Now, rend her cloth and smash her treadle
And cut that throat she used to wheedle.
Damn the day she drew her needle,
And sewed the lunatic yarn!
From "The Lunatic Yarn", by Susan Rains
Chapter 10
"Good morning, young woman," Elliot said blandly as the red-haired girl blinked dreamily at the ceiling. "Do you care to tell me how you got into this house?"
Roger hurried into the room, still clasping Hallie to him. "Elliot, we need you in the other room. Willie Loomis has apparently come under the madness of the poisonous afghan—we know now, definitively, that that blasted afghan is the source of the contagion—and I'm afraid he's done some violence."
"What?" Elliot asked in a harsh voice. He quickly rose from the chair he had brought alongside Roxanne's couch. His eyes fell upon Hallie.
"No, no," Roger answered quickly, reading his friend's thoughts. "Willie hasn't hurt Hallie, but I'm afraid he's a bit too much for Veronika to handle. She's trying to corral him down the stairs and it's not working. Buzz is also helping, but I believe it will take the four of us. Veronika's medical bag is downstairs, otherwise she would have—"
"Tranquilizer dart, yes, I see!" observed Elliot, straightening his pants as he stood. "Well! Let's take him. What violence has he done?"
Roger's voice lowered with unease. "I'm afraid he's—well, he tossed Harry Johnson into the dumbwaiter and used the cables to send it off somewhere. So now that's two of them missing! Oh, God, what are we going to do? Where is my son?"
"Wait," Hallie gasped.
"Roger, get yourself firmly in hand. Let us take care of Mr. Loomis and then—then—" Elliot glanced in perplexity at the beautiful young woman who continued to study the ceiling.
Roger started. "Yes, you're right, I must help Veronika!" he whirled and left the room.
"Uncle Elliot! Listen, I think—" Hallie began. Elliot drew her to his side.
"Not now, child," he said. "We've got to get Willie Loomis to the hospital. Steer clear, understand? Hang back with Mrs. Stoddard until the ambulance comes and we get him inside."
"But Uncle Elliot," Hallie persisted. But he wasn't listening.
For the third time in two days, an ambulance stood before the doors of Collinwood. A combative but laughing Willie Loomis was persuaded onto a stretcher. A grim-looking Veronika Liska climbed into the ambulance after him. As they drove off, Roger stalked back into Collinwood, his fists clenching his hair on both sides of his head. "Elliot," he gritted, "We deduce that my son took that dumbwaiter ride—and Hallie saw Johnson get thrown into it—but what about Barnabas and Julia? Could they possibly have, oh, ridden the damned thing to wherever it goes, and be trapped out there as well?" Roger wiped his eyes. "Listen. I'm going up there and getting into that bedeviled dumbwaiter carriage and see where I end up! I must find David. I can't bear it any longer, not knowing what has happened to him."
Elliot held out his hand, anguished for his friend.
"Roger, I can imagine how you are feeling. If Hallie were lost somewhere, I'd be panicked. But please don't go into the dumbwaiter. Come with me to the Old House and see whether Barnabas and Julia are there; perhaps some new theory or some lead caused them to dash off and leave us. I doubt that they would have gone off in the dumbwaiter together, or one after the other, without telling anyone or leaving a note. They must be pursuing an idea."
"Well," Roger exclaimed, covering his eyes with his hand, "I know how each of them feels about David, but let me tell you, Elliot, I am going to want an explanation for their absence."
Elliot looked down at the floor. "I don't think anyone should mention to Mrs. Johnson what was done to her son," he advised. Roger threw up his hands.
"Another tragedy in the making! Where is Johnson? I'm going to ask Buzz Hackett to please help us by getting into that dumbwaiter and going in search of David—and Harry! I don't care what he says! That's all there is to it."
The men were silent a moment. Roger went to the tall brandy cabinet against the wall and clinked glassware as he poured. Then, both of them looked up at the same time, sensing a third person near.
The woman they had left blinking at the ceiling in the east wing now stood in her flowing blue sleeveless nightdress, looking from one to the other of them.
"Good God," muttered Roger, quickly turning pink, "ah, miss, would you like to come in and sit down? … Great astounding God," Roger wavered, trying not to notice the firm, jutting breasts of his scantily-clad guest. He put his brandy glass down again with a clatter. "Elliot, help me."
