October 30th

Angie awoke to the glorious feeling of a warm, naked body curled around hers.  A smile curved her lips, and she sighed happily.  She and Rollie had spent quite a bit of the evening and the better part of the night making love.  She’d lost count of how many times--and how many different ways.  She was now unbelievably sore, but it was a soreness that she was extremely happy to be suffering from.

Equally as wonderful as their night of passion was this, waking up in Rollie’s arms, knowing that last night was only the first of many, many nights together to come.

Angie turned around in her lover’s arms to find him wide awake.

“Morning, sunshine,” he said, gazing at her lovingly.

“Morning.”  Angie reached up and brought her lips to his in a long, satisfying kiss.

Rollie’s fingers brushed her cheek, sweeping away the hair that was over her face.  “How are you feeling?”

“Mmm.  I can’t remember ever being so sore.”  She snuggled up closer to him.  “And I have never felt so wonderful in my life.”

Rollie nuzzled his face into her hair, his hands caressing her back.  “Neither have I.”

Angie looked up into his eyes, smiling.  “Never been so sore or never felt so wonderful?” she asked teasingly.

“Oh, I’ve been sorer, believe me.  Don’t forget that I was a stuntman, and that little rock and roll stunt I did with the stunt car when Wayne Harmon took me hostage didn’t leave me feeling too great either.”

“Hmm.  So, I didn’t give you a good enough workout last night, huh?” Angie said, still teasingly.  She then planted a long, wet kiss on her lover’s neck where his pulse beat.  She felt the pulse speed up underneath her lips.  Rollie’s arms tightened around her.  She looked up at him and saw that his eyes had darkened with desire.

“You gave me the best and most fantastic workout of my life,” he told her, his voice deep and low.  His right hand moved from her back to her breasts, where he began drawing designs with his fingertips.  Angie let out a soft sigh, closing her eyes.  The sigh turned into a full-blown moan when Rollie replaced his fingers with his mouth.

“Rollie,” Angie breathed, letting out another moan as the Aussie rolled on top of her, his mouth still at her breasts.  He slid down her body, showering it with kisses, his tongue branding her.

Angie writhing beneath him, Rollie worshiped her body, exploring it in the most intimate of ways.  The fact that it was Angie he was with, that he was finally being allowed to do what he’d wanted to for so long, was enough in itself to send him into orbit.  But Angie had other ideas.  With a move that took him by surprise, she flipped him over so that she was straddling him.  Then she sent him careening out of orbit and into space with her hands and mouth on his body.  Soon, he was helpless and out of control, his eyes tightly closed, lungs pulling in deep, gasping breaths.

With a choked cry of her name, Rollie fell into the maelstrom of his climax.  After it was over, Angie held onto him as he slowly came back to his senses.  He opened his eyes and looked at her, seeing a self-satisfied smile on her lips.

“Happy with yourself?” the Aussie murmured.

“Very.  I love making you wild.”

Rollie abruptly grabbed her.  In an instant, he was on top of her, pinning her arms to the bed, an evil grin on his face.

“Ditto,” he growled.  Then he swooped down and took her mouth in a blazing kiss.  Moments later, it was Angie who was out of control as Rollie used his mouth and hands to drive her wild with ecstasy.  In a shockingly short period of time, she was screaming Rollie’s name as her climax raged through her like a tidal wave.

Rollie moved back up beside Angie.  He gazed down at her, softly stroking her stomach as she lay bonelessly on the bed, trying to catch her breath.

“If we keep this up, one of us is going to keel over from a heart attack,” she gasped.

A huge grin split the Aussie’s face.  “Uh uh.  Not a chance.  There’s no way I’m going to kick the bucket now that I’ve finally got what I have wanted for so many years.”

Angie matched his grin.  “Well, I gotta tell you.  If I’d known that you were this insatiable and incredible a lover, I’d have pounced on you the day I turned eighteen.”

Expecting a cocky reply, Angie was surprised when Rollie’s expression turned serious.

“It’s only this way with you, Angie.  Only with you.  No other woman I’ve been with has made me feel so alive and so much a man.”

“Not even Dani?” Angie asked lightly.

Rollie sat up and wrapped his arms around his knees, looking away from her.  Wanting to slap herself for saying what she had, Angie quickly sat up and put her arms around him.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized.  “I had no call to say that.  It was stupid and insensitive.”

Rollie met her eyes.  “I didn’t love her, Angie.  I hadn’t been with a woman in a long time, and I was lonely for that kind of companionship.  I truly didn’t think that you and I would ever be together the way I wanted, so, when Dani came onto me. . . .”  He shrugged.  “It felt good to be wanted in that way, to have someone to share my bed with.  And it . . .” he flushed faintly, “it helped relieve the . . . tension.”  The Aussie sighed.  “Looking back on it later, I realized that it should never have happened.  She was just a poor substitute for the person I really wanted.”

Angie rubbed her hand up and down his back soothingly.  “I understand, Rollie.  Really I do.  It’s not like I’ve been a nun all these years.  I’ve had relationships too, often for the same reason you just mentioned.”

“Do you know why I stopped seeing her?” Rollie asked.

“I just assumed that you both decided to end it because Dani was off most of the time doing modeling gigs.”

Rollie shook his head.  “I broke it off with her.  I finally realized that it wasn’t fair to either one of us to continue a relationship that I knew wasn’t going to go anywhere.  She was upset and wanted to know why.  I told her that it was because I could never give her my heart.  That’s when she knew that my heart was already taken, though I don’t know if she guessed it was you it belonged to.”  Rollie swallowed, his eyes looking deeply into Angie’s.  “I want to tell you about Taya.”

“No, Rol, you don’t have to.  I don’t need to know.”

“I want you to understand my relationship with her, Ange.”  The Aussie’s eyes drifted away from hers to the wall across the room.  “Taya wasn’t the same as Dani.  I had deep feelings for her.  That was not a really good time in my life.  I still missed Manny a lot, even though it had been three years.  I missed his guidance and friendship.  I sometimes wondered if I could keep the business running without him.  But more than that was the fact that you weren’t with me.  You had your friends, college, a life that I was not a part of, and I . . . I was alone.”

Angie’s throat tightened.  “Rollie, you were always a part of my life, a big part, even when I was in school and not working with you.  I thought you knew that.”

Rollie looked at her.  There was the ghost of an old pain in his eyes.  “I knew that I had a part in your life, but I . . . I missed you.  I missed you so much.  Up until college, I’d seen you almost every day, but after you started at the university, even though it was right there in New York, I only saw you maybe half a dozen or so times a month.  My brain knew that it was because of school and such, but my heart still ached to see you.”

“Oh, Rollie.  I’m so sorry.  I wish I’d known.  I would have come to see you more often.  Every time I did, you seemed busy with work.”

“Yeah.  I really threw myself into the work.  I’d put in seventeen, eighteen hours or more a day, seven days a week, exhausting myself so that I’d fall into bed and be asleep before I had time to think about how lonely I was.”  Rollie sighed.  “Then I got that movie that took me to Hong Kong.  Taya came into my life at a time when I really needed someone.  I came to care deeply for her.  In a way, I guess I did fall in love with her, even though I was still desperately in love with you.  It was because of all this that it tore me up so much when she vanished out of my life.  It just shattered me that I’d lost yet another person I loved.”

Angie pulled Rollie close.  He laid his head on her shoulder, wrapping his arms around her waist.

“When she came back in ‘96, I felt some spark of what I’d felt for her before,” Rollie continued, “but the knowledge that she’d left me without any explanation, without even a goodbye kept me from falling for her again.  Besides, by then, I was even more in love with you than I had been before, and I had you back in my life almost every day.  I don’t think I could have fallen for her again, even if I’d been able to completely forgive her.  When she said goodbye and went off to start her new life in the Witness Protection Program, I was sad, but it didn’t really hurt that much.”  He raised his head and looked at Angie.  “I knew that you were the love of my life, that no one would ever, could ever take your place in my heart.”

Angie smiled and gave him a long, tender kiss.  “Thank you for telling me, Rol.  And there’s something I need to tell you.  When you came back from Hong Kong in such a mess, and I found out that it was because of a woman, I was devastated.  I thought that, if you were in love with her, you couldn’t possibly ever be in love with me.  Until then, I had still hoped that you’d come to love me as I loved you, but, afterwards, I admitted to myself that it was just a foolish dream.”

“But you were wrong, Angie.”

Angie stroked his cheek and smiled into his eyes.  “I know.”

Rollie kissed her deeply.  “I love you.  If I had known that you felt the same way, I’d have taken you for my own back when you did turn eighteen, even though your dad probably would have skinned me alive.”

Angie smiled.  “Nah, he wouldn’t have done that, Rol.  He’d have just made you marry me before we started bopping like bunnies.”

Rollie began laughing.  “Bopping like bunnies?”

Angie smiled, her hand sliding down his chest and stomach, then descending lower.  Rollie gave a small gasp.  “I have doubts that even bunnies would have been able to keep up with us last night,” she murmured huskily.

A wicked grin spread across Rollie’s face.  “So, what do you say we go take a shower and give the furry little creatures some more competition?”

Angie’s mouth curled into an equally wicked smile.  “And give the people in the room next door something more to talk about.”  She abruptly threw off the covers and leapt out of bed.  “Race you!” she yelled, then took off for the bathroom.

“Hey!  No fair!” Rollie called after her.  Then, with a smile of pure joy, he quickly climbed out of bed and went to join his lover.

An hour later, they were walking into the café across the street from the motel.  They went to the booth at the far end where they’d have a little more privacy.

“Good morning,” greeted the middle-aged waitress as she placed the menus on the table.  She studied Rollie’s face.  “My, you look much better than you did yesterday morning.  Have a good night?”

Rollie smiled happily.  “As good as it gets.”

