Hellfire

  When she and Phillip had finished with it, though, it would once again be the proudest building in Westover.

  Nothing and no one would stop them.

  Neither Conrad’s insane superstitions, nor Carolyn’s inane prattling, would ever convince her that the mill was anything but an ordinary building.

  And it was there—had always been there—to make money for the Sturgesses.

  Certainly there was nothing either shameful or evil in that.

  Hannah eyed Tracy suspiciously.

  “Isn’t it a little late to be switching a party?”

  Tracy sighed dramatically, and did her best to look as upset by the whole thing as Hannah seemed to be.

  “Well, of course it is,” she said. “But I can’t have my party without Alison Babcock, and she won’t be able to come on Sunday! So we’ll just have to have it on Saturday, instead.”

  “What about the other kids? What if they can’t come on Saturday?”

  “They can,” Tracy lied smoothly. “I’ve already talked to them, and they can all come on Saturday. I don’t see why you want to make such a big deal about it.”

  Hannah’s brows arched skeptically. “And just when did you talk to Miss Alison? The phone hasn’t rung here all morning.”

  Tracy’s eyes narrowed, and glinted dangerously. Who did Hannah think she was, anyway? Didn’t she know she was just a servant? “I called her. We were talking about something else, and she remembered. So I’ve been calling all the other kids ever since. Okay?”

  Hannah’s eyes went to the telephone extension on the counter, with its two buttons, one of which glowed when either of the telephone lines was in use. Then she saw Tracy silently daring her to challenge her words.

  “I’ll speak to Miss Carolyn about it,” she said, deciding there was no point in calling the lie. The girl already knew she’d been caught, and didn’t care.

  “That won’t be necessary,” Tracy said, her voice petulant, though her eyes glowed with her apparent victory. “Grandmother’s going to talk to Carolyn. And if Grandmother says it’s all right to change the party to Saturday, then it is. So just do it.”

  “Now see here,” Hannah began, but her words were suddenly cut off by a scream coming from outside.

  Turning away from Tracy, Hannah squinted out the window into the brightness of the morning.

  Beth was charging across the lawn, her face pale, and her hair streaming out behind her.

  “Hannah!” the little girl shouted. “Hannah! Mr. Smithers! Come quick! It’s Mom! Something’s happened to Mom!”

  6

  Carolyn opened her eyes, and for a moment thought she was in her room in the little house on Cherry Street. But that was impossible. She’d been on a trail below Hilltop, hiking with Beth. And then—

  Then what? She searched in her mind for details, and as she probed the recesses of her memory, her eyes fixed on the ceiling of the little room.

  A hospital room, painted the same pale green that her room on Cherry Street had always been.

  Hospital green, Beth had always called it, and now Carolyn had to admit she was right.

  Something in her mind clicked.

  She’d fainted.

  They had been on the path leading down from the mausoleum, and then they’d turned off to the left, along a steep side trail. After a few yards, they’d come to a little clearing, and while Beth explored, Carolyn had sat down to rest.

  She’d been looking out over the village, enjoying the view, and then, gradually, she’d begun to notice something at the far side of town. It seemed to her that it had crept slowly into her consciousness, but then, as she’d become aware of it, she’d found herself staring at the mill.

  It was burning.

  Clouds of smoke were billowing from it, and flames licked out from the windows.

  And even though the entire village separated her from the mill, she could hear screams, as if people were trapped inside.…

  The memory seemed to wobble in her mind, and Carolyn found herself struggling to keep it in focus.

  Struggling.

  That was it.

  She had struggled to her feet, and called out to Beth, and then the whole sky had seemed to turn black, as if smoke were covering it.

  And she had felt dizzy.

  After that, there were only fragments.

  Beth, calling to her, begging her to wake up.

  Then Hannah’s face, a mask of worry, looming above her.

  How had Hannah gotten there?

  Then hands, lifting her, carrying her.

  And now she was in the hospital.

  For the first time since waking, she tried to move, and immediately felt a warm pressure on her hand.

  “Don’t, honey.”

  At the unexpected sound of a voice, the memories faded out of her mind.

  Phillip’s voice. Why hadn’t she been aware that he was here? Had he been holding her hand all along? She turned her head slightly, and saw him, sitting by the bed, his blue eyes clouded with worry.

  “Phillip? How … how did I get here? What happened?”

  “You fainted. Hannah and Ben managed to get you back to the house, then had you brought down here.”

  “Hannah and Ben?” Carolyn repeated. “How did they—?”

  “You helped. You were half-conscious, and you kept talking about a fire. They said you seemed to think there was a brush fire or something.”

  Carolyn frowned. “No … no, it was something else.” Her hand tightened on Phillip’s. “It was the mill. I saw the mill burning.”

  “The mill? What on earth are you talking about?”

  Carolyn hesitated. Now that she thought about it, it seemed much more like a memory from a dream than something that had actually happened. “I … I don’t know. It was all so strange …” Her voice trailed off, and she glanced around the room. “Where’s Beth?”

  “Right outside,” Phillip replied. “I’ll get her.”

