Dead Spots (46 page)

“Classic kid line,” Mackenzie agreed.

“But are we there yet?” Johnny persisted.

“Just about to hit the city limits,” Lucas answered. He finally removed his sunglasses and tossed them onto the dashboard. The sun glimmered on the horizon, but the world was now muted in shades of gray and purple.

German settlers had founded Fredericksburg in the 1800s. It was a major tourist attraction due to its restored downtown area loaded with amazing shops, cultural museums, the rich German pioneer history, and the National Museum of the Pacific War. It was always so vibrant with life that Mackenzie dreaded seeing it dead and silent in this world.

When the Mustang finally cruised down the Hauptstrasse, the official title for Fredericksburg's main street, Mackenzie shivered at the stillness. Though banners and signs announced Oktoberfest, the sidewalks were devoid of life. Cars were parked along the street, but the roads were quiet and empty.

“This looks like my hometown,” Johnny decided. He pressed his nose to the window to stare out at the muted tranquility.

“It's like the perfect snapshot of small-town America,” Lucas said.

The roar of a plane engine startled them seconds before a Japanese Zero swooped out of the twilight sky, closely followed by another plane.

“Fuck me! A P-38 Lightning!” Lucas slammed on the brakes, shifted into park, and they all clambered out of the car.

“Wow,” Mackenzie breathed.

The sky on the south end of town was filled with an aerial battle. Allied planes and Japanese Zeros clashed in a massive display of firepower. Explosions rocked the skies, and debris rained on the still town. Sirens and screams drifted through the smoke.

Johnny clung to Mackenzie's side, staring in awe at the dogfight. “Who's winning?”

Lucas leaned against his car, his face lifted to watch an American bomber's fiery descent. “No one. It's an endless loop. This is someone's memory, playing over and over again as they sleep.”

Mackenzie realized he was right. She began to spot the areas of the battle that were repeating at regular intervals. “It's horrible.”

“This was someone's reality once.” Lucas folded his arms over his chest and watched, enraptured.

“But the sun isn't even all the way down. Why are they dreaming?” Johnny protested.

“Because old people like to go to bed superearly. Remember Luby's? That place we ate where they had blue Jell-O? It's always swarmed at four o'clock by the elderly. They're eating dinner so they can get home, watch the news, and tuck in,” Lucas explained.

“I like blue Jell-O,” Johnny said.

“Kind of a stereotype, don't you think?” Mackenzie found it difficult to look away from the planes whirling about overhead.

“Well, both sets of my grandparents are all about early to bed, early to rise.”

“I want to stay up all night! That would be so cool!”

“Well, I want to get some dinner and relax before I go to bed and sleep all night. Get in the car. Both of you.” She shoved the reluctant kid into the backseat and gestured at Lucas.

“Awww,” Johnny protested. “It looks cool.”

“I'm with him,” Lucas said, playfully pouting.

“I don't want to be out after the sun is all the way down, okay?” Mackenzie gave them both a stern look as she buckled her seat belt.

“She's just no fun.” Lucas leaned into the backseat to make sure Johnny was buckled in properly.

“She's like a mom,” Johnny grumbled.

The comment both wounded and elated Mackenzie.

“Yeah! No fun.” Lucas jabbed her with his elbow.

“I'm going to ground both of you. What do you think of that?”

Lucas winked at Johnny. “Sounds just like a mom.”

It was a relief when they reached their destination, and Lucas restored the burned-out remains of the bed-and-breakfast. It was a large rustic cabin with a big porch complete with a swing and heavy shutters over the windows. Inside, it was decorated in a combination of rustic furniture and more modern leather couches. There were two suites, a kitchen, dining room, and large living room with a flat-screen television hidden behind a panel in the wall. Johnny was enraptured with the paintings of the pioneers who had settled in the area and an old saddle that sat above the fireplace. Mackenzie was just glad to find shelter before the dreamers of the nearby town unleashed their nightmarish fears upon the world in the form of terrible beasts.

