The Gates (2009) (15 page)

“Samuel hasn’t done anything wrong, has he?” said Mrs. Johnson.

“No, not at all,” said Dr. Planck. “He just sent us a very interesting e-mail, and we’d like to talk to him about it.”

“By ‘us,’ you mean the CERN people,” said Mrs. Johnson.

“That’s right.”

“Has Samuel solved one of the mysteries of the universe,then?”

Dr. Planck smiled politely, and nibbled on his biscuit. “Not exactly,” he said. “Tell me, what do you know about the people at number 666 …?”

Mrs. Abernathy stood in the basement, Mr. Abernathy and the Renfields behind her. A pinpoint of blue light hung in the air, pulsing softly. Mrs. Renfield growled in disapproval.

“It was there all along,” she said to Mrs. Abernathy, “and yet you hid it from us.”

“You did not need to know,” said Mrs. Abernathy.

“Who are you to decide such things?”

Mrs. Abernathy turned on her. For an instant, her mouth grew so large that it threatened to engulf her entire head, revealing row upon row of jagged teeth. The huge jaws snapped at Mrs. Renfield, who staggered backward in alarm. Then, almost as soon as it had revealed itself, the monstrous mouth was gone, and Mrs. Abernathy was restored to her former beauty.

“You will keep a civil tongue in your head, or you will find yourself deprived of both,” warned Mrs. Abernathy. “Remember to whom you are speaking. I have the ear of our master, and I
am his emissary here on Earth. Any disrespect shown to me will be communicated to him, and the punishment will be great.”

Mrs. Renfield hung her head, quaking at the thought of what punishments might befall her. She belonged to a lower order of demons than Mrs. Abernathy,
²²
yet she was envious of Mrs. Abernathy’s power, and her closeness to the Great Malevolence, for that which is evil is always jealous, and seeks constantly to advance itself. Now her display of anger had left open the possibility of retribution from their master, because Mrs. Abernathy would surely tell him of Mrs. Renfield’s impertinence. But if she could overcome Mrs. Abernathy and take her place, if she, and not Mrs. Abernathy, could pave the way for their master, then she would be rewarded, not punished.

And so she made her move. Her jaws widened, and from between her lips her spider chelicerae emerged, two appendages ending in hollow points, each loaded with poison. She approached Mrs. Abernathy from behind, her eyes fixed on the pale skin at the base of Mrs. Abernathy’s neck.

Suddenly Mrs. Renfield froze, unable to advance. She felt her throat tighten, as though a hand had gripped it and was slowly choking her. Mrs. Abernathy turned, her eye ablaze with blue fire.

“You foolish creature,” she said. “Now you will suffer pain for all eternity.”

Mrs. Abernathy waved her fingers in front of Mrs. Renfield’s face. The chelicerae continued to grow from Mrs. Renfield’s mouth, but now they began to curl down toward her own neck. Mrs. Renfield’s eyes widened in panic, but she could do nothing to stop what was about to occur. The twin points pierced her skin, and she began to pump poison into her own system. Her eyes bulged, and her face blackened, until at last she fell to the floor. Her bodyjerked once before it turned to dust and smoke.

Mrs. Abernathy returned her attention to the blue light.

“Master,” said Mrs. Abernathy. “Your servant calls.”

The blue light grew larger, and the basement became colder. Mrs. Abernathy’s breath plumed whitely. Her fingertips were so chilled that they began to hurt.

And then a voice spoke. It seemed to come at once from everywhere and nowhere, echoing around the basement. It was deep and sibilant, like the hissing of a giant snake in a dank cave.

“Yessssss,”
it said.
“Speak.”

“Master,” said Mrs. Abernathy again, and her voice trembled. Even now, after she had spent so long in the presence of this great Evil, so close to an eternity that the difference hardly mattered, it still had the power to terrify her. “We must act now. We can wait no longer.”

“Why?
“

“There has been a … difficulty,” said Mrs. Abernathy, choosing her words carefully. “Our presence has become known.”

“To whom?”

“A child.”

“Why was this child not dealt with?”

“We tried. He was lucky. Now he has shared his knowledge with others.”

There was silence. Mrs. Abernathy could almost feel her master’s rage building.

“You
disappoint me,”
he said at last.
“There will be a reckoning for this.”

“Yes, Master.” Mrs. Abernathy bowed her head, as though the Great Malevolence were standing before her, ready to visit his wrath upon her.