The waitress turned her gaze on Angie, seeing the glow on the blonde’s face.  The woman smiled knowingly.  “I’d say you both did.”  Amused at the blushes that stained the two younger people’s face, she poured them both a cup of coffee, then went off to take someone else’s order.  Rollie looked at Angie closely, seeing what the waitress had.

“You look beautiful,” he told her.  “You’re always beautiful, but you’re even more so now.”

Angie smiled her thanks.  She tilted her head to the side, examining the Aussie’s face.  “I could say the same for you.”

Rollie made a face.  “I look beautiful?”

“Well, drop dead gorgeous is the term I was thinking of.”  She paused a moment, her expression growing serious.  “But you will always be beautiful to me.”

Rollie gazed at her in silence for a long moment, feeling her words seep into his heart.  “And you will always be the most beautiful thing in my life,” he murmured.

The lovers simultaneously reached for each other’s hands.  They maintained the contact as they decided what to get for breakfast.  After the waitress had taken their order, they reluctantly started discussing what the day was going to bring.

“I don’t know when Neil Sinclair is going to get here,” Angie said.  “I guess he’ll call when he arrives.”

Rollie nodded.  “I hope he doesn’t want me to go back in the study or any of the other places that affect me strongly.  I’d be too afraid of what might happen.”

“We’ll just tell him that you don’t want to take the chance.  But I don’t think he’s going to do that anyway.  He told me that you shouldn’t be in the house at all.”

“And he’s right.  I know that.  But I also know that I can’t just walk away from it.  I need to put an end to whatever is causing this.”

“I know, Rol.  But whatever you do, please don’t put yourself at risk.”

“I’m more worried about you than I am about me.  If . . . if what happened yesterday happened again. . . .”  Rollie clutched at her hand.

“You wouldn’t hurt me, Rollie,” Angie told him firmly.  “No matter what kind of influence you fell under, I know that you wouldn’t hurt me.”

Rollie stared into her eyes, his own eyes full of fear.  “I wish I could be certain of that.  I had no control over what happened yesterday.  I can’t even remember what happened in the study when I became . . . him.”

He kept looking at Angie, thinking about what might happen if he became Robert Powell again.  Making a sudden decision, he fished into his pocket and pulled out a pocketknife.  He slid it over the table to Angie.  “Take it.  If I lose control again, I want you to protect yourself in any way necessary.”

Angie stared at the knife, not touching it.  Her gaze then returned to Rollie’s.  “No.  I won’t use that against you.”

“Please, Angie.  I need to know that you have some protection.”

Angie kept her eyes on his, seeing the pleading there.  She sighed.  “All right, I’ll take it.  But I won’t use it, no matter what.”

Rollie nodded, relaxing.  “Just as long as you have it.”

Angie entwined her fingers with his.  “I love you, Rollie,” she told him, her voice trembling slightly.  “I don’t want to live my life without you.  I don’t think I could.”

“I love you too, Angie, and I know that I couldn’t live my life without you.”

“We’re going to get through this, both of us,” Angie told him with complete conviction.

The couple were just finishing their breakfast when Angie’s cell phone rang.  It was Neil Sinclair.

“I’m at the airport,” he told her.  “I’ve rented a car.  They told me that it will take about two hours to get there from here.”

“That’s about right.  Do you want to meet us at the motel or the house?”

“The house would be best, but I’d prefer it if you didn’t go inside.”

“That won’t be a problem,” Angie assured him.  She gave him directions to the Powell house.

“How’s your partner today?” the ghost hunter asked.

“He’s fine.  There haven’t been any incidents since we left the house.”

“Good.  I’ll see you there.”

Angie disconnected the call.  “He’ll be here in a couple of hours or so.  He wants us to stay out of the house until he arrives.”

“That’s fine with me.  How about if we do a little gift shopping while we wait?”

“That sounds like fun.”

The couple paid the check and drove to a part of town where they’d seen a couple of gift shops.  Leaving the car, they browsed through the shops, finding gifts for Mira, all of the Gattis, and a few other friends.  They then walked over to a quiet little park that sat on the edge of a stream.  Finding a secluded bench, they sat down to watch the water and the other people in the park.

“This is a nice town,” Rollie commented.  “Everybody is so friendly.”

“Small towns can be like that,” Angie said.  “I guess it comes from living in a close-knit community where everybody knows everyone else.”

“Yeah.  Sometimes, I think that it would be nice to live in a place like this, away from the hustle and noise of the big city.  Docker River was small like this.”

“So was the town we lived in in Cuba, though I can’t remember all that much about it.”

Rollie smiled.  “Well, maybe after we’re rich and famous, we can buy a house in some nice little town where we can spend some of our vacation time, like, say, in Florida, where it’s nice and warm.”

Angie looked up at him, her eyes widening a little.  “A house?  Together?”

Rollie’s smile faded.  He touched her face.  “Yeah.  Together.  I want to be with you all of the time, Angie.  I don’t want to spend my nights alone anymore.”  He slid his hand down her arm to her hand.  Gazing at their entwined fingers, he murmured, “I want to go to bed every night with you in my arms and wake up every morning to the sight of your face.”  He fell silent, waiting for Angie to respond.  When the silence continued for several seconds, he sighed silently.  “I’m sorry.  I’m moving too fast, aren’t I.”  He began to withdraw his hand from Angie’s, but she grabbed onto it tightly.  He raised his eyes to hers and was surprised to see tears shimmering in the blue depths.

“You want us to live together?” Angie asked in a low voice.

Rollie looked deeply into her eyes.  “I want more than that, Ange.  I want everything, the house, the picket fence, the 2.5 kids.  I want it all.”

Angie gasped.  “Rollie, are you saying what I think you’re saying?” she whispered unsteadily.

Rollie’s eyes did not leave hers.  They were gazing at her openly, his love clear to see.  “Yeah, I am.  But we both know that it’s too soon to say the words, to ask that question.”  He touched her face.  “But I will ask it, Angie, when the time is right.  I’ve been wanting to for years now.”

Angie smiled through her tears.  “And I’ve been waiting for years for you to ask it.”

Rollie pulled her into his arms and they shared a long, slow kiss.

The Aussie sighed with regret as they pulled apart.  “I guess we should head up to the house.”

Gathering their purchases, the couple returned to their car and headed to the house, both of them preparing themselves for what lay ahead.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Rollie and Angie stood side by side, holding each other’s hands as they watched a car make its way up the steep hillside and stop before them.  A man in his late forties got out and approached them.

“Angie Ramirez?” he inquired, looking at Angie.

The blonde nodded.  She gestured toward Rollie.  “This is my partner, Rollie Tyler.”

The man held out his hand, which Rollie shook.  “Neil Sinclair, Mister Tyler.  I understand you’ve got something interesting going on in this house.”

“Interesting is not exactly the word I’d use to describe it,” the Aussie said.

“So I understand.  Would you mind telling me exactly what’s been happening?”

Rollie’s eyes went to Angie, and she gave his hand an encouraging squeeze.  He returned his gaze to the ghost hunter.  “Let’s go up on the veranda.”

They walked up onto the covered veranda to where four old, weathered wooden chairs sat beside a low table.  The chairs creaked under their weight but did not show any sign of collapsing.  Slowly, Rollie began to tell the ghost hunter what had been happening since he first set foot in the Powell house.  Neil listened with great interest, asking questions often. His interest increased dramatically when Rollie got to his dream and waking up in the house.

“You have no memory of coming here?” the man asked.

“No, none.  The last memory I had was lying in bed, trying to get to sleep.”

“Yet you somehow got dressed, drove your car over here, and entered the house.”

Rollie nodded in confirmation.

“Hmm.  I’ve heard of people sleepwalking and doing other things in their sleep, but I’ve never heard of anything like this.  When you woke up in the house, what did you feel?”

“Other than sheer terror?  I felt . . . like the walls were closing in on me.  I could have sworn that the shadows were reaching for me, but I think that was just my imagination.  I couldn’t move.  I was completely frozen in place.”

“Did it feel like some external force was keeping you from moving or was it just the fear?”

“I’m not sure.  I wasn’t consciously aware of something holding me in place.”

“What happened next?” Neil asked, resting his chin on steepled fingers.

“I started hearing voices, screaming.  It was their screams, Hannah and the children.  And then. . . .”

“What?”

“There was pain.  At first, it was their pain, then . . . then it became mine.  It was like I was them, as if my body was feeling all the pain they felt.  It got so bad I thought I was going to pass out.”

Angie clutched at his arm, eyes dark with worry.  “Rollie, you didn’t tell me that before.”

“I didn’t want you to know that it got that bad, Ange.  You were worried enough as it was.”  Rollie returned his attention to Neil.  “At that point, I was finally able to move.  I ran out of the house and ended up over there in the garden.”

“Did the sensations end once you were out of the house?”

“Yes.  The pain disappeared, and I couldn’t hear the screams anymore.  But then, something else happened.  The fear was replaced with a sensation of peacefulness and contentment.  And then, I saw Hannah and the kids.  They were happy, laughing and playing.  Robert was there too, but I could only feel him.  In fact, Hannah looked at me and called me Robert, as if I was him.  At least it seemed like she was looking at me.”

“Hmm.  Very interesting.  What happened next?”

“I looked away for a moment, and when I looked back, they were gone.  I got out of here then.  I drove as fast as I could back to the motel.  I ended up getting sick in the loo.”

Neil was silent for a moment, apparently absorbing everything Rollie had told him.  “Mister Tyler, Ms. Ramirez told me about something you experienced,” he said at last.  “Did you find yourself taken over by a presence?”

Rollie glanced at Angie.  Under different circumstances, he might have been upset that she’d told this man about what happened, but the guy was going to have to know anyway.  He nodded.  “It happened yesterday.  I was drawn into the bedroom that the oldest boy died in.”

“Drawn?  How so?” Neil asked.

