the others.

?No, please, let me stay with you.?

He pushed her away. ?No, I am sick, Ruthie. Your father is doomed. I've
been corrupted by their evil. I didn't realize the immensity of it. I I.
. Oh, God, I don't want to say it. I want to wallow with them in their
degradation. Now go!?

He shoved her hard, and she staggered across the room. Forgetting the
need for caution, he shouted, ?Go, for. God's sake, go! Go before I use
you Myself.?

With sickening comprehension, she understood that he meant what he said.
Some last bit of goodness in his mad brain was giving her a chance. She
pushed against the iron

217

panel. It swung open, and she crept out into the cold night air. She
pushed the door shut and listened fearfully. All was quiet.

Slowly Elizabeth worked her way toward the front of the building,
cringing as she passed under the pools of light from the globes along
the outside walls.

218 26

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he first two rings of the telephone failed to arouse the sleeping men at
the table in the study. The third ring dragged Andy Witherspoon from a
troubled nap. Tip and Cobb remained asleep, their heads resting on their
folded arms.

Andy, aware that the phone could have been ringing for a long time,
lunged to his feet and rushed into the living room.

It was Smitty, sounding much more cheerful than he had during their
first conversation. Andy was so exhausted that Smitty's good news had
little immediate impact.

The pilot had located an available helicopter at the Little Rock
airport. It slowly dawned on the sleep-dulled Andy that their luck had
changed. Smitty's news, however, was not all good. It would be past 9:30
before he could have the helicopter-much later than they wanted to make
the assault.

Plunkett, while a daredevil on the job, was a careful man in such
mundane things as maintenance and having safe landing zones. On several
occasions, Andy had heard him say that he didn't mind getting killed in
the chopper doing something dangerous but possible. What he didn't want
was to be killed through simple carelessness.

219

This prompted a discussion of a landing site at Stoneville. Smitty
rejected Andy's first three suggestions before they agreed on the
parking lot at the county fairgrounds. The pilot, still ebullient, was
ready to hang up when the doctor interrupted him.

?Smitty, did you understand what I told you earlier? This is a dangerous
job. We may be facing deranged patients that are armed with shotguns. I
want you to realize what we are going up against.?

Smitty giggled as he answered, and Andy realized he was not alone. ?I
wish you'd say that again, doc; that I'm going to be flying into the
jaws of death.?

Then he was talking away from the receiver. ?You hear that, Ada? These
may be my last hours, woman. You'd better pleasure this old boy to death
with the time you have left. There may not be any seconds.?

The sounds of a struggle, accompanied by gales of laughter, floated
through the receiver. Smitty's voice, so loud that Andy winced, exploded
through the phone. ?Doc, I've gotta go. You can call the police and tell
them old Smitty Plunkett is being sexually assaulted.?

There was another burst of feminine laughter, and the phone went dead.
The doctor put the receiver down with mild regrets that he wasn't a
younger man and in Smitty's shoes.

He walked back into the den to find Cobb awake-pouring a cup of tepid
coffee. When Andy told him the news, Cobb mumbled, ?Good.?

He said nothing else until he had drunk his coffee. Placing the empty
cup on the table, he looked at Andy

?Doc, are you still hell-bent on going with us??

Andy nodded.

?You have a gun??

?Yep. I have a thirty-two.. just bought it. Several doctors advised me
that I should. You know, nowadays drug addicts will try to hit on a
doctor. Al Caudillo taught me a little bit about shooting. I'm not bad
at it, to tell the truth.?

Cobb stared moodily at him. ?Are you sure you know where those circuit
boxes are??

The doctor bristled. ?Hell, yes, I know where they are. I

220

was up in that crawl space four or five times while they were being
installed. I wanted to make sure there was no halfassed workmanship.?

?What do the circuit boards look like??

Andy thought for a moment. ?There's an upright panel. It's connected
both to the roof beams and the ceiling joists. The circuit boxes are on
one side of the panel, grouped together, with the wiring coming in from
the other side.?

?Then all you have to do is drop through the hatch, crawl across the
attic to the circuit panel, and check the labels. When you find the box
labeled 'FENCES,' you throw the circuit breakers. Maybe two minutes to
reach the panel, half a minute to find the right box and throw the
breakers . . . say, to be safe, three minutes from the time you climb
through the roof hatch. Right??

Cobb had closed his eyes as he talked. When there was no answer, his
lids flew open. Andy's wizened face wore a startled look.

?What's wrong, Doc??

Andy pressed his hands against his temples. ?Hell! What a stupid son of
a bitch I am!?

Cobb felt his own hopes sinking as he asked, ?Why??

?There . . . there are no labels on the circuit boxes, Cobb. We talked
about that when we remodeled. Everybody agreed that if a patient did get
in there to try to shut off the electrical circuits, labeling would make
it easy for him. If they pulled circuit breakers at random, lights and
machines would be going off. It would alert the staff that someone was
up there.?

?How many circuit boxes are there??

?That's hard to say. I don't remember that well-probably fifteen or
more. The panel is filled with them.?

?What you are saying is that you have no more idea than I do which is
the correct circuit box-right??

No answer.

Cobb repeated his question. ?I said you don't know which circuit breaker
is for the fences, do you??

The fiery little man jumped up, sending his chair crashing over
backwards. The noise brought Tip upright, staring wildly about him.

221

The Witherspoon temper vented itself. ?Don't you yell at me! I'm the one
who came up with the plan to get us in that place, and I'm the one that
came up with the means to get in. I'll let you damned well figure out
how to identify which is the correct circuit breaker.?

For a moment they stared angrily at each other. Tip groggily demanded
some explanation for the shouting. When they told him the problem, he
shrugged.

?I don't think that's such a hassle. I know what I would do.?But even as
he relieved himself of this startling information, Tip's head sagged
toward his folded arms.

?Tip, wake up!?Cobb roared. ?What in ,the hell would you do??

Reluctantly, the sleepy Tip pulled himself upright again. ?Hell, I'd
call the contractor who remodeled the damned place. I think anybody with
the brains of a piss-ant would know that's the person to call.?

Having delivered his rebuke, he paused to see if he was going to be
yelled at again before lowering his head.

Andy rubbed his chin thoughtfully. ?By God, that's right. Oh, hell! I
can't call at this time of night.?

?Why not? This is an emergency. I can't believe a contractor would want
to get a bad reputation with places like Skystone, especially if there
is an emergency.?

?You're right, Cobb. If he doesn't like it, the hell with him! He made a
bundle off of us.?

He marched into the living room, with Cobb following.

Andy Witherspoon had far more patience than Cobb. He sat there, counting
the rings aloud, and had reached number twenty-two before a woman's
voice, slurred by sleep or too many sleeping pills, came on the line.

?Who in the name of God is this? Do you realize it's four-thirty in the
morning? If this is some kind of stupid prank-?

?Mrs. Conroy, this is Andrew Witherspoon. I'm a medical doctor, and it's
urgent that I talk to your husband.??Who's sick??

Andy began to wonder if he was dealing with a lady too deeply engulfed
in a chemical fog to be reasoned with. ?Mrs. Conroy, your husband
remodeled Skystone, a

222

convalescent hospital in central Arkansas. We have a problem here that
has to do with construction. It's a matter of life and death. I must
talk to him. Now if . . .?

?I can't make any sense out of what you're saying. Just a minute . . .
I'll get Barry.?

Getting Barry was not a simple task, and more increasingly precious
minutes fled by. Finally, Barry Conroy came to the phone. He sounded
his. usual noisy, affable self, if one discounted a note of irritation
tinging his voice. Apparently, he had not joined his wife in whatever
she had ingested.

?Okay, this is Barry. What in the hell is going on??

The doctor carefully explained the situation to him, or at least, what
they were claiming to be the situation. He and Cobb agreed to say that a
patient had concealed himself in a crawl space, and they were afraid he
might kill himself or start a fire if he damaged the wiring.

The contractor, uninterested but still affable, didn't have the answers
they wanted. ?Nope, I'm not the one you want to talk to, doctor. I don't
keep any blueprints at home, and I do too many jobs to remember yours.
The man I used as electrical subcontractor is named Mike Caulfield. His
offices are here in Memphis. By God, you might be in luck if you can
reach him. He stores his blueprints at home something to do with tax
write-offs. I'll give you his number.?

The doctor copied down the number and thanked him.

While Mike Caulfield was much sleepier than the contractor had been, he
was reached much more easily. It had seemed so simple to that point that
Andy was disappointed when he encountered opposition.

?I'm sorry, doctor, I'd like to cooperate, but my plans are my living. I
have a lot of wiring techniques that my competitors would love to have.
I'll be glad to get dressed and drive up there to help you. I'll charge
you no more than a normal consultant's fee for the day probably three
hundred and fifty dollars.?

Andy and Cobb had been sharing the receiver, but the doctor suddenly
found himself holding thin air. He understood why Cobb held a certain
reputation among the criminal element of Beauregard County as a man not
to be trifled with.

223

?Mr. Caulfield, this is Sergeant Cobb Kendall of the Beauregard County
Sheriff's Department. You must not have heard Dr. Witherspoon when he
said that this is a matter of life and death. . . . Don't interrupt me.
You can either pull those plans out and tell the doctor what he wants to
know, or I can have a unit of the Memphis police at your house in twenty
minutes. I'll make sure they seize the plans of every job you've ever
done in Arkansas. . . . I told you not to interrupt me. I'm going to put
Dr. Witherspoon back on the line, and I want you to get those plans and
start talking. He doesn't care a gnat's ass about how you wire things.
He wants to know where one circuit breaker is located on a control panel
no more, no less.?

The man muttered a sullen apology and promised to call back as soon as
he located the plans.

He was as good as his word. Five minutes later, the phone rang. The
information was not given with good grace, but when Andy broke the
connection, he knew exactly what he had to do.

Cobb stuck out his hand for a handshake, and Andy took it solemnly. He
patted the little doctor on his back.

?Well, doc, I don't like the idea of going in that late in the morning,
but by George, unless Toby finds out what we're doing, I think we're on
our way.?

Andy looked at him, his eyes twinkling now, the fatigue gone. ?Right, my
man. As they say keep a tight asshole and a low profile.?

He went back into the den, but Cobb lingered in the dark, watching
Andy's jaunty figure. For the first time, he felt fear for the doctor
for them all. No sensible police agency would attempt what they were
about to try with fewer than fifteen or twenty men.

224 27

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he distant lights of the porte cochere dimmed as the bone-chilling fog
drew a misty cloak over Skystone. Elizabeth shivered uncontrollably, her
teeth chattering as she crouched behind a tree in the park like area in
front of the hospital. Her hands and feet were so cold that they ached
in the moist air. The temperature hovered near the freezing mark.

Her situation had become intolerable. Soon she would be unable to move
if she was surprised. She had to get out of the cold or find some extra
clothing.

She shuddered at the thought of returning to Skystone. The building held
no safe hiding places. She thought of the grim house perched on the hill
above the hospital and remembered Scott's description of its horrors. No
doubt, sooner or later, they would search the old place; but a mansion
that large and old must have a dozen cubbyholes in which to hide. She
was deterred by the thought of the house's unburied and decomposing
dead, but Skystone held its own cargo of death. Her skin crawled as she
thought of the silent figures sitting on the patio, staring sightlessly
into the night sky, forever unmindful of the cold.

Scott had said the bodies were upstairs or in the dormitory

225

at the rear. She would be some distance from them if she stayed in the
downstairs front of the building. The chattering of her teeth served to
warn her of the increasing danger of hypothermia. The threat was enough
for her to make up her. mind.

Painfully, she struggled to her feet, wincing at the pain in her nearly
frozen feet. The climb up the slope would have to be made by a more
circuitous route than the one she and Scott had taken. The white uniform
she wore presented a real danger in the night light. She had to reach
the house quickly. Her reserves of strength and determination were
almost exhausted, and if she lost her way she was not sure that she
would not simply lie down and die.

The three maniacs who had rushed outside an hour ago seeking Shade's
killer had not reappeared on the porte cochere. She wanted to believe
that they had retired to the hospital to escape the bitter cold, yet she
dared not count on it.

The crackling of the dry forest debris underfoot made each step a
fearful ordeal. Still, the journey seemed shorter than it had that
morning when she and Scott climbed the slope. She clawed her way around
a large bush to find herself exposed on the edge of the lawn. She ducked
back' out of sight.

She had stumbled into the open directly across from the front porch. The
old residence was dark-a towering, sharp-angled shape blotting out a
large portion of the night sky, milky now with the light fog. The empty
lawn, in contrast to the woods and the dark building, was lighter in
hue. When she looked at the porch, her heart sank.

There was light enough to faintly illuminate the front of the house
enough that she could count the windows and see the Victorian
bric-a-brac-but the porch lay in an impenetrable blackness.

