Broken we need to worry about. You're probably just imagining it anyway. People can't see Skias. We have no way of knowing where they are."
"That's not true," Link protested smugly, happy to finally know something that Tom didn't, "at least, not entirely. I've seen some pretty messed up stuff. And I've been having these dreams."
Mrs. Kidacki looked concerned. "Dreams?"
"Whatever. Dreams could mean anything," Tom said.
"Okay, smart guy. Then why did I see the Skia from the picture in my dream before we caught him?" Then before Tom could respond, Link pushed the point, "Besides, even if you don't believe me, how do you explain my brother? He saw them. And I'm not talking a quick glimpse, either. He's the reason we were able to trap that Skia in the first place."
"What?" The color in Mrs. Kidacki's face paled. "Are you telling me that Ayden can see the Skias even when he is awake?"
"Why? Is that good or bad?"
"Lincoln, if your brother can see them, that means... Dear Lord, it has begun already!" Scrutinizing Link with an accusatory stare, Mrs. Kidacki said, "Why didn't you tell me this earlier?"
Link was startled by the unexpected tremor in her voice, "I...well, I didn't know it was important."
"Not important?" Mrs. Kidacki turned to Tom, whose mouth hung open like a dead fish. "Go, Tom! What are you waiting for? Save him! I'll contact Max. Maybe he'll know what to do. I can't believe this is happening on my watch."
"But, Nana, don't you remember what happened the last time we tried to contact Max?"
"Doesn't matter. Just go! Now!"
An ear-splitting scream from downstairs interrupted their discussion. "Help!" a voice cried. It sounded like Celia.
"They're in trouble!" Link said. He clumsily stuffed his mother's journal into his pocket. Then both he and Tom raced past Mrs. Kidacki to the stairs. Link's legs felt all wobbly and uncoordinated. The high levels of adrenaline that pumped through his body forced them to work faster than his brain would allow. For the first few stairs, he managed to control them. But with only four steps left, Link's right foot snagged one of the treads, and he tripped, falling face first down the stairs.
Link instinctively curled his body inward to prevent himself from smashing the camera. Instead, the position pushed his arm back and pinned it against the banister. Then, it catapulted his hand up, forcing him to release the camera. The momentum sent him careening down the remainder of the stairs. His body came to an abrupt stop as he collided into the heavy front door.
Acutely aware of the pain, Link heard a second smash as the camera struck the wall before landing on a thick, braided rug.
Dazed, but still conscious, Link struggled to regain his feet. Tom, who was only a few steps behind him at the time of the fall, grabbed Link's arm and pulled him to his feet.
"You okay? That was quite a fall you-"
Tom's words were interrupted by another scream: this time it came from the kitchen. Link ran over to the camera and snatched it off the ground, all the while praying that the fall hadn't damaged it.
The two boys bounded into the kitchen and quickly located Ayden, cowering behind Celia. The pair of them slowly backed away from something in the far corner of the room.
Celia brandished a large, wooden rolling pin as if it were a sword. She tried to act tough, but her face was pale, and her hands trembled.
At first, the pots and pans that hung on the rack above the kitchen island obscured the assailant. But they did little to mask the overwhelming stench of decaying flesh. A wave of stink, reeking of death, nauseated the boys as they saw firsthand why Celia had screamed. Lurking on the far side of the kitchen, the most enormous polar bear Link had ever seen pressed its massive back against the sink.
The bear snarled and curled what little lip it had left. The hulking beast looked more dead than alive. The scant patches of bristling white fur did a poor job of concealing the decomposed flesh underneath. Empty ocular cavities provided obvious rationale for the bear's incessant snuffling of the air.
The bear's ravenous growls made it clear that it was not looking for new friends. This bear wanted death. It flexed its muscles and curled its fearsome, six-inch claws upon the cool kitchen tiles, making a horrible scratching noise. The bear waited, its body tight, like it was about to spring.
Suddenly, a discordant chorus of voices began swirling through the air. They came from everywhere, from nowhere. Hundreds, maybe thousands, of different voices, both animal and human, faded in and out of earshot. They undulated around the room in lazy waves. The voices alternated between loud and soft screams of agony, bounced off hard surfaces, and then ricocheted in all directions. It was as if the blind bear was using some sort of demonic echolocation to track its prey.