After some discussion, it was decided that Johnny would sleep in one suite with Lucas while Mackenzie took the other one. The small sofas in both suites opened into beds. The tension and excitement of the day had worn Mackenzie down and she felt utterly exhausted. It was difficult to keep her eyes open, and she found herself snoozing on the sofa while Lucas and Johnny noisily made macaroni and cheese and a zesty meatloaf. During dinner, she tried to concentrate on the conversation, but her thoughts kept drifting. Maybe it was seeing her mother's fears realized, or her glimpses of the women in white throughout the day, but she kept thinking about Grant. To make matters worse, the memory of her dream made her feel angry, violated, and yet aroused all over again.

Lucas's hand settling on her wrist startled her. “Mac, you look exhausted. You should go to bed.”

“I'm sorry,” she mumbled, not sure if she had actually dozed off.

“I'm going to introduce Johnny to the joys of modern gaming so he's ready when we get back to the real world. I've got it covered, so you go to sleep.”

Shoveling a massive spoonful of macaroni and cheese into his mouth, Johnny nodded. “He's got it covered.”

“Hey, no talking with food in your mouth,” Mackenzie chided him.

Johnny rolled his eyes.

“Seriously, go get some rest.” Lucas gave her arm an encouraging squeeze, then poured more sweet tea into his glass and Johnny's. “Now where were we, Johnny?”

“Mario and turtles.”

“Right! Now, the trick about that game is…”

Their voices melded into white noise as Mackenzie sleepily dragged herself to her room. She had left the light on next to the bed and the covers turned down. Too tired to even shower, she flopped onto the bed, embraced the thick pillows, and fell asleep.

Much to her dismay, her dreams were filled with Grant calling her name as she fled with Johnny through crumbling houses, haunted graveyards, and burning buildings. When she finally managed to open her eyes, she thought she had finally freed herself from the nightmares.

Groggily, she remembered leaving the lamp on, but the room was completely filled with darkness. The bed tilted down beside her and she whimpered, terrified that she was trapped in yet another dream where Grant would once again rape her. Rubbing her face with one hand, she started to roll onto her side desperate to wake up and escape the unfurling nightmare. A heavy weight bore down on her, trapping her against the mattress.

“Shhh,” a voice whispered.

Something cold and sharp rested against her throat. The body over her was heavy, but narrow. A bony knee pressed into her chest, pushing the air out of her lungs and making it hard to breathe. Fear bubbled inside of her when she realized she was not dreaming. Someone was in the room holding her at knifepoint, and that person had to have somehow slipped into the dream palace Lucas had created. It was getting harder to breathe and spots began to fill her eyesight. She strained to see who was above her, but there was no light in the room at all.

“I want to play with you,” the voice whispered. “You ruined my other plaything, so now it's your turn. Your pretty beacon in the sky led me straight to you. You burn so bright, you know.”

The Clown was a seer and he'd found her.

The knife against her throat pressed into her flesh. At first, she didn't think he had cut her, but then she felt the warmth of her blood trickling over her skin. A second later the piercing agony of the shallow wound sent her reeling. Images of her mother's worst fears filled her mind and she fought to gain control of her quickly escalating terror.

Dragging her off the bed, the Clown kept Mackenzie locked against his body with one arm tucked under her breasts while he held the knife under her chin.

“Don't try anything, my glowing little bitch. I will slice off your pretty head and gut you before you're done screaming. Then I'll go slice up that little runt and your new boy toy.”

Mackenzie struggled to keep her feet under her to prevent the knife from sliding deeper into her neck. Her fingers gripped the Clown's wrist, trying in vain to pull it away. He kicked apart the long thick curtains revealing the open window. Displaying how experienced he was in abductions, he easily stepped out of the window first, then dragged her out after him, the knife never wavering from her throat.

There was no doubt in her mind that he was going to kill her and that he was going to make it as agonizing as possible. She had seen his cold, dead eyes at the amusement park and understood that he was far worse than any wraith. He was a human that chose to be a monster. Unable to draw in a full breath, her lungs begged for air and her head swam.

Dying now would ruin all their plans and throw her back into the world alone. If she died, where would she return? How would she find Lucas and Johnny? Fighting panic, she tried to concentrate on how she could escape.