Elizabeth crouched behind the bush, unwilling to walk out onto the lawn.
The exertion of climbing the slope had left a film of perspiration on
her skin; now, immobile in her uncertainty, she was feeling colder.
Despite the futility of it, Elizabeth was ready to return to Skystone,
when somewhere behind her she heard a disturbance in the brush.

226

Without thinking, she burst out into the yard and ran for the house, her
loose-fitting sandals slipping on the grass.. There was no escape if
they were watching from the many windows.

Once in the shadows on the porch, she moved toward the entry that Scott
had used. It was ajar, perhaps an inch or two, allowing a rush of warm
air that felt good against her uncovered arms. The faint current of air
carried an unpleasant smell. She stopped, suddenly faint with the
realization of what the odor was. She leaned against the doorjamb for a
moment to recover her senses, but there was no turning back.

Elizabeth stepped inside. The room in which Scott had discovered the
empty gun cabinet was rich with the aroma of death, yet she knew it must
be mild compared to how it would be in the upper reaches of the place.
She closed the door softly behind her and waited futilely for her eyes
to adjust to the darkness. It did not take long to realize that the
house was not truly warm; that the warmth was only relative to the
penetrating icy fog outside.

With her arms extended before her like a blind person's, she groped
around the room, seeking something of cloth that she could wrap around
herself. The exploration yielded nothing but some heart-stopping moments
when she bumped into pieces of furniture. The faint bumps and scrapes
seemed terribly loud in the hostile darkness.

She began to cry, silently, without cause, on the edge of leaving the
house and walking down the hill to degradation and death. The pride
infused in Elizabeth from her earliest years, the self-control breached
for the first time by Jack, was on the point of disintegration. She
stood in the darkness, cruelly driving her nails into the palms of her
hands, angrily biting her cold, numb lip, seeking the determination to
go on.

Scott's description of how he reached the living room flashed into her
mind, and her dying hopes flickered to life. If nothing else, she could
pull the cushions from the sofas and pile them around her for warmth.

There was an opening somewhere in front of her in the darkness,
Elizabeth knew from Scott's description, but she

227

could not find it. Raising her arms, she moved slowly, stopping when she
encountered the wall. She sidled along its length until, with a sigh of
relief, she found the doorway.

The faint, chilling sounds of the' radio still flowed through the
shadows of the ancient house in its never-ending requiem for the dead.
In the hall there was enough light to discern the black maw of the
wide-arched opening to the living room. It felt colder in the hall, with
a current of air moving gently down the stairwell. She tried to shut her
ears to the eerie sound of the radio floating down the steps on the
gentle breeze. It was such a grotesque adornment to the ambience of that
charnel house.

Elizabeth crossed the entry, conscious of the dark menace of the shadows
behind her. The living room was as black a void as the den had been. She
crossed the uncharted-space of the dark room, gingerly placing one foot
before the other.

It seemed that she had moved a great distance, yet she encountered
nothing. Behind her, the relative brightness of the hall had dimmed with
distance. She was about to abandon her exploration when her questing
foot encountered the leg of a sofa.

Blindly she examined it, letting her hand trail along the cushions. It
was a long sofa upholstered in a soft material. Over the back, something
made of wool probably an afghan-was draped.

Elizabeth sank onto the soft cushions, letting her tense, exhausted
muscles relax. She worked the afghan free and, tucking her legs under
her, wrapped it tightly about herself.

Slowly she grew warmer, and her hands and feet stopped aching.
The-softness of the sofa and the warmth of the heavy afghan were
relaxing her, and her eyelids were growing heavier. More than once her
head sagged, but then there would be a sound from somewhere within the
house and she would start upright, her stinging eyes open. She would
again be aware of the faint, plaintive music floating through the dark
house.

Elizabeth's chin came to rest one last time on her chest and remained
there. Her soft, regular breathing was a faint whisper in the room. She
slept, sitting up, for an hour before she awoke with a start.

228

Her first thought was one of anger that she had allowed herself to doze
off. A second, more immediate, thought was to ask herself what had
awakened her.

She strained to hear, but there was only the radio. Somehow, the room
appeared a bit lighter than it had before she drifted off to sleep. The
faintly illuminated face of her watch read 5:50. Dawn was coming to the
Arkansas hills.

She shivered delicately, drawing the afghan tighter. The light would be
bright enough in another half hour to search the house for a proper
hiding place. She thought of going into the kitchen for food-until she
remembered Scott's description of the dead girl huddled by the refrigerator.

Outside, an early morning wind was stirring, driving the thin mist away.
The dawn light steadily grew stronger as the fog dissipated. When she
next opened her eyes, it was bright enough in the living room for her to
look around. She tried to determine what the dimly perceived shapes in
the room were.

It seemed impossible that she had missed stumbling over the coffee table
resting immediately before the sofa. To the side of the sofa, a large
table lamp displayed itself in silhouette. Immediately opposite
Elizabeth's sofa, perhaps fifteen feet away, was a second sofa. A dim
white object lay across, it. Focusing her attention on it, she decided
that someone had tossed a shirt onto the sofa.

She closed her eyes again to relieve the stinging, and when she reopened
them, she sought the white object. He was sitting there, still as a
statue, staring at her.

229 28

E

lizabeth opened her mouth to scream, but her diaphragm was paralyzed.
She wanted to shut her eyes -to look away-but she dared not. So they
sat, mute, unmoving, watching-always watching. She wanted to cry out to
him, to beg him to speak, to assure her that he meant her no harm. She
thought him inhuman that he could sit so still, never glancing away,
unaware that she was emulating his posture.

The growing light revealed that he was a stranger to her-young, perhaps
no more than twenty-two or twenty-three. His shirt was light blue, not
white. He had on dark pants and was wearing tennis shoes.

For a moment Elizabeth grasped at the hope that rescue was at hand, but
then she thought of the unknown escapee that she had never seen, the one
that inspired terror even in Sky stone's vicious denizens. She tried
desperately to remember the man's name.

She could stand it no longer. She freed herself of the embrace of the
afghan and scooted forward on the sofa cushion. To her horror, the quiet
figure did the same thing-moving forward, gathering his weight under
him. She couldn't stop

230

what she was doing. She came to her feet, and so did the intruder.

He was tall and slender and quite good-looking. Still, his piercing eyes
never left her face.

She took a cautious step toward the foyer, and opposite her, the
terrifying figure did the same. She took a second step, and so did he.
Her third stride brought her to the end of the coffee table. Again the
man's movements were the mirror of her own, except this time she could
see he had taken a diagonal step, a step that brought him nearer to her.
She would never reach the entry.

Twice she tried to speak, making unintelligible sounds, while he watched
her with those eyes, bright even in the dim light. On the third try, she
managed to ask, ?Who are you??

He answered at once. ?Don't be alarmed. Please, I won't hurt you.?

?Who are you? What do you want??

?I'm Billy. I'm the only one left.?

?The . . . the only one left? What do you mean??

He came toward her, each step slow and measured, the eyes never
wavering. His slender figure towered over her. She had moved backwards
step for step, as though they danced some macabre pas de deux. The back
of her knees hit the sofa, and she sat down abruptly. With one graceful
surge he was sitting beside her.

?Don't be frightened,?he repeated. ?I'm one of the hospital staff, a
ward boy. They killed the rest all of them but they overlooked me. I've
been hiding here since it happened.?

She wanted so much to believe him. ?But . . . but why didn't they find you??

?I was outdoors. I'm interested in astronomy, and there was a meteor
shower that night. They passed me without seeing me, but I saw them
sneaking up the hill to the house. They're vicious . . . like a pack of
mad dogs. They crept in here and killed all the staff. I heard the
screams, but I couldn't do anything to stop it. Later, when they were
gone, I found the bodies. But you're one of them, aren't you??

Elizabeth was so shocked by the sudden accusation that she began to
stutter. Lamely she tried to explain about the

231

automobile accident that brought them to Skystone. She was badly
confused, and she could tell he didn't believe her. Suddenly afraid, she
tried to lunge away from him, but with lightning-like reflexes he seized
her by the wrist. She struggled until he ordered, ?Stop it!?

The strength of his voice cowed her into submission. She stopped, her
breath quick and shallow like that of a frightened animal. He pulled her
toward him to where she lost her balance and sprawled half across his
lap, her breasts flattened against his thighs.

She could sense him recoiling from the contact. He pushed her away and
shifted his hip clear of contact with her. For a moment Elizabeth
thought he was going to rise, but he relaxed again and, watching her
closely, began to talk. His voice had a wheedling quality about it.

?I could have hurt you, but I didn't. I want to trust you, and I want
you to trust me. They're after me. They will kill me if I don't get
away. Please don't try to run away.?

She remembered the name of the other inmate now. She couldn't help
herself. ?Okay, Paul.?a,

He stared at her blankly, blinking. ?Paul? Who is Paul??She shook her
head. ?I . . . I'm sorry. I . . . I had to test

you. I had to know. I know I can trust you, Billy.??What's your name??

?Elizabeth.?

?Elizabeth, I think I know of a way out of here, but I can't do it
without help. Can I count on you? You won't betray me, will you??

?My God, no, Billy. I want out of here as much as you do. What's your plan??

He shook his head. ?Oh, no. I'll tell you when the time comes. They're
after me, Elizabeth. They will grow more impatient by the hour, and then
they'll make their mistakes.?

The sole surviving staff member seemed unnaturally calm . Only when she
tried to rise from the sofa had he become upset. Elizabeth could imagine
how traumatic the catastrophe must have been to him. Many of the dead in
the house must have been friends of his. He was in shock, sublimating
all his emotions.

Impulsively, she patted him on the arm, but he twisted

232

away as if her hand were red hot. For a moment, the atmosphere was
charged with fear. But then he awkwardly reached out and squeezed her wrist.

?I'm sorry, Elizabeth. I'm touchy because I'm scared to death. I usually
function much better with people. Are you hungry? There's food in the
kitchen.?

The hope that had flared in her died. ?Yes, I'm hungry, but I . . . I
can't go in there.?

He nodded. ?You're softhearted, aren't you? I-?Suddenly he was rigid,
every muscle spring-tight, his eyes bright. ?How did you know there's a
body in the kitchen??

?A friend who was in the accident-Scott Sutherlin searched the house and
found the bodies. He was killed yesterday.?

Abruptly he rose. ?You wait here. It would never do for you to be
wandering around in here. The dead are all around you. Besides, I might
hear you and decide it was them. That wouldn't be good, would it,
Elizabeth??He smiled for the first time. ?There's not much in the
kitchen, but I did find some canned sausages and potato chips.?

He stopped in the archway. ?Remember, stay where you are. I'm very
nervous. You can understand that, can't you??

One moment he was there and the next he was gone, as silent as a night
predator.

Five minutes later, Billy, moving with feline grace, reappeared in the
doorway. He had a can of fruit cocktail, sausages, and a bag of potato
chips. Indifferent to what he might think, she wolfed the food down as
fast as she could.

Elizabeth muttered a soft ?Thanks,?and was piqued when he failed to
respond. Billy still radiated tension, and his restless eyes, cold and
bottomless, were forever weighing, forever judging. He watched her the
entire time she was eating.

?Elizabeth, why don't they leave me alone? Why are they after me??

?They're not after you, Billy. All the time I was down there with them,
I didn't hear them say one word about any staff members surviving. I
don't think they know you're alive. You and I should begin searching for
places to hide in here. They're irrational, and they will soon forget
about us. In time, somebody will come to check on Skystone.?

233

Her words did little to pacify him. He seemed puzzled by what she said.
?But . . . who are they after, then? I watched them outside, moving
around, searching. Are you the one they're after??

?No, there's another patient.?She brightened at the thought. ?Of course,
you would know who it is-Paul St. Denis. I didn't see him, but they are
terrified of him. One of the group-the one named Shana-turned him loose.?

He turned to her, placing his arm on the sofa back so that his fingers
rested lightly against her neck. Elizabeth stirred uncomfortably. She
was still far too frightened to want the touch of this strange youth,
yet she didn't want to offend him.

She could barely hear the whispered words. ?Maybe that's -why you're
here. Maybe you're hunting Paul, too.?

She tried to shift about to where she could see him, but his fingers
tightened around her neck, holding her against the sofa.

?Look at me,?she protested. ?You must know all the patients. Have you
ever seen me before, Billy??

His fingers on her neck were like steel bands. ?Please-my neck you're
hurting me,?she gasped.

His grip relaxed, and he looked away. ?I'm sorry. I'm so tired. Let me
rest for a few minutes, and then we'll find a hiding place to wait until
we're ready.?

?Ready for what??

?Be quiet, Elizabeth, and let me rest.?

His hand fell away from her neck and slipped free of her shoulder. Billy
stretched his legs out in front of him, letting his head loll against
the sofa. His eyes closed, and his body slumped into the softness of the
sofa.

Gradually the lines on his forehead lost their definition, and he looked
very young and vulnerable. Elizabeth felt a surge of tenderness flow
through her. She wanted him to be out of this nightmare almost as much
as she wanted it for herself. He was too young to be carrying memories
of the carnage that had destroyed his world.