“I heard the sound of whimpering and crying, and I felt . . . compelled to go to the room, even though I had a bad feeling that it was dangerous.  When I got there, I was completely overwhelmed by the sounds and feelings in the room.  And then. . . .”  Rollie stopped and took a deep breath.  “Then I . . . ceased to be myself.  I became Nicholas.  I felt and thought everything that he was feeling and thinking, his fear, his anguish, everything.  I had no thoughts or memories of myself at all.”  He paused again.  “The last thing I remember clearly is seeing Robert Powell standing over me . . . Nicholas, with a bloody poker.  It was as if I was looking through the boy’s eyes.”  Rollie dropped his gaze to his clenched hands.

“You said that was the last thing you remember clearly.  Is there anything else?” Neil asked.

Rollie lifted his eyes to Angie’s.  He didn’t want her to hear this.

Sensing his reluctance to speak, Angie reached out and laid her hand over his.  “I want to know, Rol.  Please don’t try to protect me from it.”

Rollie turned his hand up and curled his fingers into hers.  He then turned back to Neil.  “At first, I didn’t remember anything at all past that point, but I’ve been regaining some fuzzy memories.  I remember the . . . the pain, the pain of the poker hitting Nicholas’s body, my body, feeling my bones break, my flesh tear.  And then everything went black.  I--”  Rollie stopped, shaking his head.  He couldn’t say any more.

Angie’s grip on his hand had tightened almost painfully.  She was staring at him with anguish in her eyes.  She wanted to pull him into her arms and hold him, protect him in any way she could from what was happening to him.  But she couldn’t protect him.  She didn’t know how.

Raging at her helplessness, Angie turned to Neil.  The man was watching Rollie very closely.  After a moment, his head nodded slightly.

“I’m sorry that I have to make you relive all this, Mister Tyler, but I need to know everything in order to best approach this situation.”

Rollie looked back at the man as intently as he’d studied the Aussie a moment ago.  “You weren’t sure that you believed us, were you.  Until this moment, you had your doubts that we were telling the truth.”

Neil’s eyes widened in surprise.  “How did you know that?”

Rollie shrugged.  “Just a feeling.”

“Well, your ‘feeling’ was right on the mark, Mister Tyler.  Over these past sixteen years, I’ve dealt with a lot of situations where people falsely claimed a house was haunted because they wanted to get some publicity.  There have been some who have set up elaborate ruses in order to try to fool people.  When Ms. Ramirez said that you were with a movie production company, I couldn’t help but think about the possibility that this was all a scheme to get publicity for the movie you’re filming.”

Rollie nodded, understanding completely.  “The truth is that this kind of publicity is the last thing we want for exactly the reason you mentioned.  Many people are bound to think that it was all a ploy to garner interest in the movie.”

Neil smiled, leaning back in his chair.  “I’d never have thought of it that way.  You seem to know your business well.”

Both Rollie and Angie gave a laugh.  “Actually, this is our first movie as producers in an official capacity.  Before this, we were strictly special effects artists.  A string of occurrences during a movie we were filming several months ago led to this.”

“Special effects, huh?  Well, if this was all a put on, you could probably do quite a convincing job of making this place appear haunted.”

Rollie laughed again.  “You’d better believe it.  Ange and I could literally have ghosts coming out of the woodwork.”

Neil got a thoughtful look on his face.  “Wait a minute.  Do you have some connection to Tyler F/X?”

Rollie smiled.  “Yeah, I’m the ‘Tyler’ in Tyler F/X.  It’s our company.”

“Then you did the effects for ‘50 Trillion Miles from Home’.”

“Yeah, that was us.  That was the movie I mentioned before that started this whole producer thing.”

Neil nodded.  “Now that I think about it, I saw the name Rollie Tyler listed as co-producer.”

“Yeah.  I hadn’t expected that since I was acting as producer unofficially.  The real producer was in an accident and laid up in the hospital the better part of the time that we were filming.”

“Well, congratulations on your new business, Mister Tyler.”

“Thanks.  Please call me Rollie.”

The ghost hunter nodded.  “And please call me Neil.”

Rollie’s smile faded.  “I guess I need to tell you the rest.”

“The rest?”

“Yeah.  There was another . . . incident yesterday afternoon, after Angie called you.  It was worse.”

Neil’s eyebrows lifted.  “Worse?  I find it hard to believe that it could get worse.”

Rollie just looked at him for a few seconds.  “I became Robert Powell,” he said quietly.

Neil grew still.  He looked over at Angie, who was staring at the floor.  “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” the Aussie admitted.  “I have no memory at all of that incident.  I don’t know why.”

“Perhaps your subconscious is blocking the memory to protect you,” Neil suggested.

“Yeah, maybe.”  He turned to his partner.  “Angie can tell you what happened.”

Angie looked up and met the gaze of the two men.  Reluctantly, she told what happened, how Rollie had changed and what he did and said.

Neil shook his head.  “I don’t like this at all.  I have never heard of possessions like this before, not even among trained mediums.  The fact that it happened twice in one day leads me to believe that either your ability to communicate with the ghosts is getting stronger or they are dramatically increasing their attempts to get you to do whatever it is that they want from you.  And that’s the real question.  What do they want?  If this was just a simple case of them wanting you to leave them alone, they wouldn’t be going about it in this way.  It seems to me as if they are trying to tell you something, and the key to it may very well be the murder itself.  What do you know of it?”

Rollie and Angie told Neil what they knew of the murder/suicide.

“There’s a good chance that you’d be able to find out more from old newspaper articles,” Angie said.

“Yes, but what you’ve told me is enough to make me wonder.  There is definitely a mystery here about why Robert Powell’s personality changed so dramatically.”

“Yeah, I was wondering about that too,” Rollie said.  “Of course, it could have been something physical, like a brain tumor.  From what I understand, a tumor can radically alter a person’s personality.”

“Yes, but I don’t think that it would affect a person to the point that they’d actually commit such a heinous act as slaughtering their entire family.  I don’t know.  Maybe it would.  Only a neurologist could answer that.”  Neil rose from the chair.  “I need to perform some scans in the house.  Does the electricity work in there?  I need to know in order to adjust the EMF meter properly.”

“No.  Everything is turned off,” Angie replied.

“That’s good.  It will make things easier.  Now, this is going to take me a while since I’ll be covering the entire house from top to bottom, recording both EMF readings and EVP's.  I will also be looking for cold spots with a thermal scanner and thermal imaging scope, and I’ll be taking some pictures as well.”

“I know that EMF stands for electromagnetic field, but what are EVP’s?” Rollie asked.

“It’s an acronym for Electronic Voice Phenomena.  It is a process whereby the voices of the dead are embedded onto magnetic recording tape.  When ghosts speak, we often can’t hear them with our ears, but, somehow, the voices are recorded onto the tape of the recorder.  We can then hear what they said when we play back the tape.”

“What do you want us to do?” Angie asked.

“Nothing for now.  It would be best if I go through the house alone, at least this first time.”

“Do you want us to hang around just in case there’s trouble?” Rollie asked.

“No, I’m sure I’ll be fine.  I’ve investigated a lot of houses over the years, and I have never gotten into a situation where I felt I was in danger.  Contrary to what you see in the movies, the majority of ghosts are not malevolent beings.  Oh, every once in a while, you’ll get a nasty one, but that’s only because the person they were in life was also evil, like in the case of serial killers and other extremely violent individuals.”

“Um, I don’t think I have to remind you that Robert Powell brutally murdered his entire family,” Angie said.

“Yes, I know, but, based on the kind of man he used to be, it’s obvious that he was not an evil person by nature.  Something drove him to do what he did.”

“Well, if you don’t need us here, I guess we’ll go into town and get some lunch,” Rollie said.  “Can we bring you anything?”

“No, I’m fine.  Thanks.”

Rollie and Angie headed down the hill and into town.  After lunch, they went back to the park they’d gone to yesterday.  They took a pleasant stroll, hand in hand.

“Rollie, is there anything else that you’re keeping from me in regards to this whole thing?” Angie asked after they’d been there around twenty minutes.  “Because, if there is, I want you to tell me.”

Rollie thought about it for a moment.  “No, there isn’t anything else, not that’s important.”

“Good.  From now on, I want you to tell me everything that you experience in that house.”

Rollie’s gaze dropped to the concrete of the path they were walking on.  Angie looked at him, her eyes narrowing.

“There is something else you’re not telling me, isn’t there.”

Rollie shrugged.  “It’s just that, whenever I’m in there, I . . . feel pain.”

Angie stopped walking abruptly, forcing Rollie to stop.  “Pain?  It hurts you every time you’re in the house?” she asked sharply.

The Aussie shook his head.  “It’s not my pain.  It’s theirs, the Powells.  I’m feeling their pain.  The only times it felt like it was my pain was when I woke up in the house and when I became Nicholas.”

Angie studied her partner’s face for a long time.  “Rollie, exactly how hard is it for you to be in that house?  I want you to be completely honest.”

Rollie was silent for a while, trying to find the words.  “It isn’t always the same.  Sometimes, it’s not so bad.  Other times, it’s a little worse.  And, sometimes, it’s . . . I guess you could liken it to how a person with claustrophobia would feel being locked in a coffin.”

“Oh, Rollie.  Why didn’t you tell me?”

“There’s nothing you could have done about it, Ange.  I’m dealing with it.  I’ve been in some pretty bad situations in the past, and I’ve managed to get through them without falling apart.  I’ll get through this too.”

“But you don’t have to do it alone, Rol.  I’m here, and I will help you any way that I can, even if it’s just to try to distract you from what you’re feeling.”

Rollie smiled down at her softly.  He wrapped his arms around her.  “Well, I can think of one surefire way that you could distract me.”

“What’s that?” Angie asked.

“This.”  Rollie bent down and took Angie’s lips with his.  The kiss grew from gentle to smoldering within seconds.  It was quite a while before they separated.