“So be it,”
said the voice.
“Let it begin.”

But before they could proceed any further, the doorbell rang.

Deep in the bowels of CERN, the chief scientists were gathered in Professor Stefan’s office.

“Is there any word yet from Dr. Planck?” asked Professor Stefan.

Professor Hilbert glanced at his watch. “He should be with the boy by now,” he said.

“If it’s some kind of joke, I’ll have that child’s hide,” said Professor Stefan.

He reached for his pen, if only to give him something to do with his hands. The pen lay close to the edge of his desk, but before he could get his fingers to it, the pen dropped to the floor.

Professor Stefan looked at it curiously. “That’s odd,” he said, just as he began to feel the vibrations running through his desk. A great humming filled the entire facility, and all the lights dimmed for a moment. Computer screens throughout the facility began displaying huge amounts of data, Aramaic mixed with binary code.

“What’s happening?” said Professor Stefan.

But he already knew.

Somehow, the collider had started up again.

Mrs. Abernathy answered the door. Standing on the step was a small man with a pointed beard. He was sucking on the frame of a pair of dark-rimmed glasses.

“Mrs. Abernathy?” he said.

“Yes?”

“I’m Dr. Planck. I’d like to talk with you for a moment, if it’s convenient.”

“Actually,” said Mrs. Abernathy, “I’m rather busy right now.”

Dr. Planck sniffed the air. He smelled rotten eggs. Then he noticed a faint blue glow coming from the basement, a light that also seemed to be flickering on the window frames of the house, and around the door. A wind blew in his face, its force increasing. As it did so, the blue glow became brighter.

“What are you doing?” said Dr. Planck. “This isn’t right.”

“Run,” said Mrs. Abernathy.

“What?”

“I said, ‘Run.’”

Her eyes filled with cold fire. Her mouth opened, and the light shone like a beam from it. It felt like ice on Dr. Planck’s skin.

He ran.

The basement of number 666 was filled with a vast swirling mass of light and dark, of blue beams and a blackness that was so thick as to be almost tangible. Little tendrils of electricity
flickered deep within it, like bolts of lightning against the night sky, then shot out to strike Mr. Abernathy and Mr. Renfield. They began to change shape, shedding their human skins and assuming once again their true demonic forms. Mr. Abernathy looked like a gray toad, with unblinking eyes that protruded from his head on long stalks. Mr. Renfield became spiderlike, his body covered with spiny hairs, eight black eyes appearing on his head: two large ones at the front, two smaller ones on either side, then four more behind. Eight long, jointed legs burst from his torso, each ending in a sharp claw, yet he remained standing on his human legs, which were stronger and thicker than the rest. Pointed fangs burst from his jaws, their tips glistening with poison.

Mrs. Abernathy joined them, but she remained unchanged, the blue fire in her eyes aside. She did not want to assume her true shape, not yet. Although she was restricted by this human body, it had its uses. If necessary it would allow her to move freely through the world of men during the early stages of the attack. Only when victory was secured did she intend to reveal herself as she really was.

The walls of the house began to shudder. Dust fell from the ceiling of the basement, and old paint cans and boxes of nails dropped from shelves and spilled their contents on the floor. The mortar between the bricks crumbled, and the bricks started to float away. As the house came apart, more tendrils of blue light appeared, shooting through the gaps and disappearing into the ground. The wind grew stronger, blowing from one universe into another across the portal that was now opening. Mrs. Abernathy watched as the gates, those hated prison bars,
began to glow white hot, dripping molten metal as her master harnessed the power of the collider to begin to free himself.

Now the first of the demons appeared. They were simple entities, little more than skulls with black wings. Their mouths appeared to have too many teeth, so that the top and bottom rows were snagged and uneven, yet sharp as needles. There were four of them, and they hovered in the air before Mrs. Abernathy, their jaws snapping and their wings flapping.

“I have work for you,” she said. She reached out to touch the nearest one, imparting through her fingers knowledge of the three children, the ones who had hurt her and forced her to appear weak before her master, and the little man with the beard, who she sensed meant her harm.

“Find them,” she said. “Find them all and tear them apart.”