She became drowsy again and closed her eyes, listening to the far-off
radio. The quick, faint squeal of metal against

234

metal brought her upright. It had come from the direction of the garage.

She started to rise, only to be slammed down by Billy's hand on her
shoulder. ?Quiet!?he whispered fiercely.

They sat there, rigid, for a minute, listening, his hand digging into
her shoulder. His grip was loosening when they heard the second noise,
this time a faint thud, as if something soft but heavy had struck wood.

Instantly they were on their feet. ?That sounded as if it came from the
garage,?she whispered. ?Maybe it was the wind.?

There was a faint smile on his face, and his eyes were alight with a
cold fire. She thought she saw hatred in them, another legacy bequeathed
by the savages who had altered all their lives.

?Quick! We have time to find a place to hide in case those . . .?She
faltered under his gaze.

?I thought you were with me.?His voice was a mere whisper.

?I am. I am, Billy.?

?Then you stay here. Understand? I can only trust you if you do as I say.?

?Please, don't go after them. They're armed. The two men have shotguns,
and the woman has a carving knife. Don't try to protect me. Let's leave
the house. We can stay in the woods.?

?Elizabeth, are you going to wait like I asked you??

Bewildered by his demeanor, she could only nod. Afraid and confused, she
watched helplessly as he glided through the archway and disappeared.

She pulled the afghan around her in the morning chill, and when the
minutes dragged by without any further sounds, closed her eyes. She
started several times, almost asleep, despite the danger. Everything was
so still that she was sure they had heard the early morning wind
stirring or some animal drawn to the garage by the rotting bodies.

She was at the edge of sleep when she heard the soft sliding sounds of
feet against the carpet. She looked up, ready to smile.

Her eyes bulged in fear.

235 DOOR /

Tina Duchin stood not six feet away, clad in clothing she must have
found in the house. The blue jeans she wore were far too small for her.
She had been unable to zip them shut, and the white of her belly gleamed
in the opening of the fly. She was wearing a long-sleeve white dress
shirt, unbuttoned, its hem reaching to mid-thigh.

The long blade of the carving knife in her hand looked alive as the
silvery highlights wavered along its gleaming length.

Swiftly, the Satanist covered the distance between them. The sharp tip
of the steel touched the soft skin of Elizabeth's neck like a tiny wet
spot of pain. Tina, her hair a tangled mess and her face scratched,
smiled triumphantly.

Her voice a silken snarl, she said, ?Well, Mrs. Shea, we meet in the
strangest places, don't we? I don't need to ask you if you've seen St.
Denis, because if you had, you wouldn't be alive. Well? Cat got your
tongue??

Elizabeth was afraid to move with the razor-sharp blade against her
throat-afraid to even talk for fear of cutting herself. She whispered,
?No, I haven't seen anyone. I swear it. I was trying to stay out of the
cold.?

Tina nodded, apparently satisfied, and grinned-a hideous, meaningless
gesture of domination. ?The question is, dear Mrs. Shea, should I kill
you now so you don't interfere with my search, or shall I take you back
to the ward-for the pleasures you will offer??

She closed her free hand over one of Elizabeth's breasts, lifting it.
With an intense effort, Elizabeth kept her hands at her sides. Tina
Duchin freed the soft mound of flesh.

?Yes, I think the Master would approve of you.?

With a lightning-fast move, she clutched Elizabeth's hair, jerking her
head back. Tina pushed forward, one knee resting on the sofa, looming
over Elizabeth.

The tug on her hair had pulled Elizabeth's face to one side, and she
could see into the hall. Billy was standing in the archway, but
realizing she had seen him he started backing away.

?Help me, Billy!?she cried, unable to stop herself. ?She's going to kill
me.?

Tina whirled around, sending the coffee table crashing

236

onto its side. She caught only a fleeting glimpse of Billy's back as he
fled up the stairway. All thoughts of Elizabeth were gone. She ran
heavily from the room, chasing him up the stairs.

Elizabeth raced out into the hall, down the short cross passage, and
through Caudillos office. She stopped by the outside door, suddenly
fearful of running out onto the lawn.

Overhead, feet pounded against the floor and weight crashed into walls,
rattling the whole house. A scream so inhuman it was impossible to tell
the sex knifed through the house. It ended suddenly.

Elizabeth yanked open the door and raced across the porch. She ran for
the dark, dubious haven of the woods as the blood-red dawn sunlight
found the old brick walls of the mansion.

237 29

T

ip's snores were loud and regular, growling outbursts that trailed off
into lingering flutters. He was lying on his back, fully clothed, atop
the unmade bed in the bedroom.

Andy and Cobb sat in the living room across from each other as the dawn
light grew.

The doctor cleared his throat, interrupting Comb's moody reverie. ?We
still have four hours before we need to get ready. Why don't you go take
a nap? Just roll Tip onto his side and he'll be quiet.?

For a time he thought Cobb was not going to answer, but finally he
looked up. ?How about you, doc? I'm tired, but I'm too pumped up now. I
can't sleep. Go on. You grab a little shut-eye.?

?Nope. Old men don't need as much sleep as you youngsters. Besides, a
doctor gets used to doing without sleep. Don't say I didn't offer.?

?Doc, I hate to ask this in a man's own house, but would you mind
letting me have a little privacy to make a phone call??

When Andy didn't answer, he lamely added, ?My wife.?

238

?Do you really think it's going to be that rough a trip, Cobb??

?Do I think ... Oh, I see what you mean. No, I don't think it's a
suicide mission. If I did, I wouldn't go. I'm not happy about you going,
though. I'm not sure what we may have to do to stabilize the situation.
But that's not why I want to talk to my wife in private. I need to tell
her something.?

Andy came to his feet with a groan. ?I need some fresh air, anyway. I'll
be out in the yard. Come out when you're finished.?

Margaret answered on the second ring. He knew she had been asleep in her
chair by the phone.

?Margaret, are you awake? Listen very carefully.?

?Are you okay, darling? I've been so worried about you. I didn't mean to
make you mad last night. Please come-?

?Shut up, Margaret, and listen. Don't ever repeat what I'm going to say.
Promise me that??

?But I don't understand. Please, Cobb, give me a chance. Just tell me
what's wrong? I've begged you for four years. Tell me what's-?

?I asked if you promise.?

Her silence was broken by a long, shuddering sigh. ?I promise. What is
it you want to say??

?I'm going to do some police work this morning that may save the lives
of a lot of innocent people. Your uncle has forbidden it, so I can't
win, whatever happens. If I succeed, I will be guilty of insubordination
finished as a cop in this town. If I fail, it won't matter a damn. I'm
afraid that may be what I really want. They are depending on me, and I
may want to fail.?

?Cobb, what do you mean? Oh, God, tell me. I'm your wife, and I love you.?

?You haven't had much luck with your men, have you, Margaret??

?My men??

?Margaret, I-?He slammed the receiver back into its cradle. ?I . . . Oh,
Jesus, I I. .? The tears were pouring down his cheeks. ?I loved you so
much. I had nothing else in my life.?

239

He stumbled back into the kitchen where he leaned over the sink,
splashing water onto his face.

As Cobb stepped out into the chilly air of the Arkansas dawn, he saw the
doctor hurrying toward him, trailing a slip stream of steamy exhalations.

?Cobb, we've got visitors. There's a car coming up the road. It's an odd
time of day for anybody to be lost.?

The sedan came into view and crossed the plank bridge, trailing a thin
funnel of dust that rose sluggishly into the chilly air before
collapsing back onto the road.

Cobb came off the porch. ?It's a county car. I'm afraid old Toy's got
the wind up. I wonder

?Doc, get in there and wake up Tip. Warn him about Toby.?

?But-?

?Damn it, do what I tell you-and hurry!?

Cobb watched the sheriff's unit carrying three men stop before the
house. The sheriff got out, followed by J. T. Cairuthers and Curtis
Toler, the night-shift deputies. Behind him, Cobb could hear a puffing
Andy Witherspoon descending the porch steps.

Cobb eyed the sheriff stolidly, determined not to speak first.

Toby Mears stopped before him. This time there was no smirking, no
smiling, no false camaraderie-just an angry old man who had gotten too
little sleep.

?Well, gentlemen, you're up early, aren't you? Or is it late? Where's Tip??

When they failed to answer, he turned to J.T. ?Go see if he's inside, J.T.?

?Wait a minute,?Cobb protested. ?You have no legal grounds for entering
this man's house.?

The sheriff nodded. ?You're perfectly right, Sergeant.?

He turned his attention to Andy. ?Dr. Witherspoon, I'd like to do this
as quietly as possible, in deference to your profession. If I have to go
get a search warrant from Judge Hargrove, then you will spend a few
hours in the county jail for questioning. I have something to say to the
three of you. I'll ask you again to have Deputy Curable come out.?

240

Cobb nodded. Andy started to protest, but did as Toby requested.

While J.T. and Curtis stood to the side, shifting uncomfortably, looking
anywhere but at Cobb, he and the sheriff eyed each other silently. Only
when Andy reappeared on the porch with a yawning Tip did Cobb ask,
?Okay, Toby, what in the hell is this all about??

?J.T. got worried and decided he'd better call me. He discovered that
you had removed, without authorization, a flare gun and flares belonging
to the county. I dressed and drove down to the office so I could confirm
J.T.'s allegations.

?On my way in, I started thinking about how we could go about inspecting
Skystone. You see, Sergeant, there are people besides you that want
Skystone checked, only they want to do it in the proper way, using
standard police procedures. I decided on a contingency plan, in case
that isn't our ambulance in Memphis.

?It was my intention to set a deadline. I was going to keep trying to
reach them by phone until ten this morning. If that didn't work, I
intended to hire a helicopter to make an overflight. I thought I would
use that new bullhorn to gain their attention and order them to open the
gate so that we could check the well-being of the patients. I decided to
check on the availability of a helicopter. The oddest thing happened
when I called Little Rock. There was some mention of Dr. Wither spoon's
name. As a matter of fact, I was told he had also been inquiring about
hiring a helicopter this morning. I don't . . .?

Andy. Witherspoon, bristling, asked, ?And may I ask what the hell is
wrong with a man hiring a chopper? Now that I'm retired, I want to learn
the county. I thought an overflight was a good way to do it.?

The sheriff paid no attention to the interruption, even though Andy was
standing chest to chest with him, glowering up into his face.

?As I said,?Toby continued, ?I don't know if you hired a helicopter. The
only man I couldn't check on was Smitty Plunkett. They say that he's
shacked up with some woman.

241

But, Cobb, you've always found a away to get things done. I have a
feeling that you men plan a little flight this morning.?

Cobb pushed Andy aside. The little doctor was showing every intention of
launching a physical attack upon the sheriff.

?Okay, Toby, cut the shit. What are you here for? That's one thing I
know about you. You don't brag about how smart you are unless Lynch or
one of the county commissioners is listening.?

Even in the gray light, they could see the sheriff's face darken at the
insult. ?Okay, you asked for it. Until the matter of this improper use
of county property can be cleared up, you, Cobb Kendall, and you, Tip
Curable, are relieved from duty as sergeant and deputy in the Beauregard
County Sheriff's Department. Second, there are reasonable grounds to
believe you are interfering with a police action to ensure the safety of
as many as fifty people at Skystone Institute. You are hereby placed in
protective custody until such time as this operation can be completed.
Your weapons are your personal property, but for the safety of your
custodian, I am confiscating your firearms for the length of the
protective custody. . . . Okay, Sergeant Kendal, where is your gun??

?It's in the patrol unit under the seat.?

While Curtis hurried down to the unit and J.T. relieved -Tip of his
weapon, the sheriff stepped toward Andy Witherspoon.

?Doctor, how about your firearms??

Cobb struggled to control his anger. ?Who in the hell are you trying to
kid, Toby? You have no grounds to confiscate this civilian's weapons as
a probable danger to any law officer. Now, if you want-?

The doctor shouted, ?That's right, damn it!. You mealymouthed son of a
bitch, you get a search warrant. Until then, you get your second-rate
ass off my property.?

For the first time, Toby donned his familiar sneering smile. ?Hardly,
doctor. Sergeant Carruthers is staying here to supervise your custody;
and Kendall here, with his awesome knowledge of the law, will tell you
that any attempt to flee custody will make you a fugitive from the law.
That is a criminal offense.

242

?Now, gentlemen, I've informed Sergeant Carruthers that you may call
your attorneys at ten o'clock this morning-the usual time for law
offices to open. Until then, I assure you there will be no attempt to
question you.?

He looked at Cobb, his eyes bitter. ?And this is the thanks I get.?

The three men watched the county car rumble across the plank bridge and
disappear into the trees before they trooped into the house, followed by
an uneasy J. T. Carruthers.

