Unhinged

by Shelley R. Pickens

  I look down at Dejana lying on the floor by her bed, her face ashen white and her limp body no longer functional. I wonder what happened to make her like this; wonder what power I have to stop it. Then I remember all the faith she had in me a few months ago after the bomb. All the times she stuck with me, helping me find a killer amongst us, even when it had cost her the life of a friend; she always believed I could do it. She never lost faith in me and I am not about to let her down now.

  “Okay,” I say with a shaky voice as I take off my gloves and place them on the nightstand beside her bed. “Let’s do this.”

  My bare hands feel so naked out in the open air, so vulnerable and I hate it. I look nervously at Logan, still holding the unconscious Dejana in his arms. Jealousy strikes out in the background of my mind, but I bite it back. This is not the time and Dejana is my best friend, the one I trust more than anyone else in the world. I need to focus.

  “I’ve never touched someone who’s unconscious, so I have no idea how it will be different, if at all. You know what happens when I touch someone, but just in case, will you please keep us safe?”

  “Always.” He smiles at me, nodding his head in encouragement. “I know you can do this. Just breathe.”

  I inhale deeply and I’m surprised that it does make me feel stronger. I position myself up onto my knees and lean in close to Dejana. With shaky hands, I slowly place both my palms onto either side of her face. Her skin is very warm to the touch. I’m not sure what I expected after initial contact, but this isn’t it. I don’t see anything; I’m not absorbing any of her memories. It’s so strange to feel skin beneath my fingertips, but have nothing happen. Maybe my curse doesn’t work on unconscious people?

  I am just about to take my hands away from her face when I feel a pull deep within me; like an invisible rope attached to my navel, pulling me forward. I gasp as my hands are cemented to Dejana’s face by some unknown force. I use every bit of strength I have in my hands to pull away, but it’s no use, they won’t budge. Vertigo hits full force as the pull gets stronger and stronger. I fear losing myself as I wonder where in the world I’m being pulled to. The room starts to spin, so fast everything is a blur as it moves around me. Heaviness fills my head as my eyes close and darkness takes me.

  Chapter Nine

  ~ Stolen Moments ~

  I stand alone on a beach, and the sun beating down from above tells me it is mid-day. I hear the waves lapping against the shore as I see shadows of birds flying around, darting in and out of my field of vision, searching for lost creatures of the sea to eat. The wind whips my hair back and forth, but it feels nice and warm against my skin.

  Testing the memory, I reach out, touch the warm sand, and see my naked hands. Panicked, I look around for my gloves, only to remember that I left them on the bedside table in Dejana’s bedroom. Where am I? Or, I guess I should be asking myself, when in time this happened since that piece of information is more important than where. Sadly, I have no idea how this memory is going to help me figure out what happened to Dejana, but I don’t get a choice as to which memory I jump into; I just have to roll with what happens until the memory ends, and I can return to her and Logan in real time.

  A squeal from behind startles me. I turn towards the stairs that access the beach and see a younger version of Dejana running with five other girls, all wearing bathing suits and carrying towels and sunscreen. I am momentarily startled and confused. I look down at myself and see my normal black ensemble, minus the gloves. For the first time ever in experiencing the memories I absorb, I am not the focus, but a spectator. I should be seeing through Dejana’s eyes, running free and wild as her twelve-year-old self, but I’m not.

  Confused, I stand there taking in the scene before me. The girls set their towels on the sand and apply their sunscreen quickly, ready to take on the waves. They are happy, giggling and talking to each other about whether the water is warm enough and hoping the sharks don’t come into the shallow water. As I take in the scene before me, sadness creeps into my heart. Dejana had friends, a normal life, nothing to worry about besides sunburning. Longing for a life I can never have consumes me. I rub my hands up and down my arms, hoping to ward off the chill that has overtaken me despite the warm weather.

  Done with applying sunscreen, the girls run off towards the ocean, ready to have fun splashing and swimming, carefree as the birds that fly above them. Dejana stops in mid step and turns to look straight at me.

