Hell House
Chapter 29
9:07 P.M.
There must be something I can do," she said. Barrett turned from the machine, where he was working on an uncovered circuit assembly, comparing its maze of wires and transistors with one of his blueprints. She had been watching him in restive silence for the past twenty minutes, noticing how tired he looked. Finally she'd had to speak.
"I'm afraid there isn't," he told her. "It's just too complicated. It would take ten times as long to explain what I wanted done as it does for me to do it myself."
"I know, but - " Edith broke off worriedly. "How much longer will it be?"
"Hard to say. I have to make certain everything's been done as specified. Otherwise there could be a malfunction, and all my work would be for nothing. I can't afford that." He tried to smile, but it was more like a grimace of pain. "I'll finish as soon as possible."
Edith nodded without assurance. She glanced at Lionel's watch on the table. He'd been at it for more than an hour now and had barely finished checking one circuit assembly. The Reversor was gigantic. At this rate it could take all night, and his energy simply wasn't up to it. She'd phone Dr. Wagman if she thought it would do any good, but she knew that Lionel would drop in his tracks before stopping now.
The cold weight in her stomach seemed to press down as she watched him work. He was not as confident as he had been.
He'd been trying to conceal it from her but she knew his conviction had been badly shaken by the occurrence in the steam room. She knew how vulnerable she'd felt after what she'd done.
Despite his fa
ade of certainty, Lionel must be feeling the same way.
She had to know. "What is your machine supposed to do?"
He looked across his shoulder. "I'd rather not explain it now, my dear. It's quite involved."
"Can't you tell me anything?"
"Well, in essence, I'm going to pull the plug on all the power in the house." He swallowed dryly, turned to get a drink of water. "I'll explain it in detail tomorrow," he continued, pouring water into a glass. "Suffice to say that any form of energy can be dissipated - which is what I plan to do."
She watched him take out a codeine pill and wash it down. He drew in a shaking breath and smiled. "I know it doesn't sound too satisfying at the moment, but you'll see." He set the glass down. "By this time tomorrow, Hell House will be drained, deenergized."
They looked around abruptly at the sound of measured clapping. Fischer stood in the archway, looking at them, a bottle underneath his right arm. "Bravo," he said.
Edith turned away, a dark flush on her face.
"Have you been drinking, Mr. Fischer?" Barrett asked.
"Have been, will continue to," said Fischer. "Not enough to lose control," he cut off Barrett's words. "Just enough to blunt the senses. Nothing in this goddamn house is going to get another crack at me. I've had it. I have had it."
"I'm sorry," Barrett said after a few moments. He felt, somehow, responsible for Fischer's black mood.
"Don't be sorry for me. Be sorry for yourself." Fischer pointed at the Reversor. "That goddamn pile of junk isn't going to do a goddamn thing but make a lot of noise . . . assuming that it works at all. You think this house is going to shape up 'cause you play your goddamn music box? The hell it is. Belasco's going to laugh in your face. They're all going to laugh in your face -
the way they've been laughing all these years at any idiot who tries to come in here and . . . deenergize the place." He made a hissing sound. "De-energize, my ass." He glared at Barrett, gesturing toward Edith. "Get her out of here," he said. "Get yourself out. You don't have a chance."
"What about yourself?" asked Barrett.
"I'm all right. I know the score. You don't fight this place, it can't get at you. You don't let it get inside your skin, you're fine.
Hell House doesn't mind a guest or two. Anyone can stay here if they don't mind fun and games. What it doesn't like is people who attack it. Belasco doesn't like it. All his people, they don't like it, and they fight back, and they kill you. He's a general, did you know that? A general with an army. He directs them!" Fischer gestured floridly. "Directs them like a - mess of goddamn troops! No one makes a move without him, not his son, not anybody."
Fischer pointed at Barrett, his expression suddenly rabid.
"I'm telling you," he said. "I'm telling you! Cut out this bullshit! Leave that damn machine alone, forget it! Spend your week here eating, resting, doing nothing. Then, when Sunday comes, tell old man Deutsch anything he wants to hear, and bank your money. Hear me, Barrett? Try anything more than that, and you're a dead man, a-dead-man." He looked at Edith. "With a dead wife by your side."
He jerked himself around. "Oh, hell, why bother anyway? No one listens. Florence doesn't listen. You don't listen. No one listens. Die, then. Die!" He stumbled off. "I was the only one who made it out alive in 1940, and I'll be the only one to make it out alive in 1970." He weaved across the entry hall. "You hear me, Belasco, you son of a bitch! I'm closed off! Try to get me!