243 30

B

y the time Elizabeth came in view of Skystone, the morning sun had found
it. The sunlight reflected from the array of metal vents atop the
slate-gray roof. Tall trees screened much of the sun's low-angled light
from the older wing, and it looked more sinister than ever, with its
somber brick walls enveloped in their dense coating of ivy and its
windows masked by the green steel grating. The driveway and lawns around
the building were deserted, save for the lifeless pair on the patio.

Somewhere on the slope above her, she could hear someone running uphill
through the brush. It spurred her down-slope toward the waiting building.

She had gone only a few yards when a white-clad figure stepped out from
behind one of the massive supports of the porte cochere. The figure
almost fell, reeling backwards to lean against the pillar. She took two
more steps and saw that it was Dr. Mainwaring.

He had his hand against his forehead, and there was a dark splotch
staining the front of his smock. He looked different because he was not
wearing his glasses.

Without stopping to consider the consequences, she ran the rest of the
way down the steep grade. He didn't become

244

aware of her presence until she reached the driveway. He backed away,
raising his arm to shield his face. Only when she called, ?Dr.
Mainwaring, are you all right??did he relax, peering nearsightedly at her.

?Ruthie, is that you? I I. . . I thought you had deserted me.?

Elizabeth was appalled at the change in him. It was more than the cut
across his forehead and his missing glasses. His shoulders sagged, and
his face had collapsed, with quavering jowls and pouches under his eyes.
His hands trembled. Thomas Mainwaring had become an old man in the last
few hours.

Impulsively, she reached for his shoulder. ?Dr. Mainwaring, what
happened to you??

He seemed puzzled for a moment and dropped his hand, revealing the
extent of the gash on his forehead.

?They . . . they hit me, Ruthie. They said I'd let someone named
Elizabeth escape. I don't even know anyone by that name.?

He caught her hands in his, and she shuddered at their stickiness. ?I
had so much to give the world, but they locked me away in here. Thomas
Mainwaring has conquered cancer.?His voice quavered. ?Don't they know
that I was willing to share this gift with the world? But they put
people in here to corrupt me. They made me want to stay here, and then
they turned on me.?

Tears welled in his eyes, and Elizabeth felt a surge of pity, not
wanting to watch what was happening to him. She pulled her hands free of
his and gripped his shoulders.

?Listen to me, doctor. Maybe we can still get away. Are they inside the
hospital??

He raised his eyes to her, and they held the look that a dog bestows on
its master. He had nothing left to give her. She repeated the question.

?Howe and Tina are out looking for St. Denis.?

The name reminded him of the menace around them, and he broke eye
contact with her, looking sharply to the right and left. ?Johnny's
inside. He's fooling with that poor girl, Molly.?

Elizabeth shook him hard. ?Listen to me. Is she still alive??

245

?I . . . I think so. Johnny said she was. Tina wouldn't like it if she
caught him. He's playing with her, feeling her. He wouldn't let me do it.?

Elizabeth choked back the complex emotions aroused by his comment: pity,
revulsion, anger, sadness. She tried to consider her options. She wished
she knew what had happened to Billy. Mainwaring could no longer help
her, but if Billy had escaped Tina, they still had a chance.

She pulled the unresisting Mainwaring toward the doors. It was better to
face John Hughes inside than to stay outside and attract the tender
mercies of Howe and Tina or St. Denis.

They moved quickly through the treatment room. The first sunlight was
touching the skylights, and the hall was quite bright. Leading the
unresisting Mainwaring by the arm, she passed the red door without
incident. Elizabeth headed for her room, like a hounded animal fleeing
to a den that no longer offered sanctuary. She had no idea why she was
bringing Mainwaring with her. If he couldn't maintain control of the
others, there was no way she could help him.

Once inside the bedroom, Thomas Mainwaring planted his feet and refused
to move farther. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, obviously
trying to get himself under control. When he opened them, it was not the
old debonair fraud she had first encountered-with his sense of savoir
faire-but he had found the strength within himself for a last effort. He
reached into the console, pulled out a pad, and wrote briefly on it. He
tore out the sheet and handed it to her.

?Ruthie, the plane will be here at four this afternoon. Give this note
to Harvey. Tell him that I didn't make it. We go back a long way
together, so he'll fly you wherever you want to go. You must be there
when he lands, for there will be very little time. To keep the anthers
in line, I promised to take them all along. When they hear the plane
they will head for the airstrip.?

He frowned at her imminent protest. ?Listen, we haven't much time before
they'll be back. I don't know exactly where the airstrip is. I've heard
planes taking off and landing

246

there. It must be several hundred yards behind our . . . the mental wing.?

?We'll go together,?Elizabeth begged. ?We can make it. We'll hide in the
woods until time to leave.?

He shook his head. ?No, little Ruthie. You don't under- stand. They'll
wonder where I am. If Tina and Howe kill St. Denis, then they won't rest
until they find me. After that, they'll go back to amusing themselves
with poor Molly Hitcher and with each other . . . and you, if it pleases
them.?

?But maybe they won't ,succeed. Maybe this man you're all afraid of will
kill them.?

?St. Denis? Caudillo said that St. Denis has an excellent mind. When he
realizes I'm missing, he'll come looking for me. He is sharp enough to
know I have a plan to escape from here.?

He struggled for a last shred of dignity, betraying his weakness only by
a slight trembling. ?It's all over. It's time for your daddy to . . .?he
hesitated over the word, swallowed, and said softly, ?die.?

Blindly he tried to kiss her, but missed, barely touching her forehead,
and then he was out the door before she could stop him.

Elizabeth slumped into a chair, dead tired, fighting against tears.
Blinking them away, she looked at her watch: 6:33. If she could buy ten
more hours, she would be safe. She tried her best not to think of poor
Thomas Mainwaring. There was a dignity and courage about him that went
far beyond the warped perception of reality that the world called insanity.

The doorknob turned and she looked up, her eyes widening with fear.

A 'laughing John Hughes literally leaped into the room, closing the door
behind him. ?Hmmm, live meat! Elizabeth, baby, glad to see you. I
wouldn't have known you were here if that old asshole hadn't been
muttering about it. You dig me? Hey . . . be right back . . . got a
present for you.?

Elizabeth searched for something to jam beneath the doorknob, but before
she could do more than look, he popped back into the room carrying a
tray with a syringe on it.

She watched him warily. He waggled the tray, causing the glass syringe
to chatter on the metal surface.

247

?Look what I've got for you, mama. This is the best cure you'll ever have.?

?You . . . you've got what for me??

He lifted the syringe as if it were a precious gem. ?Psilocybin, dolly.
Man, this is pharmaceutical-grade stuff from Switzerland. There's damned
little of this in the U.S. You're a lucky little twat, you know that??

He set the syringe back on the tray and faced her, his fist doubled. He
swayed back and forth, twisting his pelvis like a rock singer moving to
heavy rhythm. His face was growing red, and he was unable to stand still.

She appreciated that he had just taken some sort of drug. She had to
control him now or not at all. ?Get out of here and take that syringe
with you! If you don't, I'll tell Dr. Mainwaring. I swear I will. Now,
get out!?

He lifted his arms above his head in mock surrender. ?Hey, heavy. Old
Johnny just wants mama to have a good time. Hey, just a sec.?

He dug into his pocket. Cupping one hand over the other, he thrust them
before her. ?Okay, sweetie, now you see it and now you don't.?

He choked in a gale of laughter. Elizabeth was becoming alarmed over his
condition. His face was dangerously red.

?Open, sesame!?he cried and uncupped his hands.

Resting in the palm of one was a key like the master room key that Scott
had found.

?Hey, mama, don't get mad at old Johnny. The doctor said for you to take
this key and lock yourself in.?

With an enormous feeling of relief, she reached for it, determined to
get rid of him. As she touched the key, he grabbed her wrist and jerked
her forward. Off balance, she tried to keep herself upright by clutching
at his shoulders but missed and stumbled past him as he brought her arm
up behind her back in a hammerlock. Using her own momentum, he drove her
onto the bed, resting facedown on it with her legs still on the floor.

Struggling with a strength born of fear, she almost raised herself from
its surface with her free hand before he drove her locked arm hard
against her back, and she cried aloud in

248

pain. He was lying atop her, and she could feel his erection as he
squirmed against her hips.

?Lie still, bitch, or I'll break your arm off!?

With his free hand, he grabbed the elastic waistband of her trousers and
yanked them down past her buttocks. Despite the agonizing pain in her
arm, she continued to struggle against him, but sensed that her moving
body was exciting him further.

In one smooth motion, he reached for the syringe and drove it deep into
the white roundness of her bottom. She gasped at the shocking pinpoint
of pain. Johnny was a veteran of a thousand hurried fixes, and in one
continuing movement, he depressed the plunger of the syringe, forcing
the psilocybin deep into her flesh, and pulled the hypo free, flinging
it backwards across the room.

?Why are you doing this??she moaned. ?What do you want??

He was moving rhythmically against her. ?Cause I'm gonna fuck your
stuff, baby. That asshole Howe killed your old buddy Meredith, and that
little piece tied up in the therapy room is like handling warm sausage.
You and Johnny are gonna have a lot of fun. Sweet stuff, I've got a war
chest of goodies now that you wouldn't believe.?

He moaned and pulled himself away from her. ?Damn! I've gotta save it
for the real thing.?

While his weight was off her body, she tried to rise, but he levered her
arm up again and she shrieked in pain. He tumbled across her back,
pinning her.

?Johnny,?she gasped. ?What was in that syringe???Psilocybin, like I
said, baby. It's gonna put you on easy street.?

?But what is it??

?Never you mind. You're gonna love what it does for you. I'm gonna turn
you on to everything.?

Elizabeth turned her head to where she could see his distorted features.
Her voice held a new note. ?Please, Johnny, not now. I go for you, but
not now . . . not this way. Besides, Dr. Mainwaring might catch us.?

He laughed and gave her a stinging slap across the buttocks. He tried to
talk, but dissolved into uncontrollable

249

laughter, saliva sliding down his chin. Finally, he managed to say,
?Hey, mama, that old fart ain't gonna bother anybody again. When I heard
him open the safe, I sneaked up behind him.?

Suddenly he was looking at her intently, and Elizabeth realized his
question was serious. ?You know what he did? That dumb fucker gave
himself a mainline of morphine that would have stiffed an elephant. Can
you beat that??

He stared at her, wide-eyed, and when she did not answer, he laughed
again. ?Hey, I would have let the old bastard die happy, but the son of
a bitch tried to close the safe when he saw me, so it was tough titty.?

?You . . . you killed him??

?I hate to kiss a pig's ass if I didn't. So, sweetmeat, it's just you
and me.?

Her hands and feet were growing cold. It was so odd. The room felt quite
warm, especially after being outdoors, but she could feel the strange
chill creeping up into her calves and forearms, numbing them.

Alarmed, she cried, ?Johnny, something's wrong with my arms and legs!
They're turning ice-cold.?

This set off a fresh gale of giggles. ?Hey, imagine that. That's par for
the course, baby.?

The coldness continued to work its way up her limbs, and her stomach
felt nauseated. All at once she was terrified at what was happening to
her. Johnny must not understand what she was saying.

?Johnny, there's something wrong. I'm dying!?

His face, peering at her, looked enormous. ?Not a chance. You're on your
way, doll.?

John Hughes eased off of her. He released her arm, and when it remained
behind her back, pulled it down to her side. He slid off the bed.

Elizabeth rolled over- and struggled to her feet. He was crouched, ready
to grab her if she was faking. Her hands were so numb that she had
trouble gripping the slacks to pull them over her hips. The floor heaved
under her feet, and the walls of the room were pulsating.

She sagged back onto the bed and tried to crawl toward the pillow. It
was so far away, like a distant snow-covered

250

hill. Between her and the hill was a long, white bed . . . a . . . no, a
field . . a field of snow. The snow was hot, warming her cold arms and
legs. She scrambled toward the distant hill, but the snow was deep and
the trip long. Finally, exhausted, she pitched forward into the soft
embrace of the white flakes.

She could hear music, the notes of an organ at first sustained and low
and then building with a counterpoint of trills to a sforzando. Huge icy
arches reared from the snow, and the sun burst into view from over the
distant hill. Its rays beat against her painful eyes, and she heard a
voice the voice of a god, filling the heavens.

?I like to see what I'm working on ... on . . . on . . .?

251 3I

T

he on's reverberated about her until she thought she would scream,
drowning out the soaring arpeggios of the organ. Without warning, the
world came apart with a tremendous crash, and she heard the angry
howlings of beasts, and another god shouted, his cry ringing across the
sterile white fields. The awesome cascade of sound grew, and the icy
arches crumbled, rumbling downhill in avalanches. She thrilled to the
roaring, rising columns of sound, for she found understanding in it,
words. The god had spoken in her tongue.

?What did you give her, wimp??

The icy arches and the snow fields melted away, and she lay pinioned on
a sacrificial altar. The sun shone down on her, its heat a physical
caress that flooded her being. Far beyond her on the dark plain, her
subjects quarreled.

