CHAPTER 17

“SO HOW DID you end up here—? ” started Wake.

“The cops released me after they picked me up at the trailer, ” said Barry, brushing off his Hawaiian shirt, a psychedelic, yellow silk print featuring pineapples and exploding volcanoes. “The sheriff was all apologies, but that FBI agent was a real ass. ”

“I’d have arrested you just on the basis of that shirt, ” said Wake.

“It’s a classic, ” said Barry. “Anyway, after the cops let me go, I get a call from that son of a bitch Hartman, who told me that you were here and I should come pick you up. When I got here, two goons clobbered me and locked me up. ”

“I’m trying to find Hartman’s office, ” said Wake.

“Knowing the right answers is my business. ” Barry pointed. “Two doors… Hey, wait up! ”

As Wake unlocked the door to Hartman’s office, the lights in the whole building flickered, went out, and then came back on. They didn’t seem as bright as they had been.

“We should get out of here, ” whispered Barry. “I’m not a fan of darkness. ”

“Soon, ” said Wake.

Hartman’s office was elegant and spacious, but too precise and neatly arranged for Wake’s taste. The two brown leather chairs were at the exact same angle from the end table between them. The pictures on the wall exactly horizontal. The long desk bare of anything except a fat Mont Blanc fountain pen lying diagonally across a prescription pad. A control freak’s paradise.

The large windows looked out onto the stone terrace and Cauldron Lake. Wake could see the darkness rolling across the choppy water, the sky boiling with storm clouds.

“What… are you looking for, Al? ” said Barry as Wake rifled through the desk drawers.

Wake pulled open the bottom drawer. He picked up his gun and flashlight, tucked them into his jacket. “This, ” he said, picking up the pile of manuscript pages. Some of them were dirty, mud smeared, some had been crumpled and smoothed out, and some of them seemed to have come fresh from the typewriter. Most were damp. He flicked a thumb through the pile. All the pages he had on him when he was thrown into the lake were here, all of them and more. Much more. He couldn’t wait until he had a chance to read through them.

“When this is all over, and we’re back home in the city, you might be able to turn those pages into a book, ” said Barry, wandering over to the bookcase that ran along one wall. One whole shelf contained multiple copies of Hartman’s book. “Might even be able to get a movie deal out of this mess. ”

“I just want to find Alice, ” said Wake. “Let’s go. ”

“Hang on…” Barry pawed through a whole shelf of tiny audiocassettes with the names of patients on them. “Hey, check this out. ” He handed Wake a cassette with the name Alice Wake written on it, the script prim.

Wake held the tape in the palm of his hand. It felt as light as a dandelion, but weighty somehow. Had Alice been a patient of Hartman’s? Wake felt light-headed. Not for the first time he wondered if he might be having a psychotic breakdown. Or if he was lying in a hospital bed somewhere after an accident, lost in a coma and dreaming this whole thing up. Wake examined the date written on the cassette case, saw that it had been recorded prior to him and Alice leaving New York. Wake felt relieved by the simple notation. Alice hadn’t been a patient; Hartman had simply recorded her phone calls to him, building a file before he ever met Wake.

The lights flickered again.

Wake saw another familiar name on the shelf: Agent Nightingale. The FBI agent who had chased him at the trailer park, the man who had tried to shoot him.

“There’s a guy who needs to see a headshrinker, ” said Barry, seeing the cassette. “Nightingale wanted to put me in prison just for knowing you. ”

Wake tucked both cassettes into his jacket, along with a microcassette player, which lay on top of the bookcase. Time enough to listen to the tapes later. He had his hand on the doorknob when he noticed the framed photo on the office wall: the staff of the lodge, all of them standing near the sundial outside the lodge, the lake behind them.

“What’s wrong, Al? ”

Wake tapped the man standing next to Hartman. “I know this guy. ” He checked the names below the photo, left to right. Ben Mott. He was the kidnapper. The one who pretended to have Alice. The one who had been carried away by the Dark Presence. Mott had been working for Hartman all along. Wake remembered him pleading with the darkness, telling it that they never had Alice, that the whole thing had been a trick to get Wake to cooperate.

