GATES OF HELL

May 1999

Dedicated to SABRINA

By Petra

The darkness was veiling everything and the gray mist rolled out of every even darker spot. There in the dark a beam of light was burning, but it was unable to chase the gloomy darkness away. The sound of footsteps could be heard clearly but the one who was approaching the dim light could not be seen.

"Anybody?" The word had cut the silence. As if it lightened the darkness and drove away the mist a bit, a silhouette of a man appeared among the ruins of an old building.

The light seemed to grow. At first it was just a dot in the distance but suddenly it started to increase. It looked like a little sun but soon it appeared more like a big one. It started to annoy the man´s eyes. He tried to protect them with his hand but it did not help much. For a moment the light got dimmer, like it was dying down. The man could see two statues. One on the left and the other one on the right side of the light source. The statues looked like stone devils. Their faces were scary, deformed with their evil. The red gems in their eye holes were glowing in the dark.

The man stopped and looked at the round stone between the statues. It must have been the source of the light that led him here. Now it looked like it would not shine any more. The man reached out, trying to pick the stone up. Wasn't it the stuff he had been trying to find for ages? It had to be.

In the moment he touched the crude surface of the stone, a flame flashed out of the stone, suddenly glowing white, embraced the man and started to absorb him. Then the flame disappeared again, leaving the place drowning in the growing darkness. The red eyes shone for a while but then even they got lost in the dark. The world seemed to stop existing.

Rollie was sitting in his chair, rocking slowly, skimming the newspaper in his hands. Their new movie was going great. A lot of work, often all night long, but he and Angie were enjoying it. Actually, they had always enjoyed making special effects. Rollie sat the chair on all fours. An item of news caught his eyes.

"Rollie, you see my discs?" Angie was running around the room, opening every cupboard and drawer, dragging her shoelaces behind her feet.

"Nooo," Rollie answered slowly, trying to read again.

"Did you hear me at all?" Angie asked, seeing him reading.

Rollie raised his head, frowned at her and said: "Of course I heard you." He ducked his head and started to read again.

Angie stopped rummaging all over the room and walked towards Rollie's chair. She grabbed the newspaper, took it out of Rollie's hands and put it aside.

"What?" Rollie asked. "If you don't mind I haven't finished reading yet so let me read."

"Did you, by chance, see my discs?"

Rollie looked at her frowning face and then at her untied shoes. "You should tie your laces," he said and grinned at Angie.

"I didn't ask for your witty advice, I wanna find my discs." Angie said.

Rollie glanced at the newspaper on his working desk and then he looked at Angie. "You know, I didn't see any of your discs. Except the ones you have by the computer. But you're obviously looking for some other ones." He reached out suddenly, grabbed the newspaper and slipped past Angie. "If I see them I'll tell you," he shouted back as he ran upstairs to his bedroom.

Angie waved her hand and sat down in Rollie's chair. "Go. Read your paper," she muttered to herself, searching Rollie's desk. No, there were no discs. Where could she have put them? She had already searched their van and the damn workshop. She had found most of her discs but not the ones she had been looking for. The two discs contained some stuff suitable for their new movie. Maybe she had them at home. It was the last place she could think of.

"Man! This is crazy!" Angie heard Rollie's voice coming down from the staircase. She raised her head as she saw Rollie go down the metal stairs with the newspaper in his hands.

"What?" Angie asked, shaking her head.

"You remember that movie we were working on about two years ago? The one with the hell stone?" Rollie asked.

Angie raised her eyebrows. This must be something big since Rollie's Aussie accent had gotten so strong now.

"Yeah. Remember that one. Some people then believed the stone really existed and wanted to find it to gain the hell power."

Rollie nodded. "Exactly." He moved closer to Angie and leaned against the working desk.

"So?" Angie asked, wondering what was so crazy to unsettle her boss.

"And do you remember the lighting engineer working there?"

Angie frowned. Was she supposed to remember everything? Nah! But... Her face cheered up. "You mean that speechless guy? The one who kept watching us work and the only thing he said was 'don't play with hell?"

Rollie nodded again.

"I didn't like him," Angie added.

"Neither did I."

Angie scratched her left forearm, lost in her thoughts. "What was his name?" she asked after a while. "Tom? Or Todd?"

"Ted," Rollie replied. "Ted Blake."

Angie gave him a surprised look. "You remember his surname?"

Rollie grinned. "No. I've just read it in the paper."

Angie sized him up. Would Rollie get to the point of the matter or not. Maybe next week? Or year? Or would he stare at her like that forever?"

"What exactly does the paper say?" Angie asked impatiently and fidgeted.

"Well," Rollie said, waving the newspaper in front of his face. Why the bloody hell was it so hot in here? "Blake's brother, Andrew, was found dead yesterday morning."

Angie blinked. "He was?" She did not believe this was the thing that had unsettled Rollie.

"Yeah. Some kids found his body. His skin looked like it was burned and his face was twisted as if he had seen something horrible."

Rollie put the newspaper on the desk in front of Angie so she could read it for herself. Angie's eyes moved quickly as she read the article Rollie had shown her.

"Some people claim Andrew was looking for the hell stone," Rollie added

Angie raised her eyes from the article. "Rollie! It's just a gossip."

"Maybe," Rollie said. "And maybe not. What if he found it?"

Angie frowned at him. "Earth to Rollie. No hell stones!"

Rollie grinned. "But some people believe in the stone."

Angie rolled her eyes. "Yeah. And some people believe in Santa Claus."

Rollie turned his eyes to the workshop's door. His face did not show anything that was happening inside his mind.

"Ange," Rollie's eyes returned to Angie. "What if he believed he had found the stone?"

"What do you mean?" Angie asked.

Rollie shrugged. "I don't know."  A slight smile appeared on Angie's face. "I just thought we could go there and find out."

"Find out what?" Angie almost yelled. She did not like the idea at all.

"What happened to Andrew."

Angie turned her eyes to the ceiling but she did not notice anything of it. "What do you care? You didn't even know him." Her eyes turned back to Rollie.

"Right," Rollie said. "But I met Ted. And I don't like the story."

"Join the club," Angie said sharply. "I don't like it either. What about letting it be?"

Rollie chewed on his lower lip. No, he couldn't let it be. He was sure there was something wrong about the story. And he knew he wouldn't sleep well until he found out what was going on. Rollie turned to Angie. "Just a few days, okay? Then we'll return back home."

Angie gaped at him for a moment. She couldn't believe her ears. "Rollie!" she shouted as she got her voice back. "It's on the other side of the state! We can't go anywhere! We're making the movie! You remember that?"

Rollie frowned. Yeah, Angie was right. He'd forgotten about the damn movie. They couldn't just leave it behind. But he had to go there. He didn't know why but he had to go.

Angie looked at Rollie, waiting for him to say anything. He looked so lost now that he couldn't do what he intended to. Angie could not take the beaten-puppy like look anymore.

"Okay Rol. We'll finish the movie and then we'll go. Is that fine with you?" Boy, she couldn't believe she'd just said that. Why did she always let Rollie argue her into such crazy undertakings?

Rollie's look turned into a happy-puppy like one. He did not bother to say a thing. He just gave Angie a hug.

"What!" Angie tried to speak loud but she couldn't. "Are you crazy? I can't breathe." Her voice was so muffled that she thought Rollie couldn't have heard her.