  I turn around thinking she is looking at something off in the distance, but when I turn back, she is walking towards me with a smile on her face. Startled, I back up a bit, unsure of what to do. Can she see me? No, that would be impossible. Wouldn’t it? My feet are planted in place. I’m so in shock that I can’t move.

  She has almost reached me, but still I can’t seem to move. Deep inside, I know this is a memory, that nothing can hurt me, yet I’m still afraid. I’ve always experienced memories first hand, as if I were that person. This is the first time I have been outside the memory simply observing. Now the person whose memory I am experiencing is coming to talk to me. I don’t think things can get any stranger.

  I hold my breath, drowning in fear. Finally, Dejana stops in front of me, causing the sand to kick up onto my jeans. I don’t say anything. I can’t. But as it turns out, I don’t need to.

  “Hey, Aimee!” Dejana says cheerfully. “So nice of you to stop by! I was hoping you could make it. Where is your bathing suit? You know you can’t go into the water with your jeans on silly! I probably have another one that might fit you at the house. Do you want me to go and get it for you?”

  Completely befuddled, I simply stare at her. Speech is impossible since I’ve been stunned into silence. Apparently, my silence equals acquisition.

  “Well, okay then,” she continues. “I’ll just run back to the house and bring you one of my bathing suits.”

  “Um, okay,” I finally say. Wow, so I do have a voice.

  “Great!” she answers jovially. “Let’s go then!” She motions with her hand for me to follow. I decide to go with her, to follow this memory where it wants to take me, trying to trust that something will happen to help me figure out why Dejana is lying unconscious on her bedroom floor.

  We take off towards the stairs that lead up to her beach house when all of the sudden, a loud crack of thunder ripples through the air. I turn to see what caused such a ruckus, and off in the distance, some ways down the beach, menacing dark clouds dominate the sky. Beneath it, four black tornadoes churn up the ocean water and the wind howls so loudly it’s more like a roar. The storm seems alive, its tornado hands swirling the salty water beneath, causing a black hole to form in the ocean. Lightning strikes out in alternating intervals, in different patterns, and all different ways: up, down and sideways. It’s the strangest storm I’ve ever seen.

  “Should we go inside now?” I ask Dejana worriedly. “That looks like one nasty storm and I’m sure you don’t want to get stuck in it.”

  I turn to look at Dejana and see that her jovial mood is gone, replaced with complete and utter terror. Her voice, loud as ever before, is now barely a whisper and shakes uncontrollably as she answers me.

  “That’s the dark place,” she begins. “We don’t go into the dark place. If you go in, you don’t come back. I don’t know where it came from, but as long as I stay over here, it doesn’t see me. I see it moving; every day it comes closer and closer, but for some reason it waits. I don’t know why. But until it comes for me, I’ll swim and have fun. For now, I stay here and I’m safe.”

  Safe? Nothing about that storm seems safe. And even more disconcerting, Dejana thinks it’s coming for her. I’m slow to convince myself of what I have already realized I need to do: I have to go into the dark place. I have to know what’s in there and why it’s coming for Dejana.

  Scared as hell, I turn and begin walking towards the dark storm. I don’t hear any protests from Dejana, so I look back and see she has disappeared; they all have. The beach is
once again deserted. I don’t know where they've all gone, but I’m glad Dejana isn’t here to go with me.

  As I walk, my feet crunch against the sand, and I feel the exertion from trying to walk on an uneven surface. I concentrate on that and not on what I am about to do. It’s the only way I can keep putting one foot in front of the other. Up ahead, the storm seems to sense that I am coming near because the lightening and tornadoes have stopped. The black hole beneath it still churns, but all else is quiet. If I didn’t know better, I would think it’s preparing for my arrival.

