DOMINION by Bentley Little (interesting books to read .TXT) 📗

was subtle, indefinable, but there, a tangible presence, not merely her own altered perception. She felt nervous, anxious, as though there was a wildness within her struggling to break out—or, more accurately, a wildness without her that was struggling to break in. There were still no people on the street, but the sense that there were no rules of behavior, no boundaries, that everything was acceptable, anything goes, was alive and well and struggling for supremacy with the ordinary values inside both of them.

She could see it in Kevin’s face, could feel it in herself.

In the sky above, an airplane, a jumbo jet, flew from east to west, toward the ocean. It was strange to realize that everything that was happening down here was merely a two-second blip on the ground to the people in the airplane. If they blinked, they’d miss the valley. While she and Kevin were desperately trying to escape the hellhole that Napa had become, those people would be served free drinks from the stewardess as they settled in to watch their in-flight movie in air-conditioned comfort.

But how long before all this spread? How long before it affected Sonoma?

Vallejo? San Francisco?

She didn’t want to think about it.

They loaded their supplies in the trunk of the car, then got in, Kevin driving.

He looked down at the page he’d torn out of the phone book. “Palmer,” he said. “That means we’ll have to go through downtown.” He glanced over at Penelope. “Don’t worry. We’ll make it.”

Penelope looked out the windshield of the car at the bloody body of the footless farmworker. “I hope so,” she said.

He started the ignition, put the car into gear, and pulled onto the street. “I just hope he’s there and alive and not one of them.”

7

Holbrook’s house was a nondescript crackerbox on a street of small, identical subdivision houses.

Kevin was not sure what he had expected, but it had not been this. Hell, Holbrook’s house was even shittier than his own. He thought of Holbrook lecturing at the front of the class, giving grades, meting out punishment, and it was hard to reconcile that figure of authority and respect with a man who lived in this small, slightly rundown home.

He parked the car by the curb in front of the house and got out, leaving the engine on. He grabbed one of his screwdrivers from the storage space on the side of the door. “Same deal,” he told Penelope. “Be ready to take off. I’ll go up and check things out, and if something’s wrong, I’ll speed back, hop in, and we’ll haul ass.”

Penelope smiled. “You don’t want me to take off without you this time, huh?”

“Fuck no!” He grinned. “I must’ve been crazy.”

“There’s a lot of that going around.”

They both laughed.

“Okay,” Kevin said. “I’m—”

“What are you doing out there in the street? Get inside!”

Kevin looked up, startled by the sound of the voice. Over the roof of the car, he saw Holbrook standing in the open doorway of his house, holding a shotgun.

“Get your asses in here!” the teacher roared.

Penelope looked toward Kevin, panicked.

“Now! Before they see you!”

She opened the door of the car and got out, hurrying across the lawn toward Holbrook. Kevin sped around the front of the car and passed her, clutching his screwdriver… just in case. Holbrook’s fear and concern indicated that he was probably all right, but they couldn’t afford to take any chances.

The teacher raised the shotgun to his shoulder, and Kevin’s heart lurched in his chest—it was a trap! the bastard was going to blow them away!—but he stopped in front of the stoop, screwdriver outstretched. “Are you drunk?” he demanded.

Holbrook lowered the shotgun, smiled grimly. “Well, I guess that answers that question. I think we’re all okay here.” He moved to the side, holding the door open. “Get inside. Quickly.”

Penelope moved up the stoop and past him, into the house. Kevin started to follow, then realized that the car’s engine was still running. He turned, sprinting back out to the street.

“Hey!” Holbrook yelled.

“The car!” Kevin yelled back. He reached the vehicle, opened the door, threw himself across the seat, and switched off the ignition, turning and pulling out the key. Closing the car door behind him, he hurried back to where Holbrook stood frowning.

The teacher grabbed his arm as he started to walk into the house. “What were you doing? You could’ve been killed.”

Kevin yanked his arm out of the man’s grasp. “There’s no one on your street. And that running engine was a red flag to every psycho out there. Besides, I don’t want anyone stealing my car.” He looked into Holbrook’s eyes. “I’m going to need it.”

“Get inside.”

Penelope was standing just inside the living room, looking uncertainly around. Holbrook closed the door, locked it, started throwing a series of dead bolts. Kevin wished that Penelope had grabbed a weapon before leaving the car.

Holbrook put down his shotgun, resting it against the wall next to the door. He turned toward Penelope. “The Daneam women brought back Dionysus, didn’t they?”

Kevin stared at him, shocked. “How—” he began.

“They’re meanads.”

“I know that,” Kevin said. “But how did you know that?”

Holbrook ignored him. “Did you help them?” he asked Penelope.

She shook her head.

“Do you know how they did it?”

She looked away, looked toward Kevin, didn’t answer.

“Come on, then,” Holbrook said. “I have something to show you.” He walked past them, through the living room into a short hallway. He opened what looked like a closet door next to the bathroom to reveal a narrow staircase leading down. “Down here.”

Kevin followed the teacher, Penelope behind him. He caught her eye as he turned around, saw her trepidation. He felt more than a little apprehensive about going in here himself, but he continued down the stairs, following Holbrook.

The narrow stairwell opened into a room that was easily half as big as the entire house above.

“Jesus,” Kevin said. He looked around. The entire basement was filled with ancient artifacts and poster sized photos of friezes. Graphs and charts