The Administrator Page 9

  Maggie’s rage rattled the chandelier above the bed.

  In her greed, Donna didn’t notice.

  Mine! Screamed Maggie. The shutters banged against the house. Maggie fought to make her words heard. Mine!

  Donna’s head snapped up at the clatter of the window shutters. “Wind.” She muttered, and bent to the treasures in the safe.

  The three people, huddled in silence beside the fireplace downstairs, jumped simultaneously when they heard her scream.

  “Mama!” Alice gasped.

  She and her brother exchanged glances. Each waited for the other to start for the stairs, but it was Helena that leapt from her chair and ran toward the scream. Bursting into the room, she stopped mid-stride. Huddled in the corner of the closet, her head buried in her lap, jewels strewn over her body like they had been shot from a cannon, was Donna—babbling and screaming incoherently.

  “Sh ... she’s HERE! I heard her! The walls buckled ... the room tilted! She’s here ... she’s here!”

  Helena shouted, “Jeffery, quick. Help me lift her.”

  Jeffery stood immobile, staring at his mother on the floor.

  “Jeffery!”

  Startled, he jumped to follow Helena’s command.

  Alice began wailing about ghosts and devils and ran from the room screaming.

  By the time they got her down to the sofa in the library, Donna had fainted.

  Hours later, after getting her aunt tranquilized and asleep in one of the many bedrooms, Helena told her two cousins that she was leaving.

  “I don’t even know why I came.” She said. “When Aunt Donna called and said I should, I tried to tell her no, but it’s impossible to tell your mother no. So, I came. It was a mistake, and I’m going home.”

  “But, you can’t just leave us.” Pleaded Alice. “What if what she said is true? What will we do?”

  “There is no such thing as ghosts, Alice. Even a woman as selfish as Aunt Maggie can’t come back from the dead. Your mother imagined it, but if it bothers you, perhaps you should leave too.”

  Lily entered the study noiselessly. “Shall I call a taxi for you, Miss Helena?”

  “Yes, thank you , Lily.”

  “Would you like some tea while you wait for your ride, Miss.?”

  “Yes. That would be nice, Lily. Thank you.”

  The maid allowed herself a fleeting smile at the polite young lady. “Thank you, Miss. Will the rest of the family be going too?” Her scathing gaze raked over the other two in the room like she might look at a roach she was about to step on.

  “Not on your life. We’re staying until we get everything we came for.” Jeffery’s voice echoed the calculating edge his mother’s had carried earlier.

  “So be it.” Mumbled Lily as she limped painfully to the door.

  “May I help you, Lily?” Helena asked.

  “No, Miss. I’ll handle it.”

  “I need more than tea.” Declared Jeffery. “I’m going down to the wine cellar. I know the old biddy kept her best stuff there.”

  Old biddy, huh? You’ll get what’s coming to you all right. Maggie reached into the cellar. She was getting stronger. A chill swept through the house that no fire could warm.

  Helena shuddered and moved closer to the fireplace. Alice sat on the sofa, not moving, her face pale and drawn as she stared at her brother’s retreating back.

  The crash from the basement sounded like the walls had caved in. Doors all over the house began to slam open and then close repeatedly. The din was so loud it almost covered the sound of Jeffery’s screams.

  Wind rushed down the halls. Helena thought she heard an outraged voice scream, Mine, somewhere amidst the uproar. Alice buried her head under a sofa cushion and started crying hysterically.

  Helena rushed toward the screams. As she took the stairs two at a time, she prayed she would not find what she thought she might.

  His body lay beneath a wine casket. She could not see his face. The uncovered bulb swung gently as if a summer breeze had touched it. In the arcing shadows of the dim light, a dark, crimson stain grew around his thick, black hair and spread slowly across the stark white tile floor. She averted her eyes from his head, reached for his extended arm, felt for a pulse, found none, and stumbled backward. Stunned, she turned and walked back up the stairs. Lily met her as she reached the door.

  Her face half hidden in the shadows of the flickering light below, the maid asked if she should call the doctor.

  “I don’t believe it will do any good.” Helena mumbled. Shock kept her calm. “But, I suppose we should.”

