What had I done to deserve this lot in life? Was it not enough to be gifted and expected to handle the dreams? Did they have to be more then dreams and glimpses? Did they have to be real?
I couldn’t break away from watching her. I moved closer to K and drew her to my chest. She sighed in her sleep, and I held her and buried my face in her hair.
This life is full of moments where it’s all worth it—all the pain and trials and troubles. This was one of those times. I was home, I was finally home. I didn’t know how everything would turn out, but I knew that I was here now, and no amount of worry would ruin this moment.
“I love you, K,” I whispered as I felt her warmth. She snuggled closer to me and went on dreaming. I hoped her dreams were better than mine.
CHAPTER 26
IT WAS SO HOT… stifling and humid, and it was getting on Kirk’s nerves. The masked man was behind him and preparing to do something to Isis. The thought of what might happen brought Kirk into an overpowering rage.
He twisted and squirmed, pulling at his restraints, but all it did was wear him out and possibly give his captor some weird kind of pleasure. “You sick twisted freak! I swear to God, if you touch her, I will kill you… Nothing will stop me, not even death! You hear?”
A small chuckle boiled his blood even more. Red flashes crossed his vision, and he had to force himself to calm down. Keep this up, and you will pass out and be no good to anyone.
“I bet you want to know what I am going to do. Yes, shall we let him see?” Kirk could imagine the sicko asking Isis as if they were old friends.
The masked man walked around and left the room to return moments later with a full-length mirror on a wooden frame. He stood it up in front of Kirk and positioned it so he could see the table. Isis lifted her head and looked him in the eyes. Something in them chilled Kirk to the bone. She was not there… not really. Her dark eyes were flat, deadly. She was in the killer zone.
Kirk had seen this look before. Each time it sent his arm hair up on end, and he could feel his gut knot up in a tight ball. This was Isis the assassin, Isis the killer.
“There, now you can enjoy the show. Shall we begin?” The kidnapper scratched his face, rubbing the mask up and down, and groaned. “This thing itches like crazy…”
“Then take it off. If you’re going to kill us, what does it matter if we see you?” Kirk instantly regretted saying anything. He might have just sealed their fate.
“In time… all will be clear in time. Besides, I am not going to kill you, Kirk Weston. You are going to live.” He laughed, the sound muffled in the cotton of the ski mask.
Kirk wished he could have just one hand free, just one, little hand so he could free himself and choke the perp. He would do it with his bare hands. He could hear his windpipe collapse and feel his spine snap under his fingers. It brought some relief. He stared at the tray filled with nasty looking tools.
Think detective, you have to do something. Use your head, and get out of this!
The masked man picked up a fat chopping knife. It had a short blade, but was tall and curved. Most people used it to chop veggies or meat in the kitchen. In his hands, it looked evil, and Kirk could feel the future closing in on him.
This couldn’t be happening… this had to be a dream, some sort of sick joke. But as he watched, he got a sinking feeling deep down in his chest. “Please don’t do this… you can do whatever you want to me, but leave her alone!” His own voice sounded pathetic even to him, but he was not sure how to stop this crazy—
“Are you a loyal friend, Mr. Weston?” He was fingering the blade, turning it over in his hands. He turned and looked at Kirk in the mirror.
“Yes.”
The kidnapper went rigid and screamed so loud that both Kirk and Isis flinched. “Liar!”
The heavy knife came down and severed the last three fingers of Isis’s left hand. Kirk and Isis did not move—not a scream, not a sound—only the heavy breathing of the man with the knife. It was not real… this was a dream; it could not end like this.
Blood moved down the metal table and began to drip down to the floor. The sound rang in Kirk’s ears. Drip… drip… drip.
Kirk, for once in his life, was speechless. No words came to his mind, no smart comebacks or remarks. Isis was now breathing harder, and the blade hit the tray with a clang. Picking up a bowl of a clear liquid, he took Isis’s hand and dipped it in the bowl. The red blood colored the bowl, and Isis flinched.
Soon the wounds sealed over. The liquid dried like wax, and the kidnapper picked up the three fingers and walked over to Kirk. He stayed behind him and held them up in the mirror. “Why did you do it, Weston? Why did you take her fingers?”
Kirk was shaking now, and tears were streaming down his cheeks. They burned, and his voice was shaking more than his body was. “Dead… you’re—”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m dead, and you are going to kill me… You just hurt your little girlfriend because you lied. I wonder what else you will do to her?”
Tossing the fingers at the mirror, the masked man turned and walked out of the room. Kirk stared at the red smears on the glass. He knew at that moment that he was not going to make it out alive. This was not in his control, not anymore.
***
“Liar!” Mooch powered the knife down with everything he had. He knew that he could do anything to Kirk and not really hurt him. But this would hurt him, this would make him feel the pain he had caused him.
The crunch and the sound of metal meeting metal sounded in the quiet room. The silence afterward made it all worth it. He dared to lie to me, dared to play me like he used to… not this time, Kirky, never again.
