•••
Kim heard the spirits call to her, heard them practically sing out her name. She lifted her face to them, watched transfixed as they walked down the stairs. There were so many, she lost count. Poor, wretched, lonely souls.
They’re coming, she thought, not realizing she’d muttered it aloud. Look at all of them!
They stepped through the billowing smoke and rising flame. Many were charred, blackened and burned; scarred by another fire years before. There was a girl in a poodle skirt, the hilt of a knife growing from her throat like some dwarf appendage; a Hispanic man, his work clothes drenched in blood; Mr. Harvey, Shelly ... and Kevin.
Oh God, Kevin!
He’d been hacked and sliced, his skin peeled back and ... chewed.
A tear welled in Kim’s eye. She wanted to go to him, to help him, but she was too weak.
Instead, he came to Kim. They all did, laying their hands upon her, their arms glowing with arteries of light, pumping her full of new energy, new strength. The power engulfed her, growing stronger with each additional touch. She allowed herself to become submerged in it, feeling the stabbing pain in her side dull to a manageable ache, feeling the burning sting in the face and hand ebb away, feeling lighter than air.
•••
Tyler stood spellbound as Kim drifted upward, arms outstretched, legs together. With all that he had witnessed in the past few days, he still found it hard to believe. And still she rose, three feet, four feet ...“Jesus!” Tashima gasped, her eyes rising with Kim. She fell to her knees and made the sign of the cross.
The golden muse swung its sword, slicing the air. Had Tashima not genuflected, she would have lost her head.
Finally, when Kim’s tennis shoes were level with Tyler’s forehead, she began to tilt forward, facing the living statue. She appeared to be fully conscious. Her breathing was slow and regular. Her eyes were narrow.
A sudden breeze kicked up, swirling around them, repelling the flames.
•••
Kim floated, weightless, suspended in a web of souls. One glowing hand held another, and another, and another; all the demon’s captives banding together for one final stand. Their power swirled around her, growing in intensity.
They faced the muse together.
For decades, the sculpture had hung above the Woodfield’s screen, suspended by wires like a huge marionette. Now it had become a different kind of puppet, and while she could not see the thing that lurked behind its golden mask, she could feel it there, growling in anger.
The big bad wolf, ready to eat her whole.
“You bastard,” she said to it, her voice forceful, commanding, her body blazing, consumed by spectral flame. “They’re not yours. Not anymore. It’s over. We’re leaving, and there’s not one damned thing you can do to stop us. I won’t let you.”
•••
Thieving cunt! the Woodfield spat back, eyes flaring like twin supernovas, drool pouring out between its glistening fangs. Whore! You can do nothing to stop me!
It would have the bitch and her talent, would absorb them, use them. Yes. It would!
The Woodfield laid its shadowy hands on the muse, made the metal pliable, bewitched joints to flex and moved. It brought the statue closer, drew back the arm, ready to swing the sword again, ready slice Kim in half.
No one leaves! No one! NO ONE!
It flapped its dark wings, fanning sparks into the air.
VICTORY! it roared, shaking the foundation. A rafter came loose from its perch, spiraled down into the conflagration, and the flames rose higher; a pale imitation of Hell’s glory. VICTORY IS MINE!
The demon swung its sword.
•••
A blue-white halo of flame erupted from Kim’s aura like a psychic missile. The muse was thrown backward, folding against the force of the blast, buckling like an empty beer can as it flew across the lobby. The statue crashed through the auditorium wall and was buried beneath an avalanche of stone.
A loud, disembodied scream rang through the foyer like whalesong, then fell away to nothing.
Kim drifted down, gentle and slow, like a feather; the glowing hands of the dead all around her, groping for purchase, their fingers like electrodes, shooting volts through her frail form, keeping her conscious, giving her strength. She touched the floor, stood on her own two feet, the spirits pushing her toward the exit, anxious, but not forceful.
