shall we?”
He pushed the handle down and the door swung aside, letting in a breath of cool air scented with blood. Strangely colored light strobed through.
Amon jumped through first, scraps of flesh and ash powdering off of its body.
Andy looked through.
“It’s dark.”
Jack pulled out his lighter, handing it over. Andy flicked it alight.
“The Scandinavian Library? Edward—”
“Hurry,” the big man urged. Andy stepped through. Jack followed, sidestepping to avoid a puddle of gore. A moment later, Todd was next to him, and the door to hell was gone.
The lighter’s miniscule glow revealed little of the old ranch house room. Books were scattered over the floor, along with a number of jagged shards of glass. Andy groped for the wall and flicked the light switch. Nothing happened.
“Are there any candles in here?” he asked.
“I don’t think so,” Jack replied, trying to remember what had been among the many antiques on display in the library. “Graeme smoked a pipe, though. He might have matches in his desk.”
“Which would be where?”
“Right now? I couldn’t say. It used to be by the front door.”
Andy walked to one of the windows and looked out.
“Dear God.” He pulled out his cell phone and punched a few buttons, listened, and then shook his head. “911 is busy. Do you have your phone, Jack?”
Jack felt in his pocket, then shook his head. “Must have left it in the apartment.” He gingerly moved through the cluttered room, slipping on books and loose glass, and joined his friend.
The campus was still pitch black, but the faint moonlight was enough to reveal a parking lot torn to shreds, police cars overturned, and motionless bodies sprawled beneath chunks of broken pavement. Faint lights bobbed in the distance—people carrying flashlights, Jack guessed.
He glanced back at the cars again.
“Hold on,” he said, making his way to the front door. He forced it out of its half-collapsed jamb and walked down broken wooden stairs to the wreckage in the lot.
The first officer was dead, sprawled next to an ominous-looking crater in the earth. His torso had been torn in half and blood was spattered over the concrete. Jack closed his eyes and crossed himself, thinking about the giant earth-serpents.
Keeping his eyes averted from the corpse, he negotiated the broken pavement to one of the tilted police cars. Its windows were broken and its trunk crushed. He slid over the angled hood to the driver’s side.
Safety glass bent under his leather jacket as he reached through the cracked window and fumbled for the engine keys. He turned them and flipped the headlights on.
White beams hit the side of the ranch house.
Jack looked around. One of the officers looked intact. He felt for a pulse, found it, and tugged the man into a more comfortable position on the front porch. Deciding there wasn’t much more he could do, he headed back into the house.
The headlights illuminated the room in stark black and white. The creature Todd called Amon hid in a shadow, whispering to itself and picking bits of flesh off its thighs. Todd was looking around, studying the damage the earthquake had wrought on the little house.
“All right,” Jack said, stepping over a broken table to rejoin his friend. “Why are we here, what’s going on, and who the hell are you?”
“Or what,” Andy added.
“We’re here because the probabilities were high that this building hadn’t been destroyed by the serpent and that it would provide us with an answer to our questions,” Todd explained, his voice calm. “However, I don’t know why it wasn’t destroyed or what here will provide the information we need. The higher the probability, the less chance I have of understanding what it means: that’s my own version of the uncertainty principle.”
“We don’t need them,” Amon hissed, its mirrored eyes flashing white in the headlights. “They serve the b'nei elohim.”
“And you don’t, I take it,” Andy
He pushed the handle down and the door swung aside, letting in a breath of cool air scented with blood. Strangely colored light strobed through.
Amon jumped through first, scraps of flesh and ash powdering off of its body.
Andy looked through.
“It’s dark.”
Jack pulled out his lighter, handing it over. Andy flicked it alight.
“The Scandinavian Library? Edward—”
“Hurry,” the big man urged. Andy stepped through. Jack followed, sidestepping to avoid a puddle of gore. A moment later, Todd was next to him, and the door to hell was gone.
The lighter’s miniscule glow revealed little of the old ranch house room. Books were scattered over the floor, along with a number of jagged shards of glass. Andy groped for the wall and flicked the light switch. Nothing happened.
“Are there any candles in here?” he asked.
“I don’t think so,” Jack replied, trying to remember what had been among the many antiques on display in the library. “Graeme smoked a pipe, though. He might have matches in his desk.”
“Which would be where?”
“Right now? I couldn’t say. It used to be by the front door.”
Andy walked to one of the windows and looked out.
“Dear God.” He pulled out his cell phone and punched a few buttons, listened, and then shook his head. “911 is busy. Do you have your phone, Jack?”
Jack felt in his pocket, then shook his head. “Must have left it in the apartment.” He gingerly moved through the cluttered room, slipping on books and loose glass, and joined his friend.
The campus was still pitch black, but the faint moonlight was enough to reveal a parking lot torn to shreds, police cars overturned, and motionless bodies sprawled beneath chunks of broken pavement. Faint lights bobbed in the distance—people carrying flashlights, Jack guessed.
He glanced back at the cars again.
“Hold on,” he said, making his way to the front door. He forced it out of its half-collapsed jamb and walked down broken wooden stairs to the wreckage in the lot.
The first officer was dead, sprawled next to an ominous-looking crater in the earth. His torso had been torn in half and blood was spattered over the concrete. Jack closed his eyes and crossed himself, thinking about the giant earth-serpents.
Keeping his eyes averted from the corpse, he negotiated the broken pavement to one of the tilted police cars. Its windows were broken and its trunk crushed. He slid over the angled hood to the driver’s side.
Safety glass bent under his leather jacket as he reached through the cracked window and fumbled for the engine keys. He turned them and flipped the headlights on.
White beams hit the side of the ranch house.
Jack looked around. One of the officers looked intact. He felt for a pulse, found it, and tugged the man into a more comfortable position on the front porch. Deciding there wasn’t much more he could do, he headed back into the house.
The headlights illuminated the room in stark black and white. The creature Todd called Amon hid in a shadow, whispering to itself and picking bits of flesh off its thighs. Todd was looking around, studying the damage the earthquake had wrought on the little house.
“All right,” Jack said, stepping over a broken table to rejoin his friend. “Why are we here, what’s going on, and who the hell are you?”
“Or what,” Andy added.
“We’re here because the probabilities were high that this building hadn’t been destroyed by the serpent and that it would provide us with an answer to our questions,” Todd explained, his voice calm. “However, I don’t know why it wasn’t destroyed or what here will provide the information we need. The higher the probability, the less chance I have of understanding what it means: that’s my own version of the uncertainty principle.”
“We don’t need them,” Amon hissed, its mirrored eyes flashing white in the headlights. “They serve the b'nei elohim.”
“And you don’t, I take it,” Andy
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