Invisible Terror Collection Part 38

"Hey, Beck," Philip called from inside, "how's everything going?"

"Could be better."

"I hear you." He s.h.i.+fted, and more rocks slipped from underneath the Jeep. "Any ideas what to do?"

"You can't make it over to this pa.s.senger window?" Ryan asked.

"Not without everything giving way."

"What if I were to reach in and grab you? What if I grab you, you hang on, and I pull you through the window?"

"You mean while the Jeep's falling?" Philip tried to laugh, but it came out more like a semi-hysterical giggle. More rocks slid away.

"I don't see any other way." Ryan turned to Becka for confir-mation. Her mind was churning a thousand miles an hour, looking for an alternative plan, but he was right. The Jeep's granite perch looked as though it would give way at any moment. There was no other plan.

"And if your hands slip?" Philip asked.

"I guess you'll just have to trust me. Time to have a little faith, ol' buddy."

"This isn't another one of your sermons, is it?" Ryan grinned. "Could be."

"Could be I should just stay put." Philip coughed and the Jeep creaked precariously. "Then again ..." He swallowed hard and gave a recap. "Okay, let me get this straight.

I leap across the cab and grab your hand."

"Check."

"That movement sends the Jeep over the cliff."

"Probably."

"But you hang on and pull me through the window as it's falling."

"You got it."

There was a long pause. Ryan and Becka exchanged glances.

It was risky, to say the least. But what else could they do?

Finally, Philip answered. "Okay."

"All right." Ryan repositioned his feet on the granite for the best stance.

Becka reached out and grabbed Ryan's belt with her free hand, clinging to the bush with the other.

"Beck?"

"Yeah, Philip?"

"Would you, uh ... I mean ... would you mind like saying a little prayer?"

Becka was surprised. Then nervous. The last thing in the world she liked to do was to pray out loud. Especially in front of friends. She glanced to the handful of people up on the road. Or in front of crowds.

Still, this was no time for cowardice.

"Sure, Phil," she said, her voice coming out a little hoa.r.s.e.

More rocks gave way.

"Could you do it, like, soon?"

Becka didn't close her eyes. She looked straight ahead and concentrated on the dirt in front of her. "Dear Lord." She cleared her throat. "Lord, we just ask that you help us do this right. Give Ryan the strength to hang on, and Philip ... give him the faith to let go and jump. In your name, Jesus ... Amen." Ryan muttered a quiet "Amen." Though she wasn't sure, Becka thought she heard one come from Philip too.

"Well." Philip took a deep breath. "You guys ready?" Ryan tested his footing one last time and reached his hand into the window. "Let's do it."

"You sure you've forgiven me about that black eye?" Philip said, unable to resist one last chuckle. "Because if you haven't, maybe we should - "

Without further warning, the last of the loose granite slipped away. The Jeep started to slide.

"Philip!" Becka cried.

"Jump!" Ryan shouted. "Jump!"

Philip froze.

"What are you waiting for? Jump!"

The Jeep was sliding away. Without thinking, Ryan lunged into the window.

"Ryan!" Becka screamed as the car's motion pulled him from her grasp. She leaped toward him, grabbing with both hands.

She caught his legs and hit the ground. She would not let go. She hung on, pulling him back out of the window as the Jeep continued to slide. She could hear him cry out as the door sc.r.a.ped across his stomach, then banged its way up his ribs, but she hung on until he emerged.

He wasn't alone.

Ryan had grabbed Philip and was hanging on as stubbornly as Becka. His hands were locked on to Philip's wrists in a death grip.

The Jeep continued sliding.

Becka was pulled across the rocky ledge. She still held on to Ryan, who still held on to Philip. Now it was Philip's turn to scream as his upper body sc.r.a.ped through the open window - but his legs still weren't free, and the force of the Jeep's descent pulled all three along the granite toward the precipice.

Becka tried to dig in her feet, her knees, her elbows, anything to slow them down. Ryan did likewise until Philip managed to kick his way out through the window, and he was free - just as the Jeep reached the edge and slipped over, doing a graceful one-and-a-half gainer seventy-five feet into oblivion.

But the trio was still moving. Their momentum on loose stones and gravel made it impossible to stop. All three dug in - flesh and bone against gravel and rock - and cried out in pain. They slowed, then, finally, mercifully, came to a stop. They lay there, bleeding and panting, gasping for air, white billows of breath hovering over their heads. Below, they heard the Jeep explode as it hit bottom.

The noise had barely faded before they heard another sound.

One that was much more chilling. A scream. It was distant. Deep in the woods, across the road. And there was no doubt who it was.

They stumbled to their feet. There were plenty of bruises and cuts and sc.r.a.pes to go around, but there was no time to whine about them.

Another scream.

They scampered up the soft slope to the road, Philip in the lead, Becka and Ryan on his heels.

Chapter 10.

The three ran for all they were worth, crossing the road and starting up a steep, winding driveway. The driveway snaked this way and that for two or three hundred yards. At last they rounded the final turn - and came to a sudden halt.

There was a house in front of them. Well, the skeleton of a house. It was a big, three-story job that was in the process of being built by somebody with lots of bucks. The beams and floors were in, but the walls were only framed, so they could still see through them.

