Salem's Lot

47

Eva’s again-and at the last. It was ten minutes after six. The sun hung over the western pines, peering out of the broken clouds like blood.

Ben drove into the parking lot and looked curiously up at his room. The shade was not drawn and he could see his typewriter standing sentinel, and beside it, his pile of manuscript and the glass globe paperweight on top of it. It seemed amazing that he could see all those things from here, see them clearly, as if everything in the world was sane and normal and ordered.

He let his eyes drop to the back porch. The rocking chairs where he and Susan had shared their first kiss stood side by side, unchanged. The door which gave ingress to the kitchen stood open, as Mark had left it.

‘I can’t,’ Mark muttered. ‘I just can’t.’ His eyes were wide and white. He had drawn up his knees and was now crouched on the seat.

‘It’s got to be both of us,’ Ben said. He held out two of the ampoules filled with holy water. Mark twitched away from them in horror, as if touching them would admit poison through his skin. ‘Come on,’ Ben said. He had no arguments left. ‘Come on, come on.’

‘No.’

‘Mark?’

‘No!’

‘Mark, I need you. You and me, that’s all that’s left.’

‘I’ve done enough!’ Mark cried. ‘I can’t do any more! ‘Can’t you understand I can’t look at him?’

‘Mark, it has to be the two of us. Don’t you know that?’

Mark took the ampoules and curled them slowly against his chest. ‘Oh boy,’ he whispered. ‘Oh boy, oh boy.’ He looked at Ben and nodded. The movement of his head was jerky and agonized. ‘Okay,’ he said.

‘Where’s the hammer?’ he asked as they got out.

‘Jimmy had it.’

‘Okay.’

They walked up the porch steps in the strengthening wind. The sun glared red through the clouds, dyeing everything. Inside, in the kitchen, the stink of death was palpable and wet, pressing against them like granite. The cellar door stood open.

‘I’m so scared,’ Mark said, shuddering.

‘You better be. Where’s that flashlight?’

‘In the cellar. I left it when… ’

‘Okay.’ They stood at the mouth of the cellar. As Mark had said, the stairs looked intact in the sunset light. ‘Follow me,’ Ben said.