You never will! You hear me?"
Edith sat staring at her husband. He was watching Fischer's departure with a troubled look.
He looked at her, "Poor man. This house has really beaten him."
He's right; she heard the words in her mind. She hadn't the courage to voice them.
Barrett limped over, pulled a chair beside hers, and sat with a groan. He was silent for a while, then drew in a heavy breath and said, "He's wrong."
"Is he?" Edith's voice was faint.
He nodded. "What he calls a pile of junk" - he smiled at the words - "is nothing more or less than the key to Hell House."
He raised a hand. "All right, grant you, things have happened which I don't quite comprehend - although I would if I had time." He rubbed his eyes. "That's not the point, however. Man controls electricity without understanding its true nature. What the details are of the energy inside this house is not as vital as the fact that I" - he pointed - "that machine . . . has the power of life and death over it."
He stood. "And that is that. I told you from the start that Miss Tanner is wrong in what she believes. I tell you now that Fischer is equally in error. And tomorrow I'll prove my case beyond a solitary doubt."
He turned away and hobbled back to the Reversor. Edith watched him go. She wished she could believe him, but Fischer's words had driven fear so deep inside her she could feel it in her blood, chill and acidic, eating at her.
10:19 P.M.
. . . Daniel, please. You have to understand. What you ask is inconceivable. You know that. It isn't that I have no sympathy. I do. I've opened up my heart completely to you. I believe in you and trust you. You saved my life. Now let me save your soul.
You don't have to stay in this house any longer. Help is present, if only you will ask for it. Believe me, Daniel. There are those who love you and will help you if you ask. Your father doesn't have the power to stop you. Not if you seek out those beyond, and take the hand they offer you. Let them help you. Take their hand. If you only knew the beauty which awaits you, Daniel. If you only knew how lovely are the realms which lie beyond this house. Would you keep yourself locked in a barren cell when all the beauties of the universe await you on the outside? Think! Accept! Don't close yourself to those who would so gladly help you. Try; only try. They wait for you with open arms. They will help you, give you comfort. Don't remain within these cheerless walls. You can be free. Believe that, Daniel. Believe it, and it will be so. I pledge you this. Trust me. Let go. Let go.
She could barely stand. Shuffling to the bathroom, she washed and changed into her nightgown with infirm movements. Her limbs were like iron. She had never felt such helpless enervation in her life.
Daniel wouldn't listen. He simply would not listen.
She returned to the other room and got into bed. Tomorrow, then, she told herself. He had to listen sooner or later. In the morning, she would start again. She slumped back heavily or the pillow, wincing at the flare of pain in her breasts. She lay on her back, staring at the ceiling with heavylidded eyes. Tomorrow, she thought.
She turned her head.
There was a figure standing by the door. She gazed at it without alarm. There was no menace in it.
"Daniel?"
The figure advanced. In the feeble light from the bathroom she saw its features clearly: youthful, handsome, the expression grave, the eyes filled with despair.
"Can you speak?" she asked.
"Yes." His voice was gentle, pained.
"Why won't you go?"
"I cannot."
"But you must."
"Not without - "
"Daniel, no," she said.
He turned his face away.
"Daniel - "
"I love you," he said. "You're the only woman I've ever said that to. I never met another like you. You're so good . . . so good
. . . the kindest person I have ever known."
His face turned back to her, dark eyes searching her face. "I need - " He broke off, twisting toward the door. "I will speak to her!" he said frightenedly. "You can't stop me!" He looked back at her. "I can't remain much longer; he won't let me," he said.
"I beg of you. Please give me what I ask. If I am driven from this house without fulfillment . . ."
"Driven?" Florence tensed.
" Your Doctor Barrett has the means."
She gazed at him, stunned.
"He knows the mechanism of my being in this house and can drive me from it," he said. "But that is all he knows. Whatever else I am - my heart, my mind, my soul - he knows nothing of, cares nothing for. He's going to drive me from one hell to another, don't you see? Only you can help me. I can leave this house tonight if you'll help me. Please." His voice began to fade.
"If you carefor me at all, have pity. Please have pity. . . ."
" Daniel - "
For several moments she could hear his wretched sobbing; then the room was still. She stared at the spot where he'd been standing. "You know I can't," she said. "Daniel, please. You know I can't. You know I can't."