The managers were out there, cowering in the flames. She could see their fanged skulls, hear them hissing, but they were backing away, scattering, their empty sockets focused on the fallen statue. None of them wanted to touch her. They did not want to be near her at all.
She turned to Tyler and Tashima. They gazed at her in wonder, and Kim saw the love they held for her in their eyes.
“Come on,” she said warmly, then she reached up for her crucifix. The metal hummed, massaging the palm of her slashed hand. “We’re going.”
•••
Tyler helped Tashima off the floor and they continued on through the fire, his eyes never leaving Kim. She walked slowly ahead of them, standing straight and tall, and the flames recoiled from her, parting like the Red Sea to allow them safe passage. Her face was so serene.
Above the crackle and hiss of the blaze, Tyler heard the distant sound of wailing sirens. They grew steadily louder, closer.
Two shadowy apparitions stained the smoke ahead.
Kim did not stop or retreat in any way. She kept right on walking, kept moving toward the doors, and as they drew near, the forms became recognizable.
“Jesus, Doc,” one of them coughed.
Robby. It’s Robby!
Behind the EMT, Perry pulled Joss toward the splintered hole he’d punched in the door.
“What the hell happened back there?” the detective wanted to know.
“It’s over,” Tyler told them. He handed the flask of holy water to Robby, then nodded at Kim. “She beat it.”
“Who is she?” Robby wondered aloud.
“She’s the bravest woman I’ve ever known.” The words came so naturally to Tyler’s lips, without thought or consequence.
Tashima heard him and nodded. “Amen.”
•••
Kim walked up to the doors and the cold fire leapt forward, seeping into the locks, freezing them solid. She pulled on the handles and they snapped cleanly in two, allowing her to throw the doors wide open.
Behind her, Tashima gasped, and one of the strangers uttered obscenities, but Kim paid them no mind. She had promises to keep.
She stepped out onto the sidewalk, feeling the night air on her clammy skin, seeing the stars through the smoke of the dying Woodfield. She took a few more steps, putting some distance between the spirits and their former prison, part of her still afraid some dark tentacle would lash out and try to pull them back in.
“You’re free,” she said. “All of you. Free.”
They were slow to leave her. Having been captive for so long, the fear of the unknown may have given them pause. Their skittishness did not last long, however, and one by one, they moved away. Men, women, and children. No longer scarred, no longer bloodied.
“Thank you,” they told her, one after another, again and again, “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Mr. Harvey smiled at her. “Have a long and happy life, little lady.”
A tear welled in her eye. “Thank you.”
He turned away, rubbed his hand along the hood of his dilapidated truck still parked along the curb, then faded into the smoke.
“I’ll miss you, Kim.” It was Kevin.
Her lip trembled. The tears flowing down her bloodied cheeks. “I’ll miss you too.”
He leaned in, kissed her forehead, and was gone.
Sirens moved through the woods, becoming louder still.
Shelly was the last to leave. She held Kim’s hand, their aura faint, the power waning. As it slipped away, Kim understood the demon’s craving, and that thought made her
feel suddenly ashamed of herself.
“He really loves you,” Shelly said, her eyes on Tyler.
Kim nodded. “I know. I love him too.”
Shelly glanced over at the boarded box office and frowned. “You’re so lucky.”
“I’m sorry for what happened to you.”
“I’m sorry too.” Shelly looked into Kim’s eyes. “When I let go ... your pain, it’s gonna come back.”
Kim nodded. “I can handle it. You’ve been in pain a lot longer. Go on. You’re free.”
Shelly nodded. She took a few steps back, her hand slowly sliding away until she was pinching the tip of Kim’s index finger.
“Go on,” Kim told her.
“Thank you,” Shelly said. She let go and ran across the parking lot. By the time she reached Kim’s VW Bug, she was nothing but an outline.
The glow dissipated, and the power with it. Pain stabbed at Kim’s lungs and she reached out for the Stanley University van to steady herself. The whole world seemed to be tilting off its access.
Tyler was at her side in a flash.