  My gait falters the minute things grow quieter, but I force my feet forward; force myself to be brave for Dejana. I’m about half way to the storm when I realize it’s closer than I had first thought. Did it move to meet me half way? I stop dead in my tracks to test the theory. Sure enough, within minutes the storm is almost to me, like it senses I am near and wants to grab me before I turn and run. And believe me, I want to run.

  I stand very still, not quite sure what to do. I know I’m in a memory and realize I can’t drown in a sea that doesn’t really exist, but the mind can play deadly tricks and I can’t afford to falter. I stand on the beach, frozen by fear, staring at the black clouds until the tornado-filled storm is right in front of me. The roar of the black hole beneath it fills my ears and haunts my soul. The storm has seemed to stop, aware that its prey is within its grasp. I take a deep breath for courage and do the only thing I can: I walk straight into the water and am immediately pulled into the black hole.

  Water swirls roughly around me as I am thrown back and forth within its grasp. I have no idea which way is up or down, no idea where I am going. As the seconds tick by, I am at least able to convince my stressed out mind that I won’t drown. My clothes aren’t wet, the salt does not sting my eyes, and I bet that I can breathe. But my mind just won’t buy it, so I hold my breath and hope for the best.

  I am suddenly thrown sharply to the right and land softly on what looks like grass and pine needles. I look around me and see only trees. The air is thin and cold; I can see my breath in front of me as I exhale. From my left, a loud thud sound pierces the otherwise quiet forest. I lift myself up off the ground and walk towards where I think the sound originated. I walk up a small hill and meet pure, unadulterated evil as I reach the crest. I place my hand over my mouth, trying to stifle my scream, but it’s no use, the sound of terror reverberates off the trees and amplifies as it echoes distantly throughout the forest. Though the rational side of me knows this has to be a memory, the fear I feel is certainly real. It paralyzes me as I stand upon the crest, witnessing the horror below.

  At the bottom of the hill is a small valley where there are no trees. In the middle of the valley, perfectly hidden, is a very large, deep hole. The pit itself isn’t what stuns me. It is the fifteen or so bloody, mutilated bodies of women that lie beside it, waiting to be thrown into the pit, that makes me want to vomit. The bodies are stacked one on top of the other in a haphazard pile. They are in different stages of decomposition, and of various races. I am too far away to tell how old they were when they were murdered, but it doesn’t matter. The fact that they were taken before their time is sufficient enough to appall me. As far as I can tell, the only thing these women have in common is that each one suffered some horrific act of violence, and each was stripped of her clothing.

  Beside the pile of women, I see a man digging away with a shovel. He is huge, with muscles bulging from every facet of his body. He’s also filthy, his white tank top covered in blood and dirt, and his jeans are faded and covered with rips and tears. His brown hair is matted with dirt; so much so that I can only guess that the brown is his real hair color. He stops digging a few moments later and steps out of the pit. I am surprised to see he isn’t wearing any shoes. I watch as he walks over to the pile of women and grabs a girl with blonde hair stained red, carries her to the pit, and unceremoniously tosses her into it. The sheer lack of human emotion as he carelessly throws these women around sickens me.

  I stumble as I try to retreat, and end up tumbling back down the small hill I'd just climbed. The vertigo hits me as I roll, warning me that this memory is about to end. The darkness envelops me as I return to the swirling water of the black hole. The constant spinning is killing me. I hope beyond hope that the black hole is returning me to Logan and Dejana.

  I should have known it wouldn’t be that easy.

  After what seems like an eternity, though it probably only lasted a minute, I’m thrown sharply to the left and I land on a hard surface. My head hurts from the constant spinning, but luckily, my elbow took the brunt of my landing. I look around and realize I’m on a hard linoleum floor. It's speckled with blue and looks like about a decade's worth of dirt has collected on it. The small room is empty, save a small metal table nailed to the floor in the center, with two silver metal chairs on either side. The white walls are bare, the only decoration are chips, cracks, and holes. The far right wall isn’t really a wall, but a large mirror.