“Yeah? ” said Barry. “Talk to me. ”

“Nothing, ” said Wake. “Just starting to figure things out. I’ll tell you later. ”

The door opened, and Hartman hurried in, cried out as he saw them. “You… you startled me, Mr. Wake. Lovely to see you too, Mr. Wheeler. ” He had regained control of his voice, but the doctor was still trembling. Wake didn’t think it was because of the sight of him and Barry.

“You really shouldn’t be in here, Alan. Not only is it a privacy violation, an ethical and legal breach, but it’s going to set back your recuperation. We need to trust each—”

“I know what you did, ” said Wake, so angry it felt like his skin was on fire. “I know about Mott. ”

“Mott? ”

Wake pulled out the pistol, shoved it into Hartman’s bland face, backing him up against the desk. “Tell me one more lie. Go ahead, do it. ”

Hartman’s face glistened with sweat, but he tried to shrug off the threat. ”No need for histrionics, Alan. Let’s work together on this. ”

“No, we can’t, ” said Wake, the gun steady in his hand.

“You’re too emotional, ” said Hartman. “Don’t you see? With your creative ability”—he plucked at the collar of his shirt—“and my own rather unique skillset, we can create something absolutely wonderful—”

Lightning flashed, and the thunder rumbled right behind it, seeming to shake the very foundations of the lodge. The overhead lights flickered and went out. This time they stayed out.

A roaring came off the lake now, louder than the thunder, beating against the windows of the office. Wake saw the glass dripping with shadows, darkening, the Dark Presence working its way inside now.

Wake pushed Barry toward the door, followed him into the hallway, and slammed the door behind them, leaning against it with his full weight.

Hartman beat against the door, screaming, trapped inside as the roaring in the office grew louder and louder. Wake recognized the sound Hartman was making, the high-pitched keening, that mix of absolute pain and absolute terror… he had heard the exact same cry from Mott at Mirror Peak as he was carried away by the Dark Presence.

Just as suddenly the roaring stopped, and there was only silence on the other side of the door.

Barry dragged Wake down the darkened hall. The sunset through the windows was the only light in the lodge now, turning the hallways and rooms red, as though the whole place was bleeding. Every few seconds the generator kicked in, the interior lights flickering before going dark again. Glass shattered downstairs. It sounded like furniture was being hurled against the walls. Voices cried out, some cursing, some praying, some… grunting, the sounds no longer human. Thunder rocked the lodge, rumbling the windows.

“Next year… next year you got to go someplace else for vacation, ” said Barry.

“Watch out for that stuff, ” said Wake, pointing at the black goo puddling on the landing, slowly trickling down the stairs, its surface slick and shiny in the sunset.

“What is it? ” said Barry.

“I don’t want to find out, ” said Wake, carefully going down the stairs, keeping to the edges. He tried the flashlight, then switched it off as they started down the stairs. Barry didn’t argue; he knew why Wake was saving the batteries.

The Lodge Hall was a raucous carnival in the dying light, shadows rippling across the ceiling, patients milling around while furniture floated in the air, heavy sofas and armoires drifting past as though made of cotton candy.

“Al…” said Barry, gawking as a table rose into the air. “Al, tell me you’re seeing what I’m seeing. ”

The Anderson brothers capered in the middle of the room, long, white hair flying in the darkness. They were singing something with great gusto, but Wake couldn’t make out the words.

Wake saw Birch, the beefy male nurse, howling as he stood in a pool of the black goo. Caught. He fell to his knees, blood leaking from his ears. Wake couldn’t be sure, but it seemed that the goo rose slowly, creeping up the man’s legs.

Barry tried to open the double doors to the veranda, but a love seat slithered across the room, knocking him aside and blocking the way.

Wake scampered away as a marble-topped end table hurtled toward him, crashing to chunks where he had stood.

“This way, ” Wake said, nodding at a door on the other side of the room.

Barry crossed toward him, then stood frozen as a file cabinet tumbled down the stairs and flew right at him.

Wake turned on the flashlight, the beam hitting the file cabinet, slowing it until it stopped a few inches from Barry’s nose.

“Al? ” Barry stared at the file cabinet, rotating slowly in the faint red light. “Al? ”

Wake kept the flashlight on the file cabinet until it flared and disintegrated.

Barry sagged, breathing deeply as he walked toward him.

“I don’t like it here, Al. I didn’t like it when I was locked up… I like it even less now. ”

The television was on, the picture flickering. It was the man in the cabin again, still typing, the same one Wake had seen at Stucky’s gas station. Wake recognized him clearly now. It was himself.