He sat in a high-backed chair, staring at the computer monitors remembering the feeling. It was scary and yet fun all at the same time. A feeling of total power flowed though his blood, making him an addict. Was this how it felt to be God? To be able to control everything, to do whatever, with no one to say “no” or “you can’t do that”?
Mooch opened up another can of pop and logged into the downed network. Power, transportation, gas, and water were all down worldwide. It was simple, really. One well-made worm and the whole thing came down in a chain reaction of events. One power plant would try to aid the downed one and overload, and so on.
It had only been 24 hours, but the country was in a panic, and there was nothing to stop the end. Not even Mooch could stop it now… not even God himself.
***
Morning was always my favorite part of the day. It was after all the fears of the night, and the cares of the day had not yet reached out to take a hold of my heart. The day was new, fresh, and waiting for me. I opened my eyes not knowing where I would be or when I would be.
I didn’t know what to expect or what to think anymore. My life was a series of twisted events and choices all leading to random places and times. How was I supposed to live a normal life? How was I supposed to be a husband and father with this cloud hanging over my head?
I lay on my back, knowing I had to do something. K was sleeping next to me. She seemed to always be my anchor to reality—to what was real. I knew I needed to stay, to live here, but how could I not dream?
I thought of Kreios, of his healing and appearance into my life. The book and all that it held—could that be the key? This book, my book, had to be found. If it could control my life, if that was the key, I had to find it and maybe, just maybe, fix the mess.
Closing my eyes, I could feel the glimpse so close to the surface, it was there reaching out to me, and I knew that there was one thing I could do. I could destroy the other worlds. I had the key, I was the key, and like Kreios said, I created them, so I could destroy them. But there were so many, hundreds, maybe thousands. How could I go to each one? It would take forever.
I turned over and kissed K on the cheek. She stirred and sighed. I could smell her skin and the sweet scent of her hair. This was what I was fighting for, her and what we had, our life together. Sam and what one day she might
become.
It was so easy now, like taking a leap into a pond. The ripples went out, and in them were worlds upon worlds.
CHAPTER 27
“KREIOS!” I COULD FEEL wind on my face. It smelled of car exhaust and a mixture of food vendors and sweat. “Kreios!” I had my eyes open, but the street around me was all out of focus. It reminded me of dreams where I couldn’t clear my eyes, and no matter what I did, I was looking through a fog.
The fog lifted, and everything was clear. At once, I knew I was not in my time. New York City was running at full speed, and the sidewalks and streets bustled with people, cabbies, and all the sounds that came with the center of the world. I smiled in spite of myself, and the feeling of being home overwhelmed me.
I did not see or feel Kreios, he was not there, and then in the same instant, he was at my side as if he just walked into this reality. I looked at him, and he stared past me to the city beyond.
“We have a problem.” I was not sure how much he knew, but I figured he knew enough.
“Yes.” Again his lack of vocabulary made me uneasy.
“Do you know what happened when you left me? The whole thing crumbled… I mean, literally crumbled. The trees, the people, and I faded and woke up back home.
Kreios looked at me with a curious stare. He seemed to be thinking about what I just told him. “This has never happened before. But in a way, it makes sense… you created that reality and once you or your other self died, it no longer had anyone to keep it all together.”
“Yeah, that makes perfect sense!” I was failing to keep control of my temper. “How does any of this make any sense? This is the most screwed up thing ever… I mean, I really can’t think of anything more screwed up.”
“That could be the key… In fact, if we let the Brotherhood kill you off one by one, that could help us. There are too many for you to kill on your own, and we are running out of time.”
“Let them kill me? What about me… the real me?”
“I will protect you. But we need to fix this dreaming thing… if you keep it up, there will be no stopping it without killing you.” His matter-of-fact tone scared me a little.
I had not thought about Isis and Kirk, but they came to mind now. I had been so consumed with my own plight that I had forgotten that, in the real world, things were getting bad. Isis might be dead by now, and I was supposed to be helping them.
“Do not worry about them. Things will take care of themselves if you do what is needed.” I hated him reading my mind like that. But you know that… Don’t you?
The corner of his mouth rose a half inch, and I walked toward a newspaper stand to see where and when I was. The stand was painted red, and the paint was peeling around the corners. I pushed in the correct change and took out a paper. The headline stated that the country was now officially out of the “Great Recession.” Wonderful… glad we are past all that. Funny how they think it is all over just because they say so.
The date was July 19, 2012. Perfect… I was beginning to not like the number 19; it seemed to be cropping up everywhere.
I looked up and down the street and noticed that things here were a little different. A few of the cars were of a type I’d never seen before, and some of the brand names were different.
“Why are we here?” I asked.
Kreios seemed to consider. He always seemed to think before he spoke. Every word was thought out, and he never wasted them. “You have created this reality before… this is not a new one, you came here. I think we are here for the book.”
The book. I could feel something, as if a force were calling to me, and every time I turned around, it was there. “But how can it be here… wouldn’t it be in the key world?”
“Maybe this was the key world at one time.” I considered this, and the thought gave me chills. How could I be sure that my life with K was the original key—the true world and the life I was supposed to live?