Lying serenely, the one bright, sun-blessed adornment of a dark, angry
world, she smiled at the childish bickering.

4' . . . wanted it for yourself.?

?No, Howe, I I. . .?

?You killed him, you little creep.?

?No, I . . .?

?Asshole! He would have gotten me out.?

252

?Honest, man, I I.

?And my women . . . you tried to take my women. They're mine!?

?Okay, Howe, okay. Howe . . . No! No! I'm begging you.?

?I'm gonna kill you! Beat your . . . face off.?

Somewhere in the distance she heard the creatures of the earth fighting,
snarling, and screaming. It was all so far away, somewhere below the
precipitous ledges of the ultimate altar on which she lay safely
enshrined. Elizabeth could her the gaspings of her worshipers as they
moved in frenzied rhythms to the soft, fleshly thuds of their drums.
Then it was silent except for the cyclonic exhalations that filled the
chamber.

Wearily she opened her eyes to see a vast white column, touched with the
rays of morning light, rising past her altar, stretching to the dark
sky. Even as she looked, it changed, the shape simmering, breaking apart
and coming together, changing from white to pink. A strange, hollow
voice, so near it seemed to be within her own head, asked, ?Jack??

From somewhere atop the towering pink edifice came a reply, dark and
smooth, vibrant and exciting. ?Yeah, baby, this is Jack.?

She tried to shake her head, to deny the voice, but her head, the head
of a goddess, was so massive. It seemed to move forever until it hit a
soft white cushion of clouds, and then swung back on a long, long
journey until it floated into another cloud. It was so dizzying that she
couldn't hold her eyes open, but then a great weight settled upon her
chest. Struggling to get her breath, she opened her eyes-and saw a great
pink crab on her chest, its thick pincers against her body.

It moved toward her face. She shrank away, trying to shield herself from
its attack. The pincers plucked at her flesh, tearing at the white cloth
of her holy robes. She knew then that it was harmless, that it had been
sent from the pink tower to help her shed her outer skin, like a royal
chrysalis ready to reveal its sacred flesh for all the world to see.

She pretended not to notice the tentacles as they worked their way down
the length of her robes, separating them. A

253

second great creature appeared, and the two of them seized the severed
edges of her raiment and pulled it free. Then the rapacious crabs
settled over the two white hillocks of flesh rising from her chest. They
moved restlessly about on the mounds, never still. Under their worrying
assault, small reddish columns raised themselves. She could feel the
very essence of her being flowing into the tiny rising peaks. She
yielded to the tantalizing sensation, her concentration narrowing to an
incredible awareness of the distillation of all her being within those
two precious adornments.

Abruptly the crabs were gone, and her body was being pulled about. She
moaned in protest, but then she understood. The metamorphosis to beauty
was being completed. The last of the garments were being stripped away.

A gigantic shadow plummeted out of the sky, blotting out the sun, and
the god was feeding on her mouth. A great wet serpent slipped between
her lips, gliding, seeking, setting points of vibration within her
mouth. Her tongue rose to greet the visitor. Then it was gone, hungrily
feeding on the tantalizing sensation from the tiny red peaks. The great
crabs returned, scuttling across satin sweeps of her flesh.

Her hands clutched at the crabs, but could not deter them. The velvety
serpent continued to swirl about the aching pinnacles of her chest. The
great pink edifice shifted forward to share her altar with her, and she
could hear a voice by her ear, thunderously loud, saying, ?It's Jack.
Treat me right.?

She fought to worm free of the enormous weight that had her pinned.
Struggling, she twisted around to face the unyielding mass, and her eyes
widened in surprise. It was Jack.

She tried to tell him there was something wrong about her bedroom, but
his lips closed upon hers and she couldn't talk. She struggled to free
herself.

?No, Jack, no more. It's over and done with. I can't take it anymore.?

His grasp was inescapable, and he continued to talk. ?No, no, it's Jack.
You want me, baby. You're crazy for me. You want it so bad. You'll do
anything to have me. I'm gonna . . .?

She shrieked in agony at the blast of sound beside her ear,

254

yet she could understand the sounds, meaningless as they were. ?Jesus
Christ, that's a fucking whirlybird. It's the cocksucking cops, sure as
hell. You stay here, cunt, and keep your mouth shut.?

The ear-shattering burst of sound brought great earthquakes to the land.
She felt the ground beneath her rolling and jolting, and there was a
great threshing about. The tremors ended as suddenly as they had
started, and there was peace in the land. She ran her hands over the
white mounds and shuddered at the memories of their pleasure. The gods
had paid their homage and gone.

The minutes lengthened to hours, the hours to days, the days to years,
and she could sense the change. At first it had been a mere swaying, but
then she began to tumble end over end, sinking through clouds of
brilliant Kelly green and vivid pinks as the tumbling notes of waves of
violins, thousands of them, swept over her.

She struggled to remember. Elizabeth was floating in a warm green sea,
gently rocking in its restless waves. Overhead, the sky was filled with
great billowing masses of clouds that dilated and contracted to the
rhythm of her heartbeat. Her heavy limbs relaxed, drifting away from her
body, leaving her spread-eagle.

The sly, lascivious currents, warm and caressing, played about her
loins, and she stirred in vaguely remembered pleasure. It was a quiet,
lingering delight, and soon she was caught up in the contemplation of
it. Even as she did, she dipped beneath the waves into a twilight world
of clear green, drifting down through the warm waters. She moved
downward through living clouds of fish in their neon shades of blues and
reds and golds. As the sea darkened around her, the soft-furred
sensation of sweet pleasure slid across the tingling flesh of her body.
Ripples of delight softly plied her pale skin.

255 32

T

oby Mears lowered the phone and, pulling a red bandanna from his pocket,
wiped his suddenly sweaty face. The crow's-feet in the corners of the
sheriff's eyes were sharply etched, and his brow was furrowed with worry.

His mind made up, he leaned forward in his swivel chair and quickly
dialed a number. ?Commissioner? This is Toby. I'm afraid they have us by
the short hairs on this Skystone thing. . . . What? . . . just got a
call from the Memphis Police Department. It isn't our ambulance. . . .
I'm afraid I haven't made myself very clear. Skystone hasn't answered
our phone calls since Tuesday morning.?

Toby held the suddenly squalling earpiece away from his ear and pulled
at his tie. As the outburst from the other end began to subside, he
interrupted, ?Damn it, I'm not an idiot, Commissioner. I tried to get a
helicopter.?

Having decided to lie, Toby grimly plowed ahead. ?They're all tied up
today. I can't get one until tomorrow. . . . But, damn it, I can't wait.
I placed Cobb and Tip in protective custody. They are with that Dr.
Witherspoon-the guy that quit Skystone. That's the worst damned part. I
had to put him under protective custody, too.?

256

The receiver spewed an avalanche of garbled words. The sheriff's face
flared red, and he shouted, ?Damn it, don't you understand? That place
is enclosed by an electrified fence. If we go in there, we're going to
have to use force, and we'll have to back that up in court. . . . What?
That's the damned trouble. Cobb is right. Any lawman worth his salt
would have gone in there before now. . . . I'll be damned, Orrville.
You're my boss, by God! You make the decision. . . . You're the guys
that said leave everything to Judge Lynch. Well, by God, I don't know
how to get hold of him, and you don't either so it's your baby.?

This time the voice on the phone was quieter and more measured. The
conversation dragged on, more ambiguous with each phrase until Toby
ended it.

?Okay, Orrville, I'm going in, but you remember one damned thing: I
informed you what I intended to do, and if my ass gets in hot water,
your ass is going to be cooking right beside mine.?

Toby slammed down the phone, pale for a moment, stunned to realize that
he had just told off one of the county's big shots. He shouted as loud
as he could, ?Willie Joe! Willie Joe, get your butt in here.?

A medium-height young deputy, his too thin but almost

handsome face showing as much intelligent concern as it

could muster, rushed into the office. ?Yessir, Sheriff.??Willie Joe, is
Curtis in there asleep on the cot???He must be. He ain't moved for an hour.?

The sheriff rolled his eyes skyward in recognition of the cretins that
political expediency had brought into his department.

?Well, you shake him awake. I want you boys to run over to see Henry
Meadows.?

Willie Joe stopped in midstride, a puzzled look on his face. ?What's the
matter, Sheriff? Something wrong with the lights??

Toby put his hand on Willie Joe's thin shoulder. ?Willie, when you wake
Curtis, tell him to ask Henry Meadows the safest and quickest way to get
through an electrified gate.?

Willie Joe tried to pull away, and Toby jerked him back.

256

custody. You have some charges to answer to. Now, you put J.T. back on
the phone.?

There was another brief scuffle. Breathing hard, J.T. spoke into the
phone. ?Yeah, Toby, what do you want me to do??

?Stay there and watch those bastards, J.T. They're not to leave.?

As they talked, Cobb was explaining to Tip and a howling-mad Andy what
the sheriff had said. The little firebrand of a doctor lunged toward
J.T., only to be brought up short by Comb's powerful arms.

?Calm down, doc. It's not J.T.'s fault. He's nothing but the sheriff's
lackey.?

J.T. glared at him. ?Well, fuck you, Cobb.?

J.T., more wary now, crossed to the door where he could watch all three
men at once.

Several minutes of hostile silence ensued before Cobb looked up. ?Doc.
I'm so damned upset my stomach is killing me. Do you have something I
can take??

Andy looked at him in surprise.

?I need it real bad.?

The doctor looked at J.T. and back to Cobb. ?Well, I have some antacid
tablets in my medical bag. I'll get them.?

Cobb came to his feet. ?I'll go with you. I think half the cure is not
looking at LTA ugly face.?

Once out of sight, Cobb whispered, ?Doc, where is your thirty-two??

The doctor sputtered, ?Uh . it's in the den. Why??

?We're running out of time. If we're going to reach Sky-stone before
that blundering bastard, we have to put J.T. out of commission.?

?Well, shit, why didn't you say so? I have an old twenty-two target
pistol in here that I use for plunking at cans and rabbits, but I don't
guess that's enough gun.?

Cobb grinned. ?All I saw out there was a big rabbit.?

He died a thousand deaths when Andy wasted precious minutes searching
the kitchen. At last, with a grunt of satisfaction, he pulled an ancient
steel-blue .22 out of a cardboard box stored beneath the sink. Cobb
grabbed it and

257 DOOR /

?Damn it, listen to me, Willie Joe. You tell Curtis we're going into
Skystone. It's okay for him to tell Henry that.?

The young deputy blinked. ?Well, Sheriff, why don't we just drive
through the gate??

Toby carefully pointed Willie Joe in the direction of the door and
shoved. ?Ask Curtis to explain it to you later. Now shake your asses up.
I want you back here as soon as possible,?

The sheriff walked wearily back to his desk, slumped into his chair, and
buried his face in his hands. He hoped he got through the day without
being sued.

He reached for the phone and dialed the Witherspoon number. When Andy
Witherspoon answered, he asked for J.T.

?J.T., I'm not gonna be a poor loser. You tell Cobb that I heard from
Memphis. It wasn't our ambulance. Tell him I think he's right. I'm going
out to Skystone today and find out what's going on.?

J.T. was suddenly very excited. ?Dang, Sheriff, I'm ready to go. You
want me to bring old Cobb and Tip? We'll get them ambulance boys out of
there.?

Toby could hear the sounds of a struggle, and the phone crashed against
something. Comb's voice exploded in his ear. ?Hello? Hello??

When Toby replied, Cobb shouted, ?At last you've come to your senses.
Get as many of the boys together as you can, and we'll get organized. I
figure we're-?

?I don't give a damn what you figure, Cobb: This isn't going to take any
fancy plans, especially since I couldn't get a chopper. I sent Curtis
over to Henry Meadows to find out the best way to get through the gate.
We're going to drive right through that son of a bitch and up to the
hospital.?

?Hold on, Toby. You will trigger the alarm if you break the circuit. Doc
Witherspoon says so. Those maniacs can slaughter everybody in there
before we reach them. We'll have to-?

?We! Where do you get this 'we'? I called you because I wanted to be man
enough to admit I was wrong. You're not going any damned place, because
you're still in protective

259 DOOR / 2S9

hurriedly broke it open. None too soon, he confirmed that it was loaded.

As he snapped the gun shut, J.T. yelled, ?Hey, you two. Get the hell out
here. I want you where I can see you-now!?

Cobb was beginning to know his companion. He grabbed Andy just as the
pugnacious little physician was ready to charge out to deliver a volley
of obscenities at J.T. Cobb shoved Andy aside and entered the living
room, holding the pistol behind his leg.

?J . T?

?What the hell do you want, Cobb??

?I wanted to ask you if you feel like dying this morning.?He brought the
long-barrel .22 revolver up in line with J.T.'s sternum.

Tip grinned when he saw the revolver in Comb's hand. ?By God, when you
get in trouble you don't go about it halfway.?