“Mmm.  Yep, that would do it, all right,” Rollie murmured.

“I’ll have to keep that in mind,” Angie said before pulling his mouth down to hers for another kiss.  They both sighed as they separated again.

“You think we have enough time to go back to the motel and continue this?” Rollie asked, rubbing his cheek against Angie’s.

“I doubt it.  Besides, I wouldn’t want to rush things.  I like savoring you.”  Angie backed up her words by pulling Rollie’s earlobe into her mouth and sucking on in.  The Aussie gave a low moan.

“You’d better stop that, Love.  Otherwise, I’m going to find the nearest private place and have my way with you,” he told her huskily.

“Ooh, promises, promises,” Angie said in a sultry tone.  Then she sighed again, this time in regret.  “I’ll have to take a rain check, I guess.”

“Don’t worry, Love.  The product will be in stock by tonight.”

Angie giggled.  “Oh, good.  I hate waiting, and I have wanted this particular ‘product’ for an extremely long time.  And, now that I’ve sampled it, I can’t get enough of it.”

Rollie grinned broadly.  “Same here.  I am totally addicted, and I have no desire to be cured.”

Arm in arm, the couple left the park, heading back up the hill, anxious to find out what Neil Sinclair had found.

CHAPTER EIGHT

When Rollie and Angie arrived at the house, they found that Neil was still inside.  Not wanting to disturb him, Angie took Rollie around to the backyard.

“Well, this looks nice and creepy back here,” the Aussie commented, looking at the weeds, patches of dead grass, and dead shrubbery.  Cobwebs festooned the back porch, and several broken windows revealed the darkness beyond.

“Yeah, I thought so too when I saw it yesterday.”

Rollie looked around the yard.  “What’s that?” he asked, pointing to what appeared to be a wooden door in the ground.  It was half-covered by weeds.

“It looks like a storm cellar,” Angie replied.  “They do have tornados around here.  A lot of these old houses have storm cellars that the residents take shelter in when a tornado threatens.”

Rollie’s brow knit in puzzlement.  “But if that’s the storm cellar, then what’s this?” he asked.  He walked around to the front of the house then to the far side.  There was another door going into the ground there, this one right beside the house.

“I don’t know.  I have no idea why there would be two storm cellars.”

They approached the door.  There was no lock on it, so Rollie opened it.  The rusty hinges squeaked loudly.

Peering down into the darkness, the Aussie said, “Well, it’s definitely some kind of cellar.  We’ve got a flashlight in the car, don’t we?”

“Yeah, I’ll go get it.”

Angie came back with the flashlight a minute later.  Carefully, Rollie descended the rickety stairs, Angie right behind him.  Once they’d reached the bottom, the Aussie started flashing the light around the area.

“This cellar isn’t as old as the house,” he commented.

“How can you tell?”

“Well, if it was, it would have been dug before the foundation was laid.  Every basement I’ve ever seen is the same dimensions as the house.  This one looks like it only goes partway under the living room.  Aside from that, if it was put in at the same time, there would be a regular door going down to it from inside the house.”  He shone the flashlight on a staircase leading up to what looked like a trap door.  “They wouldn’t have done it that way.  That shows that the cellar was put in afterwards, and the trap door was added to access the cellar from inside the house.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Angie agreed.  She walked to the staircase and looked up.  “Unless I’m off, this would come up in the living room to the right of the fireplace.”  Her statement was met with silence.  She turned to Rollie.  He was standing utterly still, staring at the far wall.  “Rol?  What is it?”

Not answering her, he walked up to the wall.  His hand reached out and touched the wood.

“Rollie, what’s going on?” Angie asked, getting worried.

“There’s . . . something here,” the Aussie said, his voice distant.

“What?”

Again not answering, Rollie started look about for something.  He spied a crowbar, along with a few other rusted tools.  He got the crowbar and handed the flashlight to Angie.  Then he began tearing at the wood, ripping the boards off.  The wood, rotten from the dampness, broke off easily, crumbling into pieces.  Soon, he’d reached bare earth.  Rollie dug at it with the crowbar, tearing out clumps.  He’d gone in around three inches when he hit something solid.  Dropping the crowbar, Rollie continued to dig with his hands.  Slowly, what looked like a large rock was revealed.  The Aussie brushed away the dirt from a portion of it.

“Angie, look at this,” he murmured.

She came closer and focused the beam of the flashlight on the rock.  “Those look like pictographs,” she said.

“Yeah.  They’re carved into the stone, and this looks like the remains of some kind of paint.  I think this was put here by the Native Americans who used to live here.”

“But how?  This rock must be a good four feet underground.”

“It may have been above ground at one time.  This house is on the side of a hill.  There could have been a landslide many years ago that covered this whole area under several feet of earth.  We have no idea how old these writings are.”

“But what do they mean?”

“I don’t know.”  Rollie was bending forward to take a closer look at the pictographs when he heard someone call his name.  “I think Neil is looking for us.”

He and Angie left the cellar.  The ghost hunter was standing by their car.

“There you are,” he said.  “I couldn’t figure out where you were hiding.”

“We were down in the cellar,” Rollie explained.

“So, what did you find?” Angie asked excitedly.

“Nothing.”

Both Angie and Rollie blinked in surprise.  “Nothing?” Angie repeated.  “What do you mean nothing?”

“Exactly that.  I scanned that house from top to bottom.  I checked for EMF's and cold spots, two things you will often find when ghosts are present.  I took a couple dozen photos with my Polaroid.  They all came back clear.  I could find no evidence of ghosts, though I haven’t checked the audio tape yet.”

“But . . . but how can that be?” Angie asked.  “There has to be ghosts in there.  What about all the stuff that’s been happening to Rollie?”

“I don’t know.  All I can say is that I didn’t find any.”

“Okay, I’m still not saying that I believe in this ghost theory,” Rollie said, “but, if, and I repeat, if there were ghosts, could they be hiding from you?”

“Ghosts don’t hide, Rollie,” Neil told him.  “They’d have no reason to.  However, it has been surmised that not all spirits like human company.  They have been known to leave an area that is inhabited by a large number of people.”  The ghost hunter got a thoughtful look.  “It is possible that the ghosts have temporarily left.  They may have some reason for not wanting their presence recorded.”

“But they’ve made no secret of their existence, at least not to Rollie,” Angie pointed out.

“No, they haven’t.”  Neil looked at the Aussie.  “I have no idea why they’d want to make their presence known only to you.”

“Neither do I,” Rollie said.  “I wish they had picked on someone else.”

“That may not have been an option.  It’s clear to me that you have a natural ability to communicate with the spirit realm.  That is quite rare.  The ghosts here may have been waiting for years to find someone like you.”

Rollie’s mouth twisted.  “If I have some weird ability to communicate with dead people, then why hasn’t it happened before?  I have been around death quite a few times.  I’ve been in a lot of old buildings and several graveyards, yet I have never once seen, heard, or felt anything like what’s happening to me here.”

“That I don’t know.  It could be that your abilities were latent before and that something made them active.”

“So, what all this means is that the ghosts might only come out for Rollie,” Angie stated.

“Yes, that might very well be the case, though it will be a first in my experience,” Neil responded.

“What do we do now?”

“I need to get some food, then get checked into a motel.  I want to listen to this audio recording.”

“There’s only one motel in town.  It’s where we're staying.  They have vacancies,” Rollie told him.

“That would be perfect.”

With Neil in his car and Rollie and Angie in theirs, the three of them headed into town.  Finding a restaurant, the F/X artists sipped on tea as Neil ate a late lunch.  Angie plied the man with questions, wanting to know all about his ghost hunting career.

“Why did you start doing this after your wife and daughter died?” she asked.

“Because, for six months, they haunted our house.”

Angie leaned forward, her eyes glowing with interest.  “Really?  Wow.”

“I’d had no previous experience with ghosts,” Neil explained.  “It was very strange and emotionally difficult for me to know that they were there but be unable to see them, touch them, or even talk to them in a conversation.”

“What finally made them leave?”

“I came to accept their deaths and found the strength to go on without them.  I think they stayed with me those months because they were concerned that I wouldn’t be able to handle their deaths.  Once they knew I’d be all right, they moved on.  Afterwards, I decided to spend my life seeking other spirits that have remained on earth, to help both the humans affected by the haunting and the ghosts themselves.”

“How can you afford to do this full time?” Rollie asked.  “Angie said that you don’t charge for your services.”

“Money is not something I worry about.  My father left me rather well off.  Not really rich, but there’s enough money collecting interest in my bank account that I don’t need to work for a living.”

Neil finished his lunch and followed Rollie and Angie to their motel.  He got a room a couple of doors down from their rooms, which the couple was happy about.  They’d have felt rather uncomfortable making love that night knowing that the ghost hunter was just on the other side of the wall.

After Neil had gone to his room to listen to the audio recording, Rollie and Angie turned in the key for Angie’s room and moved her stuff into Rollie’s since they knew that they’d be sharing a bed that night again anyway.

“No sense in paying for a room we won’t be using,” Rollie had pointed out reasonably.  Angie had agreed wholeheartedly.

The couple spent the time waiting for Neil snuggling on the bed and talking, sharing their thoughts about many things.

“Rollie, why are you so set against believing in ghosts?” Angie asked.

Rollie thought about his answer for a while before replying.  “Part of it is that I don’t want to believe in them.  I don’t like the idea that the spirits or souls of some people may be trapped forever here on earth, never going on to whatever it is that waits for us after death.  That would be so . . . lonely to exist like that, never being able to interact with people in a normal way, never being able to touch or hold someone, having people fear you and want you to go away.”

Angie looked at him in surprise.  “I never thought about it in that way.  You’re right.  That would be a terrible way to exist.  It would hurt to think that a loved one of mine was like that.”

“Yeah,” Rollie said in a low voice.

