Dead Spots (50 page)

“So delicious. Even better than my favorite blue-haired meal.” She glanced at the bloody chunks of the Clown. “He died a little too soon this time.”

Mackenzie was trapped between the two wraiths. Johnny was motionless on the floor.

Beside her, Lucas slowly toppled over on his side.

Mackenzie touched Lucas's hand. “Heal yourself,” she urged.

“Mac, don't worry about me. Get Johnny out.”

“That shark really took a lot out of you, didn't it, my old friend?” Grant said mockingly. “All worn out, aren't you?”

“Fuck you,” Lucas grunted.

“I'd rather fuck Mackenzie. Though watching your brave struggle against the shark was inspiring. How's the leg? All grown back?” Grant's smile was feral. Seizing Mackenzie's arm, Grant dragged her to her feet and aggressively pulled her against his body. “I missed you so much. I forgive you for leaving me. I know he deceived you, twisted your mind, and poisoned you against me.” The charming smile returned to his handsome face as he gazed at her. His eyes had returned to beautiful blue orbs, but Mackenzie knew what he truly was. “You're so lovely. So lovely. So full of life. I love you so much.”

“Fuck you,” Mackenzie retorted.

“I want you to. Again. Like before. When I placed my mark on you,” Grant said seductively.

“Grant, you've got yours, I have mine. I always wanted two men. I hope my clown doesn't mind a little competition,” Tildy said with a wicked grin. She snagged Lucas by the ankle and dragged him through the doorway. A thick swath of blood stained the floor in his wake.

“She's such a passionate killer. I like her much better now,” Grant said while rubbing his lips along Mackenzie's cheek. He lifted the bat and gazed at it thoughtfully. “I think I'll bash the little bastard's head in to make sure he's dead, and then we can go somewhere more private.”

“Leave Johnny alone,” Mackenzie snarled.

“That little rat ruined it all, you know. All my delicately laid out plans to frighten you into hiding away with me where we could make love endlessly.” Grant glared at the little boy. To Mackenzie's great relief, she saw Johnny was stirring. “But you had to come along, didn't you? I had her right where I wanted her, completely terrified of everyone and everything, and then there you are. A little boy for her to take in and take care of. Not in the plans, junior. Not in the plans.” Raising the bat over his head, Grant smiled joyously. Tapping Johnny in the ribs with his foot, he said, “C'mon. Wake up. I want you to feel it when I beat you into so much jelly.”

It was the moment she had been waiting for since she had swung and missed hitting the wraith. Grant's attention was diverted and it was her time to act. She raised her hand as a massive gun formed in it. It was a weapon of dreams, not reality. It was the closest thing she could imagine to a handheld bazooka. The massive barrel pressed against the base of Grant's skull.

“You can't do it,” he said in a confident voice. “I marked you. You can't defy me. You belong to me.”

“I belong to me,” Mackenzie corrected.

She fired, his head pulverizing in a blinding explosion that knocked her flat. Her arm felt broken and the acrid smell of smoke and burning flesh filled the air. Grant's headless body fell to the floor. Mackenzie gagged and she gripped her throat with both hands, choking. Something thick and oily was caught in her throat. Hacking, she struggled to breathe. Johnny crawled to her side and began whacking his small hand against her back.

“Don't die! Don't die!”

A fierce, painful wracking cough dislodged the obstruction and a tendril of putrid darkness flopped onto the floor. Mackenzie kicked at it, but it vaporized into a mist that disappeared along with the remains of Grant. Instinctively, she knew the mark was gone. Perhaps it was her defiance that had finally broken his hold.

“We need to save Lucas, Macky,” Johnny said urgently.

“I know.”

Mackenzie dragged herself to her feet and glanced toward the stage. It was empty. The ghostly women were gone. Picking up the massive gun she'd created, she shoved open the curtains and stepped into the cavernous main area of the theater. Lucas sat in a chair in the front row, hunched over in pain. Blood was dripping from his fingertips onto the red carpet. Behind him Tildy leisurely shoved the knife blade into his back, obviously taking immense pleasure in prolonging his suffering.