  As she finished the sentence, she raised her head to listen to a tinkling noise that sounded like a thousand icicles were rolling down a hill. The sound increased. The house began to shake as if rocked by an earthquake. The tinkling rose to a crashing crescendo followed by the sound of broken glass and what sounded like a voice shouting, Mine.

  Stillness, silence. Nothing moved, or even breathed. “What was that?” She whispered to Lily.

  “I don’t know Miss. It sounded like it came from upstairs.”

  “Oh, my God! Aunt Donna!”

  Helena wanted to run outside, away from this house, but she knew she must go to her Aunt. She felt no need to hurry as her feet led her unwilling body toward the stairs. She was afraid that she knew what she would find.

  Donna lay underneath a massive chandelier that sprawled over her body like a million, glistening teardrops. Her staring eyes were wide, full of horror, her arms and legs at unnatural angles. The blood from where the sharp crystal shards had pierced her skin had begun to stain the glittering glass a delicate shade of pink.

  Helena vomited on Maggie’s expensive, Persian rug.

  Lily helped her walk, on trembling legs, back downstairs and disappeared to call the police and the doctor.

  She was numb. This couldn’t be happening. It was a nightmare. But, the white-faced girl opposite her on the sofa proved it was real.

  “Was ... was it Mama?” Alice whispered.

  Helena nodded silently.

  “We’re next, you know.” Alice croaked. “It’s Aunt Maggie. She’s going to kill us all.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. Just accidents. That’s all. Just accidents.” Helena tried to convince herself along with the younger girl.

  “I want to see Mama.”

  “No, Alice, wait until the doctor gets here.”

  “Can he help her?”

  The lump in Helena’s dry throat prevented her from lying to the girl. She said nothing.

  Alice nodded and rose from the sofa. “I’m going to take a bath.” She said.

  “A bath? You’re going to take a ba ... . Oh hell. Okay. It will relax you until the doctor gets here.”

  “Yes. . .relax.”

  Alice strolled down the hall almost happy. She was humming when she closed the door to the bathroom. She was still humming when she sliced her wrists with the razor, and she sighed contentedly as she sunk down into the tub full of warm water. She thought how pretty the rosy, swirling water was as she closed her eyes for the last time.

  Lily stood beside her mistress’ bed looking down at the body. “Must the girl die too, Miss Maggie?”

  Yes. She is the last. No one else will come when they are all dead. Maggie’s voice echoed from the mirror, the walls, the floors.

  “But, she is so young, and she treats me with respect.”

  It is all mine. Do you understand? No one else may have any of it. It is all mine. She must die.

  “Must it be violent?”

  The windows vibrated with impatience as Maggie snarled. Do it any way you like. Just do it!

  Lily’s gnarled hand trembled slightly as she brought the tea tray to Helena. The empty bottle of sweet poison lay nestled in her apron pocket as she poured a cup for the silent girl. “Here, Miss. This will make you feel better.”

  Helena looked into Lily’s ancient eyes. Her gaze stroked the furrowed skin on the old woman’s cheek. “How old are you, Lil
y?”

  “Older than time,” Lily answered. “Older than Satan.”

  Helena took the proffered cup of tea, and her eyes searched the old woman’s ancient face. Her look caught and held the time-shadowed, gray eyes. “You didn’t phone anyone. Did you?” It was not really a question—more, a statement of fact.

  “No, Miss. Drink your tea now, Miss.”

  Obediently lifting the cup to her lips, she watched a tear form in Lily’s eye and lazily flow onto the old lady’s cheek to follow an age line down to the corner of her puckered mouth. As the warm tea wrapped its flavor around her lips, Helena closed her eyes and savored the sweetness on her tongue for a moment, then quickly drained the cup. She studied Lily’s face again in silence. After a while, she whispered, “Yes . . .very old.”

  Her limp hand lost its hold, and the cup tumbled to the floor. She wanted to say she was sorry for the mess, but her lips wouldn’t move. As shadows drifted across her eyes blocking her view of Lily’s face, she heard a triumphant cry.

  Mine! All mine. For Eternity!

  Terra-4U

  “Why do I let you talk me into these idiotic schemes?” Jonas shook his thin forefinger in front of Gordon’s broad face, then ran his hand across his own receding hairline. Static electricity pulled his sparse hair to attention on top of his head where it stood straight up like an emaciated shock of wheat and waved gently at Gordon.

