We were only wearing our dancer’s G-strings. Leaves came fluttering down. Only they weren’t leaves. They were like mutated manta rays or something. They settled onto our bare skin, drinking our blood. Surely you have all of this from my hospital records.”
“Best to have it from the patient firsthand.”
“All of the patients here have had near-death experiences.”
“Very observant, Niane. But you are the only one who has died twice. We can help one another to learn.”
“About what?”
“About what’s on the other side.”
“I’m out of here!” Niane stood up.
“Sit down. There’s more than a foot of snow outside, and it’s still coming down. No road crews here. I doubt you’d get very far. Aren’t two death experiences enough?”
Niane sat back down, clenching her fists. “This isn’t a retreat or a clinic! What do you want from us?”
Keith folded his hands, trying to look fatherly. “Dr Greenfeld and I have been doing research on near-death experiences. What you and the others have shared with us may answer life’s final question: Where do we go after death, and what else is out there?”
“Why this rundown dump of a hotel? Why not a real clinic?”
“Pleasant surroundings. Isolation. Past reports of paranormal phenomena. Conducive to patients’ rapport with their buried memories, as you have demonstrated. Dr Greenfeld and I agree that certain points on this earth serve as gateways to other worlds.”
This time Niane jumped up for good. “You’re no psychiatrist! You’re a pair of looney-tunes! Navonna and I are out of here as soon as the snow stops. And I’ll tell the others. We’ll phone down for a fleet of snowmobiles or something.”
“Lines are down,” said Keith patiently “Bad storm.”
“And you’ve got bats in your belfry.” Niane started for the door, then decided to fire the parting shot. “You really do. Only thing is they live in those old sheds, and they have horns and monkey’s arms.”
Keith jumped up and grabbed her arm. “What have you seen!”
“Just what I said. Let go of me!” He was very strong.
“Just tell me!”
“I found a dead one in the road when we first got here. Yesterday I found one dying in the snow. Navonna said it was probably rabid and had migrated from South America. Let go of my arm.”
Keith’s eyes were intense, and he wouldn’t let go. “Just show me where you found it. I’ll make arrangements for all of us to leave once the snow stops. I promise.”
Niane got her coat and pulled a still sleepy Navonna along for protection and confirmation. Keith was waiting impatiently with Dr Greenfeld.
Of course, it was impossible. Niane and Navonna weren’t sure just quite where, the bat had still been crawling about, and the snow was approaching two feet in depth. A record blizzard for this area of the Smokies’ foothills.
Niane kicked along the gravel road. They’d been at it for hours, and she was freezing. She remembered the large pine tree. There it was, the skeletal one, where she’d flung it, buried under the snow. She scraped away snow.
“Here’s one of them.”
Keith carefully removed it from the snow. He and Dr Greenfeld examined it in awe.
Keith murmured, “My god, it’s really happening!”
The snow was falling so thick that Niane almost didn’t see it flying toward them. “Here’s a fresh one! Watch out!”
The bat-thing struck Dr Greenfeld, ripping her heavy quilted parka with its teeth. She screamed and slung it off her arm. It flew back into the snow storm, circling.
“Back inside,” said Keith. “Quick.”
As Niane turned to shuffle back through the snow, she saw a drift move. Something like a lamprey eel peered out. Niane ran as fast as she could, saying nothing to the others.
They passed a clump of reddening snow. Mrs Malone had made a bad decision to have a morning winterland stroll. Keith brushed away enough snow to see the bloated maple-leaf things that feasted upon her.
“The experiment’s out of control!” Dr Greenfeld massaged her bleeding arm. “There’s too much energy! They’re breaking through!”
“Move!” ordered Keith. A stick with teeth shot out of the snow and snapped at his leg, barely missing.
They made it inside and locked the door. For whatever good.
“What’s happening!”Niane demanded.
Someone was screaming upstairs. The screams stopped.
“This site is a gateway,” Keith said, looking all about. “Sort of a flaw in the universe of the natural human world. The Cherokees knew about it. The whites ignored it. Now things are breaking through.”
“You’re no psychiatrist,” Niane said slowly.
“I am, but I’m also what you might call a sorcerer. Sounds foolish, but we do