Elliot strode toward the straight, silent figure. "Come in; welcome. You're safe here. Can you tell us who you are and how you got into this house?"
"Would you like a brandy?" Roger blurted, approaching with a glass.
The woman calmly studied him, then stared down into the glass. She slowly, slowly took it in both hands and seemed to study its depths. Then she thoughtfully turned her face away from it. Stepping cautiously into the room, she approached Elliot and handed him the glass with care. She then walked to the couch and sat, elaborately languid.
"Good heavens," Roger muttered. "Veronika's not here but where on earth is Julia when one needs her? Elliot, is this girl damaged in some way?"
"I doubt it," Elliot uttered, smiling at Roxanne, who met his eyes pensively.
"Well, why won't she speak? Why is she—dressed like that? If–" Roger suddenly jerked—"If Buzz Hackett is at the bottom of this, why, I'll—I'll tear him limb from limb! Master chef or no!"
Hallie came around the corner into the drawing room and started when she saw Roxanne.
"Come in, child," her uncle told her. "Now that Mr. Loomis has been packed off to the Emergency Room, why don't you tell me what it was you were trying to say earlier?"
Hallie pressed her hands together. "Well—you won't understand me, but I was thinking of—games."
"Games," repeated Elliot, as Roger lifted his head and stared at her in surprise.
Hallie looked at him and gulped. "Yes. Well. You see—you see, Buzz is here, and now this lady," she said, gesturing toward Roxanne. "And we are missing David and—and Harry. So now I think—it's our turn. I think we can go over now."
There was a moment of silence.
Roger shook his head at the floor.
Elliot motioned kindly to his niece. "Go on, child. I don't quite understand yet."
"You see," resumed Hallie, "It's like—maybe it is like Red Rover. Do you know that game? Where you send people back and forth. And—well, David went first, then Buzz came. Then Harry and this lady seemed to almost cross at the same time. Maybe. … I don't know. But it seems to me," Hallie stressed, ready to sink into the carpet with embarrassment and the urgency she felt to get her point across, "that now it's our turn to go. We went first; we started it. One of us can go into the dumbwaiter now and try to get David back. Because we're two for two. We have two of theirs, they have two of ours—do you—understand what I mean?" she finished tremulously.
The men were quiet. Then Elliot grunted.
"You might have something there," he admitted. "She's talking about the balance of the universe, in a way. Or these two universes—ours, and the one on the other side of the dumbwaiter." He smiled at Hallie, and she felt a great gust of pride that her uncle had heard her and understood her.
"Hallie, do you think that if we sent someone over now, that someone could successfully retrieve David?"
"Well, I think this," Hallie mused. "Buzz Hackett is here only for a while. He can't go back into the dumbwaiter until it's the right time for him to go. He can't just decide to leave. He told me that time is running out here for him and that soon he will leave."
Roger stirred. "That's right," he affirmed. "Buzz mentioned the same thing to me—that he has got to leave the way he came, and that he is here only for a proscribed period of time. Does that mean that, on the other side, David can't return to us until his time over there is served, as well? Oh, my God. I won't accept that. Let's get up there right now and see if anything else has happened."
Roger hurried to the doorway, but was met by Buzz Hackett himself. Buzz held in his hands a long board game, which he rattled at Hallie.
"My game!" Hallie cried. It was the Mystery Date boxed board game. She took it from Buzz and grasped it joyfully.
"Yeah, I was just up there, and damn if the thing wasn't sitting in the middle of the dumbwaiter, you know?" Buzz removed his dark glasses and poked them on top of his head, surveying the group. "It's been a mad scene and all that, but it's time for me to blow."
"What?" Roger blurted. He put a hand on Buzz's arm. "Buzz, how do you know this? Do you think it's the same for—my son? Can he come home?" Roger looked from Buzz to Elliot with a hopeful expression.
Buzz told him, "I don't know your kid, daddy-o, but if I was you, I'd get right upstairs again and keep my eye on the dumbwaiter. Because I don't know how to put it, but something's gonna happen."
Roger rushed out of the room, making for the stairs. Elliot blinked at Buzz and then followed Roger.
