Poltergeist [antikvár]

Chapter 1 '. . . O'er the land of the free, and the home of the brave.' 'This is KTCV, Cuesta Verde Television, ending scheduled broadcast of our programming day. Please join us again at sbc-thirty for "Traffic Watch," and until then, have a pleasant Good Morning.' The American flag suddenly disappeared from the screen and was instantly replaced by the hiss of static snow shedding an eerie bluish li^ht across the living room. Steve Freeling slept soundly in his recliner, fifteen feet from the set, lot and parcel maps strewn on the floor around him, lease contracts covering his lap. Except for the white noise of the television, the house was dark and quiet. Upstairs in the large front bedroom, Steve's wife Diane curled peacefully around her pillow, undisturbed by dream or doubt. The lace curtains blew gently at the open window, on the quiet night's respiration. Outside, it was autumn, a shadow of change in the air. Down the hall from Diane was Dana's room. Dana was fifteen, cute, dark haired, snoring, her hand loosely slumped over her own personal telephone. Jeans in a pile by the bed, homework in a pile on the chair, diary stuffed under the mattress, lip gloss poised and waiting on the vanity. She slept like an unself-conscious heiress. Next to the master bedroom was the children's room. Robbie, seven, slept a fitful sleep, wrapped arm-in-paw with his terry-cloth bear. The floor was covered with a profusion of toys, games, clothes, crayons, and the like -the joyous clutter of the very young. A stuffed clown doll sat lopsided in the rocking chair. Across the room, in a matching imitation frontier bed, slept Robbie's five-year- !1' i ' i