just in time.
The Terror was definitely slower now than it had been earlier. Was the creature tired? Or hurt? Frank didn’t know, and at the moment, he didn’t care. He just wanted to stay out of its reach. He came to a stop against the wall and pushed himself to his feet, ignoring the throbbing ache that filled his body.
“Ben!” he shouted again. “Ben, I know it’s you! Nancy sent me! Your sister Nancy! Remember her?”
The Terror hesitated. Frank was getting through to him. He was convinced of it. And now he thought of something else.
His hand went in his pocket, found the necklace and locket he had carried there since his meeting with Nancy Chamberlain at her father’s bizarre mansion the day before. Was there enough light left in this cave for the Terror to see the locket and recognize it? Frank didn’t know, but he was going to give it a try. That seemed to be the best chance he had.
He fumbled with the locket, searching for the catch. A second later, his fingers found it, but it didn’t want to open at first. Finally, as the Terror came slowly toward him, its foul breath rasping in its throat, Frank succeeded in opening the locket. He thrust his left hand forward, the necklace and locket dangling from his fingers.
“Look at it, Ben!” he urged. “It’s Nancy’s! It belongs to your sister! And that’s a picture of you in it, Ben! You!”
The Terror stopped in its tracks, made a little whimpering sound like a hurt animal. It would have been heartbreaking, if not for the very real danger that still filled the cave.
“Take it and look at it, Ben,” Frank said. “It won’t hurt you.”
Slowly, the Terror raised a hand and reached for the necklace. The powerful fingers ended in long, razor-sharp, clawlike nails. Frank suppressed the impulse to jerk his hand away as the Terror’s filthy, hairy hand brushed his. The creature took the necklace from him and brought it close to its face. Frank knew the Terror was studying the tiny photographs inside the locket. On one side was a picture of Nancy; on the other, a pale, intense-looking young man with bushy side whiskers peered out from the sepia-toned photograph.
“That’s you, Ben,” Frank said softly. “Remember? Remember what you used to look like? Remember Nancy?”
The sound that came from the Terror’s throat was so rusty and garbled that for a second Frank didn’t recognize it as a word. Then the Terror uttered it again, and Frank knew he was trying to say
The creature closed its huge fist around the locket and held it close against its breast. “Nan…cy,” it rasped again, clearer this time. “Nan…cy…and…Ben.”
“That’s right,” Frank said. “That’s right.”
He was having a hard time standing up now. His head spun dizzily, crazily. He still hurt all over, and his pulse pounded in his head like the tremulous beat of distant drums. He shuddered from the chill that had him in its grip, and fought to keep his teeth from chattering together.
The Terror fell to its knees and said again, “Nan…cy.”
Then it pitched forward on its face, either dead or out cold, and didn’t move again. For a second, Frank stared at the huge, motionless body on the cave floor, and then he felt his eyes rolling up in their sockets. He had reached the end of his rope. Even though the last thing he wanted to do was to pass out right here beside this huge, shaggy, murderous creature, there was nothing he could do about it.
He lost consciousness as he was falling, and never felt himself strike the hard-packed dirt.
Passing out was one thing; passing out next to a monster was something else entirely. If there was one time in his life when Frank Morgan truly didn’t expect to wake up again, this was it.
But he had to be alive, Frank thought as he bit back a groan. Not even Hell could smell this bad.
Funny thing, though…He saw a flickering red glow against his closed eyelids and felt the heat of flames. Maybe he
The smell got worse. Something slid under Frank’s head and lifted it. He felt water splash against his parched lips and sucked at it greedily. Gradually, he was able to pry his eyes open.
He was looking up into the face of the Terror as the creature leaned curiously over him.
Or rather, it was the face of Ben Chamberlain, because Frank saw something human in the eyes now, some flicker of intelligence that hadn’t been there before. The sight of the locket, with his own picture and that of his sister inside it, must have somehow shocked Ben back to his senses, part of the way at least.
Ben had made a cup out of some sort of large, fernlike leaf, and it was from this that he dribbled water into Frank’s mouth. Why Ben was trying to help him, instead of tearing him apart like all the other men he’d encountered in the forest recently, Frank didn’t know, but he was grateful anyway. He was in no shape to fight right now. Anyway, he wanted to get through to Ben, not kill him. He had promised Nancy.
“Thank…you,” Frank croaked. “Thank you…for your help.”
Ben leaned closer and said, “Nan…cy?”
“She’s…at home.” Frank was careful not to mention Rutherford Chamberlain or the timber baron’s redwood mansion. Just the word
It didn’t, though. Ben said, “Hoooome.”
Frank glanced around. He saw that Ben had started a fire somehow, only a small blaze, but it filled the cave with welcome light and heat. He didn’t see Dog, though. The big cur had been lying near the wall, evidently unconscious, the last glimpse Frank had gotten of him. Maybe Dog had woken up while Frank and Ben were both unconscious and had left the cave…
Ben reached over, out of Frank’s line of sight, and brought back a blood-dripping haunch of raw meat that looked like it had been torn directly off a carcass. “Eeeeeat,” he urged.
Frank saw the coarse gray hair clinging to the flesh, and his stomach revolted. “Dog!” he yelled as he fought his