But it wasn't the house that had brought them up short. It was the giant craft hovering fifty feet above them. Philip, Rebecca, and Ryan stood there, staring in disbelief. It was huge. At least the size of a football field. Round, silvery gray with tiny red, green, and yellow lights flas.h.i.+ng along the outside. It seemed to hang motionless and absolutely silent.

Ryan was the first to find his voice. "Do you think it's real?"

"What do you mean, 'real'?" Philip asked.

"I mean, is it material or is it ..." His voice dropped off.

"Or is it what?" Philip demanded.

Becka answered, "Spiritual."

Philip looked at her. "You think all this stuff is spiritual?" Becka continued watching the craft as Ryan explained, "Krissi's automatic writing, her bizarre behavior, her channeling that so-called alien; that's all basic occult junk." Becka continued, "Remember the demon who pretended to be an angel?" Becka said. "How he kept speaking through Julie and telling you how cool all this was supposed to be?"

Philip nodded, his mind clicking as he put the pieces together.

He remembered all too well the demonic showdown up at the Hawthorne mansion just a few weeks before. That had been his and Krissi's first experience with the supernatural - and Krissi's first episode of automatic handwriting. His memories of the demon disguised as an angel were equally clear. It had spoken through Julie, telling them how blessed they were to be chosen for this encounter. Philip might not understand it all, but he was painfully clear on one point: He definitely was not feeling blessed.

He took a deep breath to steady himself. "Well, demon or not, Krissi needs our help." He started toward the house.

Ryan caught his arm. "Philip, if this stuff isn't physical, you can't fight it physically."

"What do you mean?"

"You can't do it with muscle or with that fancy brain of yours.

You've got to fight the spiritual with the spiritual. You've got to fight it with faith."

"No sweat," Philip said, forcing a smile. "Besides, I have you two along, right?"

There was another scream. Philip spun around and looked up to see a light shoot from the bottom of the craft. It struck something he couldn't see up on the top floor of the house.

There was another scream. Just as desperate, but more hopeless.

Philip bolted for the house.

"Philip, wait up!"

He didn't. He couldn't. In fact, he picked up his pace. If Ryan and Becka wanted to help, great. If not, he'd have to do it on his own. He knew all about faith. He'd had it back at the Jeep when he lunged for Ryan's hand, when he wouldn't let go. He'd had faith in Ryan; now he'd have to have faith in himself.

He arrived at the house and stepped though the front framed wall. The dim outline of steps was directly ahead of him. He took them two at a time. There was another scream, followed by pathetic whimpering. His heart pounded harder. She was above him, up on the third level, where the light was s.h.i.+ning.

"Hang on, Krissi. Hang on!"

He reached the second floor, then found the next set of stairs.

They were a little trickier to climb, since the steps hadn't been nailed down. A few slipped and fell, but he took little notice as he scrambled up to the third and final floor.

When he emerged, he was blinded by the light. But it wasn't s.h.i.+ning on him. The beam was directed some thirty feet away, blasting down on a makes.h.i.+ft table - a sheet of plywood stretched between two sawhorses. Six, maybe seven, little creatures huddled around the table. Creatures exactly like the one that had appeared in the cabin doorway. And they were all staring and examining ...

"Krissi!" Philip cried.

She tried to move, to turn and look at him, but something held her down. There were no ropes, no straps. Somehow the light itself held her in place.

He started toward her. Moving across the floor was dangerous since there were only a few loose sheets of plywood laid on the bare joists. But Philip never slowed. He wasn't sure what the creatures were, but they looked small enough for him to take out two or three at a time if he had to. From the way they refused to step aside, it looked as though he might have to.

He was a dozen feet away when one of them raised its hand. A blow struck Philip in the chest. It was as powerful as a karate kick.

He staggered back into a wall brace and leaned there a moment, trying to catch his breath.

Ignoring him, the creatures kept their attention on Krissi.

"No!" Krissi screamed. "No, please ..." That was all it took. Philip lunged forward, racing toward them.

The first creature looked up and again raised its hand.

This time the blow felt like a Mack truck smas.h.i.+ng into him, but instead of throwing Philip into the wall, it lifted and hurled him against a beam in the ceiling. He gasped as the air rushed from his lungs. He tried to move, but something kept pus.h.i.+ng him up against the beam. No one held him, nothing touched him - but some invisible force kept pressing his chest, refusing to let him down.

He looked desperately at Krissi. She was deathly pale in the white light. She twisted and screamed as the creatures poked and prodded with various silvery instruments. Her eyes were crazed with fear.

She spotted Philip. "Help me!" she screamed. "Make them stop!"

Using every ounce of his strength, Philip tried to move, but he couldn't. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Ryan and Becka at the top of the stairs. Becka looked like she was trembling. It could have been from the cold, but Philip didn't think so.

They stood a moment, checking out the situation. Philip wanted to shout at them to hurry, to do something - but he couldn't breathe well enough to whisper, let alone shout. Then he saw Becka take a deep breath, and something began to settle over her. He couldn't put his finger on what it was, but ... well, it was a type of boldness. It wasn't something she worked up. There just seemed to be a power that came over her, out of the blue ... naturally, quietly. Philip knew Becka hadn't wanted another confrontation like this, but when she took a step forward, he saw a determination - a confidence - filling her face.

She spoke, her voice full of quiet authority. "In the name of Jesus Christ, I command you to stop this!" The creatures spun around, startled.

Becka didn't flinch.