Hell House

7:48 A.M.

"More coffee?"

Lionel twitched, and Edith realized that he'd been half asleep, despite his open eyes. "I'm sorry; did I startle you?"

"No, no." He shifted on the chair, grimacing; started reaching for the cup with his right hand, then did it with his left instead.

"You've got to have that thumb looked at, first thing."

"I will."

The great hall was without a sound again. Edith felt unreal. The words they'd spoken had seemed artificial. Eggs? No, thank you. Bacon? No. Chilly? Yes. I'll be glad to leave this place. Yes, so will I. Like dialogue from some inferior domestic drama.

Or was it a carry-over from the tension between them last night?

She stared at Lionel. He was drifting off again, his eyes unseeing, almost blank. He'd been working on the Reversor for more than an hour before they'd eaten, laboring without cease while she dozed in a nearby easy chair. He'd said that it was almost ready now. She turned and looked across the hall at it. Despite its imposing size, it was impossible to believe that it could conquer Hell House.

She looked back at the table. Everything about this morning had conspired to make her feel unreal, a character manipulated through some inexplicable role. Coming down the stairs, they'd seen the cat go running down the corridor toward the chapel -

soundlessly, a fleeting, orange-mottled form. Then, while Lionel had been working on the Reversor, she'd heard a sound, and starting awake, had seen an old couple crossing the hall, carrying a coffeepot and covered trays. Half asleep, she'd stared at them in silence, thinking them ghosts. Even when they'd set the trays on the table and begun collecting the supper dishes, she hadn't realized who they were. Then, in a rush, it had come to her, and smiling at her own deluding mind, she'd said, "Good morning."

The old man grunted, and the woman nodded, mumbling something indistinct. In moments they were gone. Still groggy from sleep, Edith had begun to wonder if she'd really seen them. She'd drifted back into a shallow sleep, jolting awake with a gasp when Lionel had touched her shoulder.

She cleared her throat, and Lionel twitched again. "What time will we be out of here?" she asked.

Barrett tugged at his fob and pulled the watch from its pocket. Opening the cover, he gazed at its face. "I'd say early afternoon," he answered.

"How do you feel?"

"Stiff." His smile was tired. "But I'll mend."

They looked around as Fischer and Florence entered the hall, dressed for outdoors. Barrett eyed them questioningly as they approached the table. Edith looked at Florence. She was pale, her gaze avoiding theirs.

"You have the car keys?" Fischer asked.

Barrett repressed a look of surprise. "Upstairs."

"Would you get them, please?"

Barrett winced. "Could you? I really can't face those stairs again."

"Where are they?"

"In my overcoat pocket."

Fischer glanced aside. "You'd better go with me," he said to Florence.

"I'll be all right."

"Why don't you join us, Miss Tanner; have some coffee?" Barrett invited.

She was about to speak, then changed her mind, and nodding once, sat down. Edith poured a cup of coffee and passed it across the table. Florence took it from her, murmuring, "Thank you."

Fischer looked uneasy. "Don't you think you'd better come along?"

"We'll keep an eye on her," said Barrett.

Fischer still hesitated.

"What Ben doesn't want to tell you," Florence said, "is that I was possessed by Daniel Belasco last night and could lose control of myself at any moment."

Barrett and Edith stared at her. Fischer could tell that Barrett didn't believe her, and the realization angered him. " She's telling the truth," he said. "I'd rather not leave her alone with you."

Barrett regarded Fischer in silence. Finally he turned to Florence. "You'd best go with him, then," he said.

Florence looked up pleadingly. "Couldn't I have a cup of coffee first?"

Fischer's eyes narrowed with suspicion.

"If anything happens, just take me outside."

"I'll buy you coffee in town."

"It's such a long way, Ben."

" Florence - "

"Please." She closed her eyes. "I'll be all right. I promise you." She sounded as though she were about to cry.

He stared at her, not knowing what to do.

Barrett spoke to break the painful silence. "There's really no need to stay," he said to Florence. "The house will be cleared by afternoon."

She looked up quickly. "How?"

Barrett's smile was awkward. "I'd intended to explain it to you - but, under the circumstances .

"Please. I have to know before I leave."

"There isn't time," said Fischer.

"Ben, I have to know." Her look was desperate. "I can't go until I do."

"Damn it - "

" If I start to lose control, just take me out," she said. She turned to Barrett pleadingly.

"Well . . ." His tone was dubious. "It's somewhat complicated."