  A moment later her daughter appeared at the bedside, her eyes wide with worry. “Mom? Are you okay? I … I was afraid you’d—”

  “Died?” Carolyn chuckled, managing to lend her voice a strength she didn’t feel. “Not quite yet. Your old mother has a few more years in her.” She smiled, and hitched herself a little higher in the hospital bed. “But let me tell you, if that’s your idea of a fun little hike, you can get somebody else to go next time.”

  Phillip’s brows arched, and he winked at Beth. “Obviously she’s feeling better. All of a sudden it’s your fault.”

  Carolyn twisted her face into a grimace of comic indignation. “Well, you don’t expect me to take the blame, do you? I’m the one who wound up in the hospital. The least the two of you can do is make sympathetic noises and tell me it wasn’t my fault. Right?” she added, turning to her daughter.

  “Oh, absolutely,” Beth replied, nodding solemnly. “You were just standing there yelling at me, and pointing, so I thought, wouldn’t it be fun to make Mother faint? And you fell right over.”

  “See?” Carolyn asked Phillip. “That’s the kind of child every mother dreams of having.” Then her expression turned serious. “Beth, did you see anything? Just before I fainted, did you see anything happening down in the village?”

  Beth frowned uncertainly. “Like what?”

  “Well, it was strange,” Carolyn said. “I could have sworn that I saw the mill burning. You didn’t see anything like that?”

  Beth shook her head, then suddenly remembered what had happened up at the mausoleum before her mother had arrived. For a minute, while she’d been sitting in the marble chair, she had seen something like that. But before she could tell them about it, the door opened, and a doctor entered the room.

  Phillip immediately rose to his feet, but the doctor waved him back into his chair, turning to Carolyn with a little smile playing around the corners of his mouth.

  “Mrs. Sturgess,” he asked, “you and your daughter wouldn’t by any chance have been rabbit hunting this
morning, would you?”

  Carolyn blinked. Rabbit hunting? What on earth was he talking about?

  “Because if you were, the hunt was a success. You’ve killed a rabbit. Or, if you haven’t yet, I’m prepared to guarantee that you will.”

  Carolyn stared at the doctor, and slowly the light began to dawn. “You mean—I’m pregnant?”

  “Congratulations. And to you too, Mr. Sturgess.”

  Phillip’s eyes fixed on the doctor, then slowly shifted to his wife. “A baby?” he asked. “You and I are going to have a baby?”

  Carolyn nodded, suddenly feeling almost stupidly happy. “That’s what the man says,” she said, grinning foolishly. “You know—little tiny critters, with ten little fingers, and ten little toes? Keep you up late at night? That’s what he’s talking about.” Phillip looked dazed, and Carolyn’s surge of happiness was suddenly tinged with fear. What if he—

  But then his arms were around her, and he was hugging her close. “Who ever thought—I mean I just didn’t think—we never even talked about it!” Suddenly he drew away, and his forehead creased with worry. “Honey, is it all right with you?”

  Carolyn squeezed him hard. “Of course it’s all right with me. I can’t think of anything I’d rather do.”

  As Carolyn and Phillip gazed happily at each other, neither of them saw Beth slip quietly out of the room.

  * * *

  A baby.

  The idea of her mother and Uncle Phillip having a baby had never occurred to her before, and as Beth left the little Westover hospital, walking slowly along Prospect Street, her eyes fixed on the sidewalk in front of her, she wasn’t at all sure how she felt about it.

  It was bad enough living at Hilltop already. What would happen when there was a baby there, too?

  Her mother would spend all her time with the baby, and not have any time for her.

  Which wasn’t fair, and Beth knew it.

  In fact, now that she thought about it, she knew that she’d always wanted to have a baby brother. Or a sister—it hadn’t really mattered. But after her parents had gotten the divorce, she’d just sort of given up the idea.

  And then, when Carolyn had married Phillip Sturgess, it had just never entered her head that her mother might have another baby.

  Which was kind of a dumb thing to have thought, really. After all, lots of the kids in Westover had half-brothers and half-sisters. Why shouldn’t she?

  The more she thought about it, the more she liked the whole idea of it.

  Suddenly she felt better, and looked up to see that she’d walked almost four blocks. In the next block, the mill stood, looking dark and threatening even in the noontime sun.

  Beth stared at it for a few minutes, wondering what it was about the big old building that had always made her friends, especially the boys, talk about what might be inside it, and wonder what had really happened to the boy—Uncle Phillip’s brother—who had died in there long before they had even been born.

  To her, it was just an ugly building.

  Or anyway it had been, up until this morning.

  She started walking again, coming closer to the building, trying to figure out what the sun might have been reflecting off. But there didn’t seem to be anything. The windows were boarded over, and so were the massive doors, set back into the front of the building at the top of a short flight of stairs.

  But she had seen something that morning, and so had her mother.

  Her mother had said it looked as if the building were on fire.

  She stepped back, tipping her head up to gaze toward the roof line. As she reached the edge of the sidewalk, she bumped into a car.

  Her father’s car.

  But her father’s office was several blocks away. Why was his car here? She scanned the street, but saw nothing.