“Al, what are you staring at? ”

Wake reached out, turned the sound up so he could hear over the noise in the room.

“There’s a shadow inside my head. I can only focus on writing, everything else is a blur, ” the man on TV said, his back toward Wake. “I’m trapped in this cabin… always dark outside. ”

“Al, we got to move! ”

“I think I’ve made a horrible mistake, ” said the man, his frantic typing half-drowning out his words. “It’s been lying to me, using me to get the story it wants. ”

“Hey! ” Barry jerked Wake aside as a heavy ceramic umbrella stand flew past the spot where Wake had been standing.

The TV fizzled to black.

“Thanks… thanks, Barry, ” said Wake, shaking off a strange lethargy. He was himself again. Right here, right now.

The furniture moved more rapidly now, as though the Dark Presence had been stirred into awareness of them. Couches and armchairs, tables and bookcases, swirling around the room, tumbling end over end, a vortex of shadows.

Wake used his flashlight twice more on their way to the other side of the room, disintegrating a cast-iron plant stand and a floor lamp that threatened to pierce him like a cocktail weenie. Barry had just slipped out the door when a huge china cabinet crashed in front of the doorway, blocking it. The roaring in the room was louder now. Wake turned the flashlight on the china cabinet, but a sofa dropped onto it, making the barrier even more impassible.

“Al! ” shouted Barry, the Hawaiian shirt rippling in the wind like a flag.

“Keep going! ” called Wake over the sound of the storm. “I’ll find another way out! ”

Shadows slowly filled the room, a deeper darkness flowing down the stairs like a tide of diesel oil. Wake raced across the room, dodging furniture and a shadowy carpet that tried to wrap itself around his legs. Once he accidentally stepped into a small puddle of black goo that had oozed up through the hardwood floor. He felt the strength drain from him as though his bones had turned to water, felt a searing headache twist through his skull. The worst part wasn’t the pain or the nausea, though, it was the voice in his head, the voice pleading with him not to go, to stay. Alice’s voice.

Wake tore himself away, staggered free of the goo, almost collapsing. He kept going. He didn’t believe the voice anymore, not when it told him to stay with the darkness.

The twilight was feeble now, cut through with lightning flashes, but it was enough illumination for Wake to find his way across the room, enough to reach a small side door out of Cauldron Lake Lodge and onto the grounds.

Wake ran down the stone steps. He could hear the windows of the lodge blowing out behind him.

“Over here, Al! I found my car! ”

Wake saw Barry pressed against the other side of the locked security fence that surrounded the lodge property.

“Al, go through the maze, ” called Barry. “The parking lot is on the other side. My car is still there! ”

Wake stood outside the formal entrance to the hedge maze, hedges at least eight feet tall. Great thing for Hartman to install at his little mental institution. A little R and R for the patients. Nothing like frustration, fear, and an overwhelming sense of helplessness to make a person with psychological problems cling to their doctor. He wobbled on his feet, thought twice about entering the maze.

“It’s not that hard, ” shouted Barry. “You can do it! ”

“Like I have a choice, ” Wake muttered. He looked back at the lodge, saw it covered in shadows, the darkness flaring as it crawled over the roof, the balconies, dripping down the walls. Wake turned away and hurried into the maze.

It was dark in the maze, darker than the twilight, and Wake needed his flashlight. The batteries were weaker now. He took the first right-hand turn, then a left, trying to maintain a sense of direction.

The wind had died, the loudest sound in the maze was the crunching of his feet on the gravel path and his own heavy breathing. The maze was unkempt, the hedges overgrown; weeds poked through the gravel, the patches of gray slate flagstones were cracked, and there was trash in the corners. He bumped into the bushes. Snapped on the light. A dead end.

He retraced his steps and took the opposite turn at the next intersection. A wheelbarrow was overturned, its cargo of potted plants dead and shriveled. Wake half expected to come upon a skeleton at the next turn, a patient who had attempted to navigate the maze and never made it out.

Another dead end.