“Oh, did you kill Grant already? I really thought he'd last longer. He's terrible at underestimating women. He thinks we're stupid little things. But we're not, are we, Mackenzie? We're not so meek at all.” With a feral grin, Tildy yanked the knife out of Lucas's back and moved to drag the blade across his throat.

Mackenzie shot Tildy in the chest, knocking her off her feet and into the seats. “Not at all.”

Lucas struggled to stand, his hand pressed to his throat where the blade had nicked him. Running to him, Mackenzie caught him before he could fall.

“Nice save all around,” Lucas said weakly.

“Don't you know? I'm Wonder Woman,” Mackenzie said, trying to joke. His blood was slick and warm on her hands and she tried not to think of how bad his injuries might be. Once out of the dead spot, would he heal? Or would he carry his stab wounds with him?

Lucas chortled briefly before it devolved into a wet, raspy cough. “Let's get out of here.”

“What if your wounds—”

“Let's go, Mac,” Lucas said, touching her cheek with his red-tinged fingers.

Nodding, she slid her arm around him, helping him walk up the long, steep aisle to the doors that opened to the theater foyer. Johnny walked with them, attempting to help Lucas keep moving. Each step became more difficult as the air around them grew heavier. It was hard to breathe, and Mackenzie felt as though they were forcing their way through an invisible barrier. Again, she felt the dead spot trying to grasp on to her, and she had barely enough strength to knock its tentacle away. In this world, she had power that the creatures of nightmares craved to feast upon, but she was weary of it.

“Almost there,” she said encouragingly, though she sounded winded and weak.

Lucas leaned heavily against her, barely able to move his legs. Johnny clutched him, staring up at his face worriedly.

“We're almost there, Lucas. Almost there,” he promised.

“There's not much more they can do to us, huh?” Lucas joked.

Together, they stepped into the foyer.

The deafening roar of a train filled the air. A sob escaped Mackenzie's lips when she realized what it was seconds before the tornado shredded the roof. The stage of the theater disintegrated, devoured by the twister. The red curtains flapped away into the hellish center of the spinning funnel. The red velvet chairs were smashed into the walls like toys being flung about by a joyous baby.

Though they shouted at each other to hurry, they couldn't hear each other over the howling winds. Mackenzie felt her ears popping from the pressure. The high winds tore at her hair and clothing as the theater continued to be torn apart behind them. The suction of the great beast slashed at them, trying to lift them off the ground and into its hellish maw.

Mackenzie remembered Grant's story about his death by a tornado and held tightly to Lucas and Johnny, refusing to believe they could meet such a fate. But as her feet left the ground, she knew they had failed.

Then the world grew silent.

Her feet settled back on the ground.

Even though the foyer was disintegrating around them, the three people stood in a perfect bubble of tranquility. The heavy doors to the outside stood before them even though the walls around it were torn asunder. Suddenly, Mackenzie understood that Lucas hadn't been too weak to heal himself. He had been reserving the last of his strength to secure them safe passage to the real world.

“Go, Mackenzie.” Lucas slumped to the tiled floor. “Take Johnny and go.”

“Come with me!” she cried out, kneeling beside him.

“I have to hold the storm back and keep the door intact,” he answered. “I have to make sure you get through.”

Shaking her head, she took his hand. “No more dying today, okay? We go together.”

“Please, Lucas, let's go,” Johnny said, tugging on Lucas's jacket sleeve.

“It's just five more feet and we're out!” Mackenzie exclaimed.

“I don't know if I'll—” Lucas stopped himself. “Fuck it. If I'm going to die, it's going to be a real death.”

“Don't say that!” Mackenzie protested.

Shaking his head, Lucas forced himself to his feet. “No … no … I'll never get this shot again, and we all know it. They'll never let another one of us get this close to an exit. Let's go.”

Clinging to one another, the three of them took the final steps to the door. Outside the pocket of safety Lucas had formed, the angry, gray winds carried the debris up into the funnel rotating above them. Through the crack in the door, Mackenzie could see a twilight sky. Tears of happiness filled her eyes. Reaching out, she set her hand on the handle.

“Macky,” Johnny said softly. “What if I'm not real?”

“We're all real,” Lucas assured him.

“Let's go home,” Mackenzie said.