"I'll breathe for you," Rollie suggested and started to laugh. He had apparently heard her anyway.

Angie rolled her eyes. Now she was quite sure Rollie wouldn't ever grow up.

The black van was heading northwest, rolling down an old road. Its surface was scattered with long cracks. Little stalks of harsh grass grew in the rifts, slowly breaking the roadway even more. Little pieces of dross lay on the shoulder. Through the ditches along the road torrents of muddy water ran wildly, carrying away everything within their reach, dragging along broken branches, brownish leaves and drowned insects. Behind the ditches, very old trees towered almost to the sky. Their bark was scarred, remembering the long past times. Beyond the trees, green meadows slowly passed into the hills with a few wooden chalets on their slopes. The sun was still high.

Rollie slowed down. This road was not good at all. The van wildly jumped every time it ran on the cracked surface of the road. Roughly every five minutes. They had left the freeway three hours ago. They had not met any cars since then. Two weeks had passed since Rollie read the strange story in the newspaper. Angie and he had finished the effects for the movie and now they could relax a bit.

Angie sat in the passenger's seat and held a map. She kept turning it in all directions, trying to find out where they really were.

"This is not the right map," she muttered, trying to find the right spot in the map. "I really don't think we are in Australia."

Rollie glanced at her. "Not me either. At least I haven't seen any roos yet. Try the other side."

Angie frowned and turned the map over. "Why's there a part of Australia on one side and New York on the other one?" she asked, puzzled.

"So that you could ask me, you know?" Rollie grinned.

"I thought as much," Angie said, staring at the map. "Oh, here we are," she added, pointing her finger at a place in the left upper corner.

Rollie thought they could manage to get there right after the funeral. The autopsy had been put off so even the funeral had been postponed. But if the road was going to continue like that...

The van jumped aside and the tires squealed as Rollie tried to right the van. A handful of dross gushed out from under the tires.

"Maybe you should slow down," Angie blurted out, still staring into the map. Her stomach was jumping up and down.

Rollie swerved to the left a bit to avoid another part of broken roadway. Somebody should take care of this road, Rollie thought. The broken surface endangered anyone. Did anyone at all use this road? It had looked deserted ever since they turned on to it. They had just seen  several birds so far. Even the little wooden chalets on the slopes seemed empty.

"If I slow down even more, we'll stand still," Rollie murmured and glanced at Angie. She had put the map in the glove compartment and watched the landscape go by. Angie turned her head a bit and squinted at Rollie. She was getting tired of this journey. They had been going for eight hours and this was, fortunately, going to be the last one. If everything worked out right...

"What do you think you'll find out?" Angie asked. Not that she would care that much. She just wanted to talk.

Rollie grinned. "Don't know, Ange. I just hope it'll be worth going there."

Angie rolled her eyes and slid down the seat a bit. "I doubt it," she muttered, stretching her legs. "Hope you're not going to chase ghosts."

"Ghosts?" Rollie asked and burst into laughter. "Angie, are you sure you're not hyperventilating?" He moved his eyes between the road and Angie.

Angie grimaced but made no reply. She crossed her arms, decided to doze for a little while, leaving Rollie with his own thoughts.

The van jumped again. Angie opened her eyes swiftly, clasping the door handle.

"Sorry," Rollie said, trying to keep the van going straight. "The road's getting worse." A sprinkle of dross hit the van's hood.
"Seems like nobody uses this way any longer."

"But they have to be able to reach the place somehow. At least the people who live there. Don't tell me they all live and work there as well," Angie said, trying to straighten up.

Rollie shrugged. "They may use the roads in the other directions."

Angie nodded. It sounded logical. Actually, they had left the last settled place two hours ago. It would be quite weird to go to work this way. Unless you worked as a road maintenance man. But the road did not seem to have ever seen one.

A black bird flew over the van and disappeared in a tree's crown. The long shadows, falling on the gloomy chalets with darkened windows on their right, made the little wooden houses unfriendly. Angie would say some of them were breaking up. The mouldering roof beams seemed to be sinking, bringing down the roofing as well.

"The cabins must be a great place for vacation. Wonder why they were left to fall to pieces," Angie said, scratching her forehead.

Rollie glanced wistfully at the chalets and then fixed his eyes on the cracked road.

The van shook as it ran over a place overgrown with roots, meandering like snakes all over the width of the road.

"Boy, the road's horrible," Angie sighed. The seat belt cut into her shoulder as she stooped down and pulled up a bottle of Coke, settled in the holder by her seat. Angie straightened up and peered at the road. Great, it looked flat now.

Once Angie stopped drinking, she turned to Rollie, trying to screw on the top. "There's nothing like having some free time."

Rollie nodded his head.

Angie frowned and watched Rollie for a moment. "What's wrong with you, Rol? Did Bluey get your tongue?"

Rollie grinned. "I'm thinking," he said, waving his hand aimlessly.

"Oh," Angie said, suddenly lacking words.

"I'm starving," Rollie explained, "and am thinking whether to stop or let you drive." He burst into laughter.

The van went up a hill, then rocked and rolled down to a valley. The trees disappeared. The slopes were covered with bushes and gigantic stones. The edge of the shoulders was lost in the thorny weeds. The road led to the left. Turning slowly, the van raised last year's leaves.

"Brown snowflakes," Rollie mumbled through a bite of his sandwich.

"What?" Angie asked. The van shook.

Rollie swallowed and said, "Nothing. Just chattering."

Over by the road, on their right, there was a wooden house with open windows. A small cloud of smoke drifted over its chimney.

"Oh, this one looks inhabited," Rollie said, holding his forgotten sandwich in his hands. "Seems we've reached our destination."

"We better have," Angie muttered. "I'm sick of the journey."

Rollie grinned and returned to eating his lunch.

Angie shook her head and sighed. Rollie seemed to be the most content person in the world. A sharp curve led the van to the right, round a high tree. A second later, a view of the little town appeared before their eyes. Rollie forgot about his lunch again and Angie stopped the van. They stood on the hill towering above the town, looked down at the place and tried to get rid of the creeping shadows in their minds. The milder slope on the right side of the cauldron was covered with a lot of tomb stones. Plenty of narrow paths led among the stones. The slope on the left side was scattered with wooden houses. The pieces of land were meticulously divided with black picket fences. Every window was covered with shutters. The road led down to the cauldron where it went past a few buildings, probably of several shops, a pub and a motel. In the middle of the cauldron, the road divided into two. One went on to the gas station and then to the canyon. The other one led up to the left, passing the houses, crossing a stream, and continuing somewhere beyond the top of the hill. The occasional trees, growing on both of the slopes, were very thin, bending in the wind, with poor crowns. The slope of the hill Rollie and Angie were standing on was nothing but the road and harsh grass along the way. A group of people dressed in black heading down the hill from the cemetery made the place even creepier. They looked like black rubber dummies that had lost their way to the shop windows. Angie and Rollie exchanged looks.

"I'm not gonna like this place," Angie said, frowning.

Rollie remained silent. Angie started the van. They entered, the town welcoming them with a wooden board covered with partially cracked paint. The name of the place could hardly be read. Some residues of red and blue color shone from the board as a monument to better times.

"What the hell is this place?" Rollie asked, almost whispering. Everything looked so old and shabby as if nobody cared anymore.