There must be something I can do," she said. Barrett turned from the machine, where he was working on an uncovered circuit assembly, comparing its maze of wires and transistors with one of his blueprints. She had been watching him in restive silence for the past twenty minutes, noticing how tired he looked. Finally she'd had to speak.
"I'm afraid there isn't," he told her. "It's just too complicated. It would take ten times as long to explain what I wanted done as it does for me to do it myself."
"I know, but - " Edith broke off worriedly. "How much longer will it be?"
"Hard to say. I have to make certain everything's been done as specified. Otherwise there could be a malfunction, and all my work would be for nothing. I can't afford that." He tried to smile, but it was more like a grimace of pain. "I'll finish as soon as possible."
Edith nodded without assurance. She glanced at Lionel's watch on the table. He'd been at it for more than an hour now and had barely finished checking one circuit assembly. The Reversor was gigantic. At this rate it could take all night, and his energy simply wasn't up to it. She'd phone Dr. Wagman if she thought it would do any good, but she knew that Lionel would drop in his tracks before stopping now.
The cold weight in her stomach seemed to press down as she watched him work. He was not as confident as he had been.
He'd been trying to conceal it from her but she knew his conviction had been badly shaken by the occurrence in the steam room. She knew how vulnerable she'd felt after what she'd done.
Despite his fa
ade of certainty, Lionel must be feeling the same way.
She had to know. "What is your machine supposed to do?"
He looked across his shoulder. "I'd rather not explain it now, my dear. It's quite involved."
"Can't you tell me anything?"
"Well, in essence, I'm going to pull the plug on all the power in the house." He swallowed dryly, turned to get a drink of water. "I'll explain it in detail tomorrow," he continued, pouring water into a glass. "Suffice to say that any form of energy can be dissipated - which is what I plan to do."
She watched him take out a codeine pill and wash it down. He drew in a shaking breath and smiled. "I know it doesn't sound too satisfying at the moment, but you'll see." He set the glass down. "By this time tomorrow, Hell House will be drained, deenergized."
They looked around abruptly at the sound of measured clapping. Fischer stood in the archway, looking at them, a bottle underneath his right arm. "Bravo," he said.
Edith turned away, a dark flush on her face.
"Have you been drinking, Mr. Fischer?" Barrett asked.
"Have been, will continue to," said Fischer. "Not enough to lose control," he cut off Barrett's words. "Just enough to blunt the senses. Nothing in this goddamn house is going to get another crack at me. I've had it. I have had it."
"I'm sorry," Barrett said after a few moments. He felt, somehow, responsible for Fischer's black mood.
"Don't be sorry for me. Be sorry for yourself." Fischer pointed at the Reversor. "That goddamn pile of junk isn't going to do a goddamn thing but make a lot of noise . . . assuming that it works at all. You think this house is going to shape up 'cause you play your goddamn music box? The hell it is. Belasco's going to laugh in your face. They're all going to laugh in your face -
the way they've been laughing all these years at any idiot who tries to come in here and . . . deenergize the place." He made a hissing sound. "De-energize, my ass." He glared at Barrett, gesturing toward Edith. "Get her out of here," he said. "Get yourself out. You don't have a chance."
"What about yourself?" asked Barrett.
"I'm all right. I know the score. You don't fight this place, it can't get at you. You don't let it get inside your skin, you're fine.
Hell House doesn't mind a guest or two. Anyone can stay here if they don't mind fun and games. What it doesn't like is people who attack it. Belasco doesn't like it. All his people, they don't like it, and they fight back, and they kill you. He's a general, did you know that? A general with an army. He directs them!" Fischer gestured floridly. "Directs them like a - mess of goddamn troops! No one makes a move without him, not his son, not anybody."
Fischer pointed at Barrett, his expression suddenly rabid.
"I'm telling you," he said. "I'm telling you! Cut out this bullshit! Leave that damn machine alone, forget it! Spend your week here eating, resting, doing nothing. Then, when Sunday comes, tell old man Deutsch anything he wants to hear, and bank your money. Hear me, Barrett? Try anything more than that, and you're a dead man, a-dead-man." He looked at Edith. "With a dead wife by your side."
He jerked himself around. "Oh, hell, why bother anyway? No one listens. Florence doesn't listen. You don't listen. No one listens. Die, then. Die!" He stumbled off. "I was the only one who made it out alive in 1940, and I'll be the only one to make it out alive in 1970." He weaved across the entry hall. "You hear me, Belasco, you son of a bitch! I'm closed off! Try to get me!
