In the Dark of the Night

nothing at all had happened, she expanded her frustration to include them. How could all of them be so dismissive?

“Kevin and Jeff and I will be up in the morning,” she heard Dan saying. “I know exactly how you’re feeling, and I certainly agree that it’s a terrible thing. A tragic thing. But it doesn’t have anything to do with us, and there’s no reason to let it destroy our summer.”

No reason to let it destroy our summer? Doesn’t he realize it already has, at least for me?

“Dan, I’m not—” she began, but again he didn’t let her finish.

“There’s one more thing,” he cut in. “Marguerite has had some kind of a family emergency and had to go down to Springfield. She’ll come up with us next week.”

Merrill chewed a cuticle. Marguerite’s presence might at least have made the isolation more tolerable, but it didn’t really matter since they’d be home before Marguerite got back from Springfield, let alone all the way up to the Phantom Lake. At least they’d be home if she had anything to do with it.

“I’ll see you in the morning, honey,” Dan said, his voice taking on a note that told her the conversation was over, at least for now. His next words confirmed her interpretation of his tone: “If there are decisions to be made, we’ll all make them together over the weekend.”

Merrill sighed, knowing his mind was made up. “Well, at least everybody’s spending the night with me.”

“Which is a very good idea for all of you. How are the kids holding up?”

“The boys are traumatized, of course. We all are, except Marci, who’s been asleep since eight.”

“Well, things always look better in the morning. Our plane arrives at eight.”

“We’ll be here.”

“Love you.”

“Love you, too.” Merrill clicked off the phone and looked out over the calm lake and the stars that were reflected in it.

Tonight, though, she found nothing at all serene in the view.

Tonight, all she wanted was to be as far away from Phantom Lake as she could get.

Shivering even in the warmth of the night, she turned and went back inside the house.

THE AMBER GLOW seemed to draw Eric through the darkness like a moth to light, and he moved toward it until finally he came to its center. Now it seemed to spread directly from him, moving out into the darkness in every direction.

He turned, and the surrounding darkness dissolved into the walls of the hidden chamber.

Tad and Kent were at the table.

The lamp was on, and now Eric saw that it, not he himself, was the source of the warm amber glow.

And it seemed to shine brightest not on him, but on the long white box that sat in front of Tad and Kent.

Tad looked at Kent, who nodded, and then Tad lifted the lid off the box.

An acrid stench rose up from the box and burned Eric’s nostrils, and though his stomach heaved, he couldn’t look away.

Inside the box lay a strip of putrefying meat, turning green beneath the crawling maggots that swarmed over its surface.

Kent and Tad were also gazing at the rotting mass, then Tad reached into the box and slowly lifted it out.

As Eric watched, Tad scraped a few maggots away, letting them fall back into the box like so many fat, squirming grains of rice.

Tad lifted the object higher, tilting it first one way, then another, letting the light play over its glistening surface as a greenish slime oozed from the mass and ran down his fingers and hands to his wrists.

Then, as Tad turned the object again, Eric saw the hand that hung at one of its ends.

The skin had been peeled off, leaving bloody fingernails at the tips of skinned fingers.

Tad was holding Ellis Langstrom’s severed arm. He gazed at it almost reverently for another moment, then sighed and brought it to his mouth.

Tad’s teeth sank deep into the decaying flesh, ripping a large piece loose. He chewed for a moment, swallowed, then opened his mouth for—

ERIC JERKED AWAKE, his heart pounding, his pajamas soaked with perspiration.

“Jesus.”

Though he whispered the single word, it seemed to echo through the room as his heartbeat slowly evened out.

He looked around. Kent was still on the floor, snoring softly. But Tad—

He heard retching sounds from the bathroom and saw the light under the bathroom door. Getting out of bed, he moved to the door and slowly pushed it open.

Tad was on his knees in front of the toilet, and as Eric stepped inside, he reached up and flushed the toilet, then wiped his mouth with a wad of toilet paper.

“Y-You okay?” Eric said, wondering even as he spoke if perhaps he himself was about to vomit, too.

Tad looked up at him, his eyes filled with a horror Eric had never seen in them before.

“I was eating it, Eric,” he said, his voice breaking as he uttered the words. “I dreamed I was eating Ellis’s arm.”

Chapter 22

AS DAN BREWSTER’S gaze wandered over the group gathered around the big table in the Pinecrest dining room, he wondered how it was that only he, Kevin Sparks, and Jeff Newell — who had worked long hours all week, then gotten up before dawn this morning to catch the flight to Phantom Lake — looked even faintly ready for a weekend of anything but sleep.

His wife’s face was pale, Ellen had dark circles under her eyes, and Ashley had obviously been crying. As for the boys, Kent was sitting quietly, pushing the scrambled eggs Dan had made for everyone around on his plate as if they were turnips or lima beans or something else he hated. Eric wasn’t even bothering to poke at his food, which sat undisturbed in front of him. And Tad was even paler than Merrill, and looked as if he might throw up at any moment.

Marci, it seemed, was the only one at the table with any interest in food at all, but she was far too small even to make a dent in the platters of bacon and waffles that he had produced. Finally, it was Ashley who managed to meet his eyes.

“I guess we’re not what you were expecting to find this morning, are we?” she asked, her voice as bleak as her gaze.

Dan reached over and put a hand on hers. “Are you going to be all right?”

She forced a wan smile, fresh tears threatening to spill down her cheeks, then took a deep breath. “I will be — of course I will be. I just keep thinking about poor Carol.” She shook her head dazedly. “I can’t even imagine how she must be feeling.”

Merrill pushed her untouched breakfast plate a fraction of an inch away, and now her eyes, too, fixed on Dan. “I want to go home,” she said, her voice as flat as her expression. “That’s all I want.”

Jeff Newell, about to take a sip of coffee, put his cup back on its saucer, and when he spoke he chose his words carefully. “Don’t you think that’s—” He hesitated, then went on. “—well, a bit premature? I mean, we don’t