The hideous cacophony paralyzed Link with indecision. It crippled his capacity for thought and demolished any pillar of reason upon which he could devise a plan.
Without warning, the bear rose onto its haunches and roared a challenge of contempt, of rage, of taunting. At its full height, the beast had only inches to spare beneath the kitchen's vaulted ceiling. Fortunately for Link, the bear's ferocious roar jolted his sensibilities. He quickly raised the camera, aimed the shot, and clicked. When nothing happened, he clicked again. Still nothing. Now frantic, he checked the camera to make certain it was on before he tried again.
The bear returned to all fours with a thunderous crash. Its head pivoted into the direction of the clicking noises produced by Link's panicked attempts to resuscitate the camera. With the bear distracted, Celia hurled the rolling pin at the bear's head. As soon as she let go, she grabbed Ayden's hand and never looked back. The pair sprinted toward Link and Tom, who were busily pulling iron skillets from the rack. Instead of striking the bear as Celia intended, the rolling pin sailed harmlessly through the air. Then it crashed through the kitchen window before finally landing somewhere on the lawn outside.
The bear turned its head and sniffed, inspecting the loud noise as the small group fled into the basement. Link slammed the door at the top of the stairs. Once the bear figured out what had happened, it roared. If possible, it sounded even angrier than it had before.
Thuds from its massive paws reverberated around the room. The bear's enormous claws tore against the ground. They struggled to gain purchase against the tile floor, now slick from the blood and puss that seeped from its partially exposed organs. Link bolted the door to his room. He willed the lock to hold but knew instinctively that it wouldn't. He doubted any door was strong enough to keep that monster out.
"Tom!" he screamed. "Lean against the door! We can't let it in! There's no way out of here!"
For the first time that day, Tom had nothing pithy to say in reply. He hurriedly did as he was instructed.
Smash!
The door shook with the impact of the bear's weight, knocking Tom back. He barely managed to avoid plummeting down the stairs by grabbing hold of the handrail. He pulled himself back up and resumed his position with his shoulder propped against the door. There was a brief pause. The bear struck the door again. This time Tom and Link were ready, and they succeeded in maintaining their balance. Barely.
"Celia, hide with Ayden underneath the bed!" Link shouted.
Celia threw her hands upon her hips in defiance. "Why do I have to hide? Just because I'm a-"
"Celia!" Tom and Link both shouted.
The bear punched the wood again. This time the tip of one of its razor-sharp claws pierced the solid door, missing Link's shoulder by less than an inch. After withdrawing its claw, the bear swatted the door even harder. The force of its paw pummeled the paneled frame which shook as if it were made of balsa wood. Plaster dust erupted in a cloud of smoke from either side of the door. Link and Tom sputtered and wheezed as they struggled to catch their breath. Three claws punctured the door. The bear withdrew them and left behind a hole the size of a CD.
Apparently encouraged by this progress, the bear stuck its snout into the hole. It snapped at the boys but was unable to open its
mangled jaws wide enough to reach them. Swathes of bloody skin stuck to the splintered wood and ripped free as the bear removed its gaping maw from the jagged opening. Undeterred, the bear tore larger chunks of wood from the ever-expanding hole.
"What should we do?" Tom asked. "We can't just stand here. That thing's breaking through!"
Link heaved his body up against the frame, careful to avoid the hole. "Where the hell would a polar bear come from anyway?"
"Nana told me to look for dead things!" Tom yelled. "I thought she meant people! I already said I was sorry."
The bear ripped another piece of wood off the door and was now able to stick its entire head into the gap. Still babbling excuses, Tom whacked the bear's head with the large skillet. The hit only rekindled the bear's homicidal rage. It gnashed its teeth in protest and pushed its bulk against the weakening door. Link heard the wood splinter as it bowed beneath the bear's weight.
"But a polar bear? Why would a polar bear be in my house?" Link said, as he took his turn thumping the bear's head with an iron skillet. Like Tom's earlier attempts, the bear treated the skillets as little more than an annoying gnat, buzzing around its head.
A large split, which began a few inches from the base of the door, began to snake upward for a few prolonged seconds. Tom and Link watched in horror as the door finally split in two.
With nothing between them and the bear, Link's life