  Gordon chuckled, “Nice Freudian choice of words there, Jonas. Especially since you’re losing all of yours.” He laughed and tauntingly patted his own full head of hair.

  Jonas snorted, “Well, at least its not dead-mouse gray like that mop on your head. And that has nothing to do with my question. Why are we here? Why didn’t you let Amalgamated Electronics send one of their young, flashy geniuses to fix Terra-4U?” He waved his thin hands in the air, screwed his face into a grimace and mimicked, “‘Let us go to Mars’, you said. ‘We’ll fix old Terra-4U,’ you said. ‘We built him. We’ll fix him,’ you said.” His voice rose to a high pitched sing-song, then subsided to a growl, “Gordon, you know I hate weightlessness, and the Mars colony is just about the dullest spot in the universe. They recycle the water and even some of the food, for heaven’s sake. Why do I let you put me through this torture for a stupid machine?” He shook an accusing finger again just inches from Gordon’s nose.

  Gordon dodged his friend’s stabbing digit and said, “Machines aren’t stupid. Or smart either. They’re just machines. They follow orders. Hell, you know that. You designed Terra-4U.”

  Jonas’ fine-lined lips pulled into a leer. “Yeah. And you built him, but obviously not very well, or we wouldn’t be here.”

  “I just followed your specifications. Unmistakably the fault is yours, not mine,” Gordon shot back.

  “Oh yeah? Any technical engineer with half a brain could follow the schematics and figure out what’s wrong with him. Which brings me back to my original question. Why did we have to come?”

  “For the money, Old Pal. We’re broke. This free-lancing scientist stuff isn’t as lucrative as we thought. And put those wild hands of yours away before you give me another black eye. Someday I’m gonna’ handcuff your hands behind your back just to see if your mouth works without ‘em.”

  Jonas crammed his hands into his pockets where they jiggled in confinement. “Well we wouldn’t be broke if you hadn’t insisted on that Singapore fiasco. Big ideas. Always big ideas,” he mumbled as he turned to stare out the view port at the red planet below.

  “Oh come on, you old goat. Get in the landing boat. The sooner we get down there and fix the robot, the sooner we get to go home.” Gordon turned and strode toward the hatch. He glanced back at Jonas just in time to see him make an obscene gesture in his direction.

  Gordon’s large, blue eyes grew round in mock surprise as he grinned. His craggy face displayed traces of heavy lines beginning to etch themselves into the corners of his mouth and eyes. He returned the gesture good-naturedly. “Promises, promises.”

  Jonas’ grudging laugh at the two men’s long standing signal that the disagreement was ended and it was time to go to work rang against the whirring whoosh of the opening hatch. “All right. Let’s do it, you old pervert,” he grumbled as he followed Gordon into the landing boat.

  The short, bulky redheaded engineer who met them at the port smiled, but his blue eyes flashed anxiety. Countless freckles appeared stark against his pale, young face. He shook hands with the two middle-aged men and introduced himself as Charles, the head engineer of the Mars Terra-form project.

  As he turned sharply to take them to their quarters, Jonas mouthed to Gordon, “It’s happened again. He called us, Sir.” Are we that old?”

  Gordon grinned and whispered, “To him, we are.” Then he said aloud, “Charles, hold up a minute.”

  The young man stopped and turned to them. “Yes, Sir?”

  Jonas scowled, and Gordon said, “Forget quarters for now. Take us to see the robot, and tell us what’s happening on the way.”

  Charles smiled and said, “I was hoping you would get right to work. This thing has us all spooked.”

  “Spooked?”

  “Yeah, we’ve never seen a robot behave this way before. Especially one as large and heavily equipped as Terra-4U is. We thought about shutting it down, but no one wants to get that close to its evacuation pods.”

  “Where is he now?” asked Jonas.

  “Same place it’s been for the last four days. Just inside the bay door. It hasn’t moved. Just sits there and....”

  Gordon frowned. “And what?”

  “It sings songs, and then it cries.”

  Jonas’ mouth fell open, “Sings and cries? A robot can’t cry.”