Angie looked at him and said, "Welcome to hell, boss."

Rollie made an 'I knew it all along' face and said, "Don't try to scare me." He grinned. "Hell lies much further."

Angie stopped the van at the parking lot ahead of the motel. They got out of the van and approached the building. Its first floor windows were dirty. Even the curtains behind the glass looked gray. On the door there hung a notice. The formerly white paper was now dark yellow and its edges were rubbing to powder. With a little touch the paper would snow down on the ground. The paper looked weak and old as everything within Angie's and Rollie's sight. Almost illegible light gray letters, faded by the sunlight, just said 'OPEN'.

"I don't know about you, Rol, but I'd rather sleep in our van," Angie said, scratching her left forearm. "This place does look horrible."

"Come on, Ange, you're seeing things. There's nothing wrong till we see there's something wrong inside," Rollie said quietly.

"What?" Angie said, pretty sure she hadn't gotten the point. "Is that your new philosophy?"

Rollie glanced at her, grinned and said, "I actually don't know. Maybe." He paused. "Will you go in there or not?"

Angie stood still for a while, unsure what to do now. A moment later she shifted her legs and said, "Okay, Rol. I'll go in there. But I don't promise I'll stay there."

"I don't want you to make any promises until we see what it looks like inside," Rollie assured her.

The sun was hanging near the horizon. Angie was shifting her legs nervously, watching Rollie speak to Ted Blake. They had met him just ten minutes ago while walking around. Ted Blake had just left the church close to the cemetery wall and had not looked like he wanted to speak to strangers. Angie was sure he had recognized them straight away. But he clearly did not want to meet anyone connected with any hell stones. She would swear she had seen a gleam of suspicion in Blake's eyes. She glanced at Rollie. He did not seem to care about Ted's discontent with seeing them here. The two people who had brought the hell stone into his life... Into this world. As if the movie had been their idea... No way. Rollie and she had created the effects only.

"Look," Ted said, sounding annoyed, "I don't give a damn if you decided to spend your free time here in this damned place, but leave me alone. Andy died while hunting the damn stone. Your stone. So I no longer wanna see you. Got it? Great. Now, get the hell out of my way!"

He pushed Rollie aside and went on into the growing darkness that even the several street lamps along the way could not chase away. Angie looked back at him and stiffened. What was the shadow on the corner? A person watching them? She could not tell now that the shadow disappeared.

"Nice guy, eh?" Rollie said, turning to Angie.

Angie made a face. "Yeah. I wouldn't be able to stand it if he was a bit nicer," she said ironically. "Almost as pleasant as taxes."

Rollie grinned. Angie did not feel like laughing at all. She had known from the start she would regret going here. But she hadn't had a clue it would be so soon.

"Rollie, let's go back to the motel. The place is anything but not pretty but still it is better than this street."

The motel corridors drowned in silence. Rollie closed the entrance door so swiftly that the notice board, hanging by the entrance, started to swing. Angie jumped at the sudden noise. Rollie squinted at the reception. It was empty, illuminated by the dim light of a bare bulb hanging above the desk. They went on through the corridor to the staircase by their left. The steps were lost in the black dark. Rollie reached out and found the light switch. He turned it on but no light appeared to drive away the heavy darkness. Rollie tried to turn the lights on again. In vain.

"No wonder there are no tourists here," he muttered. "Angie, watch your steps. Looks like we are supposed to overcome the stairs without any light."

"Great," Angie sighed, frowning at the dusty window at the landing that could barely let in any light from the street. The wooden stairs creaked under their feet.

"I've been to a lot of disgusting places," Angie said, trying not to touch the banister. It had looked very flimsy when they had been here in the afternoon. "But none of them were as horrible as this one."

Her voice echoed in the corridor, drifted over their heads and died away slowly, losing its volume almost imperceptibly.

"Pretty acoustic," Rollie said and grinned as the ceiling twisted his voice. Angie shook her head.

Eventually, they left the staircase, turned to left and stopped before the very first door. Angie searched her pockets and pulled out a key hanging on the ring with a green plastic tag showing the number of the room. She unlocked the door and stepped inside. A second later the light lit the room.

"Everything okay with the room?" Rollie asked, leaning against the doorframe. "No rats, bugs or bad guys?"

Angie shot a glance at him. "Good night, you joker," she said and threw the key on the bedside table. At the very moment Angie thought the table would crack and fall down in little pieces on the yellow floor. But it didn't.

"Night, Ange," Rollie grinned, closed the door and entered the next room. He switched on the light and looked around the room. Angie was right, this place was horrible. Rollie could not get rid of the idea that the ceiling would fall down on him any minute. The paint was cracked, gray with dust and old cobwebs, and crushing. Flecks of paint lay on the bedside table, TV set and the radio. It also covered most of the floor. Rollie peered out of the window. A cloud of dust raised from the curtain. The window led to the yard. In the distant corner there were three trash cans full of rubbish, pouring out on the ground. Right under the window there was a large container full of ripped black bags. The holes in them disclosed just another pile of waste.

"This world is one big rubbish heap," Rollie muttered. Trying not to raise the settled dust again, he released the curtain slowly and stepped back from the window. Rollie switched the TV on. The screen was dark for  way too long a time. Then the graining appeared. Rollie did not see a remote control anywhere so he tried a button on the left side of the television. The screen jumped and a commercial in strange colors started. Rollie switched the button several times but the only thing he could see was the graining till he got back to the commercial. When it ended, an old movie continued.

"Fifty channels about nothing," Rollie grinned and turned the TV off. Then he tried the radio. A long rasping noise turned into a Savatage song. Rollie turned the volume up a bit and entered the bathroom. To his right, a mirror hung over the washbasin. Its left upper part was missing. The rugged edge showed its teeth to Rollie. Rollie paid it back to the mirror. Then he rubbed his face, trying to persuade himself he could put off shaving till tomorrow. Rollie moved his head closer to the mirror. Not that he was so interested in his face. Something behind the rugged edge had caught his eyes. He reached out his left hand.

The song ended up and before another one started, a strange noise could be heard. Rollie stiffened, his fingers an inch from the mirror and pricked his ears up. Dave Pirner started to sing the Runaway Train. The song covered any other sounds. Rollie turned his head and looked into the room. His arm sank. Rollie blinked rapidly, turning his head back. He took a look at himself in the mirror but his thoughts were drifting far away. Eventually, he waved his hand and his attention returned to the white edge behind the mirror. He caught it with two of his fingers and pulled it out. A white card. Rollie turned it over. A photo! A photo of the gate of hell. It was not the same as the one they had used in the movie. But it was similar enough to be recognized. Two evil statues and the hell stone in the middle. Why the hell was the photo behind the mirror in this motel? Particularly this one! Now Rollie was quite sure there was something wrong about the story.

Suddenly the radio stopped playing in the middle of a song. Rollie jerked and almost dropped the photo. He could hear knocks on the door. Too loud in the quiet room. The knocks stopped.

"Rollie!" Angie's voice cut through the silence. "Open the door."

Rollie could not tell whether she was scared or annoyed. He got himself to answer the door.

"What's the ma-" he started but Angie pushed him aside and stepped into the room.

"Rol, you must be absolutely deaf," she grumbled, taking a seat in the armchair by the window.