Angie gazed at him closely.  “Are you thinking about your mom?”

The Aussie nodded.  “I’d hate the thought that she was a ghost, wandering the earth all these years, alone and unseen.”

Angie hugged him closer.  “She’s not, Rol.  If heaven exists, I know that she’s there.  Any mother who could raise someone as terrific as you would deserve that.”

Rollie looked up at her, his eyes bright with unshed tears.  “Then she’s there with your mum, Ange.”

Angie pulled him to her and gave him a gentle kiss.  There was a knock on the door a moment later.  It was Neil.

“Well, I listened to the whole tape and found nothing,” he informed them.

“So, what now?” Angie asked.

“It’s getting too late in the day to go back there now.  We don’t have a lot of daylight left.  We’ll resume things in the morning.”

“Good.  That will give me the opportunity to go to the library,” Rollie said.

“The library?  Why do you want to go there?” Angie asked.

“They may have some information on the history of this area.  They may also have copies of past issues of the local newspaper.”

“Good idea,” Neil said.  “While you’re doing that, I think I’ll wander around town and talk to some of the locals, see if they’ve got any stories to tell.”

“You might want to talk to Cecilia Parker,” Rollie suggested.  “Her husband is the one who watches over the house.  She went in there when she was a child and had a bad experience.”

“Thanks, I’ll do that.  Can you give me her phone number?”

After giving the number to Neil, Rollie and Angie headed for the library.  The librarian, who looked to be at least ninety, smiled warmly as she saw them come in.

“Why, hello,” she greeted, the youth and vigor of her voice belying her age.  “You must be those two young people that I’ve been hearing so much about, come to make a movie here.”

“That would be us,” Rollie confirmed with a smile.

“So, what can I do for you?”

“We’re interested in the history of the area, any legends or tales, especially regarding the Native Americans who lived here,” Rollie replied.

“Ah, well, we have a few books about the history of this region, but you won’t find much in the way of legends in them.  They’re pretty much just dry facts.  What in particular do you want to know?  Wait, let me guess.  It’s about the house, isn’t it.”

“Yes, or, rather, what used to be there before the house.”

“There wasn’t anything there before that house.  When I was a little girl, the stories of that place were still being told.”

“Stories?  What stories?” Rollie asked intently.

“The place was cursed, according to the Indians.  They believed that evil spirits resided in the earth there.  There were tales of some who spent too much time there and went mad.”

Startled, Rollie and Angie looked at each other.  When they turned back to the woman, she was smiling at them.

“I know what you’re thinking.  You’re thinking about poor Robert Powell, how he went round the bend and killed his family.  I remember Robert.  I was twenty-one when that terrible thing happened.  Before then, he really was a sweet man, adored his family.  The house was built back in 1895 by a rich easterner who moved into this area.  It was, by far, the fanciest house in the area.  The locals thought the guy was crazy building there, what with all the stories of the place being cursed.  Well, nothing bad happened to that easterner or his wife, so, after a while, the stories of curses faded away.  The man’s wife died of cancer in ‘26, and the man decided to sell the place and move away.  Robert had had a hankering for that house right from the start, and when it went on the market, he snatched it right up.  By then, he’d made quite a nice little bit of money on the stock market.  The Powells just loved the place.  It was plenty big enough for a growing family and had lots of land for the kids to play on.  Everything seemed perfect for them.”  The woman signed sadly.  “Until the curse returned.”

Rollie and Angie looked at each other again.  A strong feeling of uneasiness was building inside the Aussie.

“Mrs. . . .” he looked at her name tag, “Mrs. Mackenzie, we noticed that someone added a cellar to the house.  Do you know when?”

“A cellar?  No, I can’t recall anything about that.  But then, it was a very long time ago.”

“Well, thanks anyway, and thank you for the information.  It’s a big help.”

Rollie led Angie out of the library.

“Aren’t we going to look at the newspapers?” she asked.

“No.  I don’t think they’re going to tell us what we want to know.”

Angie laid a hand on his back.  “Rollie, you’re all tense.  What is it?”

The Aussie stopped by their car and turned to her.  “Angie, I have a really bad feeling about all this.  I think I know what happened to Robert Powell.”

“The curse?  Rollie, even I know that Native Americans were--and still are, in some cases--extremely superstitious.  This whole curse thing might have had no real basis in fact.”

“But what if it did, Angie?  What if a landslide generations ago covered up that area, buried . . . something under tons of earth, making it impotent?  And what if Robert Powell dug that cellar and released that something, brought it back, and it slowly drove him insane?”

Angie felt goose bumps spring up on her arms.  Could Rollie be right?  Could Robert Powell have inadvertently brought forth, something that resulted in his and his family’s doom?

“Angie, what if the same thing’s going to happen to me?” Rollie whispered.

Angie looked up and saw fear in his eyes.  She took hold of his arm.  “No, that’s not going to happen to you,” she said emphatically.

“How can you be sure?  You can’t be sure.  Something is happening to me, and I have no control over it.  What if I can’t stop it?  What if--” His voice broke off, and he abruptly turned away.

Angie walked around and faced him.  “Rollie, listen to me.  You are not going insane.  You are not going to go insane.  What’s happening to you is something different.  In fact, I think that this may be what the Powells have been trying to tell you.  They’ve been attempting to warn you that the place is dangerous, get you to do something about it.”

Rollie lifted his eyes to Angie’s.  “I’m scared, Angie.  I’m afraid of what’s going to happen.”

Angie pulled him into her embrace.  “It’s going to be all right, Rol.  I know it will.”

CHAPTER NINE

October 31, 1999--All Hallows Eve

Rollie awoke to the uneasy feeling that, one way or another, today was going to be the day that put an end to what had been happening.  He did not share this feeling with Angie, just as he did not mention that today was the seventieth anniversary of the Powells’ deaths.  And there was no way that he was going to remind her that it was also Halloween. Yet, even so, the mood was subdued as they got ready, both of them thinking about what the day might bring.

They had just finished getting dressed when Neil knocked on the door.  The previous evening, he’d told them that several people he talked to in town had claimed that they’d seen movement and strange lights in the house, but the ghost hunter had said that those reports couldn’t be relied upon since people tended to let their imaginations get away with them when they were in or near a house that was reportedly haunted.  His conversation with Cecilia had sparked his interest, but he again said that it was inconclusive.  Both Rollie and Angie had chosen not to mention the stories about the land being cursed yet.

“So, what are you going to do today,” Angie asked Neil.

The man paused before answering.  “Well, that all depends on you,” he replied, looking at Rollie.

“Me?”  The Aussie had a sudden feeling of apprehension.

Neil nodded.  “I don’t think there’s any point in me going back in there alone to do more scans.  Since these ghosts seem to show themselves, so to speak, only to you, the next logical thing would be for you to go back in the house with me.”

“Rollie, you don’t have to go back in there if you don’t want to,” Angie said quickly.

“Yes, I do, Ange.  I need to get to the bottom of this.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do,” Neil said.

They got breakfast, which Rollie barely ate any of, then went to the house.  Neil got several pieces of equipment from his car.

“All right, this is what we’re going to do,” he announced.  “When we go in there, I want you to tell me everything you feel, see, and hear.  If it gets to be too hard for you, or if you start having trouble, you are to tell me so that we can get out.  Okay?”

“Okay,” the Aussie agreed, his tension growing stronger.  He turned to Angie.  “Maybe you should stay out here.”

“No way, Rol.  I’m staying right with you.”

With Angie holding onto his hand, Rollie followed Neil into the house.  His grip on her hand tightened as they crossed the threshold.

“What do you feel, Rollie?” she asked gently.

“The same as before,” he replied.  “Pain, fear, anger too, Robert’s anger.”

Neil was looking down at the object in his hand.  “No significant EMF readings.”  He swept another piece of equipment around the room, one that looked a little like a gun with no barrel.  “And I’m not finding any cold spots.”

“What does that mean?” Angie asked.

“Well, Rollie could be tuning into the residue, for lack of a better term, of the ghost’s memories.  This entire house could be imprinted with their memories and feelings.”  Neil looked at Rollie.  “Do you feel up to going into the living room?”

The Aussie gave a tight nod.  Letting go of Angie’s hand, he went into the living room, Angie and Neil close behind him.  He had only gone in a few feet when he stopped dead, his face paling.

“Rollie, what is it?” Angie asked quickly.

“Pain,” he replied through clenched teeth.  “It’s stronger.  It--”  He gasped, doubling over.  “Oh, God, it hurts.  It . . . it. . . .”  He sunk to his knees.  Before Angie could reach him, his head lifted.  The eyes that looked at her were full of anguish.  “She doesn’t understand.  She doesn’t understand why he’s doing this,” he cried in a high-pitched voice.  “Why is he hurting his family, being so mean.  He yells at the kids, at her.”  His hand went to his cheek.  “He hit her.  He’d never hit her before, ever.  Why, Robert, why?”

Angie went to the floor beside Rollie and took hold of him.  She looked up at the ghost hunter.  “Do you have anything?” she asked demandingly.

Neil, who had been staring at the Aussie, snapped his gaze to his equipment.  “No, nothing, nothing at all.  I don’t understand this.”

Angie returned her attention to Rollie.  “Come on, Rol.  Get on your feet.  We’ve got to get you out of here.”

Rollie didn’t seem to hear her.  He was mumbling something about making sure that dinner was on the table for Robert.

“Neil, help me get him up.”

Together, they got the Aussie on his feet and out of the living room.  They sat him down on the bottom step of the staircase.  Several seconds passed before he came to his senses.  He put his face in his hands.

“I could feel her so strongly,” he whispered.  “I could hear her thoughts, feel what she was feeling.  She was so sad.  The man she loved had turned into someone she didn’t know, and she didn’t understand why.”  He looked up at Neil.  “Did you get anything?”

“No.  I don’t know what caused that, but there were no ghosts in this room.”

