What an odd poem. Ann didn’t understand it all, and it didn’t seem like Martin’s style one bit. He usually wrote in meter and a Keatsian rhyme pattern. She turned to the next poem: “Doefolmon.”
This one bothered her. Like the first she didn’t know what it meant, and it didn’t seem like the kind of thing Martin would write.
It was pink.
But something else nagged at her.
But—
This cruxed her. Perhaps she was wrong—yes, she must be. Dr. Heyd had said that massive-stroke victims frequently wrote things with no memory of alphabet sequence. How could Martin possibly have used the word days before her father had written it?
Most of the rest of the pad seemed filled with one long poem. She remembered Martin mentioning it the other day, a magnum opus of over a hundred stanzas. This must be it. “Millennium,” it was entitled.
She didn’t read the whole thing, just bits and pieces. Throughout she noticed more strange words.
She turned to the last stanza, the end.
“
“
Ann felt turned to granite as she stared at the bizarre verse. Again, she thought,
There could be no explanation. She’d never repeated any of the nightmare’s details to Martin. Had she spoken the word aloud in her sleep? But if so, why would Martin use it in a poem?
Now her confusion ganged up on her. She shivered as she replaced the notebook, a sense beneath her skin like dread. Then she noticed the albums. Photo albums.
Ann had seen her mother and her friends looking through them several times. She picked one up, opened it —
It was pornography.
Lurid snapshots glared up at her. Ann could not imagine anything so explicit, and so absolutely
She was too shocked to contemplate the issue more deeply. Each page showed her a new, greater obscenity. But as she flipped further through the wretched album, that cold tingling, like dread, came back to her. Some of the figures in the photos looked awfully familiar.
By the fifth page she was picking faces out of the orgies.
Here was Milly on her hands and knees, fellating one man while another penetrated her from behind. Next, Mrs. Gargan squatting atop someone’s hips. The Trotters swapping marriage companions. And Milly’s daughter, Rena, with her knees pushed back to her face as some young man mounted her. And next—
The next showed Ann’s own mother having intercourse with Dr. Heyd. And next her own father…sodomizing a man as her mother and several other women looked on, grinning.
Ann was shaking. She thought she’d be sick. Then she turned the page and stared.
A pretty teenage girl was sitting on another girl’s face. The girl on top was Melanie.
A vacant-eyed man was sodomizing a woman with her buttocks propped up. The woman was Maedeen.
The man was Martin.
Ann felt dead standing up.
The second album beggared description.
Naked figures seemed smeared with something dark. It looked like blood. More figures drank from a cup, all nude, all with weird pale pendants suspended between their breasts. Ann felt all the breath go out of her when she turned the page.
A female corpse hung upside down against a bare-wood wall, headless. Blood poured into a big pot. Next, a male corpse was being gutted by a man with a thin, sharp knife. The man was Ann’s father. Dr. Heyd was trimming fat away from what appeared to be a liver. Martin was stuffing offal into a big plastic bag. Still more photos showed more men stoking an enclosed pit fire, tossing things in. A black cauldron bubbled. Large roundish objects lay deeper in the embers. Ann knew they were human heads.
Then she turned the next page and saw:
Milly lying upon the slab, naked, drenched in sweat. Her legs were propped up and widely parted. She was pregnant.
Naked women stood about her, gazing down in reverence. But betwixt Milly’s spread legs stood a cloaked figure, with hands out as if to accept something. And next:
The hands holding up a glistening newborn child.
And next:
Ann screamed.
It was the same. Everything. Milly giving birth was identical to the scenario of Ann’s nightmare. And then the final photo, the symbol. The odd double circle looked like a flat slab of stone hanging against a dark wall, but its shape was—