Rollie closed the door and turned to Angie. He waited for an explanation of the sudden intervention. Angie bent down and started to tie her shoes. Rollie stared at her with crossed hands and was quiet for a while.

"Angie," Rollie said, seeing she was not about to explain anything. "What are you here for this late?"

Angie raised her head and stopped tying the second shoe. "Oh. I haven't told you yet?" she asked, trying to sound surprised.

"No, you haven't."

"Well," Angie said, lifted her left leg and put it on the armchair. Then she started to play with the shoelace. "The bulb broke and I'm not gonna stay in the room with no light."

Rollie shifted his legs. "You need light for sleeping?" he asked.

Angie seemed to be too interested in her shoe to answer the question.

"You can switch on the light in the bathroom," Rollie suggested.

"I tried," Angie said. Her voice was cracked.

"And?" Rollie asked quietly.

"Broken too." Angie paused. "I'd almost killed myself before I found the way to your door."

Rollie uncrossed his arms and moved closer to Angie. "Okay. I'll give you one of my bulbs."

"What's this?" Angie asked, taking the photo out of Rollies's hand, no longer interested in electric bulbs. "Oh! That's the gate of hell!" She looked at Rollie. "Where'd you get it from?"

"Bathroom."

Angie frowned. "Bathroom? You trying to pull my leg?" She turned the photo over and then back again.

"No. I really did get it there. It was hidden behind the mirror."

Angie looked at Rollie incredulously. "Why would someone hide the photo behind a mirror?"

"How am I supposed to know?"

Angie looked at the photo again. It seemed she had forgotten about the black dark in her room. "It's not exactly the same as the gate we made," Angie said.

Rollie nodded wistfully. "Somebody did a good piece of work."

Angie raised her eyes. "So you don't think it's a real gate."

Rollie blinked. "I hope not."

Angie looked back at the photo in her hands. "Weird," she said. The word sounded really loud in the otherwise silent room.

The next early morning was chilly. The air felt like fall. The sun was hidden behind a cloud.

Rollie and Angie sat inside the baker's at the table with a plastic surface and ate their breakfast. It was warm in the room and the air was filled with sweet smell of crescents, cookies and donuts.

"Wow, so many bites to eat," Rollie said, pleased.

Angie sat quietly, facing the glass wall leading to the street. Rollie fidgeted. The sleeves of his sweatshirt slid down but he did not seem to care. Angie took another bite of her cake and chewed slowly, staring at the window.

"Think I'll like this place after all," Rollie said and looked at Angie. She did not seem to hear him. Frowning, she just stared somewhere over Rollie's shoulder.

"Angie?"

Angie glanced at Rollie but a second later her eyes moved back.

"There's a guy on the street," she said. "No, don't look back, Rol," she added when Rollie started to turn his head. "I guess he's watching us."

Rollie put his cake on the plate. "Do you know him?" he asked.

Angie shook her head. "I've never seen him before." She just recalled the yesterday's shadow and half closed her eyes. "Oh, wait." She paused and looked at Rollie. "Yesterday I saw someone hiding in the shadow on the corner right after Ted had left us. Maybe it was this guy." Her eyes returned to the window.

Rollie gave her an incredulous look. "Are you sure you weren't seeing things?"

Angie frowned at him. "Yeah. Maybe I saw black unicorns, right?" She shook her head.

"Why do you have to be so sarcastic? I'm just asking," Rollie said. "I'll go outside and ask him what he wants." He stood up before Angie could stop him and marched out of the baker's. Angie watched him approach the man who at first stepped back. Then he started to talk to Rollie. The man could be about thirty years old, dressed in jeans and black sweater. He seemed to be uneasy about something. The guy gesticulated wildly but Angie could not guess what he was talking about. A few minutes later, Rollie led him in and said: "Angie, meet Daniel. He was Andrew's mate."  Daniel just nodded his head and sat down in the free chair. His fair hair fell into his eyes but he did not push it back.

Rollie sat down and resumed eating.

"Want a piece of cake, Daniel?" Angie asked. Daniel's eyes roamed aimlessly about the room. He shook his head. Daniel clasped his hands but his fingers still moved nervously. Angie looked at Rollie. He just shrugged, chewing a piece of his cake.

"It's all very strange." Daniel's voice sounded so abruptly that Angie jumped.

"What do you mean?" Angie asked.

Staring at the wall, Daniel started to explain, "Like I said to Rollie, Andy and I were friends since we were just little kids." He paused. "Two years ago he saw this movie. 'Gates of Hell' was its name. He told me he'd heard of the hell stone before. From his brother, I guess. And he decided to find it, come what may. I tried to talk him out of it. But he wanted the power at any price. We didn't see each other very often after that. Andy was always going off somewhere, over and over again. A month ago he returned to Sunville where he lived. It's about ten miles north of  here."

"Yep. That's exactly what Daniel told me," Rollie interrupted him. Angie frowned at him. Rollie made a face.

Daniel did not seem to perceive any of that. He continued with his story. "Seemed to me he'd given it up. I was happy because his brother was always angry when Andy started about the stone. Ted was always calling him stupid to believe it. But if I got it right, Ted was the first person who had told Andy about the stone. One day Ted came to visit Andy and gave him a photo of the stone."  Rollie stopped chewing and looked at Angie. " He said he'd gotten it from a scientist who had been investigating something near Ted's home. Ted said the stone was supposed to be somewhere around here."

"So Andy got the photo from Ted who'd never believed in the hell stone?" Angie asked, exchanging looks with her boss.

"Yeah," Daniel agreed, still staring at the wall. "That's the strangest thing about the story. I told Andy it was weird. But he didn't listen to me at all. He packed a few things and came here. And then I read in the paper he was dead." Daniel heaved a sigh. "I got here for the funeral. Just thought I could find out what had really happened. I don't believe in any hell stones. I don't think a hell power killed Andy." He paused as if looking for better words, but he could not find any. Daniel just opened his mouth and sighed again.

"Does Ted live here?" Rollie asked.

Daniel nodded. His eyes were distant. "His house is behind the canyon," he murmured.

Angie looked at Rollie. Had he found any answers? Rollie seemed to be lost in his thoughts, far from reality. Angie turned her eyes to Daniel. He really looked frightened. The fair strands of his hair hung over his eyes, heavy with road dust. His unshaved face was pale. Daniel seemed to spend a lot of nights sleepless.

"I don't think I will ever know," Daniel said and his eyes moved from the wall to the plastic surface of the table. "I gotta go back home." He paused and then moved his eyes rapidly between Rollie and Angie. "Will you guys tell me if you find out what happened?"

"Sure thing, Daniel," Rollie assured him. "You can count on us."

Daniel nodded, stood up and left the baker's without looking back. Angie followed him with her eyes till he was gone. Then she looked at her boss. "Rollie, why didn't you tell him about the photo?"

Rollie swallowed the last bite of his cake and said, "I didn't think it was important."

Angie gaped at him for a moment.

"Do you think it would change a thing if he knew?" Rollie asked, noticing Angie's surprise.

Angie thought about it for a while. "Actually, I don't," she said then. "Why was he that scared?" Angie added.

Rollie did not answer straight away. He looked at the empty plate and moved the crumbs with his finger from one side to another. "You wouldn't be?" he asked, squinting at Angie.

