…

In the basement the pair of rubber-clad individuals had subdued Chad and Patrick and stuffed them in the same vault-like room Hayden and her sister victims occupied. With that distraction out of the way Rubber Man could get back to the task of trying to combine Joshua's soul with Michael's body.

He raised the scalpel, ready to slice, when Constance's shrill shout echoed through the basement: "Stop him, Tate! For God's sake stop him now!"

Her command was strong enough to reach past the hold the house had on the teen, pulling him out of his nightmares and back into the present. He saw his mother closing in on the operating table quickly but not fast enough to prevent the inevitable. Acting instead of thinking, the blond teen lunged at the black-suited figure and grabbed his arm. Rubber Man twisted and brought the old scalpel around to slash at Tate's throat. He scored, tearing through the red outer skin that had adhered itself to the young man's body.

Tate stumbled back. He knew he'd been cut but, more importantly, he knew there was now a hole in the rubber suit. He shoved his fingers into it, viciously ripping at the thin red layer. He literally tore the hood off his head. The air never felt so refreshing, despite the pain in his throat.

Constance, meanwhile, had flung herself into the fray when Tate took a hit. She had a grip on Rubber Man's arm, preventing him from using the scalpel again. That's when Violet and Vivien showed up. Tate knew he should help his mother but Joshua was for the moment unguarded and acting on impulse the teen boy grabbed the baby and rushed him over to where Vivien stood taking in the scene in shock.

He shoved the wailing infant into the stunned woman's arms. "Go," he insisted urgently. "Take him to the room the priest blessed." He looked at Violet then and touched her cheek briefly. He could feel her warmth through the thin layer of rubber. "Go with her. Make sure they stay safe. I'll find you later."

Tate turned to help his mother then. The situation had reversed: Rubber Man had her pinned, bent backward over the end of the operating table near Michael's feet. One quick injection from the needle in his wrist and she stopped struggling. It was then that Tate hit Rubber Man from the side, knocking the guy away from Constance and the table.

They faced off for an instant. Tate could feel blood oozing down the inside of the suit he wore from the cut on his throat but it was nothing next to the rage he felt at seeing his mother victimized. Rubber Man lunged for him; Tate braced for impact but a dusty IV stand slammed down between them. Father Jeremiah had planted it there, drawing Rubber Man up short. In the attic the priest had come across Beauregard and the gentle ghost had showed him the way to the dumbwaiter. It hadn't been a comfortable ride down into the cellar but it had been an efficient and relatively safe way to get through the house without running into the undead nursing students again.

Jeremiah swung the old medical stand around at Rubber Man's head. The black-clad figure fell back, on the retreat for the moment. Tate took a brief moment to glance up the stairs. Violet and Vivien were gone. He had no idea where Chad and Patrick were; he didn't remember sealing them up.

"Leave this place!" Father Jeremiah commanded.

Rubber Man continued to retreat as the priest swung the IV stand at him again. Tate looked around for something to use as a weapon too but there weren't any other IV stands handy. So he just dove at the black-suited man's legs. He thought if he could get the guy prone, Father Jeremiah could bash away with his stand at will.

But Rubber Man had other plans. He hopped back over the operating table and grabbed the scalpel he'd dropped earlier when Constance had jumped on him. Both Jeremiah and Tate scrambled after him but he brought the old blade down, slicing into Michael's exposed belly. The boy spasmed and gave a gurgling groan, though he didn't regain consciousness.

Jeremiah gave a scream of rage that sounded positively inhuman. He leaped forward, clearing the operating table and body-slammed Rubber Man hard, knocking him into the wooden shelves behind. Tate unfastened the straps that held the bleeding boy to the table. Father Jeremiah tried to grab Rubber Man but the monster stepped back into the shadows and disappeared. The priest gave another primal yell then, his whole body trembling with the force of his anger. When he turned back toward the operating table, his eyes were completely shrouded in black.

"Get off of him!" he yelled forcefully at Tate. Then he realized the ghost was trying to free the boy. The darkness faded from his eyes and he dropped the IV stand so he could hurry over to help. "Here. Let me have him," he said once they'd undone the last strap, expression desperate. "I'm the only one who can get him out of the house."

Tate eyed him warily but he knew the man spoke the truth. Michael was technically Tate's son but Jeremiah was the only mortal among them and therefore the only one who could take Michael to get the medical care he needed - and to get him out of reach of the spirit that had hurt him.

Jeremiah carried the boy up the stairs, running more swiftly than a normal man could have done with the same burden. Tate went to his mother's side and checked on her. He lifted her up and took her back to Doctor Montgomery's personal office in the back of the basement where he gently placed her on the old couch there. He smoothed her blond hair back from her forehead then paused to home in on where Chad and Patrick were.

…

Violet and Vivien were nowhere to be seen when Jeremiah made it up to the main hallway with Michael in his arms. The house groaned and creaked ominously, like the very frame of it was protesting his leaving with the boy. It occurred to him it might be an earthquake but there was no time for speculation. He headed straight for the front door, praying that Michael would stay strong despite the severity of the wound.

"Going somewhere?" a woman asked, stepping out from the side hallway that led to the kitchen, right into Jeremiah's path.

It was Fiona. The cult groupie had fallen prey to the sinkhole: She had a ghoulish quality to her leer thanks to her narrow, needle-like discolored teeth and blood-matted hair. Her fingers had joined together into large bony, gore-covered blades and she lashed out at him with one.

Father Jeremiah twisted, shielding Michael while ducking the blow. She nicked his shoulder. It wasn't as painful as the injury he'd taken from the nursing student upstairs but it still hurt.

"You will not stop me!" the man shouted and he felt the energy in the command that time.

So did Fiona. She gave a shrill shriek and flinched back then she vanished. Jeremiah charged to the door and pulled on the handle, smearing it with Michael's blood. He half expected the door to resist but it swung open easily.

Rubber Man was standing on the other side.

…

Author's Note:

This cluster-fuck was particularly tricky to write because there are so many characters involved. I had to keep track of practically everyone in the house and consider what they would be doing during all this. It must've gone through at least 4 rewrites before I got it to a point where it made sense. It was worse, even, than the return to Westfield. Action like this isn't easy to describe without losing intensity and pace.

The title of this chapter is drawn from the X-Files sequel film of the same title.