'You remember complaining about all that rope we took from the storage area that night?'
'Yes. So?'
'We're going to climb down, ladies,' Sam said, pointing to the window. 'Right through there and down.'
'Sam! … that's fifty feet.'
'Not really. It just seems that far.' He smiled mischievously. It was about forty feet down, though, but he wasn't going to tell them that. He pulled a knotted rope from under the bed. 'I did this while you two were napping this afternoon.' He secured the rope to a bed post and then opened the window, removing the screen. 'You two go, then I'll secure the rope from that drain bracing just outside the window, crawl out on the ledge, and close the window behind me. The doors are locked to both rooms, so with any luck we'll be able to fool them 'til morning.' He took a firm grip on the rope. 'You first, Nydia. Easy does it.'
She hesitated only long enough to kiss him on the mouth and then was gone down the rope, scampering to the ground. Sam looked at Linda. She shook her head.
'I … can't. I'm afraid of heights, Sam.'
Sam was painfully blunt with her. 'How would you like to be gang-screwed, Linda? Passed around among ten or fifteen guys? And then positioned on your knees and fucked like a dog—right up the asshole?'
She looked at him in shock, then without any further comments, she went out the window and down the rope, fear making her strong.
Sam watched the two women gather together on the ground. then untied the rope from the bed post and secured it to the drain brace. He lowered the three packs, then the other equipment, finally the weapons. He slipped out onto the ledge, feeling the bite of the suddenly cold winds of November as they came singing from the north.
He was halfway to the ground when he felt the rope begin to give in his hands and the bracketing spikes pull away from the brick and mortar. But Sam was a veteran parachutist, young and in excellent physical shape, and a fifteen foot drop was no more to him than stepping off a curb. He hit the ground rolling and sprang to his feet.
'Better this way,' he said. 'The rope won't be dangling for anyone to see. Besides, we might need the rope before we're through.'
Sam struggled into his backpack and the others did the same, Nydia asking, 'Which way do we go, Sam?'
'North, to the high ground,' he said, pointing through the darkness. 'That ridge about three-quarters of a mile from the stone circle. I want to see this calling out of the forces.' He turned and took the point, leading the way, three who refused to bow to the whims of Satan, three who chose to fight rather than surrender; three who maintained a strong belief in their God.
But as they walked through the night, toward the deep timber, one among them looked back at the great house … and smiled … oddly.
Since he had first noticed the unusual activity in the Heavens, the astronomer at the observatory in California had been quietly working overtime. On his own time and with his own equipment. He had asked for and received permission to take two weeks of his vacation and Ralph was now deep and high in the rugged mountains of California, maintaining a vigil, sleeping during the day, working from dawn to dusk.
He had discovered another area where unusual activity was periodically occurring. And he spent his nights alternating his powerful telescope between east and west. His wife, Betty, although not a professional stargazer, did have enough experience in the field to be more than an amateur, and, like her husband, was a Christian. If Ralph said he saw the face of God, then he saw it. Period. Now Betty would like to see His face. Or she thought she would.
'Why are you changing scope position tonight?' she asked, watching her husband reposition the small but extremely powerful scope, shifting it to the east.
'Hunch,' he replied. 'You ought to know after all these years of putting up with me that I'm a hunch player.
'What do you feel is going to happen?'
He shook his head. 'I … can't really answer that, honey.' He glanced at his watch. Seven o'clock, PST. Ten o'clock over most of Quebec Province. He didn't know how he knew, but he felt time was growing short. Two more hours, maximum, until … whatever it was would occur. Unless he was all wet in his hunch playing. 'Make us a fresh pot of coffee, honey,' he said. 'Maybe sandwiches, too, if you will, please. Come midnight, hereabouts, we'll be too busy for anything else.'
'Ralph! You're being deliberately vague.'
'No. No, really that's not true. I just don't know … what we're going to see. And … I'm a little afraid of it, I think.'
She shivered beside him.
He put an arm around her shoulders. 'Cold?'
'No,' the reply was softly given. And he asked no more questions, just held her to him in a loving embrace. They clung together for a few seconds before she pulled away. 'Ralph! Now don't you get any funny ideas.'
'Why not?' He grinned at her. 'We have two hours.'
She returned the grin and took his hand. As they walked to the solid little cabin they had built—working side by side—more than twenty years back, she said, 'Ridiculous! And at our age, too.'
The mist that was Balon's shape on earth shifted almost nervously. He sensed something was building, far to the east, and he was worried, wanting to go to his son, but knowing he could not. His place was here, with Jane Ann and the others, and young Sam would have to work it out alone. The mist seemed to smile. Well … not quite alone. The warrior was there … he knew the warrior was there, and knew, too, that the mighty one would help Sam all he could. But if Balon's suspicions were correct, the warrior would have his hands full combating the forces that would soon leave the netherworld, trekking their way past the smoking veil and into present life and form.
It would be an awesome sight, Balon felt. And one hell of a fight.