Angie shrugged. Maybe she would be. How could she tell?

"Angie, something weird's going on around here. And it all started with the hell stone. I'm not saying it's our fault or anything like that, just that we should try to find the truth."

Angie looked at Rollie and sighed. It was always like that. Rollie felt responsibility for something he hadn't done. As if everything in this world was made for him to care. Or was it a challenge for Rollie?

"What're we gonna do?" Angie asked. She did it again! She kept on letting Rollie argue her into strange things. Well, why not, if it could make him happy?

"We gotta search Ted's house," Rollie blurted out and grinned.

Angie rolled her eyes. She could have assumed she wouldn't like it.

Angie and Rollie walked down the road to the canyon. They had left their van at the parking lot by the motel. Such a big vehicle would be too striking. And if Blake was at home he would recognize their van straight away. They went by the gas station. On its roof a lot of yellow, green, red and blue flags fluttered in the slight breeze. The morning chill was gone. The sunbeams were warm and pleasant. Rollie raised his head and squinted at the sun.

"Ange," he said, "did you know the sun's blue when you look at it and then close your eyes tight?" Rollie looked at Angie.

Angie turned her eyes over and sighed. "Sure thing, Rol. The sun's blue, grass is yellow and you're color blind."

"Nah," Rollie disagreed and gave her a push. "Just give it a try! Look at the sun?"

"Rollie!" Angie grabbed him by the sleeve and stopped him. "Tell me, is it a common thing in Australia to hurt your eyes by watching the sun or are you the only crazy Aussie on earth?"

Rollie looked up at the sky and rubbed his chin, pretending he was thinking.

"I can't tell," he said eventually. "I don't know every Aussie on earth."

"I see," Angie grinned and got going again.

They remained quiet for a moment, trying to convince themselves that they were just out for a walk, not heading off to search a house. A flock of birds flew above their heads.

"What do you think you'll find at Blake's, Rol?" Angie asked, turning to her boss.

Rollie kicked a stone. It flew over the road and fell down into a bush. "Good question," he said.

"This isn't what I was asking about."

"Something that will prove there's no hell's gate in this world," Rollie answered evasively.

Angie did not say anything. She tried to put together everything she knew about this. Angie felt like she was in a fog, stumbling and reaching out for something to hold on to.

"Why should that something be in Blake's house?" Angie asked, looking at Rollie.

Rollie shrugged. "Maybe it's not."

"Oh," Angie exclaimed. "So we are going to get into his house, break a few laws, search his possessions and god knows what else just for the chance we could find something that we don't even know what it looks like?"

"I didn't say I didn't know what it looked like," Rollie said as they entered the canyon. Angie sighed.

It was cold in the shadow of the high, steep slopes. The stream that ran down the hill on the left side of the cauldron leaked out under the stones just before the canyon. It created an underground river so the canyon stayed dry.

Angie shivered. Boy, the air was really cold now that the sun didn't shine in here. Angie stopped suddenly and looked at Rollie.

"What?" Rollie asked.

Angie stared at him for a moment with her eyes open wide.

"Rollie, you think Blake murdered his brother?" Angie was sure Rollie thought so. There was no other reason to go to Blake's house. Angie shivered.

"Does it really matter what I think?" Rollie asked.

Angie made no reply. Did she want to know at all? Suddenly she was unsure of anything.

They left the canyon. The sun immediately started to warm them. The road was bad. The cracked surface made every move harder. The slopes got milder. Beyond a group of trees, a wooden house could be seen. Its chimney towered over the thin, almost leafless treetops. A few thorny bushes scrambled up the scarred trunks. Angie and Rollie turned on to a narrow path meandering through the trees to the house. It seemed no one was home. The windows were covered with shutters and there was a huge chain on the irony gate of the fence. The gate was rusted in the places where the formerly green paint was crushed. The chain looked new. Solid. Everlasting.

Rollie shook the chain. It rumbled. The sound drifted around them like the echo of a war. Rollie was about to climb over the gate but Angie stopped him. She reached out and rang the doorbell right under a board saying 'private land'.

"Looks like fortress," Rollie murmured. "Everybody in this town loves fences."

Angie rang the bell again. Nothing had moved.

"You have Blue to guard your home. They don't," Angie whispered.

"But right now he's in the van," Rollie said, shaking the chain again.

"Poor little thing. Do you think he'll ever forgive you?" Angie said, trying to tease him a bit.

Rollie shot a glance at Angie but did not say a single thing. They climbed over the gate and jumped down to the grass by the driveway. Then they approached the house. The door was locked.

"How are we getting in?" Angie whispered. The only thing she longed for right now was to run away, leave the town and forget about it forever.

"Watch me," Rollie said and winked at Angie. He pulled something out of his pocket. It looked like a twisted wire. Rollie inserted it into the lock, turned it several times and then a click sounded. Rollie grabbed the knob and opened the door. He waved at Angie to enter first. Angie shook her head and said, "Seems it wasn't your first time." Rollie grinned.

They entered the darkened corridor. Rollie closed the door and looked around. Two paintings hung on the walls. It was too dark in the hall to recognize what they represented.

Rollie suggested searching the attic first. Angie agreed. They went up the staircase in the middle of the corridor. The air was filled with the smell of wood. Though it was pleasant, Angie did not feel good. She looked at Rollie before her. Did he feel the same? She couldn't tell since she was not able to see anything but his back. What if Blake came home and found them here? Angie sighed.

Rollie stopped before the door leading to the attic. He turned to Angie as if waiting for a signal. Angie buried her fingers into the wooden handrail, looked at Rollie and held her breath for a little moment. They both stood before the door, afraid of opening it and releasing whatever the attic hid. It could be just an old spider's web. It could be a two-inch layer of dust. But as they stood there, looking into each other's eyes, Rollie and Angie knew they were playing with fate. Their own fate. If they opened the door, there was no turning back, no matter what they would find. If just nothing... They would have to face it. The door was their gate to the future. And there could be none. The time disappeared. The place had been gone. If just for a few seconds. Only the moment stayed, veiling Angie and Rollie into the strange feeling of unreality.

Neither of them could say then who had broken the moment and opened the door. Once the door was open a heavy smell of destruction seized them, made its way into their noses and choked them. Angie started to cough. The particles of dust drifting in the thick air could be seen in the sunlight, squeezing its way through the only window without shutters in the house.

The attic was full of boxes, shelves and different kinds of cupboards. All the stuff seemed to have no rules for being places along the walls. The attic looked messy, unlikely to reveal any secrets in the time they had to search.

Rollie bent down and started to search the first cupboard on his left. Angie looked at him, unsure of what to look for.

"Rol, what am I to do?" she asked, not wanting to stand around with her hands in her pockets.

Rollie looked up at Angie with some old photos in his hands. "Just look out the window. If you see Blake, run."

"Okay," Angie agreed and approached the window. She looked out. The green lawn under the window looked nice and well kept. Angie could barely see the road because it was to the left of this wall. She pressed her nose to the glass so she could see more. The road was deserted. She turned to Rollie. He searched only the bigger boxes and the small ones left alone.

"If it is not here it doesn't exist at all," Angie whispered. What if the walls could hear her. Rollie straightened up and looked at Angie. "What?" he asked wonderingly.