"I have to know," was all she said. Fischer sat down gingerly near Florence. Why am I doing this? he wondered. He didn't believe that Barrett's machine would have the least effect on Hell House. Why wasn't he dragging her out of here? It was her only hope.

"To begin with fundamentals," Barrett said, "all phenomena occur as events in nature - a nature the order of which is larger than that presented by current science, but nature, nonetheless. This is true of so-called psychic events as well, parapsychology being, in fact, no more than an extension of biology."

Fischer kept his eyes on Florence. She had slipped in and out of possession so frequently before.

"Paranormal biology, then," Barrett said, "setting forth the premise that man overflows and is greater than the organism which he inhabits, as Doctor Carrel put it. In simplest terms, the human body emits a form of energy - a psychic fluid, if you will. This energy surrounds the body with an unseen sheath; what has been called the 'aura.' It can be extruded beyond the borders of this aura, where it can create mechanical, chemical, and physical effects: percussions, odors, movement of external objects, and the like - as we have seen repeatedly these past few days. I believe that when Belasco spoke of 'influences,' he may have been referring to this energy."

Fischer looked at Barrett, ambivalent emotion rising in him. The older man sounded so confident. Was it possible that all the beliefs of his life could be reduced to something one could probe at in a laboratory?

"All through the ages," Barrett continued, "evidence in proof of this premise has been forthcoming, each new level of human development bringing about its own particular proof. In the Middle Ages, for example, much superstitious thought was directed toward what were called demons and witches. Accordingly, these things were manifested, created by this psychic energy, this unseen fluid, these 'influences.'

"Mediums have always produced phenomena indigenous to their beliefs." Fischer glanced at Florence, seeing that she'd tightened at these words. "This is certainly the case with Spiritualism. Mediums adhering to this faith create its own particular phenomenon - so-called spirit communication."

"Not so-called, Doctor." Florence's voice was strained.

"Let me continue, Miss Tanner," he said. "You may refute me later if you wish. By record, the only time religious exorcisms have an effect on haunted houses or possessions is when the medium who causes the phenomena is highly religious, thus profoundly moved by the exorcism. In far more cases - including this house -  gallons of holy water and hours of exorcism fail to alter anything, either because the medium involved is not religious or because more than one medium has contributed to the effect."

Fischer glanced at Florence. Her face was pale, lips pressed together.

"Another example of this biological mechanism," Barrett was saying, "was that of animal magnetism, which produced psychic phenomena equally as impressive as those of Spiritualism, but entirely devoid of any religious characteristics.

"How does this mechanism function, though? What is its genesis? Reichenbach, the Austrian chemist, in the years between 1845 and 1868 established the existence of such a physiological radiation. His experiments consisted, first, of having sensitives observe magnets. What they saw were gleams of light at the poles, like flames of unequal length, the shorter at the positive pole. Observation of electromagnets brought about the same results as did observation of crystals. Finally, the same phenomenon was observed on the human body.

"Colonel De Rochas continued Reichenbach's experiments, discovering that these emanations are blue at the positive pole, red at the negative. In 1912 Dr. Kilner, a member of the London Royal College of Physicians, published the results of four years of experimentation during which, by use of the 'dycyanine' screen, the so-called human aura was made visible to anyone.

When the pole of a magnet was brought into proximity with this aura, a ray appeared, joining the pole to the nearest point of the body. Further, when the subject was exposed to an electrostatic charge, the aura gradually disappeared, returning when the charge was dissipated.

"I oversimplify the progression of discovered facts, of course," he said, "but the end result is irrefutable; the psychic emanation which all living beings discharge is a field of electromagnetic radiation."

He looked around the table, disappointed at the flatness of their expressions. Didn't they realize what he was saying?

He had to smile then. There was no way they could realize the import of his words until he'd proved them.

"Electromagnetic radiation - EMR - is the answer, then," he said. "All living organisms emit this energy, its dynamo the mind. The electromagnetic field around the human body behaves precisely as do all such fields - spiraling around its center of force, the electric and magnetic impulses acting at right angles to each other, and so on. Such a field must impinge itself on its surroundings. In extremes of emotion, the field grows stronger, impressing itself on its environment with more force - a force which, if contained, persists in that environment, undischarged, saturating it, disturbing organisms sensitive to it: psychics, dogs, cats - in brief, establishing a 'haunted' atmosphere.

"Is it any wonder, then, that Hell House is the way it is? Consider the years of violently emotional, destructive - evil, if you will - radiations which have impregnated its interior. Consider the veritable storehouse of noxious power this house became.