She stepped through the door.

 

EPILOGUE

The first thing Mackenzie noticed was the smell of mold and dry rot mingling with the scent of fresh rain. She stood in the doorway of the old theater staring down at the weed-ridden driveway that curved up to the portico. The sun was hidden behind clouds, but the gold-and-pink glow on the horizon revealed the path of its descent. Looking down at her hands, she saw that they were free of blood, dirt, and gore. They were clean and spotless. Her purse hung over her shoulder, a familiar heavy weight.

“We did it! Lucas, Johnny, we're out!”

The second thing she noticed was that she was alone.

The crushing agony of loss overwhelmed any joy her possible escape had briefly brought.

“Johnny! Lucas!”

Had she truly made it out? Panic building, she attempted to shape a candy bar, but failed. When she realized her failure didn't mean she had escaped the nightmare world, she swore under her breath. Her energy reserves had been exhausted while attempting to break free and it would take time to refresh. How could she be certain she was out?

With trembling fingers she fished the cell phone out of her purse, but there weren't any bars.

“Johnny! Lucas! Can you hear me?”

Her voice echoed through the ruined theater, but there was no answer.

Was she free at last, but alone? Had Lucas and Johnny been mere apparitions born of her loneliness?

Stifling a sob of despair, Mackenzie sank onto the stairs. “No, no. They were real. They were real,” she whispered, burying her face in her arms. The thought of losing them was unbearable. They had to escape with her.

“Macky? Am I real? Can you see me?”

“Johnny!”

Looking up, she saw the little boy standing just outside the entrance staring at their surroundings with fear and hope. Dressed in old jeans, a stained brown T-shirt, and battered sneakers, he took a wobbly step toward her. Snatching him up, she crushed him against her.

“Johnny, you're free!”

His small arms wrapped around her neck and he kissed her cheek. “Don't cry, Macky. You're real, too.”

Laughing through her tears, Mackenzie smiled at him joyfully. “I am! And so are you!”

Yet their happiness was short-lived as they both stared at the open doorway to the theater.

“Lucas came with you, right, Johnny?” Again, the band of fear tightened around her heart.

“I followed you, and he said he was right behind me.” Johnny fidgeted, tears in his eyes. “Macky, he didn't die, right?”

“Of course not! He's tough. You know that.”

Johnny nodded, his tiny face pinched with worry.

Licking her lips nervously, Mackenzie stared at the entrance, willing Lucas to appear. It remained frighteningly vacant. Johnny wrapped his fingers around hers and watched with wide eyes.

“Macky, he was real, right?”

Mackenzie nodded, unable to accept the possibility that Lucas had been anything other than another human that had been trapped by the dead spots. “Of course, he was real. He's coming.”

The seconds ticked away, but the doorway remained woefully empty. At last, Mackenzie took a step toward it, silently praying to a deity she wasn't even sure she believed in that Lucas would appear.

There was the sound of a shoe scuffing against the floor, then a figure emerged from the murk lingering just beyond the entrance. Quick little fearful thoughts flitted through her mind. What if it was just the tour guide? What if Grant had somehow followed? What if she wasn't out of the dead spot? She took a step toward the door and stopped, remembering the possibility of the dead spots luring people into their traps.

Stepping into the waning light, Lucas scrutinized the area with an intense expression upon his face. He was clad in black jeans, a tight band T-shirt for a group she had never heard of, and heavy boots. All his terrible wounds were gone. He looked odd without his leather jacket, but his colorful tattoos were a welcome sight.

Stunned, he dragged his eyes away from their surroundings to look at Mackenzie and Johnny. “Are we out?”

“Oh, thank God!” Mackenzie flung her arms around his neck. “I was terrified we'd lost you!”

Kissing her lips long and hard, he gathered her close. Mackenzie didn't shy away, but returned the gesture that was full of relief and hope.

Still holding on to her, Lucas lifted Johnny up with one arm and set him on his hip. When the boy kissed his cheek, Lucas beamed at him and returned it. “I thought I was too weak to make it out, but I made it!”

Johnny clung to Lucas and his small fingers closed around Mackenzie's hand resting against Lucas's chest. “I was scared.”