"HellHouse" - читать интересную книгу автора (Matheson Richard)

"Yes," said Barrett. "Could you--?"
"Death the pardon, the release. Leave behind what poet call 'muddy vesture of decay.' Find freedom--light--eternal joy."
"Yes, but do you think--?"
Edith bit her lower lip to keep from laughing as Florence interrupted again. "Tanner woman say put on machine, get voice on ribbon. Not know what she mean. You do that?"
Barrett grunted. "Very well." Reaching across the table, he felt around for the tape recorder, switched it on, and pushed the microphone toward Florence. "Now, if you'd--"
"Red Cloud Tanner woman guide. Guide second medium on this side. Talk with Tanner woman. Bring other spirits to her."
Florence looked around abruptly, teeth bared, eyebrows pressing down, a growl of disapproval rumbling in her throat "Bad house. Place of sickness. Evil here. Bad medicine." She shook her head and growled again. "_Bad_ medicine."
She twisted around the other way, grunting in surprise, as though someone had come up behind her and attracted her attention. "Man here. Ugly man. Like caveman. Long hair. Dirt on face. Scratches, sores. Yellow teeth. Man bent over, twisted. No clothes. Like animal. Breathing hard. In pain. Very sick. Say: 'Give me peace. Let free.'"
Edith clutched at Lionel's hand, afraid to open her eyes lest she see the figure Florence had described.
Florence shook her head, then slowly raised her arm and pointed toward the entry hall. "Go. Leave house." She stared into the darkness, turned back with a grunt. "No good. Here too long. Not listen. Not understand." She tapped her head with an index finger. "Too much sick inside."
She made a sound as though something interesting had been imparted to her. "Limits," she said. "Nations. Terms. Not know what that mean. Extremes and limits. Terminations and extremities." She shook her head. "Not know."
She jerked around as though someone had grabbed her rudely by the shoulder. "No. Go away." She grunted. "Young man here. Say must talk--must talk." She made a grumbling noise and then was still.
All three twitched as Florence cried out, "I don't know you people!" She looked around the table, her expression one of rabid agitation. "Why are you here? It does no good. Nothing ever changes. _Nothing!_ Get out of here, or I'll hurt you! I can't help myself! God damn you filthy sons of bitches!"
Edith pressed back hard against her chair. The voice was totally unlike Florence's--hysterical, unbalanced, threatening. "Can't you see I'm helpless! I don't want to hurt you, but I _must!_" Florence's head shifted forward, eyes hooding, lips drawn back from clenching teeth. "I warn you," she told them in a guttural voice. "_Get out of this house before I kill you all_."
Edith cried out as a series of loud, staccato rappings sounded on the table. "What's that?" she asked. Her voice was lost beneath the chain of savage blows. It sounded as though a berserk man were pounding a hammer on the tabletop as hard and fast as he could. Barrett started to reach for his instruments, then remembered that there was no electricity. Damn! he thought.
Abruptly, the rappings ceased. Edith looked toward Florence as the medium started making groaning noises. She could still hear the blows ringing in her ears. Her body felt numb, as though the vibrations had deadened her flesh.
She started as Lionel pulled his hand free. She heard a rustling of his clothes, then started again as a small red light appeared where he was sitting. He had taken the pencil flashlight from his pocket and was pointing it at Florence. In the dim illumination, Edith could see the medium's head lolling back against the chair, eyes shut, mouth hanging open.
She stiffened, suddenly aware of a mounting coldness underneath the table. Shuddering, she crossed her arms. Fischer clenched his teeth together, willing himself not to jump from his chair.
Barrett tugged at the microphone wire, the scraping of the microphone across the table making Edith shudder. Picking it up, he noted quickly, "Temperature decline. Strictly tactile. Instrument reading impossible. Physical phenomena commenced with series of severe percussions." He pointed the flashlight at Florence again. "Miss Tanner reacting erratically. Trance state retained, but variable. Possible confusion at onset of unexpected physical phenomena. Absence of cabinet a probable factor. Handing subject tube of uranium-salt solution."
Edith watched the red light flicking around the tabletop. She saw Lionel's dark hand pick up the tube. The coldness beneath the table was making her legs and ankles ache. Still, she felt a little better, the unruffled tone of Lionel's voice having had a quieting effect on het. She watched as he pressed the tube into Florence's hands.
Florence sat up quickly, opening her eyes.
Barrett frowned in disappointment. "Subject out of trance." He switched off the tape recorder and struck a match. Florence averted her face while he relit the candles.
Fischer stood and moved around the table to a pitcher of water. As he poured some into a glass, the lip of the pitcher rattled on the glass edge. Barrett glanced at him. Fischer handed the glass to Florence, who drank its contents in a single swallow. "There." She smiled at Fischer. "Thank you." She set the glass down, shivering. "What happened?"
When Barrett told her, she stared at him in confusion. "I don't understand. I'm not a physical medium."
"You were just now. The embryo of one, at any rate."
Florence looked disturbed. "That doesn't make sense. Why should I suddenly become a physical medium after all these years?"
"I have no idea."
Florence gazed at him. Finally she nodded with reluctance. "Yes; this house." She looked around. At last she sighed. "God's will, not mine," she said. "If my part in the cleansing is to alter my mediumship, so be it. All that matters is the end." She didn't look at Fischer as she spoke. The weight's been lifted from his shoulders to be put on mine, she thought.
"We can work together now if you're amenable," said Barrett.
"Yes, of course."
"I'll telephone Deutsch's man and have him see to the construction of a cabinet tomorrow morning." Barrett wasn't convinced that what had happened indicated a physical mediumship in Florence extensive enough for his needs. There was certainly no immediate harm in seeing if she had the capability, however. If she did it would be more expeditious to work with her than be forced to wait for Deutsch's permission to bring up one of his own people.
Seeing her expression still reflect uneasy doubt, he asked, "You really want this?"
"_Yes, yes_." Her smile was disconcerted. "It's just that . . . well, it's difficult for me to understand. All these years, a mental medium." She shook her head. "Now this." She made a sound of wry amusement. "The Lord moves in mysterious ways indeed."
"So does this house," said Fischer.
Florence looked at him in surprise. "You think the house had something to do with me--?"
"Just watch your step," he cut her off. "The Lord may not have too much influence in Hell House."




9:49 P.M.


_Science is more than a body of facts. It is, first and foremost, a method of investigation, and there is no acceptable reason why parapsychological phenomena should not be investigated by this method, for, as much as physics and chemistry, parapsychology is a science of the natural._
_This, then, is the intellectual barrier through which man must inevitably break. No longer can parapsychology be classified as a philosophical concept. It is a biological reality, and science cannot permanently avoid this fact. Already it has wasted too much time skirting the borders of this irrefutable realm. Now it must enter, to study and learn. Morselli expressed it thus: "The time has come to break with this exaggerated, negative attitude, this constant casting of the shadow of doubt with its smile of sarcasm."_
_It is a sorry condemnation of our times that those words were published sixty years ago--because the negative attitude of which Morseili wrote still persists. Indeed--_


"Lionel?"
Barrett looked up from his manuscript.