Infernal - Страница 41

"Jack's right, honey. We don't know what it is. And when something's doing what it shouldn't be able to do, something you can't explain, it's better to keep your distance until you know it won't… until you know it's safe." She hugged the child against her. "And anyway, it's late. Past your bedtime."

"But Ma-om," she whined. "There's no school tomorrow."

"Say good-bye."

Vicky made a barely audible response, then turned to go.

Gia said to Jack, "Call me later." Then to Tom, "Thank you for the opera."

He would have loved to see a smile as she said that, but her expression was tight, almost fearful.

"My pleasure, Gia. I'm sorry the evening had to end like this."

"So am I." She glanced at the Lilitongue and then back to Tom. "I hope you haven't brought more trouble into our lives."

Tom had no reply for that. He could only nod and wonder what she meant by "more" trouble. What could she be talking about?

When the door had closed behind her, Tom turned and stared at the Lilitongue. The sight of it floating in midair filled him with wonder, awe, and a strange glee.

No, it shouldn't be, and yes, it was impossible. And that meant that the paranormal hints he'd run across in research hadn't been the ravings of ancient lunatics.

The possibility that the Lilitongue just might live up to its press thrilled him. This could be his way out after all. It might prove his seemingly ineluctable fate to be, well, eluctable.

Slowly, hesitantly, he approached the thing. Its looks hadn't changed—still a misshapen, leathery, basketball-size olive with a dimple toward its lower end; no glow, no hum, no whine… simply sitting there five feet above the floor.

Behind it, the open hall closet. Beneath it, the sea chest. Tom waved his hands over, under, and around it. Nothing. God, this was amazing. Amazing! This defied the laws of gravity.

"Looking for strings?" Jack said.

"Looking for something."

"How about a reason for me not to break your neck?"

Tom glanced at him and backed up a step when he saw his brother's eyes. Something very scary there.

"Hey, take it easy, Jack. This is weird, I know—very, very weird—but not a reason to get so pissed. I mean, you act like I just dropped a cobra down your shorts."

"Maybe you have." He pointed to the Lilitongue. "I don't want this here. Get it out."

"What the hell is wrong with you? This is the find of the century—of the last four centuries! They're going to have to rewrite the laws of gravity because of this thing! It'll go down in history. We'll go down in history."

Jack's expression switched from anger to disgust. "Right. You'll be the most famous guy in the federal lockup. And I'll probably wind up right there beside you."

Shit. The wonder of the phenomenon had momentarily blinded him. As glorious as it would be to become an international celebrity, it wouldn't nullify the malfeasance charges. All it would accomplish was to transmit his obloquy nationwide. Maybe even worldwide.

Jack said, "I want it gone, Tom."

"Okay, then, I'll put it back in the chest, lock it, and that will be that."

Jack's expression remained fierce. "Be my guest."

Tom reached for the Lilitongue, then hesitated, his fingers only inches from its surface. What would it feel like now that it had been awakened? Would he feel a vibration? Or even more disturbing… a pulse?

He forced his hands forward and touched it lightly with his fingertips. No vibration, no throb… but it sent a peculiar feeling through him, a hint of instinctive revulsion that quickly passed.

And damn if it didn't feel warm. Almost like… skin temperature.

He pressed his palms against it, got a grip, and pushed down, aiming for the sea chest.

The Lilitongue didn't budge.

He pushed harder, grunting with the effort, but it was like trying to move a house.

Tom looked at Jack. "Give me a hand here."

"Okay, but it's not going to do any good."

Together they pushed. Tom could see Jack's face crimsoning with the strain—mirroring his own, no doubt—but together they achieved no more than Tom had alone.

"It won't budge," Jack said. "Trust me, it won't move up, down, or sideways. It's fixed in space. The proverbial immovable object."

"Then we'll need an irresistible force."

"How about your stupidity?"

"Hey—"

"You weaseled it in here and now I'm stuck with it."

"There has to be a way."

"Yeah?" Jack reached down behind the couch and came up with an aluminum bat. "Try this."

Tom took it and hefted it. Heavier than he expected.