Cobb called over his shoulder, ?Doc, call Smitty and tell him to get up
here as quickly as he can. The fat's in the fire.?

While the doctor was on the phone, Cobb hand cuffed J.T. and led him out
to the patrol unit. He pulled the leg irons out of the trunk, fitted
them on J.T.'s ankles, and shoved him into the caged, handle less rear
seat of the patrol car. Reaching into the front seat, he yanked out the
hand mike and turned to J.T.

?J.T., I'll crack the window to give you some air. I don't think you'll
be here over three or four hours.?

J.T. snarled at him. ?You son of a bitch, I'll get you for this if it's
the last thing. I do.?

Cobb regarded him steadily through the steel mesh of the cage. ?I think
you're wrong, J.T. Something tells me nobody's ever going to get me for
this.?

He slammed the door and hurried back into the house, J.T.'s service
revolver in his hand.

260 33

W

hen they reached the fairgrounds, Cobb ordered Andy to park in the deep
shade of the ramshackle old grandstand Here they were screened from the
road that ran past the fairgrounds. Only cars driving into the grounds
could spot them. In the unlikely event someone should drive up Cobb was
prepared to hold them at gunpoint. It couldn't be helped.

He spun around in the seat to face his comrades. Tip gawked at him. Cobb
wore an expression of such bleak desperation that Tip scarcely knew him.
Even the irrepressible and fiery Witherspoon was quelled by the ferocity
that burned in Cobb.

He held their gaze, refusing to let them look away. ?Tip, all you have
is Doc's twenty-two. You're going to have a hell of a time stopping
anyone coming at you, especially someone who doesn't react normally to
pain. Don't get separated.?

?Listen, Cobb, I-?

?I'm not trying to protect you. I I. . . I'm going to need you as much
as you need me. Believe me it's selfish. I need you to stay alive.?

He turned to Andy, who was watching him with a puzzled expression.
?What's the matter, doc? Trying to figure out

261

your comrades in arms??There was nothing light or bantering about the
question.

?Witherspoon, you're a good man. You have guts, and you stick up for
what you believe. This town needs you, particularly if the worst
happens. You are to land on the roof, turn off the power, and return to
the roof. Nothing else. Understand??

Cobb exploded at the frowning Andy: ?Damn you! If the place is overrun,
we're going to be shooting first and asking questions later. Two men are
trying to do the job of twenty. I wouldn't want you to pop out of a
doorway in front of me. I wouldn't want to live with that.?

He grabbed Andy's arm in a grip so powerful that the small-boned doctor
winced. ?Stay on the roof.?

Tip shouted, ?I hear it, by God! I hear it coming.?

Three minutes later, Andy was aboard and the helicopter rose quickly
from the parking lot, its motor laboring under full throttle. Peering
downward from the tiny cockpit, Andy could see Cobb and Tip running
toward the old green car, their figures diminishing so quickly that he
felt a surge of fear. It was as if they were shrinking into nothingness
and he would never see them again.

The town slid slowly beneath the chopper as it crawled across the sky.
Andy glanced at his watch. It was 11:26, better than two hours past the
time they had planned to storm Skystone. The bright November sun flooded
the cockpit, making him perspire in the nylon windbreaker. Patting the
comforting weight of the .32, he sighed and closed his eyes.

Smitty's voice intruded on his moment of silence. ?Hey, doc, are you
sure you're okay??

Andy realized that he was not okay. He was far too old to be doing what
he had to do. He had never before thought of himself as old. He would be
lucky if he left the helicopter without breaking his neck, much less
crawl around in the attic like a commando. He felt desperately tired
from the night's long vigil, and his eyes burned. The warmth in the
sun-filled cockpit and the rhythmic vibrations of the engine were
overwhelming the excitement that had sustained him.

He opened his lids and winked at Smitty. ?I feel great, Smitty. All us
super heroes try to 'relax until we explode into action.?

262

Andy's feeble humor fell on deaf ears. Smitty continued to regard him
with deep concern. Uncertain of what else he could do to help, he
repeated his lecture about the technique for leaving the craft and using
the flare gun. The chopper couldn't land on the roof of the building
because of the forest of protruding vents. It would hover about six feet
above the surface while Andy descended an aluminum-runged rope ladder.
Since the helicopter would be drifting across the roof, he had to move
quickly.

He fought to concentrate on Smitty's words. When the pilot appeared
satisfied, Andy looked down and was startled to see how much ground they
had covered.

Below them lay the rugged area of descending ravines that marked the
edge of the small plateau atop which lay Sky-stone. The helicopter's
shadow flitted over the S-curve where Gavin Thorne had made his fatal
mistake. Just ahead, the land abruptly flattened out on to the plateau.

The chopper banked sharply into a ninety-degree turn and headed due
north, leaving the road behind. Off to his right, Andy could see in the
distance the one wooded hill that thrust out of the flat land. The old
Albritton mansion in which he had lived for so many years was clearly
visible.

Three minutes later, the hill was to the southwest of them-, the chopper
was descending slowly, with little forward movement.

Smitty grabbed the hand mike. ?X-ray, X-ray, Skybird.?The small speaker
poured static into the cockpit. Andy tried to will Comb's voice through
the speaker.

Smitty tried again, while the small craft drifted across the tree-dotted
open fields. He looked toward Andy and frowned.

?Damn it, doc, they should be close enough for us to pick up that
portable of the sergeant's.?

Disappointment etched Andy's voice. ?I guess it was too much to hope
for. Mears must have caught them on the way out of town. We might as well-?

?Skybird, X-ray, X-ray.?

Smitty almost dropped the mike. in his excitement. ?Sky- bird here.?

?Sorry about the delay. This old portable started coming apart on me.
We're in position and ready to go.?

263

Smitty glanced toward Andy. Andy nodded and reached between his legs for
the flare pistol.

?X-ray, Skybird will be down in two minutes. Good luck.?

The helicopter was barely above the taller trees now. It lunged forward
as Andy tucked the flare gun under his belt. Seconds later, they were
over the chain-link fence with its formidable crown of barbed wire and
electrified cables. As they skirted a small grove of trees bordering a
primitive airstrip, Skystone came into view ahead of them.

It seemed to Andy that they were rushing toward the hospital at a
tremendous speed. The grounds looked deserted. He turned to his right
toward the old mansion. Something definitely looked wrong on the hill.
Despite the chill, on a sunny morning like this some of the younger,
off-duty staff members should be outside. Both the lawn and tennis
courts were unoccupied.

He shouted at Smitty, ?No question about it, something bad has happened
here.?

They roared over the parapet of the roof, and Smitty saw that he was
going too fast. By the time he could control their momentum, the
helicopter was over the convalescent wing. As he spun the chopper around
to ease back over the hatch, Andy acted too quickly, kicking the ladder
over the side.

Smitty yelled at him above the tumult of rushing air. ?Oh, Christ, you
blew it, doc. You've got to get out of here. I'm afraid of snagging the
ladder on one of those vents,?

Feeling clumsy, his aged limbs protesting the strain, Andy dangled his
legs over the side, feeling for the top rung of the ladder. With his
hands slipping, he was sure he was going to fall, but then his foot
encountered the aluminum rod. Twisting his body around, he started down.
The ladder began to swing wildly, and he fought against becoming
disoriented. He quickly became dizzy, with his energy fading fast. He
would have given it up, but he no longer had strength enough to climb
back into the chopper. Clinging to- the bottom rung, he pawed for the
roof with one leg. Just as his trembling, exhausted arms gave out, his
foot found a solid surface.

264 34

he ladder flew from his grasp as Smitty gunned the motor and the
helicopter rose in a tight turn. Andy had landed at the very edge of the
roof. A second

more, and he would have plummeted twenty feet to the

ground.

A heavyset man wearing nothing but a white uniform tunic ran into view
from beneath the porte cochere, looking up at the chopper.

Andy dived out of sight as the watcher turned. He lay on the tarry
surface, his heart pounding. There was no longer the slightest doubt:
the mental patients had seized the place. He had seen Howe Delgado far
too many times not to recognize him. He thanked God that Delgado had
been looking toward the helicopter.

For a moment he was content to lie there, basking in his success, but
seconds were precious. If Delgado climbed the slope, Andy would be in
plain sight, or if any of the inmates had been watching from the house,
they were surely on their way down to raise the alarm.

As he struggled to his feet, the flare gun almost slipped from his belt.
Had it fallen the noise would have been enough to catch Delgado's
attention. Crouched low, he ran, crab like, across the roof to the hatch.

265 DOOR /

Its only lock was a pin latch on the outside. The latch was rusted shut,
and he tore the skin on his fingers trying to open it. They stung under
the bite of the metal, and blood dripped from them as he freed the .32
from his pocket. He hammered at the latch with the gun butt, knowing the
noise could be heard on the ground below. There was nothing to. be done
about it now except hope that Howe had returned to the building.

With a screech, the pin broke free of its rusty bed and slid open. Andy
swung the hatch up and lowered himself into the darkness. His arms were
trembling so badly from his exertions that he came close to tumbling
over backwards into the hatch opening. He sighed with relief when his
feet found the flat surface in the darkness beneath him.

He denounced himself with every choice obscenity he knew. He had
forgotten a flashlight. The only light in the broad expanse of the attic
was the sunlight spilling through the three-by-three hatch. He wanted to
give up to sit there in the darkness and let fate take its course. He
was old too damned old. He had folded up like a dishrag, starting with
the moment Smitty began the final dash for the building.

Andy took a last look at the blue sky and began the long crawl through
the darkness. At first he was careful about masking the sounds of his
movements, but once he was immersed in the blackness, choking on the
swirls of dust rising around him, he no longer gave a damn. He was
determined to find the damned breakers. After that, he didn't care. His
crawling became endless, timeless. He was the damned Flying Dutchman of
Skystone. The farther he crawled on his hopeless task, the more
conscious he became of the passage of time. Cobb and Tip must be waiting
impatiently outside the gate, wondering what the hell had happened to
him. His hands stung with a thousand splinters, and the pain in his
knees had reached the point where he could barely force himself to put
weight on them.

Andy stopped and looked back over his shoulder. The hatch opening was
the tiniest point of light, far away across the black cavern of the
attic. He tried to think. He was having trouble breathing in the dust
clouds and felt vaguely nauseated. He must be near the front wall. He
had paralleled

266

the two circulation ducts that served the patients' rooms in the mental
ward, so he was pointed in the right direction.

With a groan, he started crawling again and butted, headfirst, into the
electrical control panel.

Blindly, Andy felt about the board, trying to visualize its extent. He
sighed with relief. The breaker boxes were exactly as they had been
described by the contractor in Memphis. He counted down and across and
opened the breaker box, cringing at the thought of touching a live wire.
His hand closed on the grip of the circuit breaker, and with a deep
breath he yanked it down.

There was a vague sense of disappointment. Somehow, he had expected
something to happen to signify that the circuit was broken.

Andy, exhausted, wanted to sprawl next to the breaker and go to sleep.
He forced himself to turn back into the darkness that led to that tiny
pinpoint of light. He was near the hatch when one arm gave out and he
pitched forward onto his face. It was a frightening moment. For a split
second, he thought he was paralyzed. He lay, his face against the dusty
surface, coughing. Finally, he forced his trembling arms to lever his
body up and traversed the last painful yards until he could see blue sky
overhead.

With his leg muscles cramping painfully, Andy stood upright in the
hatch, grasping the flare pistol with his aching arm. He fitted one of
the flares into the pistol, pointed it toward the sky, and pulled the
trigger.

Hurriedly he reloaded and fired again, and then a third time. Only then
did he look up into the sky to see the third flare etch a path across
the blue, trailing a dense trail of smoke.

Tossing aside the now useless flare pistol, Andy hoisted himself through
the hatch. As he did, he could hear the approaching helicopter, moving
fast. From somewhere near the distant road, there was a metallic crash.

He moved toward the edge of the roof in order to be away from the vents.
The helicopter was within a hundred feet of him, slowing, when, without
warning, it veered away under full throttle.

267

Somewhere below Andy, an explosion rent the air. He raced to the edge of
the parapet and looked down.

Howe stood beyond the porte cochere, a shotgun raised to his shoulder.
He was so intent on the helicopter, tracking it down the barrel of the
gun, that he failed to see Andy until the little doctor had the revolver
free of his jacket.

Peering down its sight, Andy could see Howe become aware of him and
swing the shotgun toward him. Andy's trembling arm betrayed him, and his
shot was far wide of the mark. The barrel of the shotgun steadied on him
and, too late, he dived for the parapet.

He felt himself being spun sideways even in the act of falling. The pain
came a split second later, and it was awesome. He rolled back and forth
on the gritty surface, the fires of hell coursing through his body.

Regaining control of himself, he stared fearfully down the length of his
body. The shoulder of the windbreaker was a ripped, bloody mess, and he
could feel his life's blood, warm against his arm and chest, running
down his body. Andy rolled across the roof toward the hatch.