As he carried her away from the house, the Clown's heavy breathing sent shivers through her. It was obvious he was breathless with exertion and arousal. His disgustingly hard penis kept poking her back. Though fear kept threatening to drown her, the mere thought of being sexually assaulted again ignited a white-hot rage that filled her and burned away all other emotions.

Finally able to catch her breath, Mackenzie whispered, “Fuck you.”

The Clown twirled her about and shoved her against a tree trunk. The pale moonlight shimmered on the white satin of his suit. His eyes were orbs of dark mass, empty and without light in his painted white face. Tufts of blue hair sprung up around his narrow face.

When he spoke, his mouth barely moved, but she could see the redness of his mouth and gums. “I'm going to fuck you in your own blood, my pretty glowing firefly.”

“You forget,” Mackenzie said, her lips turning up in a cruel smile. “I'm not afraid of clowns.” In her mind she visualized the weapon she needed against the clown, then unleashed it into the nightmare world, ignoring the pain ripping through her skull.

The zombie grabbed the Clown from behind and wrestled him from Mackenzie. Startled, the Clown flailed, straining to break free of the zombie, waving his knife ineffectually through the empty air. The black-and-white creature flung the Clown to the ground and fell on top of him. Growling, the zombie strangled the serial killer with one hand while its other strained to reach a heavy rock a few feet away. Stabbing at the dead man, the Clown gurgled, struggling to breathe.

Mackenzie pressed her hand to her throat, the warm, wet blood slipping over her fingers. She stumbled toward the bed-and-breakfast, leaving the Clown to his fate. The thick wet gurgling of the Clown strangling was morbidly reassuring. The zombie growled, and Mackenzie heard the sound of a heavy object impacting against something meaty and soft. She turned, expecting to see the zombie bludgeoning the Clown to death. Instead, Tildy stood over the zombie clutching the makeshift club Mackenzie had made at the amusement park. The zombie raised its hand to ward off the next blow, but Tildy smashed in its head.

The Clown rolled over onto his hands and knees, retching loudly.

“Tildy,” Mackenzie breathed.

“Mackenzie, how are you? Was this yours?” Tildy pointed to the zombie. “So sorry I had to break him, but I can't have you ruining my fun, can I?”

“Leave me alone,” Mackenzie said, her tone threatening. She willed a shotgun into being and raised it, aiming it at Tildy's chest.

“Oh, my!” Tildy raised her hands to her face, which wore a mocking fearful look. “A big gun!”

“Stay back!”

Tildy rolled her eyes. “Oh, God. Really?”

Tildy looked different from before. Her body was fuller and her feathered hair wasn't strawlike from malnourishment. Dressed in a white sundress and knee-high white boots, she looked stronger than she had a few days ago.

“I know how to defend myself now! I won't let you kill me again!”

“I don't have any interest in you anymore. I killed you once. It was fun, but it just doesn't get me off like killing him does.” With disturbingly swift movements, Tildy hoisted the Clown off the ground, holding him by one hand.

The Clown kicked and punched her, his face twisted in dread and loathing.

“Now, killing him is a lot more enjoyable. We're busy re-creating all my deaths, but now he gets to play the victim, and I get to play the serial killer.” Tildy grinned fiendishly. “We're up to the death where I get to chainsaw his arms and legs off. It's going to be really, really fun. I can't wait to gobble up all that delicious pain and fear. I might even fuck him as he dies. That's always entertaining, isn't it, Mr. Clown?”

The Clown's strangled screams disturbed Mackenzie, but she didn't dare look away. She didn't want to give Tildy any opportunity to attack. Keeping her eyes on the wraith, she slid through the open window. “Go away, Tildy. Play your sick games far away from here.”

Tildy just smirked.

Mackenzie placed her hand on the window, ready to shut it, when Tildy said, “Grant's coming, you know. He couldn't find you until this little seer led us to you.”

Fear twisted in Mackenzie's gut, but she refused to look away from the female wraith.

“Grant misses you. He said you were so delicious. So full of pain, despair, loneliness, and fear. Every little sip he took from you was ambrosia, he said. And when he asked you to let him in, you just spread your skinny white thighs for him and let his big ol' cock in without any resistance so he could mark you.” Tildy smirked. “You're such a whore. Are you fucking the tattoo guy yet?”