Feeling refreshed and peaceful since he had prayed, Barnabas shifted on the fallen log and looked about him. It was a pretty place. The sloughing of the boughs overhead in the faint breeze relieved him both with its sound and the gentle touch of cool air on his cheeks. He studied the sky; an expanse of lightest blue was being pushed out of sight as darkening clouds gathered. Going to rain again, he thought. He allowed his eyes to travel over the fresh, grassy reach of his surroundings. He was quite alone, though he thought he had seen something moving. Ah, yes! Through those trees over there—
He realized that it was Julia. Julia, slowly walking in the woods, coming towards him. He was sure that she could see him seated here. The wind ruffled her hair. It's getting long, Barnabas thought. She looks romantic when she grows her hair long and lets it curl.
Julia approached, her hands in the pockets of her smock. She smiled at him and shrugged as she got closer. When they were near enough to speak, she looked about her, then directed her eyes to him.
"Barnabas," Julia began, "I owe you an apology. The simple fact of the matter is that I saw what I saw, but I never let you try to explain. I know you wanted to.
"I've loved you such a long time and wanted you so much, my darling, that I was angry to think everything was going away—the happiness I've had, the way I've felt in the two months since we've been engaged. I don't know whether I can make you feel what it was like. I thought I'd die. I'm an independent mature woman, a doctor. But I thought I'd die."
She came to sit with him on the fallen log, smoothing out her skirt. Barnabas settled his arm about her.
"But enough of that," she continued. "You know my feelings without my having to list them. Go ahead and say anything you want to say—whatever you wanted to explain. If you still want to."
"Julia, I do," Barnabas murmured thoughtfully. "When I went through the dumbwaiter and saw Roxanne there, I couldn't help it. I had to. You would have, Elliot would have, oh, any of us would have taken her. Knowing her history at least from parallel time and what was being done to her, I guess anyone would have intervened. I would have tried to intervene no matter who it was lying trapped on the exam table while Angelique squeezed out their life force.
"I think it became slightly mixed up with David—with the threat to him, and to hear those two men planning to capture him and use him. The moment I saw Roxanne, I knew I'd give my life to save her. Gladly. The urge was overpowering—it knocked me right over. I knew that I'd fight to the death to save her. And David—I'd fight to the death to save him. Well, we knew that already.
"The thing we didn't know, or I didn't know, was the force of what I was feeling now for Roxanne. It's the strongest force I've ever encountered in my life."
Julia was silent, looking down at her hands. Barnabas paused.
"Try to hear me, love. It is all clear to me now, but it wasn't so very clear when it was actually taking place. The emotions that took me over had nothing to do with romance or sex. They concerned instead—oh, righteousness, horror, outrage and pity. It was Roxanne there, but it could have been David; it could have been David—but it was Roxanne.
"Carrying her in my arms I felt—rather like God, I imagine. I was righting a wrong. I was rescuing an innocent from hell.
"Maybe it is because I never had a child," Barnabas mused. "Why these feelings should suddenly strike now, I don't know. How can I explain this to you? I wasn't overwhelmed by Roxanne as a rediscovered love-interest, but—as—someone to nurture. To preserve. Like David, like Hallie. Like Amy. Every romantic and sexual yearning was stripped right out of it and I don't know why. What I was feeling, sexual passion wouldn't come close to.
"Have you never felt it, Julia, with a niece or nephew, or a young patient—or any of the children here at Collinwood—when they come to you with full confidence that you will fix what's wrong? Perhaps that's what it was. Since I have known David, I suppose that I have yearned for a child without even realizing it.
"In time, if you feel as I do, maybe we can find a young person to help raise. Or get involved with local at-risk youth, somehow. Or maybe we could adopt a child.
"Perhaps it is because I'm a middle-aged man now that my feeling for Roxanne is altered. What I feel for her, I think I recognize as the passion one would bear for one's child. I looked on her body, but it didn't arouse me. I wept and finally stole her—because the thing was just an abomination. Or perhaps I don't want Roxanne as a lover, because there is another woman who already has my heart.
"Another thing. When I first saw Roxanne, I thought she would open her eyes and love me instantly, just as happened last time. But she won't, because everything is different. I haven't stood over her adoring her while she was unconscious, talking to her despite her sleep, as I did in parallel time. This time I just took her as far from Angelique Stokes as I could. And now, this time, when Roxanne wakes, and finally speaks, even if it is only one word, we can let her go on her way. The Angelique of parallel time will be vanquished, dead, and Roxanne will no longer be under threat."
