Jericho's Fall by Stephen L. Carter

Author:Stephen L. Carter [Carter, Stephen L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, pdf
Tags: Fiction, Literary
ISBN: 9780307272997
Google: uyOYCbSIqOUC
Amazon: B002FQOHN8
Publisher: Vintage
Published: 2009-07-14T00:00:00+00:00

(iii)

Pamela didn’t believe her, but Audrey, who admitted to having not seen a thing, wanted to make peace, and so they dutifully trooped to the security room behind the kitchen and flipped through the monitors. An animal or two, trees swaying in the night breezes, but no people.

“There was somebody,” said Beck.

“Look for yourself,” said Pamela.

The images from the cameras were digitally stored, Beck pointed out. Pamela, the filmmaker, and the only one who knew how to work the equipment, replied that she was not about to waste her time tracking down Beck’s nightmares.

“I was awake.”

“Daydreams, then.”

“I know what I saw.”

Pamela straightened. Like many tall women, she often carried herself slightly hunched, as if her height was a burden. But when she wanted to, she could look down on most people, and right now she wanted to.

“Has it occurred to you”—addressing Audrey, even though her glare was directed at Rebecca—“that all of these little problems seem to have started when she arrived?”

Beck muttered an expletive. Pamela advanced on her like a boxer cutting the ring to size. “Think about it, Aud. The dead dog. The helicopter that keeps buzzing us. Now the phantom visitors in the night. What is it going to be next, Beck? A power outage? A home invasion?”

About to reply in kind, Beck found her mouth covered by a soft, pale hand. “Come on, you guys. Stop. This isn’t why we’re here.” A nervous chuckle. “How about a little Christian charity?” To their general surprise, she covered Pamela’s mouth, too. “Now, come on. I was baking oatmeal cookies. They’re ready to come out of the oven, and they’re very good.”

Beck forced herself to reply in kind. “I bet it’s not real oatmeal. It’s some kind of macrobiotic oat husk—”

“Don’t encourage her,” muttered Pamela, changing sides for the moment, or perhaps just targets.

But they all marched into the kitchen anyway. Audrey slid the tray out. The cookies neither looked nor smelled like any oatmeal Rebecca could remember. “They need time to cool,” said the nun.

“I’ll be upstairs on the computer,” Pamela began.

Then they all heard the thump.

Audrey said it was her father falling, and headed for the stairs. Pamela said it was a branch tumbling from a storm-blasted tree, hitting the house. Beck said it was a man on the roof.

Pamela had already started in on her, and Beck was starting in right back, when Audrey shouted.

They followed her pointing finger upward.

A shadow passed over the skylight.

“An animal,” said Pamela.

“It’s a man,” said Audrey, very tense. “I saw his face. He was looking right at us.”

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