You never will! You hear me?"
Edith sat staring at her husband. He was watching Fischer's departure with a troubled look.
He looked at her, "Poor man. This house has really beaten him."
He's right; she heard the words in her mind. She hadn't the courage to voice them.
Barrett limped over, pulled a chair beside hers, and sat with a groan. He was silent for a while, then drew in a heavy breath and said, "He's wrong."
"Is he?" Edith's voice was faint.
He nodded. "What he calls a pile of junk" - he smiled at the words - "is nothing more or less than the key to Hell House."
He raised a hand. "All right, grant you, things have happened which I don't quite comprehend - although I would if I had time." He rubbed his eyes. "That's not the point, however. Man controls electricity without understanding its true nature. What the details are of the energy inside this house is not as vital as the fact that I" - he pointed - "that machine . . . has the power of life and death over it."
He stood. "And that is that. I told you from the start that Miss Tanner is wrong in what she believes. I tell you now that Fischer is equally in error. And tomorrow I'll prove my case beyond a solitary doubt."
He turned away and hobbled back to the Reversor. Edith watched him go. She wished she could believe him, but Fischer's words had driven fear so deep inside her she could feel it in her blood, chill and acidic, eating at her.
10:19 P.M.
. . . Daniel, please. You have to understand. What you ask is inconceivable. You know that. It isn't that I have no sympathy. I do. I've opened up my heart completely to you. I believe in you and trust you. You saved my life. Now let me save your soul.
You don't have to stay in this house any longer. Help is present, if only you will ask for it. Believe me, Daniel. There are those who love you and will help you if you ask. Your father doesn't have the power to stop you. Not if you seek out those beyond, and take the hand they offer you. Let them help you. Take their hand. If you only knew the beauty which awaits you, Daniel. If you only knew how lovely are the realms which lie beyond this house. Would you keep yourself locked in a barren cell when all the beauties of the universe await you on the outside? Think! Accept! Don't close yourself to those who would so gladly help you. Try; only try. They wait for you with open arms. They will help you, give you comfort. Don't remain within these cheerless walls. You can be free. Believe that, Daniel. Believe it, and it will be so. I pledge you this. Trust me. Let go. Let go.
She could barely stand. Shuffling to the bathroom, she washed and changed into her nightgown with infirm movements. Her limbs were like iron. She had never felt such helpless enervation in her life.
Daniel wouldn't listen. He simply would not listen.
She returned to the other room and got into bed. Tomorrow, then, she told herself. He had to listen sooner or later. In the morning, she would start again. She slumped back heavily or the pillow, wincing at the flare of pain in her breasts. She lay on her back, staring at the ceiling with heavylidded eyes. Tomorrow, she thought.
She turned her head.
There was a figure standing by the door. She gazed at it without alarm. There was no menace in it.
"Daniel?"
The figure advanced. In the feeble light from the bathroom she saw its features clearly: youthful, handsome, the expression grave, the eyes filled with despair.
"Can you speak?" she asked.
"Yes." His voice was gentle, pained.
"Why won't you go?"
"I cannot."
"But you must."
"Not without - "
"Daniel, no," she said.
He turned his face away.
"Daniel - "
"I love you," he said. "You're the only woman I've ever said that to. I never met another like you. You're so good . . . so good
. . . the kindest person I have ever known."
His face turned back to her, dark eyes searching her face. "I need - " He broke off, twisting toward the door. "I will speak to her!" he said frightenedly. "You can't stop me!" He looked back at her. "I can't remain much longer; he won't let me," he said.
"I beg of you. Please give me what I ask. If I am driven from this house without fulfillment . . ."
"Driven?" Florence tensed.
" Your Doctor Barrett has the means."
She gazed at him, stunned.
"He knows the mechanism of my being in this house and can drive me from it," he said. "But that is all he knows. Whatever else I am - my heart, my mind, my soul - he knows nothing of, cares nothing for. He's going to drive me from one hell to another, don't you see? Only you can help me. I can leave this house tonight if you'll help me. Please." His voice began to fade.
"If you carefor me at all, have pity. Please have pity. . . ."
" Daniel - "
For several moments she could hear his wretched sobbing; then the room was still. She stared at the spot where he'd been standing. "You know I can't," she said. "Daniel, please. You know I can't. You know I can't."