Angie shook her head. "Nothing." She turned to the window. Outside the world was gray. The sun had disappeared behind a cloud, sharing its warmth and light with a different planet. The air went colder. A solitary butterfly sat down at the ledge. As if it was not strong enough to fly on. The colors of its wings looked faded. A moment later it stopped moving the wings. Like it was sleeping. A sudden gust of wind swept it out of the ledge. Angie could not stop the shiver going down her spine. The hand of death was suddenly so close. Angie looked at the road. A shadow flashed through the trees. Angie stiffened. Her temples were throbbing but her heart stopped beating. A second of absolute immobility.

"Ange. Is everything okay with you?" Rollie's voice brought her back to reality.

"Yeah. Just saw a bird out there," she said. Her voice was weak and cracked. I should be at home, Angie thought, watch some funny stuff on TV and eat ice cream. "Did you find anything?"

Rollie shook his head. No, if he didn't count the hundreds of photos, dusty books without covers, two old baseball bats and stuff like that. Rollie went by two paintings between two cupboards without any interest. Now that Angie stood before the window, the attic was darker and it was hard to see. She seemed to be a bit on edge and Rollie really didn't want to bother her with his stupid demands for more light. Rollie opened another cupboard and blinked wildly. His half bent back became heavy and his hands felt like they belonged to someone else.

"Angie." He forced the words through his tight throat. "I've found it."

Angie shifted her legs as if afraid of approaching the cupboard and seeing what Rollie had found. An endless moment she hesitated. The time seemed to stop passing. It hung over Angie, unwilling to let her move. But then the time started running again. And Angie stepped toward Rollie. She peered into the cupboard, her mind oddly empty as if it needed its full capacity for absorbing anything in the cupboard.

Angie opened her eyes wide. It wasn't what she had expected. If she had expected anything at all. Her brain refused to absorb it at first.

"The gates of hell statues?" she whispered, surprised. But a piece of her mind kept screaming it had known it all along. "The hell stone? Like the ones in the picture you found?" She seemed to be lost, but Angie knew well what it all was about. She knew it but did not dare let her brain tell her. "What does that mean?" she asked, afraid of hearing the answer, knowing it anyway. Angie tried hard to stop her thoughts from clearing it all. It was so harmless to stay in the dark. She felt safe behind the wall of not thinking.

"Think you already know," Rollie said. His voice was hoarse. "You asked down there on the road whether I thought Blake'd murdered his brother. Guess this answers the question pretty good."

Angie did not listen to Rollie. The wall of dark inside her head, made to prevent her from knowing, collapsed. Everything was clear now but she couldn't understand.

"You mean? Blake believes in the existence of the stone? And he was so afraid his brother could find it first so he did all that stuff to prevent Andy from finding the real one? I mean... the one he thought was real?"

Rollie nodded. This was exactly what he thought.

"Daniel said Andy had known about the stone even before the movie started. The books I found are all about black magic, witchcraft and all. I mean, Blake obviously had looked for the stone even before we knew about it. He'd never told anyone. Maybe just his brother. And then he wished he'd never opened his mouth."

"Rollie," Angie interrupted him. "Maybe he never told Andy. Andy might have read one of his books. Blake then found out Andy believed in the stone too and..." Angie paused. She never finished the sentence.

Rollie nodded. "I think he managed to persuade Andy there was nothing like the hell stone. Then he realized there was a movie to be shot. It must have made him desperate."

Angie shivered. This was really crazy; the struggle for something that wasn't supposed to exist at all.

"We have to prove Blake did it," Rollie said. Angie was sure Rollie had already created a plan. She just didn't want to know it right now that some strange noise caught her attention. "He just has to find the hell stone that will ask him about it."

Angie gaped at Rollie for a moment, not paying even a half of her attention to what he had said. What was this all about? Speaking hell stones? He must have gone out of his mind.

"But Rollie, there are no hell stones in this world... are there?" She wasn't sure anymore.

Rollie grinned. "You know that, I know that but... what if HE doesn't know?" Rollie said, closing the cupboard.

Now again! Angie was sure she heard a sound down there on the first floor.

"We just have to make two statues, a hell stone and make Blake go to the place where we will put them." Rollie took a breath to continue the explanation when he realized Angie was not listening to him.

"Angie?"

"Rollie, you hear that?" Angie asked, nervously digging her fingers into her shirt.

Rollie listened for a while. He heard rustling in the trees' crowns outside but the house remained silent. Quiet groaning of wood could be heard from time to time but that was normal in wooden houses. Rollie looked at Angie and shrugged. No, he really couldn't hear anything. Angie paid no attention to him. All of her senses were suppressed except for the hearing. Angie's eyes, empty and feverish, stared off to the distance. It made Rollie uneasy.

"Angie, are you okay?" Rollie asked, looking anxiously at Angie.

Angie jerked as if she woke up from a dream. She looked at Rollie with her eyes open wide. "Rol, he's here," she said in a dry and grating voice.

Rollie frowned. Down there, in his stomach, a cold iron hand squeezed his guts, and made him tremble. His thoughts started to run wildly, too fast to be caught.

"Blake?" Rollie asked even though he knew. His voice was weak, almost inaudible, but the word sounded like a scream in the attic. An endless echo drifted around the ceiling, growing and falling again to die down just one too many seconds later. Angie and Rollie cowered as if the ceiling was falling down on them.

The characteristic creaking of the stairs sounded too close not to be caught. Someone was there, within their reach, going up the staircase. It did not really matter whether it was Blake or not. Though it was cold in the attic now that the sun was hidden beyond a cloud, Rollie felt sweat running down his back. He wiped his wet forehead with the back of his hand. The footsteps were getting closer.

Angie skimmed the attic. There must have been a place to hide. But there obviously was not any free space. Rollie grabbed her hand and pulled her by the door. If someone opened it, the door would cover them. At least Rollie hoped so.

They waited in the sudden silence.  Little streams of sweat drenched their clothes. Their blood throbbed wildly in their temples and every breath sounded way too loud. Seconds lasted for ages and minutes seemed to be endless. The time was like mud. It stuck Rollie and Angie in eternity.

The footsteps sounded again. They seemed to be right behind the door to the attic. The knob moved slowly. Rollie and Angie held their breaths. Another eternity had just begun. The door squealed a bit and flew open. It stopped right before Rollie's nose. They could hear someone step into the room and then it was silent again. The sun appeared for a little while, sending some beams into the attic, then another cloud hid it behind its gray shadow. Angie felt a salt stream of sweat run down her temples. Rollie squeezed her hand. Angie did not hear him breathe. Or was it that her breathing was so loud and deafened her?

"Must be hearing things," a muffled voice said. The footsteps sounded again. The door was slammed and the familiar creaking of stairs could be heard for a while. Then the house buried itself in silence. Rollie and Angie heaved a sigh, sliding down the wall. They ended up on the floor, trembling.

"If he left a minute later, I'd have died of horror," Rollie whispered in a husky voice.

They sat quietly on the floor for about ten minutes, squeezing each other's hand.

"What now?" Angie asked, glancing up at Rollie. He was pale. Some strands of his hair were stuck on his wet forehead.

"Have no idea," Rollie said, pushing his hair back. "Gotta wait for Blake to leave again."

Angie thought about it for a moment. No, that wouldn't do. They might wait here forever, hungry and thirsty, and Blake wouldn't have to leave at all.