Samuel, Maria, and Tom were in Samuel’s bedroom, sitting in front of Samuel’s computer and staring at the e-mail message that Samuel had accessed through his Google account. Samuel’s mother stood over them. The message from Dr. Planck read:

VERY INTERESTED IN YOUR E-MAIL. I WILL COME TO YOUR HOUSE THIS EVENING AT FIVE THIRTY TO DISCUSS IT. HOPE THIS IS CONVENIENT. IF THERE IS A PROBLEM, I CAN BE CONTACTED AT THE NUMBER BELOW.

“He waited here for a while, then said he wanted to take a look at the Abernathys’ house,” said Mrs. Johnson. “What have you been telling people, Samuel?”

“What I’ve been trying to explain to you all along,” said Samuel. “The Abernathys are about to do something terrible, and they have to be stopped.”

This time, his mother didn’t contradict him. Listening to Dr. Planck, she had begun to remember her encounter with Mrs. Abernathy at the supermarket, and how frightened she had been to see Samuel talking to her by the churchyard, even if she hadn’t understood why at the time. Now she knew that Samuel was telling the truth. Mrs. Abernathy was bad. Mrs. Abernathy was, in fact, quite horrid.

There was a cell phone number with the message. Using his home phone, Samuel dialed the number. The phone was answered on the second ring.

“Hello?” said a man’s voice. He sounded out of breath.

“Is that Dr. Planck?” asked Samuel.

“Indeed it is. Is that Samuel?”

“Yes. I got your e-mail.”

“Samuel, I’m rather busy right now.”

“Oh.”

“Yes. It appears that I’m being chased by a flying skull.”

Before Samuel could say anything more, they were cut off.

Mrs. Johnson looked worried.

“Is everything all right?” she asked.

Samuel tried redialing the number, but there was no tone. He handed the phone to Tom.

“It’s gone dead.”

“What did he say?”

“That he was being chased by a flying skull.”

“Oh,” said Tom. “That’s not good.”

But before he could say anything else, they heard the sound of glass breaking from somewhere downstairs.

“What was that?” said Mrs. Johnson.

“It sounded like one of your windows breaking,” said Tom. He grabbed Samuel’s cricket bat from beside the bedroom door. They listened, but could hear no further noise. Slowly they advanced down the hallway, toward the stairs, Tom in the lead.

“Careful,” said Mrs. Johnson. “Oh, Samuel, I wish your dad was here.”

They were halfway to the stairs when a white object flew round the corner and then stopped in midair, its wings flapping just hard enough to keep it from falling to the floor. Its jaws never stopped snapping, opening wide enough for a moment to take a man’s fist before the twin rows of sharp teeth closed on each other again. Two unblinking black eyes were set like dark jewels in its bony sockets.

“What. Is.
That?”
said Mrs. Johnson.

“It looks like a skull. With wings,” said Samuel.

“What’s it doing in our house?” said Mrs. Johnson.

It was Maria who spoke. “I think it’s looking for us.”

As if in response, the wings of the chattering skull began to beat faster. It changed its position slightly, then shot forward so fast that it was almost a blur. Samuel, Maria, and Mrs. Johnson dived to the floor, but Tom remained standing. Instinctively he drew back his bat and struck the flying skull when it was about two feet from his face. There was a loud
crack!
and the skull fell to the floor, its jaws still moving but with most of its teeth
now knocked out. One wing had broken off, while the other was beating feebly against the carpet. Tom stood over it and hit it once again with the bat. The skull broke into fragments, the jaws ceased snapping, and its eyes went from black to a milky gray.

“Tom!” shouted Maria. “Look out!”

A second skull appeared at the end of the hallway, followed by a third. The three children and Mrs. Johnson backed away until they came to the wall. Tom took a few steps forward, tapped his bat on the carpet, and then took up a stance that would have been frowned upon on a cricket field, the bat raised to shoulder level, ready to strike.

“Tom,” said Mrs. Johnson, pulling Samuel and Maria into the nearest bedroom. “Please be careful!”

“I know what I’m doing,” said Tom. “Right, then,” he shouted at the skulls. “Come and have a go, if you think you’re hard enough.”

The two skulls flew toward him at the same moment, one traveling slightly faster and lower than the other. Tom crouched and caught the lead skull with a perfect swing, the bat striking so hard that the skull immediately shattered into three pieces, but Tom wasn’t quick enough to destroy the second skull as well. He was forced to drop to the floor as it zoomed over his head and hit the wall, leaving a mark on the paintwork and dislodging a chunk of plaster. It seemed a little dazed by the collision, but recovered quickly and was preparing to attack again when Samuel flung a blue towel over it, blinding it.