“Then what the hell is going on here?!” Angie exclaimed angrily.

“I wish I knew,” the ghost hunter said helplessly.  “I’ve never encountered anything like this before.  I simply don’t know what to make of it.”

“Tell him about the cellar and what the librarian said,” Rollie instructed Angie wearily.

Angie told Neil about what they’d found in the cellar and the stories of the land being cursed.  By the time she finished, Rollie was on his feet.

“If there’s something else here, could it be affecting your equipment, keeping it from getting any readings?” he asked.

“What do you mean ‘something else’?  What are you talking about?”

“I don’t know!  If I knew, don’t you think I’d do something about it?”  Rollie turned to glare into the living room.  His will hardening, he abruptly strode into the room, heading straight for the place he most desperately did not want to be.

“Rollie, no!” Angie cried.

Not heeding her call, Rollie stepped into the corner where the two youngest children died, placing his hands on the wall.  A hurricane of terror and pain hit him full-force, ripping away his sanity.  With a cry, Rollie slid down the wall to the floor, pressing himself back into the corner.

“Mommy!  Mommy!” he screamed again and again, his voice that of a small child’s.  He then let out a high, keening wail, which soon became a raw scream of terrible pain.

“Rollie!” Angie cried, running to him.  She watched in horror as he crumpled to the floor and began convulsing.

“Neil, help me!” she yelled.  The ghost hunter was there in an instant.  They dragged Rollie out of the corner, then completely out of the living room.

For nearly half a minute, the convulsions continued to rack Rollie’s body, then he grew still, the rise and fall of his chest the only indication that he was alive.

“Do you want me to call an ambulance?” Neil asked in a shaky voice.

“I don’t know.  Last time, after I performed CPR, he was okay.  But the convulsions were a lot worse this time.  He--”  She broke off at the faint sound of a groan from Rollie.  The Aussie’s eyelids fluttered, then opened.

“Angie,” he croaked.

“I’m right here, Rol.”  She grabbed hold of his hand.

Rollie’s face suddenly drained of all color.  He yanked away from her and scrambled away a few feet on his hands and knees, where he began to vomit.  His whole body trembling violently, he continued to retch until there was nothing left to come up.  Utterly drained of energy, Rollie felt Angie gently grasp his shoulders and pull him back until he was nearly laying in her lap.  She pushed the sweat-soaked hair from his brow and wrapped her arms around him.

“You’re okay, Rollie.  It’s okay now,” she whispered, as if speaking to a frightened child.

A sob caught in Rollie’s throat, followed by another.  Soon, he was crying helplessly, clinging to Angie tightly, his face buried in her shirt.  Angie held onto him, ignoring her own tears, which fell silently down her face.

It was a while before Rollie quieted.  He stayed pressed against Angie for several seconds longer, then slowly lifted his head.

“You okay?” she asked softly.

“No.  No, I’m not.  But I’ll survive,” the Aussie replied in a hoarse voice.  He sat up fully, wiping the wetness from his face.  He looked around.  “Where’s Neil?”

Angie looked behind her to see that the ghost hunter was gone.  The front door was slightly ajar.  “I think he went outside.”  She turned back to Rollie.  “Are you strong enough to stand?”

Rollie nodded.  With Angie’s help he struggled to his feet.  He stood swaying for a moment, holding onto her shoulder.

“I think I can walk now,” he said.

With Angie’s arm around his waist, Rollie went outside.  Neil was several yards away, his back to them, staring up at the sky.

“Let’s sit you down on the steps,” Angie suggested.  Agreeing, Rollie let her settle him on the porch steps.  Neil had turned around to watch them.  He came forward.

“Are you all right, Rollie?” he asked.

“Not really, but I will be.”

The ghost hunter’s gaze fell to the ground for a moment, then back up to him.  “I am so sorry,” he said.  “Angie told me what happened to you before, but I didn’t realize that. . . .  I just didn’t imagine that it was that bad.  I should never have asked you to go back in that house.”

“I could have refused, Neil,” the Aussie told him.  “And you weren’t the one who made me go into that corner.  That was my choice.”

“Why did you do that, Rollie?” Angie asked.  “You must have known what it would do to you.”

“I wanted answers.  I hoped that I would drive something out, make it reveal itself.”

“Are you up to talking about what happened?” Neil asked hesitantly.

Rollie stared at the ground between his feet.  “I was them, both of them, James and the littlest one, Mary.  Mary didn’t understand what was happening.  She was just terrified.  She was barely more than a baby.  James, he . . . he. . . .  Oh, God.  He . . . I watched Robert beat Hannah to death with the poker.  Then he killed Rebecca.  She was already unconscious on the floor.  She never even knew that she was going to die.  And then, he . . . he came toward me, toward us.  There was blood all over the poker.  It was dripping on the floor.  He raised it up above our heads, and. . . .”  Rollie stopped, shuddering.

“Shh.  You don’t have to say anymore,” Angie told him, rubbing her hand up and down his back.  She turned to Neil.  “Do you have any idea at all what’s going on here?”

The man shook his head.  “This is beyond anything I’ve ever encountered.  All the ghosts I’ve confronted, all the situations I’ve been in, I have never seen a spirit do what those in there are doing to Rollie.  This is more than just a haunting.  It’s something I have no word for.  And, quite frankly, it has me terrified.”

“What should we do?”

“Burn the house to the ground,” Neil told her.  “Close off this entire area so that nobody can get in here.”

“What if that isn’t enough?” Rollie asked.  “What if it makes things worse?  Whatever this thing is, it’s isolated to the house right now.  If the house is gone, it might . . . spread.”

Angie felt a chill at Rollie’s words.  What if he was right?

“Then the only other thing to do is board up the house completely, all the windows and doors, keep people from getting in there.” Neil said.

“Which isn’t going to keep some teenager from breaking in on a dare,” Rollie pointed out.  “We need to find out what this is and try to put an end to it.”

“How, Rollie?” Angie asked.  She knew that he was right, but how do you go about stopping something you don’t even understand?

“I don’t know.  Maybe we can find some answers on the Internet, or maybe there’s a book with some clue.”

Neil nodded.  “You said that the Native Americans had some legends of this area.  I noticed a book store in town with books on Native American culture and beliefs.  That might be a good place to start.”

“And I can get on the Net and do a search,” Angie said.  She looked at Rollie, who appeared about ready to collapse.  “You need to get some rest, Rol.  Neil and I can handle this part of it.”

They all went back to the motel.  Fussing over him like a mother, Angie got Rollie into bed.  She then went outside with Neil.

“I really am sorry, Angie,” the man said.  “If I had known this was going to happen, I would not have taken Rollie into that house.”

“It’s not your fault, Neil.”

“You can’t let him go back in there.”

“Yeah, I know.  It just keeps getting worse and worse.  It’s almost killed him twice now.  If it happens again, it could be too much for him.  As it is, I wish he’d let me take him to a doctor to check him out.  But I know Rollie.  He’d refuse to go.”  She glanced at the closed door.  “I want him to rest undisturbed.  Would you mind if I used your room while you’re gone?”

“No, not at all.”  Neil fished the key out of his pocket and handed it to her.  “If I don’t find anything at the book store, I’ll go to the library.  This town is so small, though.  We may have to go to a bigger city to find the resources we need.”

The ghost hunter left for the library, and Angie crept quietly back into hers and Rollie’s room.  The Aussie was fast asleep, huddled under the covers.  Gazing down at him for a long moment, Angie made a silent promise to him and to herself that she’d do everything in her power to protect him and stop what was happening.  She wrote a brief note and placed in upon the night stand, then gathered up her computer and exited the room.

A distant voice whispered to Rollie, words in a language he did not understand.  He felt the power of the words, ancient beyond imagining.  They wormed their way into his brain, growing in strength.  The fire of them began burning along his synapses, images, sounds, emotions, alien and indescribable.  His mind reeled from it, recoiling.  He fought to escape, clawing upward out of the blackness that was filling him. . . .

A cry ripping from his throat, Rollie sat bolt upright, wild-eyed with panic.  When he realized that he was in the motel room, his muscles relaxed.  For long minutes, he sat there, hugging his knees to his chest, his face hidden against his legs.  At last, he lifted his head and looked about.  The room was empty.

Rollie spied a piece of paper on the stand beside the bed.  The note, written in Angie’s handwriting, told him that she was in Neil’s room, searching the Internet for any information she could find.  Rollie stared at the note for a long time, then his eyes went to the window.  All at once, he knew that Angie was not going to find anything that would help them.  And, with that knowledge came another realization.

With a feeling of fatality, Rollie rose and put his shoes on.  He then got a piece of paper and sat down at the table.

Dear Angie,

I know now what I must do.  The answer isn’t going to be found in a book or on the Internet.  It is there, in that house, and I’m the only one who can find it.  Please don’t be angry with me.  This is something I have to do.  There will never be any peace for me, and the danger will never end if I don’t do this.

I love you, Angie.  Always remember that.

Yours forever,

Rollie

Placing the note against the lamp on the night stand, Rollie got the car keys and walked out the door.

CHAPTER TEN

Alone, Rollie drove up the hill.  A strange, almost unnatural calm had fallen over him.  He knew that what he was about to do could result in his death, but that was not the thought that was foremost in his mind.  It was Angie.  If he died today, he would never see her again, and she would be alone.  He didn’t want to die.  For the first time that he could remember, he finally had almost everything he wanted in life.  He had a successful career, friends who loved him, and the love of the woman he had wanted more than anything else in the world.  In his future lay the prospect of a family, children of his own.  The only thing that would have made it perfect is if he could finally have had the relationship with his father that he wanted so deeply.

Blinking back the tears that had sprung unexpectedly into his eyes, Rollie pulled up in front of the house and got out.  But, instead of going to the house, he walked to the garden.  As he went into it, he sensed consciously what he had felt only on a subconscious level before.  He closed his eyes and nodded, knowing that what he suspected was right.