Barnabas shifted and studied Julia with sober eyes. "Does some of this make sense? I love Roxanne, but not like that. No longer like that. I don't want her to take your place. Julia, you are part of me; I've shared your bed and your love, and it is you that I want. Roxanne is a part of me no longer."
He turned to her fully and took her into his embrace. Julia stroked his cheek.
"I think I understand, Barnabas," she assured him. "I believe you. Let's go back to Collinwood and finish this. Let's find David, and see if Roxanne is able to speak yet. The others must need us and don't know where we are."
He agreed. But first he held her against him for a long, long time.
Buzz Hackett and Elliot Stokes reached the east wing dumbwaiter room together and found Roger there ahead of them. Hallie followed.
Roger whirled to Buzz. "You think something is going to happen? When? What?"
Buzz looked pale and sick. "Just about any time now. I don't feel so well. Time's just about up and I'm gonna have to be leaving, too. Soon as the dumbwaiter gets up here."
"What?" Roger cried. "Buzz, is my son coming back?"
In reply, Buzz merely pointed to the dumbwaiter.
The floor trembled slightly beneath them. There was a fast ticking sound coming from the dumbwaiter shaft as the compartment sailed along the shaft toward them. The cables jangled and danced.
"Oh, my God," said Roger, pacing about, clutching his hair. Then he went to the dumbwaiter door and bent his head with attention. The compartment was coming at a fast pace. The speeded-up ticking was accompanied by a hissing sound from within the shaft.
The compartment crashed into place behind the heavy door.
Roger was at it in an instant.
"David!" he cried, wrenching open the hatch.
The light in the room was sufficient for them to get a confused view into the dumbwaiter carriage.
Two forms crouched within, one gripping the other. The whites of their eyes were in strange, stark relief to their faces, which, impossibly, were streaked red. Both figures lifted their eyes to Roger. Both pairs of eyes were brown.
"Father!" screamed the smaller figure. David Collins thrashed and scrambled his way out of the dumbwaiter compartment and fell into his father's arms.
"Father! I got him, I got him! They're after us!" David cried.
Roger gripped his son's head and strongly pulled it back so that he could gaze into David's face, which was streaked with tears and gore, his shirt spattered with bloodstains.
"What, David, oh God! Are you hurt? What happened?" Roger shouted, not knowing whether to examine David for wounds or lift him entirely into his arms.
"It's okay, David, you got him," Harry Johnson called shakily from the compartment. Elliot Stokes rushed forward to help Harry out of the chamber. Harry, too, was splashed with blood. Harry wiped his mouth with his sleeve as Elliot helped him to stand upright.
"Got who? What happened, Johnson?" Elliot asked.
David, his hair all on end, turned to Elliot.
"Please do something to stop the dumbwaiter so that they can't use it to come after us," he panted. "Those men—there are two men and they wanted—they wanted to kidnap me, or something."
"That's right," Harry confirmed. "When I got there, there were these two guys roughing up David, and David was shouting. I didn't know what was going on."
"Let's get out of here," Roger gasped. "Let's get to the bathroom or the kitchen at least so that we can wash off this blood and see if you're cut! Did they have a knife, a gun? What is that in your hand, David?"
David's fingers were clutched relentlessly around a long, slim object.
"I protected us with this," he gasped. "I hit him and hit him but he wouldn't let go, wouldn't take his hand away so we could close the door—"
"What? Slow down."
"Roger," Elliot hastily ejaculated, "I suggest that we disable the dumbwaiter for the present, by sticking a big piece of furniture half in and half out, so that it can't be used without our knowledge. This loveseat, or davenport, what have you. The dumbwaiter won't be able to go up or down with that wedged into it. Help me get this in there. Then we'll take these young men downstairs and get them fed and treated, and hear the story."
Roger and Elliot hefted the loveseat and approached the compartment.
"Wait," Harry told them, turning back to the dumbwaiter. He leaned in, looked about, and stiffened. Then he reached inside and brought something out in his hand.
It was small, oblong, and spilling blood.
"You really fixed him, David," Harry declared, his face now stark white under the streaks of blood.
David groaned, then turned away and retched.
In Harry's trembling hand was the severed joint of someone's finger.