Wake tried to stay calm, but it wasn’t easy. He turned off the flashlight for a moment, needing to prove to himself that he could do it, that he wasn’t afraid. If he gave in, if he let the fear take hold, he would end up racing back and forth until he collapsed from exhaustion. He had come too far to give in to the fear now. He could be scared later. He could curl up into a fetal position, suck his thumb, and beg for a blankie some other time. After he found Alice. Wake stood there, looking around in the moonlight, trying to decide which way to go.

A horn sounded. Three short beeps. Wake grinned. Leave it to Barry to try and help him find his way out.

Wake did his best to follow the Barry’s periodic horn beeps, but it seemed like he was going around in circles. He took a left, kept walking, then took the next right.

He didn’t remember how long he had been searching for a way out of the maze, when he noticed something odd. His footsteps on the gravel path were… echoing, which was crazy.

Wake walked on. Stopped. Started walking again. The sound was definitely doubled. It wasn’t until he heard the low guttural voice that he realized what was really happening. He wasn’t alone in the maze. Someone was tracking him. You don’t sleep for a few days, you miss the clues, Wake, he told himself. He switched the flashlight on, took out the pistol, and ran.

Beep beep beep! It sounded like Barry was just a few rows over.

Wake took a right, a right, tripped over a broken ceramic birdbath, and sprawled face-down in the gravel, the flashlight going out as it skidded away from him.

“You can have the TV on, if you don’t fight about the channels! ” The voice came from the other side of the hedge, a manic voice, the words oddly inflected.

Wake quietly fumbled around for the flashlight, the gravel was noisy under his fingers.

“You get two pills in the morning and then you’ll be nice and calm all day long. ” The voice was moving the same direction that Wake was going, but the Taken had made a mistake. That row led to a dead end. Wake had time to get out.

Eager now, Wake scuttled forward on his hands and knees, sweeping around for the flashlight.

“What are you doing out of bed? Doctor Hartman will be so disappointed! ”

That voice… it shouldn’t be where it was. Wake’s hand closed over the flashlight, and he shined it upwards, saw a man covered in shadows scuttling atop the hedges.

The man launched himself off the hedges, landed heavily in front of Wake. “Three pills in the evening, and you’ll sleep like a baby. ”

There was something in his hand.

Wake turned the flashlight on the man, saw the shadows smolder before the light went out. Time enough for him to see that it was Birch, had been Birch, anyway, and he was holding a pair of hedge clippers. Wake beat the flashlight against the palm of his hand, as the Taken advanced, the clippers going snip, snip, snip.

“Stop struggling! ” Snip, snip, snip. “We’re all friends here. This is just part of the therapy. ” Snip, snip, snip.

Wake smacked the flashlight against his hand harder and harder, trying to get it to work.

Snip, snip, snip, closer now, as Birch crunched across the gravel.

Wake whacked the flashlight and the light blazed. Blinking, he shined it directly in Birch’s face, the Taken close enough to touch.

It winced, the shadows sliding away, falling away, shimmering in the light. Wake kept the flashlight on the Taken as he shot it in the face. Shot it again and again, until it dissolved like dust motes sparkling, and Wake remembered the dust he had seen this morning, waking up with Hartman standing over him. He wondered where Hartman was now. Wondered if he was a Taken now too.

Beeeeeeeeeeeeep!

The sound shook Wake out of his reverie, started him moving again. He heard someone behind him again. No… more than one. He skidded around a turn, digging in, sprinted down the right-hand path.

Beep beep beep.

Wake could hear voices of the other Taken behind him, others lost in the maze, hopping hedges. He burst out of the row, saw the exit and Barry in the parking lot, waving to him from the car.

Beeeeeeeeep.

Wake almost tore off the door on the passenger’s side in his haste to get inside.

He sat there panting, unable to catch his breath as Barry drove away. Feeling an itch at the back of his neck, Wake suddenly turned around.

A Taken stood just inside the maze, watching the car, watching Wake, the creature covered so thickly with darkness that whoever he had been was unrecognizable now.

Wake glanced in the rearview mirror as Barry drove out of the parking lot. The Taken still stood there, as though he had all the time in the world.

When Thomas Zane fell for Barbara Jagger, it happened fast. She was young, vibrant and beautiful, full of life. He had never been a very happy man, and without any seeming effort she had changed all that. Zane felt good for the first time in his life. Everything she did was another piece of a jigsaw puzzle he hadn’t even known he’d been missing. And best of all, she made the words flow, strong and sharp. She was his muse.

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