A car was racing up the driveway, but he was afraid to rise, uncertain
of where Howe was. When he reached the hatch, he scrambled upright,
aware that he still held the .32. He shoved it into his pocket. The
helicopter was hovering in midair about a hundred yards away, but it
might as well have been a hundred miles away. The act of standing was
making him dizzy. There was no way he could climb back into the cockpit.

The blood continued to spread, staining his pants below his jacket. He
had no choice. He would die unless he could get down into the hospital
and stop the bleeding.

Andy lowered himself through the hatch, crashing heavily onto the attic
floor. Crawling was impossible with one useless arm, so he rolled
through the blackness until he slammed into the duct. Lying on his back,
he kicked at it, but the metal stubbornly refused to give. He tried over
and over again.

With time running out and his strength ebbing, Andy, became furious at
the unyielding metal, giving it one last

268

Savage kick. The whole section of the duct popped out and rolled away
across the floor.

He inched into the duct and wormed his way along its length through the
warm rushing air. Before he had gone ten feet, he saw light ahead and
knew that he had reached the first room vent.

Andy peered through the vent grill. The room was empty. He smashed at
the grill with his good arm, and it popped out, landing with a crash on
the floor below.

He twisted _around to where he could slide, feet first, through the
opening. Unable to cushion his fall, he landed hard, luckily on the bed.
For a moment, his world went dark.

Grabbing the pillow, he shook the pillowcase free and crammed it inside
his jacket against the bleeding, lacerated flesh of his shoulder. He was
so weak he couldn't get up. He fell onto the bed, helpless.

269 35

E

lizabeth struggled back to consciousness, exhausted, confused at the
abrupt disintegration of her dream. She couldn't understand what was
wrong with her. She had been having the most terrible nightmare. She
blushed at the memory, thinking again of the lascivious corruption that
permeated the place, distorting her dreams into disgusting fantasies.

She became aware of a faint slapping sound and recognized it as a
helicopter. She must get out of the building and signal to them.

Elizabeth raised up onto her elbow, staring in surprise at her nude
body. She clawed at the sheet, trying to free it to cover her nakedness.
The exertion made her dizzy, and her vision blurred. She sank back,
incapable of doing anything.

The brief sunburst of hope disintegrated as she heard the helicopter
moving away. She had lost her chance for rescue because of the strange
lethargy that gripped her.

The door crashed open, and Howe Delgado, wearing only a tunic and
carrying a shotgun, stumbled into the room. Too late, she thought of her
nudity and tugged futilely at the twisted sheet.,

270

?Oh God, please, not this, don't rape me,?she moaned. ?Don't do this to
me. I can't stand it:?

He pointed the gun at her. ?Shut up, Goddamn it, or I'll blow your
fucking head off, cunt. You're gonna be my ticket out of here.?--- -

Elizabeth cringed, afraid to move, but despite the gun, she knew she
would fight if he tried to touch her. Her life meant less at this point
than that final outrage.

He came closer, and she whimpered. The cold steel of the gun's barrel
came to rest against her stomach.

Outside the room, she could hear running footsteps.

Tip had eased the automobile up against the gates, trying to spare Doc's
car serious damage.-

When the three flares traced their smoky path across the sky, Cobb
yelled, ?Go for it!?

The gate held, and the car sat there, spinning its wheels. ?Back off and
floorboard it!?Cobb shouted.

Tip backed all the way to the highway and then slammed the accelerator
to the floor. They roared through the gate with a rendering of metal. He
drove the two hundred yards to the porte cochere through billowing
clouds of steam from the punctured radiator.

They just missed seeing Howe, who had heard the crash. He disappeared
through the doors of the porte cochere just before they rounded the
corner of the hospital.

As Cobb came out of the car, he looked toward the chopper, puzzled by
why it was hovering rather than moving in to pick up Andy, but he had no
time to use the radio. Tip was racing for the door, holding Doc's
miserable peashooter before him, and Cobb had no choice but to follow him.

They ran into the treatment room and found it empty. Cobb grabbed Tip
before he could rush out into the corridor.

?Damn it, keep your head. Let's cover each other. We're cops not cowboys.?

With Tip covering, Cobb plunged through the doors and dived behind the
smashed candy machine. Covering the hall, he pointed toward the kitchen
door. Tip leaped into the hall and dived into the kitchen.

The only hiding place that Tip could see was in the

271

frozen-food lockers. He jerked one of them open. An elderly woman's
body, board-stiff, fell out of the locker against him. For a split
second his face was only inches from hers. It was bluish, with its
bulging eyes and swollen black tongue protruding from between the
toothless gums. Tip screeched in revulsion. The body slid free of him,
and he screeched again.

Cobb plunged through the doorway. ?Damn it, Tip, it's only a corpse. Get
hold of yourself.?

The young deputy, his back against the work counter, shivered, seeing
nothing but the abomination on the floor before him. Cobb grabbed him by
the front of his shirt and yanked him toward the door, watching him
uneasily because Tip looked as if he was scared to death.

Again he ordered, ?Snap out of it, Tip.?

The young deputy nodded. He refused to meet Comb's gaze, but the color
came back into his face.

Moving quickly, they worked their way down the corridor, covering each
other as they searched. When they reached the red door, Tip started
through it, but Cobb pulled him back.

?We can't risk being locked in there. We have to clear this wing first.?

As they came even with the nurses' station, Cobb whispered, ?Tip, we're
in hot water. Our best chance was to catch them in a group, and we sure
the hell didn't do that. I have to call Toby. We need help.?

Tip nodded, his heart pounding.

Cobb stepped behind the desk and plugged in an outside line. He listened
for a moment before slamming down the headset. There was a strangeness
about him that Tip had never seen before. ?The switchboard's been
wrecked. Come on. According to Andy, the offices are down this hall. I
I. . . I have the feeling they're still here-all around us. We have to
get help, and damned fast.?

Comb's shoulders sagged as he looked through the glass wall into the
office. ?Christ, it's no use. Look, not a phone in sight. I guess those
bastards aren't so crazy, after all. We have to secure this one building
and go from there.?

Back in the corridor, they spotted a nude body on the bed

272 Lambirth

in room 8. She was not a pretty sight. Her upper body was covered with
great purple bruises, and her face was battered beyond recognition.

A door slammed somewhere ahead of them. They leaped into the hallway in
time to see a burly man wearing only a white coat of some sort disappear
around the corner by the nurses' station.

They raced after him. As they reached the corner, they caught a glimpse
of the fugitive crashing through the doors into the treatment room.

Comb's training asserted itself before he could stop himself. ?Stop!
Police officers!?

He and Tip pounded down the corridor in pursuit of the half-nude man.

Andy Witherspoon struggled out of the hazy world of semiconsciousness.
Although he was at the far end of the mental ward, he had heard Cobb
shouting in the distance. Good, Cobb and Tip were in the building.

He pushed himself upright, looked down at the mattress, and sighed in
relief. There was only a splattering of blood on the sheets. He
suspected he had been hit with bird shot and that the pressure of the
pillowcase was allowing the small entry holes to clot over. Still, he
had lost so much blood that he needed immediate help.

He was very weak, but he managed to stay on his feet, gritting his teeth
against the pain in his shoulder. He wobbled toward the door.

Andy stepped into the corridor, expecting the agony of cold steel
slicing into his flesh, but the hallway was empty. No, he had to take
that back. It was filled with the appalling stench of death.

On the floor near the red door lay a woman clad in a blood-drenched
nurse's uniform. He was having such trouble with his vision dimming that
it took a moment to recognize her as Shana Covington.

He pawed feebly at the heavy red door, striving to open it, but was
interrupted by a groan from the therapy room. He tried to shut his ears
to it, but Andy Witherspoon had spent a

273

lifetime responding to cries of distress, and he couldn't change now.

Reluctantly, he turned away from the red, door and a chance to get help
for his own injuries. He staggered down the hall, leaving smears of
blood against the wall each time he lurched into it.

The therapy room was so dim with the candles long since burnt down that
he didn't see the female body spread-eagle against the far wall until
she groaned again. The woman was swaying to the rhythm of her soft cries.

The image abruptly faded to darkness, and he found himself on the floor,
trying to hold back the numbness in his feet and hands.

Howe Delgado made the last mistake of his life. His first thought had
been to reach the safety of the old mansion and ambush his pursuers, but
he was gasping for breath and a tightness gripped his chest. He stopped
at the far edge of the porte cochere and whirled toward the door as an
overwhelming anger burst in him. Nobody was making Howe Delgado run.

He brought the shotgun to his shoulder and waited. He was going to end
it for the cocksuckers chasing him.

The doors burst open, and Howe triggered the shotgun, sending the load
of steel-jacketed pellets slamming into the wheeled treatment table.

Cobb and Tip, who had dived away at the last second as they gave the
table a final push, scrambled back* to their knees. Howe gaped at them
for one foolish, lost second before he raised the shotgun back to his
shoulder, but two .38 slugs crashed into his chest while a tiny .22
bullet drilled a neat hole through his forehead. Howe never knew he died.

As the two deputies rushed across the concrete to where the thick body
lay in a spreading pool of blood, Cobb looked at Tip.

?Get the portable out of the car and see what the hell Smitty is doing
up there.?

274

opened. She flipped over onto her stomach in the same motion to hide her
nakedness.

Billy slipped into the room and closed the door after him. Relief
overwhelmed her.

?Thank God it's you, Billy. You're safe. What's happening out there? Why
are they shooting??

He crossed quickly to the bed. ?I don't know, Elizabeth. I think they're
trying to kill each other. I came in here to try to protect you.?

Embarrassed, she tried to rise, to free the sheet to cover herself. He
grabbed it out of her hand and flung it across the room.

?I need that sheet,?she protested. ?I don't know what happened to my
clothes.?

?Shut up, Elizabeth! You have worse problems than being naked.?

?But, Billy, it may be the police. I heard a helicopter outside, and
people were running in the hall. Howe Delgado was in here hiding, but
then he ran outside. I think they chased him. It must be the police.?

?No, you're wrong. I saw them.?

?I don't understand. What do you mean??

He looked genuinely puzzled. ?There is something wrong about them. There
are just two of them. They can't be the police.?

?What are we going to do, Billy? They will find us if we stay here.?

He shook his head. ?Don't worry. You see, Elizabeth, they don't know
about us.?

?Thank God you're safe. I saw that terrible woman going up the stairs
after you, and then I heard a scream. God, it was awful! How did you get
away??

The question appeared to confuse him. She realized he must be in deep
shock, his mind refusing to accept what was happening. He smiled a sad
little smile and leaned toward her.

She was fascinated by his arms. They seemed different-darkish and off-color.

He saw her looking at them. ?It's blood, Elizabeth. I couldn't find
anything to wipe the blood off.?

275 THE DOOR /

She shuddered. ?Poor Billy. How did you get away from her??

Looking at his face, she suddenly understood. ?Oh, no-did you have to
kill her??

He nodded and, reaching into his pants pocket, pulled out a straight
razor. With a deft motion he flipped it open; the cruel edge of its
bright chrome surface glittered menacingly.

?I cut her throat with this. I didn't want to kill her. I had nothing
against her, but she tried to hurt me. I can never rest never trust
anyone. One of them is always after me.?

Gently he laid the cool flat edge of the razor against her throat.

Elizabeth shuddered. ?Don't.?

His unblinking eyes sought her face. ?Elizabeth, why did you send her
after me??

She looked at him, wide-eyed. ?Send her after you? I didn't send her
after you. I was scared to death of her. When I saw you in the hall, I
couldn't help myself. I called to you because I needed your help.?

He shook his head sadly. ?I thought you and I were friends. I thought we
could trust each other.?

The razor had turned from its flat position, and the keen edge lay
against the throbbing whiteness of her throat.

Elizabeth looked into his face. His eyes looked huge, the pupils
dilated. She thought him hysterical and unaware of his own actions.

She brought her hand up to his wrist and pushed. It was like pushing
against a steel bar.

?Please, Billy, you're frightening me.?

Even through the closed door they could hear someone running in their
direction.

276 36

C

obb looked up from the dead man as Tip leaped from the car, shouting at
him. ?Cobb, Smitty thinks Doc's in trouble. This bastard took a shot at
him.?Cobb paused in the act of pulling shotgun shells from the dead
man's pockets to shout, ?Check the room this son of a bitch came out of
and then meet me by the red door. I'll join you as soon as I load this
shotgun. We have to find Andy.?

As Tip raced through the doors, Cobb yanked the shotgun out from under
the dead body and began to slip shells into it.

Andy struggled to his feet, vaguely aware that he had heard an outburst
of gunfire somewhere nearby. He staggered toward the girl and placed his
hand on' her shoulder. She stiffened under his touch, and he knew she
was conscious.

His eyes widened. It was the Hitcher girl. He tried to talk, but he was
having a hard time.

?Molly . . . it's Dr. Witherspoon . . . with police . . . save you . . .
understand??