  Puzzled, she stared once more at the mill.

  Could her father be inside?

  She trotted up the steps, and carefully inspected the boards over the front door. All of them were nailed tight, and there didn’t seem to her to be any way to get in.

  And yet, even as she stood there, she could almost feel that the mill wasn’t empty.

  Her father had to be inside.

  She went back down the steps, and turned toward River Road. On that side of the building, she knew, there was another door—a big metal door—and she knew there was a padlock on it. Since she’d been six years old, every week at least one of the kids she knew had come down to check, always hoping that maybe this time, someone had left the lock open.

  She came to the corner of the building, and looked down the long brick wall.

  Halfway down to the railroad tracks, the door stood open.

  She broke into a run, and a moment later stood in the doorway, gazing into the gloomy interior of the abandoned factory.

  The silence of the building seemed to gather around her, and slowly Beth felt the beginnings of fear.

  And then she began to feel something else.

  Once again, she felt that strange certainty that the mill was not empty.

  “D-Daddy?” she called softly, stepping through the door. “Are you here?”

  She felt a slight trickle of sweat begin to slide down her spine, and fought a sudden trembling in her knees.

  Then, as she listened to the silence, she heard something.

  A rustling sound, from up above.

  Beth froze, her heart pounding.

  And then she heard it again.

  She looked up.

  With a sudden burst of flapping wings, a pigeon took off from one of the rafters, circled, then soared out through a gap between the boards over one of the windows.

  Beth stood still, waiting for her heartbeat to calm. As she looked around, her eyes fixed on the top of a stairwell at the far end of the building.

  He was downstairs. That’s why he hadn’t heard her. He was down in the basement.

  Resolutely, she started across the vast emptiness of the building. As she reached the middle of the floor, she felt suddenly exposed, and had an urge to run.

  But there was nothing to be afraid of. There was nothing in the mill except herself, and some birds.

  And downstairs, her father.

  After what seemed like an eternity, she reached the top of the stairs, and peered uncertainly into the darkness below.

  Her own shadow preceded her down the steep flight of steps, and only a little light spilled over the staircase to illuminate the nearer parts of the vast basement.

  “Daddy?” Beth whispered. But the sound was so quiet, even she could barely hear it.

  And then there was something else, coming on the heels of her own voice.

  Another sound, fainter than the one her own voice had made, coming from below.

  Something was moving in the darkness.

  Once again Beth’s heart began to pound, but she remained where she was, forcing back the panic that threatened to overcome her.

  Finally, when she heard nothing more, she moved slowly down the steps, until she could place a foot on the basement floor.

  She listened, and after a moment, as the darkness began closing in on her, the sound repeated itself.

  Panic surged through her. All her instincts told her to run, to flee back up the stairs and out into the daylight. But when she tried to move, her legs refused to obey her, and she remained where she was, paralyzed.

  Once again the sound came. This time, though it was almost inaudible, Beth thought she recognized a word.

  “Beeetthh …”

  Her name. It was as if someone had called her name.

  “D-Daddy?” she whispered again. “Daddy, is that you?”

  There was another silence, and Beth strained once more to see into the darkness surrounding her.

  In the distance, barely visible, she thought she could see a flickering of light.

  And then she froze, her voice strangling as the sound came again, like a winter wind sighing in the trees.

  “Aaaammmyyy …” br />
  Beth gazed fearfully into the blackness for several long seconds. Then, when the sound was not repeated, her panic began to subside. At last she was able to speak again, though her voice still trembled. “Is someone there?”

  In the far distance, the light flickered again, and she heard something else.

  Footsteps, approaching out of the darkness.

  The seconds crept by, and the light bobbed nearer.

  And once more, the whispering voice, barely audible, danced around her.

  “Aaaammmyyy …”

  “D-Daddy?” Beth called once more, her fear surging back. “Daddy, is that you?”

  The light stopped moving, and for a moment Beth felt a flash of fear. What if it wasn’t her father? What if it was someone else?

  And then, at last, she heard it.

  “Beth? Honey? What are you doing here?”

  Beth ran toward the light, and threw herself into her father’s arms.

  “Daddy! I—for a second, I was afraid it wasn’t you!”

  “Sweetheart! What are you doing here?” Alan asked again. He loosened himself from his daughter’s grip, then began leading her back toward the stairs.

  “I was walking home from the hospital, and I saw your car,” Beth began, her voice still quavering. But Alan interrupted her.

  “The hospital? What were you doing at the hospital?”

  Beth’s eyes widened in the darkness, and for a moment she wondered what she should say. But before she could make up her mind, she had blurted out the truth.

  “It was Mom. We were hiking, and all of a sudden she fainted. She … she’s going to have a baby!”

  There was a momentary silence, and then Alan said quietly, “Well, how about that. You finally get your wish.”

  They were at the bottom of the stairs now, and he switched off the flashlight. In the dim light that filtered down the stairwell, he looked into his daughter’s face. But instead of the happiness he had been expecting to see, there was something else. “Hey! You always wanted a baby brother or sister. Aren’t you happy about your mom being pregnant?”