The Eyes of Darkness

as relaxed and free from care as these diners were at this moment.
    A sharp, cold draft prickled the back of her neck.
    She turned to see who had entered the restaurant.
    The door was closed. No one had entered.
    Yet the air remained cool— changed.
    On the jukebox, which stood to the left of the door, a currently popular country ballad was playing:
     
    "Baby, baby, baby, I love you still.
    Our love will live; I know it will
    And one thing on which you can bet
    Is that our love is not dead yet.
    No, our love is not dead —
     
    not dead —
    not dead —
    not dead — "
     
    The record stuck.
    Tina stared at the jukebox in disbelief.
     
    "not dead —
    not dead —
    not dead —
    not dead — "
     
    Elliot turned away from the cashier and put a hand on Tina's shoulder. "What the hell . . . ?"
    Tina couldn't speak. She couldn't move.
    The air temperature was dropping precipitously.
    She shuddered.
    The other customers stopped talking and turned to stare ai the stuttering machine.
     
    "not dead —
    not dead—
    not dead —
    not dead — "
     
    The image of Death's rotting face flashed into Tina's mind.
    "Stop it," she pleaded.
    Someone said, "Shoot the piano player."
    Someone else said, "Kick the damn thing."
    Elliot stepped to the jukebox and shook it gently. The two words stopped repeating. The song proceeded smoothly again—but only for one more line of verse. As Elliot turned away from the machine, the eerily meaningful repetition began again:
     
    "not dead —
    not dead —
    not dead — "
     
    Tina wanted to walk through the diner and grab each of the customers by the throat, shake and threaten each of them, until she discovered who had rigged the jukebox. At the same time, she knew this wasn't a rational thought; the explanation, whatever it might be, was not that simple. No one here had rigged the machine. Only a moment ago, she had envied these people for the very ordinariness of their lives. It was ludicrous to suspect any of them of being employed by the secret organization that had blown up her house. Ludicrous. Paranoid. They were just ordinary people in a roadside restaurant, having dinner.
     
    "not dead —
    not dead —
    not dead — "
     
    Elliot shook the jukebox again, but this time to no avail.
    The   air grew colder still.   Tina heard some of the customers commenting on it.
    Elliot shook the machine harder than he had done the last time, then harder still, but it continued to repeat the two-word message in the voice of the country singer, as if an invisible hand were holding the pick-up stylus or laser-disc reader firmly in place.
    The white-haired cashier came out from behind the counter. "I'll take care of it, folks." He called to one of the waitresses: "Jenny, check the thermostat. We're supposed to have heat in here tonight, not air conditioning."
    Elliot stepped out of the way as the old man approached.
    Although no one was touching the jukebox, the volume increased, and the two words boomed through the diner, thundered, vibrated in the windows, and rattled silverware on the tables.
     
    "NOT DEAD—
    NOT DEAD—
    NOT DEAD—"
     
    Some people winced and put their hands over their ears.
    The old man had to shout to be heard above the explosive voices on the jukebox. "There's a button on the back to reject the record."
    Tina wasn't able to cover her ears; her arms hung straight down at her sides, frozen, rigid, hands fisted, and she couldn't find the will or the strength to lift them. She wanted to scream, but she couldn't make a sound.
    Colder, colder.
    She became aware of the familiar, spiritlike presence that had been in Angela's office when the computer had begun to operate by itself. She had the same feeling of being watched that she'd had in the parking lot a short while ago.
    The old man crouched beside the machine, reached behind it, found the button. He pushed it several times.
     
    "NOT DEAD—
    NOT DEAD—
    NOT DEAD—"
     
    "Have to unplug it!" the old man said.
    The volume increased again. The two words blasted out of the speakers in all corners of the diner with such incredible, bone-jarring force that it was difficult to believe that the machine had been built with the capability of pouring out sound with this excessive, unnerving power.
    Elliot pulled the jukebox from the wall so the old man could reach the cord.
    In that instant Tina realized she had nothing to fear from the presence that lay behind this eerie manifestation. It meant her no harm. Quite the