  “Well this one does. Not tears, of course. But sobs. Loud, wailing sobs. I tell you, Sir, it gives me the jeebies.” Charles’ shoulders shivered as if he was suddenly attacked by a chill wind, which was impossible in the absolute, 68 degree temperature of the underground city. He led them through a maze of seemingly unending corridors walled with a metallic, silver alloy.

  Gordon and Jonas had begun to think he was leading them in circles because the tunnels all looked exactly alike, but finally, the young man stopped in front of an inner air lock. “Okay. Here we are. Brace yourselves.” He palmed the door for identification, and it instantly slid open.

  Before the door settled itself into the wall, the three men’s ears were assaulted with a keening moan that sunk into their very bones. It was like all the lost souls in Limbo were crying out in unison.

  “Christ!” Jonas yelped. “Is that what he’s been doing for four days? No wonder you’re nervous.” He glanced at Gordon, “Close your mouth, Gordon, you look like a corpse.”

  Gordon shut his gaping mouth and took in the scene inside the airlock.

  Hunched near the far wall, its gleaming alloy shell the same shade of gray as the wall, was the ten foot tall, five foot wide Terra-4U. Its twenty limbs flailed indecisively in the air, reminding Gordon of Jonas’ habit when he talked. “You’ve modified him,” he accused as he turned questioningly to Charles. “Where did those four extra arms come from? And that thing on his head. What is that?”

  Charles blanched. The freckles etched against his white face looked like someone had dotted his face with ink. “I ... we ... uh ... we just added a couple of extra soil excavators and a sort of jackhammer. The rocks here are pretty hard, you know.” His voice became defensive and loud as he strained to be heard above the shrieking din of the robot. “And that thing, as you call it, on its head is a very expensive, highly technical sonar tracer that I designed so we could trace him—uh, it—if it ever got lost.”

  The deafening wailing stopped. Terra-4U turned all twelve of his viewer stalks toward them as if he had just become aware of their presence. Each stalk supported a one inch, red sensor globe that acted as an eye. His limbs still waved aimlessly in the air. He seemed to choke back a sob with a tinny growl from his voice plate and rumbled from his digitize
d sound synthesizer, “Dr. Gordon. Dr. Jonas. How nice to see you. Did you come to see me? No. Of course not,” he answered himself. “Who would want to see me?” He brought a limb with a digging tool on the end up to the side of his square head, then laid another limb tipped with a spotlight on the other side, squatted on his foot treads, and looking like a giant, misshapen child who had lost his favorite toy, he began to moan and sing in doleful, tinny notes, “Oh woe is me. Oh I am so woed.”

  Jonas looked accusingly at Gordon, “Woed?”

  “Well it wasn’t important that he understand the rules of grammar. He’s supposed to help transform this dustbowl of a planet into a habitable world. You know, like he’s a glorified tractor. . .sort of.”

  Jonas’ voice was chilly. “It was in the design layout. You didn’t use that part?”

  “Well, the company was in a hurry for a working model. Okay, so I cut a few corners.”

  “How many other corners did you cut?”

  “Nothing very important, and anyway these guys modified him. I didn’t. He was working fine until he got here.” He waved an accusing hand at Charles.

  Charles said, “Hey. Don’t blame me. We didn’t change anything vital. Just added a few tools. That’s all.”

  Terra-4U’s tinny voice interrupted the blaming-go-round. “Oh, don’t fight over me. I am not worth it. I am just a useless hunk of junk. A pile of scrap metal. A heap of....”

  Jonas sighed and turned to the metal giant. “Terra-4U, you are not worthless. You’re a multi-million dollar project. A prototype.”

  “Oh, I am so sorry that I cost so much. I am not worth it. Just dismantle my useless frame, and make garbage cans out of me. At least that way, I will be useful.” He started singing. “Nobody knows the trouble I have been. Nobody knows but meeeee...”

  Charles made weak excuses about duty calling and quickly left the two scientists alone with the robot.

  Two hours later, after extensive circuit testing, bolt tightening, schematic perusal and listening to endless renditions of Nobody Knows, Your Icy Heart and assorted other depressing tunes, Gordon threw his hands in the air and shook his head. “4U, enough with the songs already,” he shouted