“You choose your own path. No one can make that choice for you. If you are meant to be with K and Sam, you will be with them.”
“Somehow that does not make me feel better. Anyway, if I think about it anymore I am going to drive myself crazy. Who knows, maybe I already am.”
I rolled the paper up and tucked it under my arm and said, “So, how do we find this book?”
“We don’t. It will find us. Do you remember who you are here?”
It was an odd question, but I could now remember who I was. This life and the memories I had here flooded my subconscious and I knew what choices led me to this path. “Yes, Maria and Samson. I’m married, and here, Solomon is dead.” The memory made me sad, I missed him. He was like a father to me.
“Good, now you need…” his voice trailed, off and I looked at his face. He was staring behind us at something. I turned and saw two men working through the crowd. They were huge, over six-foot-six and built like linebackers. I could feel a presence coming from them, and at once I knew who they were.
The Brotherhood.
***
Kirk Weston was a man of action. He liked to do and was not much for talk. He was of the old-school way that did, and asked for forgiveness later. He was used to being in control, but the last few years, starting with his divorce and his first kidnapping, things just kept happening to him, forcing him to live outside of his control.
He hated the feeling, but he could deal with it. But now that Isis was hurt, now that this sick freak had cut her, Kirk was not able to deal with it anymore. He snapped inside. Something went wrong in his head that he knew was the only thing keeping him alive.
He wanted nothing more than to hurt the man who had hurt Isis. He didn’t want to just kill him, but he wanted to hurt him. Visions of pulling fingernails and cutting his eyelids off and other unimaginable things filled his head.
Isis was sleeping. He could see her in the large mirror. She was beautiful and had been through so much already. She just made it through a near death experience due to a virus and now she was here, and it was all Kirk’s fault.
He knew that he would die here, but he also knew that this sick freak wanted to make him suffer. He had something against Kirk, and wanted to keep him alive to live out his life in torment.
Kirk thought about this for a long time and began to work out a plan. He was willing to die, but he wanted to save Isis. She deserved to be free, deserved better then death because of him.
The gizmo he was strapped to prevented escape, but this little plan did not require his escape… only his death.
Kirk gritted his teeth and took one last look in the mirror… this time he did not look at Isis. He looked into his own eyes. They were full of life, and something in them gave him the courage he needed. They were fierce, evil, and set. He was going to look inside himself and find the beast that lived there. He needed him now, needed to set him free.
“Argh!” Kirk Weston filled his lungs from the bottom and lurched and struggled, letting out a blood-curdling scream. Isis jerked awake and lifted her head to stare at Kirk. Cursing and screaming he pulled on his restraints and could feel his shoulders pulling. The socket on his left shoulder popped loose, and a surge of searing pain shot up his neck.
This was what he needed to keep it up, and he let out a fresh yell. This one sounded like a man going out of his mind. He kicked and twisted, meaning to tear his own limbs off if that was what it took.
A heavy door burst open, and the masked man entered and stood looking up at him. “What are you doing?”
Kirk fought an invisible foe. He rocked his head back and forced it forward to bite down on his tongue. Blood filled his mouth, and he spit it out in a gush. “You want me? Come and get me!” He screamed like a maniac and thrashed, pulling his other shoulder out of its socket. The pain now was so overwhelming that it was almost numbing. Kirk took this as his chance to overwork his heart and hoped he would pass out or have a heart attack.
“Stop it!” The skinny masked man hollered. But his voice was drowned out by Kirk’s scream
s. The kidnapper looked around as if, for once, not sure of what to do.
Light, bright white and red stars filled Kirk’s vision. He yanked and kicked his legs, trying to pull free, but it was no use. The only way he was getting out was if the kidnapper let him out.
Now the cables squalled and the pulleys strained under the pressure. Kirk could no longer hear his own voice. He was rocking back and forth, and the man in the mask was yelling something to him, but he kept on. He twisted and yanking his head back, he arched his back spewing blood and profanity.
A dark force took over his mind as he yelled and thrashed. This was what he wanted: to break his own mind, to wreck his own body. Thick veins popped out in his neck and arms. Muscles bulged and flexed as he fought himself. He opened his eyes wide and laughed in the face of his kidnapper.
“Fool! You can’t take me, I will take myself!” Strange giggles burst from his lips, and he clenched down on his lip and spat the fresh blood at his foe.
***
Mooch couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Kirk Weston was now officially off the map. He must have snapped and gone crazy. Mooch was disappointed. He had wanted this, but not so soon. He imagined a week or more of fun with Kirk and his girl, but the guy had gone and lost it already.
“Stop It!” He was getting worried someone might hear. Kirk was screaming, and the sound was like nothing he had ever heard. It was not the sound of a man… it was something different, and it sent chills up Mooch’s spine.
He stood still in awe as the detective pulled and twisted. He bit down on his tongue and spit out a mouthful of blood. Mooch stepped back a step even though he was out of spitting distance.
“You want me? Come and get me!” Kirk sounded like a demon rather than a man. Mooch knew what one sounded like, after all.
IN YOUR DREAMS (Mark Appleton #3) Page 16