When the first ambulance pulled into the parking lot, he carried her to it.
49
Joss had regained consciousness.
He watched as the Emergency Medical Technicians controlled the bleeding from his chest and assessed the extent of his neurological damage. So far as they could tell, there was none. They then braced his arm and wrist between two bright orange plastic boards to form a splint.
Tashima stood beside him, chewing on her thumbnail. Her dark face was grimy with soot, her arm bloodied.
“I’m going with him,” she told the EMTs as they strapped Joss to a gurney and wheeled him to the waiting ambulance.
Joss reached up, fumbled for his fogged oxygen mask, and pulled it away from his mouth. His voice was groggy. “I must be dying.”
“You’re gonna be fine,” she told him, then she leaned over and kissed his cheek, her long braids falling across his face like a blanket.
He’d broken his wrist in three places, dislocated his shoulder, cracked a rib, and the scratches on his chest would require a few hundred stitches to close, but it was all worth it for that one sweet kiss.
The EMTs lifted his gurney, shoved it into the back of the ambulance, then helped Tashima climb inside. She sat there, her hand rubbing the blanket that covered his leg, looking down at him with great concern.
He pulled the mask down again. “Given ... any more thought to going out with me?”
She rolled her eyes and chuckled. “I’ll give you a chance on one condition.”
“Name it.”
“No theaters.”
He smiled at her. “You got it.”
“Sir,” the EMT scolded, “please keep the mask on.”
Joss covered his mouth and nose again, turning his attention to the back windows. As the ambulance pulled away, he watched the Woodfield Movie Palace die.
•••
The old cinema was now fully engulfed, its heat broiling the parking lot.
Robby Miller sat on the hood of Perry’s car and stared at the flames. After a few minutes, he glanced down at the Guns’n’Roses flask in his hands. Inside, holy water, straight from the baptismal font at St. Anthony’s. He’d seen the doctor sprinkle it on the burning man, saw the pain it brought to the demon.
He grinned at that.
Perry finished his conversation with the Captain Oglesby, the fire chief, and moved slowly back to Robby, buttoning his suit jacket as he walked.
“So what’s the story?” Robby asked.
“They’re going to let it burn,” the detective told him, “just keep the fire from spreading to the surrounding woods.”
“Good.”
Perry leaned against the fender. “How’s the doctor’s girlfriend doing?”
“She punctured a lung.”
Perry frowned. “I see.”
“She’ll be alright,” Robby assured him, then chuckled. “After what I saw that girl do tonight, I wouldn’t worry about her at all.”
“So it’s over then?” Perry asked, his face expressionless.
“Looks that way.” Robby eyed the hoses. They criss-crossed the crumbling pavement like veins. Water stood in puddles, reflecting the glow of the blaze. “You gonna be okay?”
Perry slid his hands into his pockets. “I’ve just spent the night gunning down gargoyles. I don’t know where to go from that.”
“You just go.” Robby turned his attention to the trees, to the farmland beyond. The fields were empty now, but in a few months, they would be filled with tall green stalks. “Try not to dwell on it. Live your life the best way you can. Trust me on this one.”
Perry nodded, his eyes back on the fire.
Robby smiled. “Maybe now we can go a day without crossing paths.”
“No offense,” Perry told him, flashing a grin, “but I hope I never see your face at one of my crime scenes again.”
“I’ll drink to that.” Robby popped the cap off his flask and took a very long sip.
In the distance, the Woodfield continued to burn, belching filth into the sky.
50
Late October sunlight streamed through gently swaying branches, branches laden with multi-colored leaves. Kim looked out her window, watching the Indiana countryside pass by. Large combines moved slowly across fields of corn, teeth spinning, reducing yellow, withered stalks to stubs. It was unseasonably warm outside, nearly seventy degrees, and the farmers at the controls wore short-sleeves.
Six months had crept by since the fire in the Woodfield. Since Kim had released the souls of those trapped within, the souls of her departed friends. Since she had discovered new life growing inside her own womb.