Hell House is, in essence, a giant battery, the toxic power of which must, inevitably, be tapped by those who enter it, either intentionally or involuntarily. By you, Miss Tanner. By you, Mr. Fischer. By my wife. By myself. All of us have been victimized by these poisonous accumulations -  you most of all, Miss Tanner, because you actively sought them out, unconsciously seeking to utilize them to prove your personal interpretation of the haunting force."

" That isn't true."

"It is true," Barrett countered. "It was true of those who entered here in 1931 and 1940. It is true of you."

"What about you? " demanded Fischer. "How do you know your interpretation isn't wrong?"

"Simply answered," Barrett said. "Shortly, my Reversor will permeate the house with a massive countercharge of electromagnetic radiation. This countercharge will oppose the polarity of the atmosphere, reverse and dissipate it. Just as the radiation of light negates mediumistic phenomena, so the radiation of my Reversor will negate the phenomena of Hell House."

Barrett leaned back in his chair; he had not been aware, until now, of leaning forward. Florence sat in stricken silence. Edith felt a rush of pity for her. After what Lionel had said, how could anyone doubt that he was right?

"One question," Fischer said.

Barrett looked at him.

"If the aura can restore itself after an electromagnetic charge is turned off, why can't the power in this house?"

"Because human radiation has a living source. The radiation in this house is only residue. Once it's been dissipated, it cannot return."

"Doctor," Florence said.

"Yes?"

She seemed to brace herself. "Nothing you've said contradicts what I believe."

Barrett looked astounded. "You can't be serious."

"I am. Of course there's radiation - and, of course, it persists. Because its possessor survives after death. Your radiation is the body it survives with."

"Here we part company, Miss Tanner," Barrett said. "The residue I speak of has nothing whatever to do with the survival of personality. The spirit of Emeric Belasco does not prowl this house. Neither does that of his son or any of the so-called entities you have believed yourself in contact with. There is one thing in this house, and one thing only -  mindless, directionless power."

"Oh," she said. Her voice was calm. "There's nothing else to do, then, is there?"

Her movement caught them by surprise. With a fluid, twisting stand, she was on her feet and running toward the Reversor.

The three sat frozen for a moment. Then, simultaneously, Barrett gasped and Fischer lurched up from his chair, knocking it over in his haste to rise. He charged from the table, dashing after Florence.

Before he'd gone halfway, she had the crowbar in her hands and was swinging it with all her might at the face of the Reversor. Barrett cried out, jarring to his feet, his face gone ashen. He jolted at the ringing sound of steel on steel, flinching as though the blow were striking him instead. "No!" he shouted.

Florence swung again, battering at the front of the machine. The glass face of a dial exploded underneath her blow. Barrett started from the table with a look of horror on his face. His right leg buckled under him, and with a startled gasp, he fell. Edith jumped up. "Lionel!"

Fischer had reached Florence by then. Clutching at her shoulder, he yanked her back from the Reversor. She whirled and swung the crowbar at his face, her expression one of manic rage. Fischer dodged, the crowbar missing his head by inches.

Lunging in, he grabbed her right arm, wrestling for possession of the bar. Florence lurched back, snarling like a maddened animal. A bolt of shock numbed Fischer as she flung her arms up, breaking his grasp. She was too strong!

Blind to everything except the threat to his Reversor, Barrett didn't even glance at Edith as she helped him to his feet. Pulling free of her, he started hobbling rapidly across the floor without his cane. "Stop her!" he cried.

Fischer had grabbed at Florence's arms again. She heaved back, and the two of them crashed against the front of the Reversor. Fischer felt her hot breath on his cheek, bubbly spittle dribbling from her mouth. She jerked her right arm free and swung at him. Fischer ducked, the crowbar smashing against the metal face. He started reaching for her arm again, but she swung too fast for him. He threw his arms up, crying out as the crowbar struck him on the right wrist. Ragged, burning pain shot up his arm. He saw the next blow coming but could not avoid it. The crowbar smashed against his skull, and blinding pain exploded in his head. Eyes staring, he crumpled to his knees. Florence raised the bar to strike again.

Barrett was on her then, the strength of frenzy in his arms; with a single wrenching motion he had jerked the crowbar from her grasp. Florence spun around. Barrett's face had gone abruptly blank. Gasping, he was stumbling back from her, right hand clutching at his lower back. Edith screamed and started forward as the crowbar slipped from Barrett's grasp and thumped on the rug. He started falling.