Rollie turned around and looked at the house.  Taking a deep, steadying breath, he left the garden and walked up to the door.  Slowly, he entered.  As always the sensations of pain, fear, and anger came upon him.  Almost savagely, he pushed them aside and walked to the center of the foyer.

“I’m here!” he called out.  “There’s no one else but me.  Tell me what you want.”  Only silence answered him.  “Damn it, tell me!”

The silence stretched on with no sign that he had been heard by anything.  His hands clenching into fists, Rollie walked into the living room.  The farther he went in, the stronger the sensations got.  Through a sheer act of will, he fought them aside, his eyes on a single spot on the floor.  At last, he reached it.

With a final step, Rollie placed his feet in the spot where he’d awakened two nights ago, the place where Robert Powell had stood after murdering his family.  The sensations of fear and pain faded into the background as a black anger flowed into him.  Rage and madness, wild and all-consuming, darkened his mind.  With a cry that was half-scream, half-roar, Rollie fell headlong into the roiling darkness.

Angie sighed in frustration upon reaching another dead end.  Every lead she’d followed had resulted in a bunch of useless information.  She couldn’t find what she was looking for.  But then, she really didn’t know what she was looking for.  She simply had to believe that she’d know it when she found it.

Sighing again, she clicked on another link to yet another site.  She scanned down the page quickly.  Near the bottom, something caught her eye.  She clicked on the listed link and waited for the page to load.  Then, leaning forward, she began to read.

Sacred Places and Accursed Lands: Fairy Tales or an Even Deeper Mystery?

From one end of the Earth to the other, from ancient Celtic legends to Native American tribal stories, the belief that some places have been cursed while others are thought to be blessed is an ever-present tenet.  But how much truth is there in this?  Are there places on Earth that have, through the actions of beings mortal or immortal, become places of good or of evil?  How can a chunk of soil or a piece of rock have any kind of supernatural or paranormal powers?  They are inanimate, nonliving.  Yet the legends and beliefs persist.  Even today, in our age of “enlightenment” and technology, when many people only believe in what they can confirm the existence of with their senses, there are places where things seem not quite right, places that affect those who tread upon them either physically or emotionally, with no clear-cut reason behind it.

If curses are merely superstition and blessings have no real power, if a piece of land can hold no power in of itself, then where do we look for the explanation?

The scientist may point out that it is a documented fact that human beings can be affected by certain sounds, smells, even colors.  Sounds we cannot hear can make us sick.  Certain smells can make us feel happy and calm.  Some colors can dramatically alter our moods for better or worse.  It could be reasoned that some property of the so-called blessed or cursed place is the cause of what goes on there.

But what if there is another explanation?  What if these places are actually the abodes of ancient, powerful beings who exist unseen by humankind, whose very existence affect our fragile minds and bodies?  And what if these beings were never meant to be found?

If such beings do exist what could we do about it?  How could we fight a force so alien, so unnameable?  The answer may be that there is nothing we could do, and maybe we shouldn’t even try.  The old adage says, “Let sleeping dogs lie.”  As long as such beings remained somnolent, affecting no one but those who “trespass” on their land, perhaps it would be best to simply walk away and leave them be.

But what if they woke up?  What if, for some reason, they came out to walk among us?  Let us hope they never do.

The article went on to talk about different legends and places around the world that were thought to be cursed or blessed, but Angie only skimmed through those, looking to see if the location of the Powell house was listed.  When she realized it wasn’t, she left the site.

Sitting back, Angie thought about what she’d read.  The site had given no proof for what it was claiming might be true, yet the words made Angie feel uneasy.  Could they be right?  Could there be some kind of powerful, unseen force beneath the earth in places across the globe?  Could the land the Powell house sat on be one of them?

A sudden chill passed through Angie.  Feeling a need, all of a sudden, to check up on Rollie, she went to their room.  She was shocked to find the bed empty, no sign of the Aussie.  She noticed a note on the night stand and went to it.  As she read the words, her heart plummeted into her stomach.

“No,” she whispered.

The note fell from her hands, drifting to the floor as she dashed to the phone.  With a shaking finger, she dialed the Parkers’ number.

“Hello?” Fred answered.

“Fred!  This is Angie.  I need your help!  Rollie’s in trouble.”

“Whoa, Angie.  Slow down.  What’s going on?”

“He went to the house by himself.  Fred, you don’t know what’s been happening to him there.  He is in terrible danger!  I need to get up there now!”

“Okay, Angie.  I’m on my way.  Just hang on.”

The minutes it took Fred to arrive seemed like centuries to Angie.  She spent them pacing back and forth outside, her fear for Rollie mounting steadily.  What if she got there too late?  What if he was already dead?  No!  That can’t be!  She couldn’t lose him.

The instant Angie saw Fred’s car pull into the parking lot, she ran to it.  Yanking open the door, she was in the seat and yelling at Fred to drive before she’d even closed the door fully.  They took off for the house, blowing away the speed limit.

Just before they got to the house, Angie turned to the man behind the wheel.  “Fred, I need you to go find Neil Sinclair.  He was going to the book store and the library.”

“Won’t you need me at the house?”

“No, there’s nothing you could do.  But Neil might be able to help somehow.  Please, you have to find him.”

“All right, Angie.  I’ll do whatever I can.”

They slid to a halt in front of the house.  Angie quickly got out and ran up the steps, not even hearing Fred leave.  She burst through the door.

“Rollie!” she cried.  Thinking that the Aussie might have gone to the second floor, she headed for the staircase, but a small sound from the living room stopped her.  Turning, Angie saw a dark form crouched on the floor at the center of the room.

“R-Rollie?”  Angie took a step toward him.  When there was no response, she took another step.  She was about six feet away when Rollie’s head slowly lifted.  She gasped sharply at the sight before her.  Blood was trickling down the Aussie’s face from a gash in his head.  More blood was dripping from his clenched left hand.  And then she saw his eyes, and her body froze as a feeling like ice water rushed through her.  Rollie’s eyes were blazing, almost aglow with utter madness and fury.

“You shouldn’t have come back, Hannah,” he snarled.  “You should have stayed gone.  Now, I’m going to have to make you go away again.”

With those words, the Aussie rose off the floor.  Angie’s fear turned to panic as she saw what was in his right hand.  It was a poker.

“Rollie, no,” Angie said, her voice quavering as she began backing up.  “I’m not Hannah.  You’re not Robert.  You’re name is Rollie, Rollie Tyler.”

Either not hearing her or not paying any attention, Rollie slowly advanced on her.  Angie continued talking to him to no avail as she back away.  In desperation, she reached into her pocket for the pocketknife, thinking that she could stab him in the arm, disable him.  But her pocket was empty.  In dismay, she realized that she’d left the knife on the table in their room.

Knowing that she had to get out of the house and get Rollie out of their too, Angie turned to flee, but before she’d taken a single step, he was upon her.  He grabbed her arm in a bruising grip.  The poker lifted.

“No!” she screamed, raising her free arm over her head.

The blow did not fall.  Above her, the hand holding the poker began to tremble, then shake violently.  Angie looked up into Rollie’s face.  It was twisted into an expression of torment, his eyes black and staring.

“Nnnnoooo!” came a stuttering, anguished cry from his lips as a battle between two personalities raged inside him for dominance.  “Nnnnnoooooo!”

Suddenly, he released her, stumbling backwards.  The poker fell from his hand to clatter on the wood floor.  His hands covered his face.

“Rollie?  Is it you?” Angie asked tremulously.

The Aussie lifted his face from his hands and looked at her with eyes that were his own.  “An . . . An . . . An--”  Rollie’s voice abruptly choked off with a ragged, gasping breath.  His eyes filled with anguish so strong it was like a physical blow to her senses.  They were no longer looking at her, but at something only he could see.

“Nooo!” he screamed.  “Nooooo!”

With another wailing cry, Rollie ran past her and up the stairs.

“Rollie!” Angie ran after him.  She reached the top of the stairs just in time to see him disappear through the door of the master bedroom and slam it behind him.  She ran to it only to find it locked.  “Rollie!  Open the door!” she yelled as she banged on the door.  “Rollie!”

Inside, Rollie lay on the floor, grief, anguish, and self-hatred pummeling him, crushing him.  He screamed his throat raw.  All he saw was blood and death.  At his hands.  The blood was on his hands.

Deep, racking sobs welling out of him, Rollie got to his feet and stumbled to the dresser.  He tore a drawer out, searching for something.  It wasn’t there!  The sobs growing in strength, becoming hysterical, he yanking out all the other drawers only to find them empty as well.  With an angry roar, he pushed the dresser over.  It crashed to the floor.  Wild eyes cast about the room.  Where could it be?!  He had to find it!  Then a memory surfaced.

The Aussie ran to the closet.  In the shadows of the far corner of the top shelf, he spied what he was looking for.  In triumph, he grabbed the box and pulled it down.  The grief was going to be over.  It was going to end.

Angie could here Rollie screaming in the room.  Her pleas to him were useless.  She had to get in there!

Running down the stairs, Angie got the poker Rollie had dropped.  She returned to the master bedroom and started hitting the door over and over again with the hooked end of the poker.  The metal bit deeply into the wood, chunks flying.  At last, she broke through.  She stuck her hand through the opening, ignoring the pain as she gashed her flesh on the jagged wood, and turned the lock on the doorknob.

Swinging the door open, Angie stepped inside.  At the sight before her, her heart stuttered to a halt then began beating frantically.  “Oh my God.”

Rollie was sitting on the floor near the vanity.  In his hand was a gun.  He was staring down at it, weeping uncontrollably.

“What have I done?” he said in a tiny, grief-filled voice.  “They’re all dead.  I killed them.  Oh, God, I killed them.”