"Rollie, what if he doesn't leave this house in next two days?" Angie asked.

Rollie frowned. He knew his plan wasn't the best one but it was the only thing that had come to his head. "So why don't YOU think of something else?" He sounded tired rather than angry.

Angie sighed. She knew Rollie's plan was good because it was safe. But it depended too much on Blake. And Angie didn't want to depend on Blake. The sun lit the attic again. It could not chase away their worries. Angie tried to figure out how to get out of the house. But she simply couldn't find a way. They couldn't use the window because there was no ladder close at hand. And the stairs were too noisy with all the creaking. If only they'd had wings... Like the butterfly that could not fly on... Angie jerked. Why the hell did she have to think about the damn butterfly right now? Did she find their situation as desperate as the poor insect's?

"Angie, don't think so hard. I can barely see you through the smoke from your head." Rollie couldn't stand Angie's worried face any longer.

"I don't think this is the right time for jokes, Rollie," Angie cut him short and stood up. "This waiting is killin' me." She paced from the door to the window, and back to Rollie. Reaching the window, she always glanced out, not seeing anything of the landscape outside.

"Angie, sit down, will you?" Rollie whispered. "The wooden boards are pretty old. Blake could hear you."

Angie sat down next to Rollie and put her arms around her knees. "Rollie," she whispered, staring off to the distance. "I don't want to sit here." Angie glanced at Rollie. "I don't want to wait for Blake to find us here, defenseless."

Rollie gave her a surprised look. "Us? Defenseless?" His whisper sounded distressed anyway. "We got you. You're a deadly weapon, Ange."

Angie sighed. It was nice of Rollie to try to cheer her up. But it was senseless. She wouldn't feel better until they were out there on the road, safe, alive and well. Rollie saw his effort had failed. That was what he had expected. He had always been bad at convincing Angie everything was okay when he knew it wasn't at all.

Rollie stood up with visible resolve in his eyes. Talking was senseless. Waiting was driving them mad. He had to do something. Right now! Angie looked up at him, rocking her body slowly.

"I'm gonna try to slip outta here," Rollie explained.

Angie raised but Rollie grabbed her by her shoulder and coaxed her to sit back on the floor. "If I make it I'll get you out. I saw a ladder by the trees in the garden."

Angie stared at him like he had gone out of his mind. "Are you crazy, Rollie?"

Rollie continued as if he hadn't noticed her comment. "And if I don't you'll run away while he's too busy with me."

Angie gasped for breath. "Yep. You ARE crazy. Absolutely." Her voice rose as she stood up. Rollie tried to silence her with his hand but Angie pushed it aside and continued, more quietly now. "Rollie, I won't let you go alone. Either we're both going or neither of us, no matter whether you like it or not."

Rollie shook his head, blinking rapidly. No, they couldn't go together. It was too dangerous! If Blake caught him, he could hold him back long enough for Angie to run away unseen.

"Angie?" Rollie started but Angie interrupted him immediately. "You're not going anywhere without ME, Rol. Is it clear now?"

Rollie sighed. This was really useless. Angie wouldn't listen to him. She could be so stubborn sometimes. He cleared his throat. "Angie, it's really dangerous to go down there."  Rollie decided to try to talk Angie out of her intention again.

Angie nodded. "Yep. So we'll share the danger and make it a little bit more bearable. You agree?"

Rollie rolled his eyes. "Do I have a choice?" he asked Angie, quite put out with the fact he wasn't the one to rule this situation.

"Sure," Angie said, suddenly excited with the coming adventure. "You can either go with me or stay here. You choose."

Angie seemed to be cool and it made Rollie worry. When you lose your fear you're on the best way to destruction.

"Fine," he said eventually. "But I'm going first."

Angie shrugged and made an 'I couldn't care less' face. "Whatever," she said.

Rollie looked at her for a moment, then shrugged and turned his attention to the door. He reached out for the knob but next he came to a halt as if he had changed his mind. Angie looked at him in bewilderment. Rollie turned back to her, serious look on his face. "Angie," he said quietly but clearly. "If you happen to die here, I'll kill myself and will terrify you!"

Angie grinned. "Be my guest."

"That's not funny, Ange," Rollie said.

"Rollie, does your speech have a point? This talking's not going to get us out of here. Do you think I'm not scared?" She paused, trying to turn her voice back into whisper. "I am! But I'm gonna run the risk and try to get out of here."

Rollie glanced at the ceiling and then back at Angie. He turned to the door and heaved a sigh. "Fine," he said and opened the door slowly. When the gap was big enough for him to slip through, he dragged through it and went on to the wooden banister. Rollie peered down. The stairs looked empty. Angie pulled through the gap and closed the door. She really didn't want it to be slammed by a draught. Then she moved closer to Rollie. Every step took a lifetime. Every creak, no matter how quiet, sounded like a shot, followed by its twisted echo. The house was suddenly full of strange sounds. Angie squeezed the handrail by Rollie's hand and glanced at Rollie. He made a suffering face. All his moves looked tired. Rollie stepped down on the first stair. His heavy work boots tortured the old wooden step. It groaned. A clap of thunder wouldn't be so loud. Rollie stiffened, his fingers crushing the handrail. He almost lost his stability, balancing on two stairs. Angie stood on the wooden floor, trying to hear any moves down there on the first floor, praying to be somewhere else. Rollie lifted his right leg and took another step. His nerves were strained to breaking point. One wrong move and he'd stumble and fall down the stairs with a horrible noise. Rollie shook his head to get rid of the thought though he knew it was senseless. The more Rollie thought about the fall, the more he felt dizzy. This was getting to be unbearable. Rollie stopped, closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He heard a creak behind himself. Angie was obviously following him. Now that the silence spread, Rollie could assure himself Blake was not moving. And if he was, then so damn inaudibly! Rollie opened his eyes. Color dots swam before his sight. He blinked but they weren't gone. They just faded a bit. Rollie heard a pounding. Like there was a horse in his head, running startled somewhere inside. No, it wasn't a horse. It was his blood throbbing in his temples. So wildly and loudly... It must have been heard all over the house.

Angie followed Rollie but he suddenly stopped and looked like he was not able to take another step. He squeezed the handrail till his knuckles turned white and he stood as if he heard something. But Angie couldn't hear anything though she was pricking her ears up. In the moment she wanted to touch his shoulder, Rollie finally moved again. He stopped at the landing, trying to breathe again. The window here was not darkened anymore. The beams of the evening sun were trying to get inside, squeezing their way through the mosaic pane of glass. The light formed funny figures dancing on the floor. As if  he was afraid to interrupt the dance, Rollie stepped over the images and took two steps to the stairs leading to the first floor. Blake was nowhere to be seen. The air was filled with ozone like there was a storm to come. How could they avoid Blake since they didn't have a clue where he was now?

The phone in the back of the house rang. Angie stiffened. For a little moment Rollie thought his heart stopped beating forever. His lungs were paralyzed, holding his breath for way too long. Before the world could fade to black, Angie dragged him down and made him sit on a stair, pushing him toward the wall. They could hear Blake approach the phone and his sleepy voice speaking to someone far away.

Rollie thought hard, finally able to breathe again. The phone must have been in the living room in the back of the house. If they didn't run away now they might never get another chance. It was now or never.