  I pull myself up off the floor and make my way to the other side of the table facing the mirror. I quickly realize it's a two-way mirror because behind it I see a very large, muscular, and scarred man in a strait jacket. He is mumbling through the three teeth that remain in his mouth and his short brown hair has been shaved to a buzz cut. His brown eyes are glazed over and he’s rocking back and forth in his cheap silver chair.

  There is a video camera in the corner, the red light indicating that it’s running. Abruptly, the man looks up at the door; something has caught his attention. I look over through the mirror and see a policeman enter the room. He is wearing the typical dark suit of a detective and he is carrying a file folder. He drops the folder dramatically onto a similar silver table and sighs heavily.

  “I want to help you, Rex,” he begins, “I really do. But if you don’t tell me where you buried all the bodies, it’s just going to get worse for you. We know you raped and killed Christine Penn. We have your DNA underneath her fingernails. What we don’t know is how many more there are out there. As we speak, they are digging up your dumpsite in Stone Mountain and we will identify them all. So make it easier for yourself. Give us the names of all of those women. Then maybe the judge will give you life in prison instead of the death penalty.”

  “Ah, Chris…..Chris….she was just a tryst. But then she talked back and I hacked her with my axe, and now the little girl is all bones,” cackled Rex, carrying his voice like a rhyme. His eyes dart back and forth, obviously enjoying the act of reliving Christine’s death.

  “Shut up!” yells the detective, clearly disturbed and doing his best to keep it together. “She is one of at least twenty bodies that we’ve found in a wooded area next to Stone Mountain. Help yourself dammit and give us their names.”

  Rex just laughs and continues to rock back and forth, his eyes unfocused and insane. “Twenty you found, but more underground. What you don’t expect is that she’ll be the next,” he chants cryptically.

  Fed up, the detective slaps Rex across the face hard, clearly hoping to elicit some kind of response from him. When he is met with more laughter, he realizes they won’t get anything more from him.

  “Fine,” says the detective fed up. “You can fry then for all I care.” He shoves Rex one more time for good measure and leaves the room.

  Being left alone with Rex, even behind the two-way mirror, unsettles me. He’s the man from the forest, the same killer that I just saw thoughtlessly disposing of multiple women in a homemade ditch. Even though I realize that Rex can’t hurt me, the fight or flight response that is so inbred within, is screaming for me to run. Desperate to get away from the evil emanating from this guy, I turn to leave. Just as I am about to pass out of the sight of the two-way mirror, Rex suddenly stop rocking. His head snaps up and he stares straight at me with clear, focused grey eyes. He leans forward and smiles cryptically as he stands up to his full seven feet of height.

  “You’re next, Aimee,” he states seriously, a stark contrast to
the man I saw a second ago.

  My heart stops, the air leaves my lungs and the room starts to spin. So many fears run through my brain, but only one thing matters. How did he know my name? The room spins faster, and vertigo hits me hard as I realize that this memory is finally coming to an end. I’ve never been happier to see one go.

  As the darkness envelopes me, I see a bright white light up in the distance, signaling that I’m being taken back to real life, back to Logan and Dejana. I’m left with the stark realization that Dejana is in serious danger, we all are. Somehow, memories of a horrific serial killer have made their way into her brain. I don’t know how it happened, or why. But one thing is clear: her fragile brain could neither process nor delete those disturbing images, so it shut down to protect itself. But it makes no sense! Dejana isn’t cursed. She can’t absorb memories, so how in the hell did they get in there? And worse yet, how in the world am I going to get them out?

  Chapter Ten

  ~ Someone’s Always Watching ~

  The absence of a full moon allows for perfect concealment amongst the bushes that surround the property. David watches the events unfold, elated by how well his plan is panning out. True terror is difficult to manufacture and even more grueling to set into motion. So many pieces have to fall into place at specific times and anything can go wrong. The fact that David is not the average person, or the average human for that matter, helps. He has collected thousands upon thousands of memories, which he can use as he sees fit to help him achieve his goal. He will become invincible, and the entire world is about to realize it.