“R-R-Rollie?” Angie said, her voice shaking so badly it came out as a stutter.  “Rollie, listen to me.  You didn’t kill them.  You didn’t kill anyone.”

The Aussie’s eyes lifted to hers.  “Hannah?  Hannah, I’m so sorry.  I didn’t mean to kill you.  And the children.  Oh my God, the children.  I’m sorry.  I’m so sorry.  I can’t live knowing what I did.”  He cocked the gun and lifted it to his head.

“No!  Oh, God, Rollie, please don’t!” Angie cried.  She ran forward and went to her knees a few feet in front of him.  “Rollie, listen to me.  You’re not him.  You’re not Robert Powell.  Your name is Rollie Tyler, and you didn’t kill anyone.  These memories you have aren’t yours!”

Rollie shook his head.  “No, it’s a trick.  You’re trying to trick me.  I killed them.  I killed them all.  Rebecca and Nicholas, James and little Mary.  My babies.  I killed all my babies.  And I killed you!”  His finger tightened on the trigger.

“Rollie, no!  Look at me!  I’m not dead.  I’m not Hannah.  I’m Angie, the woman you love, the woman who’s going to marry you.” Angie began to cry.  “Please remember, Rollie,” she pleaded.  “Remember us.  The garden, remember what happened in the garden.  We made love for the first time there.  It was so beautiful and wonderful, the most wonderful moment of our lives.  Remember the grass beneath us, the trees, the sounds of the birds as we found each other, as I told you that I love you.  You have to remember that, Rollie.  I know you can.”

The barrel of the gun wavered slightly from its position against Rollie’s temple.  Confusion filled the Aussie’s eyes.  “I’m . . . I’m . . . I’m R-Rollie T-Tyler.”  He shook his head.  “No!  I’m Robert Powell!  I killed Hannah and the kids!”  The gun steadied, Rollie’s finger again firmly on the trigger.

“Rollie, listen to me,” Angie pleaded.  “I love you.  If you die, I die too.”

Rollie stared at Angie.  Her face wavered before his eyes.  All at once, memories began flooding into him, memories of Angie and him together, the ecstasy and joy they found in the garden and all the rest of that day and night, earlier memories of their friendship, their happy and sad times together.  The overpowering tide of memories gradually narrowed down to a single one, brightest and most precious of all, of him lying upon Angie, his body within hers, gazing down into eyes full of love for him, and hearing the words that set his soul free.

“An . . . Angie?” he whispered, his voice cracking.  He looked down at the gun in his hand.  As he stared at it, the last of Robert Powell’s memories faded away.  He let the gun fall from his fingers and looked back up at the woman who was his life.

With a small cry, Angie went to him.  She grabbed the gun and hurled it across the room, then she pulled him into her arms.  “Rollie.  Oh, Rollie.  It’s okay.  I’ve got you.  You’re back with me now.”

Minutes passed with Rollie saying nothing, only clinging to her with almost painful force.  She drew away from him a little to look at his face.

“Why did you do it, Rollie?  You could have died.”

“I had to.  I had to try and stop it.  There’s something more here than we. . . .”  Rollie’s voice trailed off as his eyes widened.  He tore himself out of her arms.  Standing up, he backed away into the center of the room.  “Oh my God.  It’s coming,” he whispered, staring at something Angie could not see.

Angie opened her mouth to speak, but the words died on her tongue as she became aware that they were no longer alone.  Her mind shrunk away from the feeling, the presence of something dark, terrifying, and totally alien.  The room seemed to darken, the air growing thick, heavy, suffocating.

And then, from everywhere and nowhere, echoing deep inside her mind, there came a low murmuring, words in a language she did not understand, in a voice that was not human.

Primal terror took hold of Angie.  She tried to run, but she could not move.  Her body seemed caught, imprisoned like a fly in amber.  She turned desperate eyes on Rollie.  He was on his knees several feet away, his head clutched in his hands, his face twisted into an expression of agony.  She tried to call out to him, but the words came out as a strangled gasp.

Mute and helpless, Angie watched as the shadows around her appeared to shift and move, seeming to come to life.  They began advancing upon her, oozing across the floor like blood.

‘Rollie, help me!’ she screamed in her mind, struggling to break free from the power that held her captive.

Through the pain that blazed in Rollie’s mind, through the power that was attempting to overwhelm him, Rollie heard Angie’s scream for help.  His head snapped up.  Horrified, he saw the darkness reaching for her.

“No!” he yelled.

His fear for Angie giving him strength, Rollie struggled to his feet and ran to her.  Kneeling on the floor beside her, he covered her body with his, attempting to blanket her with his body and his presence.

The shadows moved over them, their touch biting into them like ice.  At Angie’s cry of pain and fear, Rollie wrapped himself more tightly about her until the shadows no longer touched her.  Sheltering her in his arms, he felt the darkness cover him completely, sucking the life out of him.  He closed his eyes and remained where he was, fighting with all his will to protect Angie and praying that, somehow, she would be spared.

Slowly, Angie felt the cold and pain disappear, as if her body was in a warm cocoon.  She realized that, somehow, Rollie was protecting her against the darkness.  An instant later, another realization hit her.  In protecting her, Rollie was killing himself, leaving himself without protection against the force that was rising up all around them.  Even as she realized this, the Aussie’s hold on her began to loosen, his heart beat slowing.

“No!  Rollie, no!” she cried against him, struggling to get out of his grasp.  But, no matter how hard she tried she could not get free.  Something more than his physical body was holding her to him.

Sobbing against him, Angie felt it as Rollie slowly died, as he sacrificed himself for her.  All the wonderful memories of them together, their friendship, their love and passion, filled her mind as she concentrated on them with her whole soul, trying, somehow, to give Rollie strength through them.

Then, past the sound of her sobs, she heard a faint whisper come from him, a final gasp before death claimed him.

“Please help us,” he pleaded, though she did not know to whom he spoke.

Angie’s sobs jerked to a halt as, deep inside her mind, she heard something answer him.  “I am here,” it said.

With those words, everything seemed to still, becoming utterly silent.  The darkness drew back, pulling away into the corners of the room.  The moment it was gone, Rollie slid off Angie, falling limply to the floor.  She looked down at him and into unseeing eyes, eyes reflecting something ancient, powerful, and inhuman.

Her mind reeling, Angie gaped at Rollie as words started issuing from his mouth in a voice that was not his, speaking the same strange language she’d heard before, only, this time, the words did not bring fear to her.

Then, as if from a great distance, Angie became aware of another sound, a low rumbling, almost on a subsonic level.  The rumbling grew in volume, and she realized that it was coming from beneath her.  Through the hands that were pressed against the floor, Angie felt a faint tremor.  The tremors quickly grew stronger.  All around them, the room started to shake, the walls groaning from stresses too great for them to withstand.  In terror, Angie watched as tiny cracks began snaking across the plaster in the walls and ceiling.

Angie reached for Rollie, who was laying absolutely still, eyes still staring sightlessly as he continued speaking in the alien tongue.

“Rollie!  We have to get out of here!”  She grasped his shoulders and shook him, but got no reaction.  “Rollie, please!  You’ve got to get up!”

Realizing that it was no use, Angie grabbed onto the Aussie and tried to drag him toward the door, even though she knew that it was hopeless, that she’d never be able to get him downstairs.  Angie knew that she could escape without him, but she wasn’t going to leave him.  She would rather die here with him than live without him.

Refusing to give up without a fight, Angie kept trying to drag Rollie across the floor.  And then she heard a sound that sent relief flooding through her: voices from downstairs calling hers and Rollie’s names.

“Neil!  Fred!  Up here!” she yelled.  “Help us!”

Moments later, the men came rushing into the room.  They stopped dead at the sight of Rollie.

“Help me get him out of here!” she cried, snapping them out of their shock.

The two men grabbed the Aussie, carrying him out of the room, with Angie close behind.  All around them, the house was shaking, windows shattering, portions of the ceiling crashing down.  Staggering down the hallway, they made it to the stairs and started down.  They were halfway down when it lurched beneath them, almost knocking them from their feet.  Fighting to stay on their feet, they made it to the first floor.  They were barely off the steps when the entire staircase collapsed.

As they approached the front door, a deep groan shuddered through the house.  In horror, they saw the walls begin to list inward toward them.  Running the remaining steps to the door, Angie ripped it open and they ran outside.

“The garden!  Go to the garden!” she cried, heeding some instinct that she wasn’t about to question.

Neil slung Rollie’s now limp, silent body over his shoulders in a fireman’s carry and ran with the others to the garden.  They passed beyond the low stone wall and went to their knees.  Neil gently laid Rollie down on the ground and turned around with the others to stare at the house.  In awe, they watched as, with a final groan, the structure collapsed inward, as if swallowing itself up.

There was a moment of dead silence, as if every living thing was holding its breath.  Then something hit them, like a silent sonic boom that shook not only the earth but also their very molecules.  They threw their hands over their eyes as a huge explosion engulfed the house.  The blast wave struck them, knocking them to the ground.

Angie, Fred, and Neil struggled upright to witness the house burn to ash amidst heat so intense it glowed white.  Above the roar of the flames, Angie heard something, a faint, wailing cry of rage and defeat.  And then, it was gone.

Angie tore her eyes from the spectacle and turned to Rollie.  With horror, she stared at his face.  It was utterly colorless, no visible signs of life in his body.  She dashed over to him, terrified that he was dead.  Her questing fingers found a faint pulse, beating fast and erratic.  She then saw the almost nonexistent movement of his respiration.  She looked up at the other two men.

“He needs help.  We have to get him to a hospital,” she told them in a fearful voice.  With fumbling fingers, she pulled out her cell phone and handed it to Fred, who quickly dialed for help.

“Hang on, Rollie,” Angie murmured, stroking the hair away from her partner’s face.  “Help is on the way.  It’s all over now.  You’re safe.”