Rollie craned forward and peered at the back of the vertical corridor. The door to living room was almost closed. Rollie could see a part of Blake's back through the gap. Yeah, now they could make it.

Rollie stood up, grabbed Angie's hand and ran down the last three stairs. Angie ran behind him, feeling like a flag flying on Rollie's hand. She didn't care. She just wanted to get out of here. The sooner the better.

Rollie opened the door and they ran out of the house.

"Run!" Rollie whispered, releasing Angie's hand, and closed the door behind him.

They stopped running by the road, trying to calm down.

It was midnight. The dark outside the van was almost black. The sky was cloudy so any stars could not be seen. Angie sat in the chair by the computer and drank her third cup of coffee to stay awake. The screen of her computer turned hazy from time to time as her eyes were getting tired. Rollie worked on the statues. He had decided to create two absolutely different ones; not similar to the movie ones by a long way.

Rollie straightened up and rubbed his eyes. The ants' work on the statues was really tiring. Rollie put his hands behind his head and looked at the statue. Though a machine had made it, Rollie had to decorate it a bit. Blue stood by Rollie's left leg and kept on shaking his head.

"What's the matter, Blueboy? Don't you like it?" Rollie asked the robot.

Blue started to bark.

Rollie pulled his hands down and grabbed a brush. "Stop it, Blue, and let me work." He resumed decorating the statues.

Angie watched Rollie for a moment. Then she turned back to the computer but did not even touch the keyboard.

"Rol," she said and looked back at Rollie. "Let's call it a day."

"What time is it?" Rollie asked her without raising his head.

Angie rolled her eyes. "Late enough to go to sleep."

Rollie squinted at her, trying to decide what to do. Then he swung his head and closed his eyes. "Okay, Ange. Let's have some sleep."

The next three days were filled with preparation. Rollie finished the statues. Since there was no police station he phoned Gatti to get him here for the Judgement Day as Angie had dubbed it. Angie made the hell stone and put a bulb inside so it could glow. Everything was set in the forest about fifteen miles from here; the statues, the hell stone, several cameras and a sound recorder. The only problem remaining was to let Blake know about the place.

At the end of the third day, Rollie solved the problem. Wearing some old rags, false beard and wig, he pretended to be a drunk bum who had seen the hell stone and was eager to tell any listener in the pub. The pub was almost empty, except for a barman, Rollie, Blake and a couple in the corner.

"I've told it to thousands," Rollie croaked, trying to show the thousands on the fingers of his right hand. Then his head sank down on the table. It had been polite to answer the friendly man's question. Especially when the man bought him a beer. But his head was suddenly so heavy? Blake left the pub.

"Rollie, you were great!" Angie exclaimed as she came from the restroom.

Rollie raised his head. "Were? You say were? You mean I am!"

"Sure," Angie assured him, dragging him out of the pub. "We have to hurry!"

"Hurry doesn't mean to tear off my hand," Rollie muttered. They sat in the van and followed Francis's car. They headed for the gates of hell. It was certain Blake would get there very soon too.

Neither Rollie nor Angie could tell now whether their plan would do. They just hoped so. It was their only chance to prove Blake had murdered his brother. As the van rolled down the road into the growing darkness, Angie and Rollie prayed for everything to work out right.

The night was really dark. The red car went up a forest road, jumping like a crazy horse. Its lights were cutting the darkness like two sharp knives. Blake wanted to reach the hell stone in the shortest possible time. He hoped the drunken bum hadn't told his story to anyone who really cared. He needed the stone most of all the people in the world.

Blake stopped the car and got out. The gloomy trees' crowns above his head rustled. But he didn't care. He was in a hurry. There, behind this little hill, must have been the hell stone. Blake almost ran up the road, not caring about the strange rustling sounds around. Like there was just him and the hell stone in this world. Everything else had lost its importance. Everything else had stopped existing. Everything else was lost for Blake forever.

Blake stopped on the top of the terrain wave. The lights of his car could barely light a thing ahead of Blake. But he could see the little flame over there. It was growing. It pulled him closer like a magnet. The two statues looked dangerous. But Blake wasn't scared. He stood just a step from the most powerful force ever. If he got the stone, he'd step into eternity. Nobody would be able to overwhelm him. He'd be the strongest!

The mist over the stone started to form. Blake came to a halt just a few feet before the stone, gaping at the forming figure. He hadn't expected anything like that. What the hell was going on? The edges of the figure became clear. It looked like a demon. An almost transparent demon with a hood on his head. Something like horns towered under the cloth. And then the misty mouth spoke in a devilish way, "Welcome." The voice was strange. As if it rose from a never ending deep. From the world of all evil. From hell.

"What are you here for, you little human rat?" The voice sounded like it was coming from a grave.

Blake stood frozen, unable to speak, lost in the haze of his runaway thoughts. The figure started to fade. It scared Blake to death. What if it disappeared forever? Would he ever get another chance to gain the stone?

"I? I am, eh, here for the, um, hell stone," he blurted out. The forest filled with a croaking laughter. The ice-cold hand of fear was squeezing Blake's throat. This was really out of this world.

"You think you can come here and have my stone?" The taunting voice rose. Now it sounded like a threat.

Blake cowered a bit.

"The stone is not for everybody," the gloomy voice continued.

Blake shivered. "What? What should I do?"

The following laughter was unbearable. It rose up to a hysterical scream and then sank to a deep clapping of rolling lava.

"It does not matter what you are able to do to gain the stone now. What does matter is what you have already done to gain it."

Blake did not say a word. He was thinking. The thoughtful look on his face was twisted, showing the state of his mind. Now it was easy to read it like a book.

"Well?" The voice was sharp now.

Blake made no reply. He gaped at the demon, swallowing hard, finding himself trembling. The thought of having the stone choked him. The world seemed to be falling down on him. It was now or never. If he hesitated too long, he might not get the stone.

"Did you do anything bad enough to afford to ask for the stone?" The voice sank to pure hell deep.

Blake stepped back, panicking over the raising horror inside his mind. He hadn't expected that. He'd thought he would come here, reach out his hand, grab the stone and vanish. But it wasn't anything like that.

The voice sounded again, somewhere high above him, as the misty figure rose. "When it was not hellish, how can you dare ask for the stone?" The question hung over Blake, threatening to kill him as it fell. Blake's eyes were open wide but his look was blank. As if he wasn't here anymore. The insanity in his eyes shone bright as he finally spoke, "I killed my brother!" It was a scream of pure madness. "He wanted to gain the stone himself. I had to stop him. I couldn't let him find it. I need the stone!" The echo of Blake's voice died down.

"Cut!" A familiar voice broke the silence. Blake started to turn around in panic. He did not understand what was going on. Why all the people surrounded him? Why had the figure disappeared? Where was his stone? It did not shine anymore. And then he saw the effects man, grinning and yelling 'cut' once again. The world collapsed into black sparks.

Hey Ange," Rollie yelled from one corner of the loft to the other one. "We're in the paper."

Angie raised her eyes in a bored way. This was the fifth paper! She said, "You don't say."

"Movie special effects helped the police catch a murderer," Rollie read aloud.

Oh boy, Angie thought and sighed, not knowing how to stop her boss. Then she raised her eyebrows. Could it be that simple? She was sure it would work.

"Rol? Want some candy?"

The END