Merciful Lord, it's true! Her spirit's left her body!
He stumbled over to her inert form and stood behind her, hesitating. He didn't want to touch her — his skin crawled at the thought — but he had to put an end to this. Now. Swallowing the bile that sloshed up from his stomach, Jerry wrapped his fingers around old lady Gati's throat. He flinched at the feel of her wrinkles against his palms, but he clenched his teeth and began to squeeze. He put all his strength into it and then let go.
He couldn't do it.
"God, give me strength!" he cried, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. Not while she was like this. It was like strangling a corpse! She was barely breathing as it was!
Something tapped against the intact bay window to the right. Jerry spun to look — a flash from outside outlined the grounding wire from the lightning rods as it swayed in the wind and slapped against the window. It reminded him of a snake —
A snake! And suddenly he knew: It's a sign! A sign from God!
He ran to the window and threw it open. He reached out, wrapped the wire around his hands, and pulled. It wouldn't budge from the ground. He braced a foot against the window sill, putting his back and all his weight into the effort. Suddenly the metal grounding stake pulled free and he staggered back, the insulated wire thrashing about in his hands… just like a snake.
He remembered that snake handlers' church back in the hills his mother had dragged him to one Sunday a few years ago. He had watched in awe as the men and women would grab water moccasins and cottonmouths and hold them up, trusting in the Lord to protect them. Some were bitten, some were not. Ma had told him it was all God's will.
God's will!
He pulled the old lady's wheelchair closer to the window and wrapped the wire tightly around her, tying it snugly behind the backrest of the chair, and jamming the grounding post into the metal spokes of one of the wheels.
"This is your snake, Miss Gati," he told her unconscious form. "It's God's will if it bites you!"
He backed away from her until he was at the entrance to the solarium. Lightning flashed as violently as ever, but none came down the wire. He couldn't wait any longer. He had to find Steph. As he turned to head for the front door, he saw someone standing on the south lawn, staring into the solarium. It was old Lady Gati, wearing Steph's body. When she looked through the broken bay window and saw him there, she screamed and slumped to the ground.
"Steph!" What was happening to her?
Jerry sprinted across the room and dove through the shattered window onto the south lawn.
Marta awoke in her own body, panicked.
What has he done to me?
She felt all right. There was no pain, no —
My arms! Her hands were free but she couldn't move her upper arms! She looked down and saw the black insulated wire coiled tightly around her upper body, binding her to the chair. She tried to twist, to slide down on the chair and slip free, but the wire wouldn't give an inch. She tried to see where it was tied. If she could get her hands on the knot…
She saw the wire trailing away from her chair, across the floor and out the window and up into the darkness.
Up! To the roof. The lightning rods!
Jerry craddled Steph's head in his arm and slapped her wet face as hard as he dared. He'd hoped the cold pounding rain and the noise of the storm would have brought her around, but she was still out. He didn't want to hurt her, but she had to wake up.
"Steph! C'mon, Steph! You've got to wake up! Got to fight her!"
As she stirred, he heard old lady Gati howl from the solarium. Steph's eyes fluttered, then closed again. He shook her. "Steph! Please!"
She opened her eyes and stared at him. His spirits leaped.
"That's it, Steph! Wake up! It's me — Jerry! You've got to stay awake!"
She moaned and closed her eyes, so he shook her again.
"Steph! Don't let her take you over again!"
As she opened her eyes again, Jerry dragged her to her feet.
"Come on! Walk it off! Let's go! You've got to stay awake!"
Suddenly her face contorted and she swung on him. Something gleamed in her right hand as she plunged it toward his throat. Jerry got his forearm up just in time to block it. Pain seared through his arm and he cried out.
"Oh, God! It's you!"
"Yes!" She slashed at him again and he backpedaled to avoid the knife. His bare feet slipped on the grass and he went down on his back. He rolled frantically, fearing she would be upon him, but when he looked up, she was running toward the house, toward the smashed bay window.
"No!"
He couldn't let her get inside and untie the old lady's body. Steph's only hope was a lightning strike.
Please, God, he prayed. Now! Let it be now!
But though bolts crackled through the sky almost continuously, none of them hit the house. Groaning with fear and frustration, Jerry scrambled to his feet and sprinted after her. He had to stop her!
He caught her from behind and brought her down about two dozen feet from the house. She screamed and thrashed like an enraged animal, twisting and slashing at him again and again with the knife. She cut him along the ribs as he tried to pin her arms and was rearing back for a better angle on his chest when the night turned blue white. He saw the rage on Steph's face turn to wide-eyed horror. Her body arched convulsively as she opened her mouth and let out a high-pitched shriek of agony that rose and cut off like a circuit being broken —
— only to be taken up by another voice from within the solarium. Jerry glanced up and saw old lady Gati's body jittering in her chair like a hooked fish while blue fire played all about her. Her hoarse cry was swallowed and drowned as her body exploded in a roiling ball of flame. Fire was everywhere in the solarium. The very air seemed to burn.
He removed the knife from Steph's now limp hand and dragged her to a safer distance from the house. He shook her. "Steph?"
He could see her eyes rolling back and forth under the lids. Finally they opened and stared at him uncomprehendingly.
"Jerry?" She bolted up to a sitting position. "Jerry! What's going on?"
His grip on the knife tightened as he listened to her voice, searching carefully for the slightest hint of an accent, the slightest roll of an r. There wasn't any he could detect, but there was only one test that could completely convince him.
"My name," he said. "What's my last name, Steph?"
"It's Pritchard, of course. But — " She must have seen the flames flickering in his eyes because she twisted around and cried out. "The house! It's on fire! Miss Gati —!"
She had said it perfectly! The real Steph was back! Jerry threw away the knife and lifted her to her feet. "She's gone," he told her. "Burnt up. I saw her."
"But how?"
He had to think fast — couldn't tell her the truth. Not yet. "Lightning. It's my fault. I must have messed up the rods when I was up on the roof today!"
"Oh, God, Jerry!" She clung to him and suddenly the storm seemed far away. "What'll we do?"
Over her shoulder, he watched the flames spreading throughout the first floor and lapping up at the second through the broken bay window. "Got to get out of here, Steph. They're gonna blame me for it, and God knows what'll happen."
"It was an accident! They can't blame you for that!"
"Oh, yes they will!" Jerry was thinking about the ground wire wrapped around the old lady's corpse. No way anyone would think that was an accident. "I hear she's got family in New York. They'll see me hang if they can, I just know it! I've got to get out of here." He pushed her to arm's length and stared at her. "Come with me?"