Her eyes drifted to the driver’s seat, to Tyler. She remembered staring at the pregnancy testing wand, waiting for chemistry to work its spell, preparing herself for the worst. But instead of suing Trojan for all they were worth, he’d showered her with kisses and told her how much he loved her.
And still, there’d been a million questions dancing in her head unanswered. How could she go to classes and take care of an infant? And what happened after she graduated? And what would her parents say, her mother? And what about the —
“Everything will be all right,” Tyler had murmured in her ear, and he’d said it with such conviction, such enthusiasm, she could not help but believe him.
Kim’s hand moved to her gigantic belly, her splayed fingers gently stroking. For once, the baby was quiet. Sitting on Tyler’s couch — her couch — at night, they would feel one powerful kick after another, and between fits of laughter, Tyler would share with her every little change occurring unseen within, his voice filled with awe, with pride. She thought of her last ultrasound, of a beautiful, grainy face sucking a beautiful, grainy thumb, and her lips curled into a loving smile.
Can’t wait to meet you, little one, to kiss that cute nose of yours.
Anna’s voice came to Kim’s ears again and again like a mantra. “You’ll be a great mommy.”
She hoped so.
She really did.
“How’s junior?” Tyler asked, a smile in his voice.
“Your daughter is fine,” Kim giggled.
Despite the ultrasounds, neither of them wanted to know the sex of their child just yet. This ongoing debate was far too much fun.
Tashima kept hounding her, however, when she wasn’t off “studying” with Joss. “Girl, come on. I gotta know what to buy!”
Kim glanced over at her man, still smiling. “We’re just over here enjoying the ride.”
“Need me to find a rest stop?”
“I just went twenty minutes ago.”
“Which is why I’m asking again now.”
She reached over, lightly slapped his arm. “It’s not that bad.”
“I just don’t want you to cry to your parents about how we drove all the way here and I only let you pee twice.”
A sign on the shoulder of the road drew thei
r attention.
GREENCASTLE 5 MILES
“Almost home,” Tyler told her as it passed them by.
“Not anymore,” she said. “My home is with you.”
Kim watched him grin, then turned away, gazing out the window with a nervous stomach. A certain amount of anxiety was normal at this stage of the pregnancy, but she didn’t know which concerned her more, dinner with her parents ... or the drive after.
•••
Tall shadow-trees, mostly pine, rose against the night sky, outlined by glittering stars. Out here, far from the town glare, it seemed that even the smallest lights in heaven were visible. And in the distance, the full moon shone down upon the road like a spotlight, illuminating a single, man-made peak straddling their path.
Edna Collings Bridge.
Kim gasped at the sight.
Tyler stopped the car. “You okay?”
“It’s still there,” she said aloud, and was caught off guard by the sudden, pleasurable tingle of anticipation in her stomach.
“Surprised?”
“No. Not really. It’s just ...” She gave him a sheepish grin. “This is gonna sound really terrible.”
His hand found hers, gently squeezing in the dark. “Tell me.”
“Over the years, I’d hear these news stories, you know, arsonists burning covered bridges, reducing them to nothing but a pile of blackened cinders, and there was a part of me that actually rooted for them, hoping that, sooner or later, they’d get around to burning this one.”
Tyler stared up at its dark, gabled roof. “It does look creepy.”
“I used to think, if only the bridge was gone, maybe that would do it, you know? Maybe then the nightmare would finally be over.” Kim cocked her head so she could look into his eyes. “But I know now, the nightmare will never really be over unless I end it myself.”
He brought her hand to his lips, kissed her knuckles, then leaned back in his seat and drove on.
Their car entered the gaping maw of the elderly covered bridge. Faint light from the dashboard was all that stood between them and total darkness. Tyler drove to the middle and stopped.
Kim lowered her window and she asked Tyler to put the others down as well. She wanted no barriers between her and the drowned little girl this time.