FIVE

 

Moonlight trickled through the Venetian blinds that shrouded Egon’s bedroom in darkness, coating his restless body in black and white stripes as he slept. Every so often a soft groan would escape his lips; his facial muscles twitched spasmodically as his mind struggled futilely to escape the dream that imprisoned him.

Had he awakened, he might have heard the soft, piercing wail that drifted around the roam. He might have noted the undercurrent of desperation that lay just beneath the siren call. And he definitely would have noticed the unearthly aura that pulsed feebly underneath his closet door.

With a sigh of resignation, the sleeping Egon sat up and pushed the covers away from his body. With stiff, zombie‑like movements, he swung his lanky legs over the side of the bed and stood up. Shuffling forward, eyes open but unseeing, he stumbled across the floor, aiming himself unerringly for the closet.

Two steps before his nose would have smashed against the door, Egon paused. His left hand rose from his side, the long, bony fingers spreading out to embrace and encircle the doorknob. There was no reaction on his face as his hand touched the cool metal surface. With slow, steady pressure, the hand twisted counter‑clockwise, taking the knob with it.

There was a soft click as the latch bolt retreated into the door.

The streaks of light beneath the door flared ever so greater.

The keening rose in intensity.

With a final sigh and pull, Egon opened the door.