34 Vision by Dean Koontz

Author:Dean Koontz
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Horror
ISBN: 9781417620180
Publisher: San Val
Published: 1986-09-01T07:00:00+00:00

In the bathroom Mary washed her hands, picked up the towel, looked in the mirror above the washbasin—and did not see her own face. Instead, she saw the face of a total stranger—a young woman with pale yellow hair and even paler skin and wide-set blue eyes, her features distorted by terror.

The mirror had become a window on another dimension, for it did not reflect anything in the bathroom. The blonde woman’s face was disembodied, floating in misty shadows. Above and to the right of her, the only other object in the void beyond the mirror was a golden crucifix.

Mary dropped the towel, backed away from the sink until she bumped into the wall.

In the mirror a man’s hand, also disembodied, appeared in the foreground of the surrealistic collage of psychic images. It was gripping a butcher knife.

Mary had never received a clairvoyant vision in this fashion. For a moment she didn’t know what to expect. She didn’t know what she should do; she was afraid both to move and to stay still.

The disembodied hand raised the knife. The blonde’s face receded like a ball flying away, whirling and spinning and tumbling through endless space. The hand and the butcher knife receded, too, in pursuit of her.

Concentrate, Mary told herself. For God’s sake, don’t let the vision get away from you. Hold on to it at all costs. Hold it and expand upon it. Develop it until it provides the name of the man whose hand holds the knife.

The crucifix swelled until it filled the mirror. Then, in perfect, eerie silence, the icon exploded into a dozen jagged pieces and was gone.

Concentrate…

The woman’s face reappeared. And the knife loomed large in the mirror. The blade gave off a fierce light of its own, as if it were made of neon tubing.

“Who are you?” Mary asked aloud. “You with the knife. Who in the hell are you?” Suddenly the hand was no longer disembodied. The woman’s face vanished, and the shoulder and the back of a man’s head entered the scene, cloaked in shadow. The killer started to turn slowly, turned through laces of wan light and shifting shadows, turned so he would be facing out from the mirror, turned as if he knew Mary was now behind him, turned slowly and silently, turned as if in response to her request for his name…

Worried that she might lose the vision an instant before she had her answer, as had happened to her in Dr. Cauvel’s office the day before, Mary said, “Who? Who are you? I demand to know!” To her right, six feet away, the latch on the bathroom window opened with a sharp click!

Startled, Mary looked away from the image in the mirror.

The window slid up.

The wind threw aside the flimsy brown and black curtains and rushed into the room, making banshee noises as it came.

The night beyond the window was dark, far darker than she had ever seen.

Over the howling of the wind came another sound: wicka-wicka-wicka!

Wings. Leathery wings.

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