Judd burst out of a trapdoor and crashed into the ceiling. Plaster chunks plummeted around him as he hurtled to the ground, smashing a trunk with the fury of his fall. He did not feel pain, but perceived the solidity of the objects broken by his body. Solid objects..., muttered his mind. Dry... no more water... safe--A safe harbor.

He lay still, paralyzed by relief. Slowly, the superhuman fury died away. He could not take his eyes off the trapdoor in the center of the floor through which he had come out--it stood out like a sore thumb. His dulled senses started to clear, perceiving a dim light around him. Just then, he realized he was not in a dark place: the light barely illuminating the room came from an old oil lamp hanging on the wall. Heaped against the walls there were old trunks, tools covered with dust and worn-out clothes This place look like a cellar, Judd noticed. He turned and caught a glimpse of wooden stairs creeping into the darkness. On a bedside table near the handrail, lay a recently used tinderbox, and a tank with a small funnel. Now he knew where he was.

A scorching impassiveness ran through Judd's veins. He stood up, took the oil lamp and scanned the top of the stairs: a small rectangle of light filtered through the doorsill. He climbed the old wooden stairs--picked up the oil tank--and halted behind the entrance door, waiting. Like dust, a deathly hush descended on Judd's shoulders. Tap, tap, tap. A sound finally emerged from an undefined place in time, and drew nearer. Some door hinges in the distance moaned their assent to Judd's silent question. Judd unscrewed the tank cap; The oil fumes leaked out of the hermetic seal like a lover's sigh. The steps drew nearer and halted behind the door. The scrape of a tinderbox scratched the silence twice, and then the door opened. Cut out against the backlight, the High Priest greeted Judd, "You're back!"

Judd raised the tank with lightning speed, drenching his forefather's clothes with kerosene, then flung the lamp. The old man's eyes widened, bewildered, while flames enveloped him. "Yes," snarled Judd, "I'm back!"

The High Priest's screams of agony started to echo throughout the house, accompanied by the frantic thuds of his death throes. Judd entered and picked up the oil lamp his grandfather had dropped. Through the door at the other end of the room, steps run closer. Judd waited a second, and then flung the bunch of glass, fire, and metal with superhuman strength. His grandmother burst in, rifle leveled, and the oil lamp smashed her head, piercing into the wall. The dead body fell to the ground, while a rain of sparks and oil sprinkled her dress with flames.

Judd took a bedspread and carelessly extinguished his grandfather's body. He lifted the age-old man by his feet and dragged him face down--a trail of black blood followed him up to the bed. Drops of moisture did not pour out of the ceiling anymore, noticed Judd. It did not rain in the room any longer, yet the sheets and floorboards were still damp. A sneer deformed his face, "Tell me grandfather, behind this door will I still find the old boiler?" The scorched and fuming bunch of flesh at his feet did not answer; he could not, but his eyes widened in terror. Judd left the ancient man and crossed the threshold. The sound of his steps whetted the silence. Something creaked, a cogwheel grated, turning, and then Judd came back holding a hose that unrolled into the depths of the boiler room. He approached his grandfather and turned him to face the other door, the third door in the room. Mud had piled up under the doorsill--water had flowed underneath the door, a lot of water! No doubt, that was THE door.

Judd felt the superhuman fury flowing back into him; he lifted a piece of furniture and flung it against the hinges. The threshold gave way and gaped onto a bottomless darkness. Judd opened the hose, making a forceful oil jet plunge into the void, then threw the hose as well and listened as it unrolled endlessly. He turned and, approaching his grandfather, took another oil lamp. "Can you smell that scent wafting through the air like a portent?" he said. "The scent of burnt flesh, blood and gasoline? Tell me, why it is so soft and soothing? Why it's so sweet?" He seized the hoary man's head and showed him the oil jet flowing into his filthy pit. "Because," he said, "it is the scent of freedom!" Judd shifted the oil lamp in front of the High Priest's eyes, swinging it purposefully. "My blood is ripe now," he growled, "you're right, it's ripe enough to be reaped!" Carelessly, he tossed the light over his shoulders, beyond the forbidden threshold. Silence reigned just for another second, and then a hollow blast ascended the abyss. Judd looked the olden man straight in the eyes and said, "You took my life, now I'll take yours and we get it over with." A red-hot burst of flame emerged roaring from the door; Judd stood up and received it with open arms, howling in triumph.

A second later his body erupted through a debris tail and, pulled by the gigantic blast, crashed into the greenhouse behind the mansion. The windowpanes smashed under the tremendous impact and the roof caved in, making the whole building vibrate. Judd's body lay disjointed on the ground, his limbs broken and contorted in strange angles. The last image his eyes registered was his black blood lazily soaking through the roses.