For a,moment, there was no response, just the swaying to the rhythmic
groans, but then she stopped. He wondered if he really heard her words.

277

?Thank God,?she whispered.

He turned awkwardly as he heard somebody running along the
convalescent-wing corridor.

Billy turned back toward Elizabeth and sat down on the bed, resting the
flat edge of the razor against her forehead. Elizabeth stared in
near-hypnotic wonder as he underwent some sort of metamorphosis. He was
smiling, and his eyes glittered with a strange light. She tried to think
of some way to snap him out of his hysteria.

The door crashed open behind them, and Billy's hand moved in a blur,
concealing the razor beneath his palm next to her shoulder.

Tip Crable's voice was shrill with excitement. ?Freeze, you son of a
bitch, or I'll blow you away.?

Elizabeth lifted herself onto one elbow, her nudity forgotten, shouting,
?No, no, you don't understand. I'm Elizabeth Shea, and this is one of
the orderlies. We've been held prisoner by these people. Help us.?

Tip was confused, and in a bid for time, asked, ?Where are your clothes,
lady? Why are you naked??

?Oh, God, I don't know. They kept me drugged. I don't know when they
took my clothes away from me.?

Billy slid off the bed as Tip entered. In rising, he had managed to
conceal the open razor behind his buttock. Elizabeth was grateful for
that. She could see that the deputy was so tense he would have shot
first and asked questions later if he had seen the razor in Billy's hand.

Tip stared a moment more in indecision and then slipped the .22 back
into his oversized holster. ?Okay, but I have to ask you some questions.
Fellow, I suggest you come outside with me while the little lady gets
respectable.?

Billy glided forward, slowly lifting his hand with the razor, talking as
he moved. ?Sure, Officer glad to. As a matter of fact, I managed to kill
two of them. There was Shana. She's inside the red door, and-?

In that terrible instant, Elizabeth knew who was in the room with her
and what he intended to do: She screamed.

Tip Curable had always prided himself on his reflexes, and he had never
met a man who could out draw him in a quick draw

278

contest. He pulled the .22 from the clumsy holster and squeezed off a
round that hit St. Denis in his left shoulder an instant before the
glittering edge of the razor slashed through Tip's left eyeball and
across his nose and cheek. His scream of pure agony rang through the
malignant corridors of Sky-stone with crystalline purity. He staggered
backwards through the open door, the .22 dropping from his nerveless hand.

Paul St. Denis, unfazed by the pinprick of the small slug, came after
him, mincing on the balls of his feet, and brought the razor slashing
into the juncture of his neck and shoulder. The blood lust was in him,
and St. Denis, sure now of his prey, moved lazily, aware of nothing but
the blood-soaked figure that still tried to squirm away from him along
the corridor floor.

Cobb had been crossing the treatment room when he heard the short, flat
report of the .22 and the screams. He crashed through the doors and
raced down the hall.

The noise of Comb's passage echoing through the hall snapped the madman
out of his rapt concentration and he leaped back into Elizabeth's room.
Her scream died in mid-note. She was incoherent with terror.

Cobb rounded the corner and saw the sobbing figure huddled against the
locked door of the visitors' lounge, his face an unrecognizable crimson
ruin. Comb's brain refused for a moment to acknowledge the deputy's
uniform and accept that it was Tip who lay before him.

?Tip!?he cried. ?My God, Tip!?

The keening stopped instantly, and Tip spoke slowly and carefully,
forgetting his own pain in his need to warn Cobb. ?Naked girl in that
room . . . a maniac, too. Be careful.?

Cobb looked up to see a slender blond man wearing a light blue shirt
splotched with blood step into the hall, smiling. His bloody hand held a
straight razor.

?God, I'm glad to see you, Officer. I'm Billy, an orderly. One of the
patients just attacked your friend and then forced this razor on me. I
wanted to give it to you.?

He came forward, still smiling, raising the straight razor.

279

Cobb waited until he was no more than six feet away before he pulled the
trigger twice.

The center of Paul St. Denis' chest collapsed into a puzzle of bone
fragments, muscle, and blood.

Cobb stepped over the body and entered the room, the shotgun tucked
under his arm.

When Elizabeth saw him, she started to cry. She lay in a fetal position,
her body shaking with uncontrollable sobs, unaware that Cobb was
standing motionless in the middle of the room, his gaze roaming
relentlessly over her body. His eyes found her breasts with the nipples
swollen from the ravages of Howie's mouth the teeth marks on her body,
and the pulpiness of her badly bruised lips.

As her sobs subsided, she managed to speak. ?Oh, thank God, you've come.
It's been horrible. They're dead-everybody. Poor Scott and Meredith . .
. that poor officer. He-?

She burst into tears again, unable to stop herself. The paroxysm of
sobbing went on and on until she understood that the policeman had not
moved, had offered no words of solace nor gesture of comfort. She
recognized him as the officer who had come with the sheriff. Still
crying, she managed to blurt out, ?You remember me. I'm Elizabeth Shea.
Oh, God, it's been-?

Comb's voice was cold and hard. ?You're married, aren't you??

?Yes, but I-?

He stepped closer to the bed. Her elation was vanishing, and she was
acutely aware of her nudity. Her hands, more coordinated with the
psilocybin almost gone from her system, freed the mattress cover from
beneath her body; she started to cover herself with it.

Cobb ripped it from her grasp, as St. Denis had done with the sheet. His
voice was guttural with emotion. ?Don't you know people have been dying
here? Why have you been fucking the crazies??

Rage roared through her raw nerves, sweeping the feeling of relief away.
She yelled, ?How dare you-?

His open palm lashed across her mouth. ?Shut up, bitch!?He was staring
intently at her now, and suddenly she was

280

deadly afraid. She had never seen eyes like his, not even St. Denis'
glittering eyes. She could not tear her gaze away. They remained like
that for long seconds, and he said nothing.

Abruptly the anger left his face, and a look of weariness and acceptance
came into it. He turned and walked out the door.

Tip, panting like a dog in his agony, called ?Is that you, Cobb? I'm
afraid to open my eye. I'm afraid it will fall out.?

Cobb looked around, bewildered. He frowned when he saw Tip.

Despite the excruciating pain, .Tip sensed that his injuries, though
horrifying, were not fatal. It was shock that was going to kill him
unless he reached the hospital. He could feel himself in its grip, being
dragged down. His heart action was becoming erratic. He knew Cobb was
standing over him, doing nothing.

?Please, Cobb, get me to the hospital, for God's sake. I'll be dead in a
few minutes if you don't.?

Cobb stooped and gripped Tip's arm. ?Sure, old buddy. Just as soon as I
take care of a little domestic problem.?

He rose and walked back into the room, leaving the bewildered dying man
to mutter, ?Domestic problem??

Tip heard the door shut and, with terrible certainty, knew it was
closing on his life.

281 37

T

The blasts of the shotgun brought a screech from Molly, and she jerked
against her bonds. Andy raised his head, opened his eyes, and stared
blankly about him. For a moment he didn't know where he was. Then he
remembered he was in Skystone.

He was leaning against the wall. It, alone, had kept him on his feet.

He pushed himself upright, knowing that there was something he wanted to
do. Then it came into focus the explosions, the deputies, the takeover
of Skystone. Cobb and Tip were still fighting to wrest control from the
patients, and he had to help.

He reached for Molly to assure her that he would be back. His hand
missed, and he pitched forward, off balance. He grabbed her shoulder and
saved himself from falling. Their combined weight on her wrists brought
a cry from her.

He muttered, ?Sorry, Molly. Friends . . . must help. I'll be back. I
swear . . . be back.?

He lurched into the corridor, plunging his sweaty hand into his jacket
pocket. He gripped the revolver, but the flannel lining clung to his
hand when he tried to free it. It took all his depleted strength to pull
the .32 free of his pocket.

282

At the red door, he stepped blindly on Shade's hand. His stomach did a
flip flop at the sharp snapping sound. Andy stepped out into the
convalescent wing, empty except for the strong, acrid odor of cordite.
He was conscious of a current of cold air rushing down the corridor from
the doors onto the porte cochere, left gaping by the running Cobb. He
paused a second to listen. The faint sound of sirens, far too distant,
far too late, rode the chilly wind.

Holding the gun before him in his trembling hand, he made the long
journey up the passage, concentrating on each step. As he passed the
door of the medical supply room, he saw Thomas Mainwaring lying on the
floor, his face ghastly pale under the fluorescent lights.

By the time he reached the nurses' station, his legs were so rubbery he
swerved with each step. His shoulder felt stiff and on fire. But there
was none of the warm wetness of fresh blood, and he knew he would
survive his wound. Still, without medical attention, he could not stave
off lapsing into unconsciousness much longer.

Andy reeled around the corner and lunged for the countertop. His vision
dimmed, and the floor swayed in sickening jolts. Closing his lids, he
laid his sweaty face against the coolness of the metal counter, trying
to pump oxygen into his body. Finally, the room steadied and he risked
opening his eyes. The pink haze was gone, and his legs felt stronger.

He peered down the hall. What at first seemed merely two dark patches on
the shadowed floor became two bodies.

He tried to focus on the nearer one, the one by the visitors' lounge
door. A cold feeling ran through him as he recognized the olive drab of
the Beauregard County Sheriff Department. The other body, some two or
three yards beyond, was clad in civvies and bore such a gaping wound
'that it looked like a parody of a human torso.

Andy inched toward the wounded deputy, clinging to the wall for support.
His stomach tightened when he reached the deputy.

The face was a hideous mask. The wash of blood, diluted with the thick,
viscous liquid that had been the interior of the eye, lay thick on his
cheek and around his mouth.

Andy leaned over, catching himself before he pitched

283

forward onto the wounded man. The deputy's chest was moving in quick,
shallow heaves.

?Tip? Tip, for God's sake, can you hear me??

The deputy was trying to say something. Andy could see his lips moving.

?What is it, Tip? What is it??

He dropped to his knees, his hands in the pool of blood on the floor,
straining to hear.

It was a mere whisper, said over and over. ?In two . . . in two . . . in
two . . . in.?

The whispered words, with their sense of terrible urgency, stopped
abruptly. Tip Curable was dead. Andy clawed at the edge of the door
frame, pulling himself upright in a trail of bloody hand prints. As he
stood, a roaring thundered through his head. He pushed himself away from
the wall, almost going down before he caught himself, legs far apart and
bent. He brought the .32 up and staggered toward the closed door.

The roaring built toward a crescendo, and a rose haze filled the
corridor: A wall of blackness rushed toward him as he opened the door to
room 2.

Elizabeth was standing by the window when the door opened and closed
again. The sergeant stood inside the closed door. She had noticed her
missing uniform trousers wadded up under the window and had retrieved
them. She had pulled them on and was looking for the tunic when he
reentered the room.

The time by herself had restored a bit of her courage. She demanded,
?Sergeant, where are the rest of your men?'

He was coming toward her, silent and menacing. Her newfound courage
vanished, and she couldn't move. His eyes were different-resigned,
filled with a terrible pain. But what emotion they displayed was beyond
reach-inhuman.

?Tip died trying to save you.?

His hand closed gently on her elbow, and he walked her to the bed.

She felt as though she were sleep-walking-as if it were unreal. There
was no resistance left in Elizabeth. This last

284

terrible shock had swept aside the will to live that had sustained her
through three horrifying days.

He did not hurry her. Still holding her elbow, he eased her down onto
the bed.

Elizabeth looked up at him. She could not speak, though her lips formed
the word ?Please,?again and again.

What he said was delivered with such a measure of gentle irrationality
that the maniacal ramblings seemed worthy of consideration. ?I didn't
know you would stoop to this, slaking your lust in the beds of maniacs.
I've loved you so much. Everyone who knows you loves you. It's like
you're ill like a cancer of lasciviousness grows in you.?

Elizabeth's mind was reeling. What did he mean? Did he know about the
gardener and about Jack?

Tears were streaming down his cheeks as he reached into his back pocket
and pulled out the black gloves. Slowly, meticulously, he worked the
tight leathers onto his hands, all the while continuing to talk.

?I never knew, not until that night. No, not until the night that God
touched you in your sin and marked you for it. You still haven't
learned. Seven times you have found a body that tempted men, and for the
seventh time I must destroy it. You must go back to that warped and
broken body from which no man can find pleasure. I'm sorry, Margaret . . .?

The black-gloved hands settled lightly on her shoulders and slid up to
her neck.

?. . but you must die once again.?

The grip was sudden and crushing. She clawed futilely at the powerful
wrists. Only because the pressure had turned her head did she see the
door fly open and the small figure stagger into the room. Through the
roaring in her ears she could hear the cry, ?Cobb!?

The hands tightened their grip. The sound of an explosion rocketed
through her head and then a second and a third. The grip lessened and
the hands fell away.

On a chilly late fall afternoon at Skystone Institute, Elizaeth Shea
received the gift of life, and the dead man crawled atop her received
the gift of peace.