"So you still play baseball?"

"It's a versatile item." Jack pointed to the Lilitongue. "Go ahead. Take a swing."

"I don't want to damage it."

"You won't. Trust me. Take a big swing."

Something in Jack's tone set off a warning bell. So instead of a big swing, he gave the Lilitongue a light tap.

Nothing beyond a dull thunk.

A harder tap.

Another thunk, plus a metallic ring from the bat.

"Come on, Tom. Don't be such a wimp. Swing for the bleachers, big guy-"

Wimp, huh?

Tom raised the bat above and behind his shoulder, then let loose, putting his arms and body behind it, giving it everything.

He heard a loud clang from the bat and felt a stinging vibration run through his hands and up his arms.

"Shit!" He dropped the bat and rubbed his palms as he glared at Jack. "You knew that would happen."

Jack nodded. "Yeah. Been there, done that. Hurts like hell, doesn't it."

Damn right. And the pain hadn't come from the Lilitongue. It would have been the same had Tom slammed the bat against a sidewalk.

He stared at the unmarred, unmoved, unperturbed Lilitongue.

"Tough son of a bitch, isn't it."

"I want it out of here, Tom. Out."

"And how do you suggest I do that?"

"Don't know, don't care."

"Well, I can't do anything until I know more about it, and I can't learn much on a Sunday night." He shook his head. "Maybe I should have listened to that girl on the dock."

-81:02

Jack felt a chill.

"What girl? What dock?"

"Remember that hallucination I told you about? That was it. I'm not exactly sure where the real left off and the unreal began."

"Tell me."

"It was in Saint George's. When we were gassing up. I was standing on the aft deck, minding my own business, when out of the blue this girl, this local teenager, starts talking to me."

"What do you mean, 'out of the blue'?"

"I didn't see her coming. I just look up and she's there, standing half a dozen feet away on the dock."

An uneasy feeling crawled through Jack's stomach.

"What'd she say?"

"Some nonsense about throwing it back in the water, but never said what 'it' was."

The uneasy feeling had graduated to gripes.

"Did she—?"

Tom waved a hand. "Wait-wait. That's not the crazy part. Here's where I think I lost it: For no reason at all she pulls up her shirt."

"She flashed you?" Jack felt a faint tinge of relief. "I see where the hallucination comes in. Who'd want to flash you?"

Tom didn't laugh, didn't even smile. "She wasn't showing me her boobs, she was showing me her belly. And…" His voice trailed off.

"And?"

Tom looked away. "And she had a hole through her—clear through her."

Jack felt as if he'd been hit with a bucket of ice water. He'd seen someone with the same thing not too long ago.

"Where—where was the hole?"

Tom jammed his fingers into a spot a couple of inches to the right of his navel.

"Right about here. I tell you, Jack, it was the weirdest goddamn thing. I swore I could see right through her."

Jack felt himself swaying, and not because he was at sea. He closed his eyes.

"Did she have a dog with her?"

"Yeah. Ugliest mutt I've ever—"

In a flash Jack found himself next to Tom, grabbing his wrist and shouting.

"Why the hell didn't you tell me?"

Tom blinked at him, startled. "What's with you?"

"That was a warning, asshole!"

"From a teenage girl? Cut me a break!"

"That was no ordinary teenage girl. What did she say?"

"I told you—"

"Her exact words."

"Let go, for Christ sake. How'm I supposed to think with you grabbing me?"

Jack released Tom's wrist but didn't back off.

"I'm waiting."

"All right. She had this Jamaican accent and she said… let me see… T't'row it right back in de water, me.' Yeah. That was it."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

In the past sixth months four women with dogs had crossed his path—three of them old, one about his age. He'd gathered that they were all linked, but to what, he didn't know. Some had got him into trouble, others had warned him of trouble to come. He didn't know their agenda, but to a woman they all knew more about Jack's life than they should. And the last one, who'd called herself Herta, had had a tunnel through her, front to back, just like the one Tom had described in the black teenage girl—a girl with a dog.

-80:53

Tom saw Jack's hands tighten into fists. He wasn't going to hit him again, was he?