She moaned and arched her back as though to prompt him onward. Onward anywhere.
He resisted, enjoying her growing excitement, and then shifted his attention to her right breast. His mouth poised ever so close to the region of the nightgown where her nipple awaited attention. He used his lips and cheeks to caress it, causing it to harden. He sucked in a mouthful of her nightgown and circled his tongue around her ripe nipple. He enjoyed teasing before enveloping and soaking it in the lustful warmth of his mouth.
“Drew,” she whimpered, “baby, God, come on.”
He could smell her fully now, that animal scent that a man couldn’t resist. He kissed her hard and entered her. Her mouth, ever-tightening around his tongue, encouraged him to intensify the love-making. They had taken the punches that life had dealt, and she was still his, all his.
Her body stiffened as they continued, and she expelled a throaty moan. He could feel her breath. Knowing at this point she liked it rougher, he reached up and grabbed a handful of Nadia’s tangled, red locks.
“God, Andrew, God!” And then, she was there. “An-dr-rrew!”
The final syllable gushed from her mouth in an exhale.
“Do it,” she said. “Pull it!”
As if putting an exclamation mark on his own powerful orgasm, he clenched her hair, letting loose a loud groan, before collapsing on the bed next to her.
Still breathing heavy, he chuckled. “Who needs Italy?”
He realized, as the last word slipped from his breathless mouth, that it was the perfectly wrong quip at the perfectly wrong time. Nadia recoiled, as if agreeing with his silent recant.
But he could tell, it was too late.
Drew rolled onto his back and looked up at the ceiling. As their breathing returned to normal, he preempted her inevitable question regarding their next actions.
“First,” he said. “Let’s get dressed and go get Alexis. Then, I think I know someone I can talk to about what happened.”
“Who?”
“Our neighbor, Hector.”
“The run-down private detective?” she asked with disapproval, their love-making session fading like an early-morning dream.
“Nadia, he used to work for the government…I think. It couldn’t hurt to get his perspective at least.”
Hector Lopez lived down the hall. He’d moved in sometime during a foggy haze at the depths of Drew’s alcoholism. Drew regretted having stuck the image in her mind of a run-down private investigator. Shortly after they’d begun dating, she seemed a bit too interested in his neighbor’s identity after bumping into him in the elevator one evening. Momentary jealousy clouded his judgment, and the comment had left a permanent impression.
Lopez carried with him the heaviness of a man who had experienced a tragedy that he was unwilling to talk about. However, Lopez had gradually become less reclusive as the years went by. A few times, Drew had caught a glimpse of a hot blonde leaving Lopez’s place. He never could seem to get a good look at her. She appeared to be much too young for him, but if the old guy could pull it off, more power to him.
“Darling, are you going to start getting ready?” Nadia’s question pulled him from his thoughts.
It was time for a shower.
*****
Drew slapped on some aftershave and began buttoning his shirt.
“Hey, honey, I’m going to swing by Hector’s while you get ready. That way, if he has a suggestion on where to go, we can go there straight from your mother’s.”
“Okay, baby,” she said from beyond the steamed glass shower door.
Only as he exited his condo, did he realize that condensing the Italy experience into a sound bite, was going to be a challenging task. He walked the hallway between his condo and Lopez’s. After two years of debate, the condo association had decided to replace the worn, mauve carpeting with a neutral brown and tan, but the installation would not occur until spring.
As he approached his neighbor’s door, Drew rehearsed various approaches.
Hey, yeah, long time no talk. By the way, who can protect us from Italian murderers?
No. It sounded too much like a skirmish with the Mafia.
Hector, has a priest from your dreams ever given you a medallion while dying from a gunshot wound?
Too cliché.
Drew Faulkner was not a man devoid of imagination, so the creative process could have lasted indefinitely.
Tan wood swinging past his face interrupted his thoughts. A blonde dressed in a white T-shirt and pink sweat pants came bounding out. The swinging door’s base bounced off the tip of Drew’s sneaker.
He stood frozen like a deer in the beams of an oncoming sports car. She looked up and jumped back, standing in a wide-legged, defensive position. A female Bruce Lee.
As he stammered for an explanation, he finally got a look at the mysterious girl he’d been thinking about earlier. There was something natural and simple about her face; it was thin, angular, and efficient. Her straight hair hung down to the tips of sharp shoulders. She had a thin figure. Her bottom half, covered by baggy sweats, appeared flat in the right places and curvy where appropriate. Her gray-blue eyes sparkled, likely alert from the recent jolt of excitement
She managed to recover first. “Yes?”
“Hi. Sorry. I just…I’m Drew from up the hall.”
“Hi, Drew-from-up-the-hall. I’m Kat.” She flashed him a guarded smile, as if she already knew who he was.
“Kat?”
“Yeah dude, Kat, with a ‘K.’ It’s short for Katherine, if you must know.” Her expression implied that she’d heard all the lines about her name, and she had no desire to hear a corny joke about purring, claws… or anything more carnal.
Drew felt it best to completely change the subject. “Is Hector home?”
Her eyes never left his. She displayed a trace of mischievous charm as she slightly turned her chin to her shoulder.
“Yo, Hector, your neighbor is here. I’m outtie—catch ya later!“
Drew stepped back to give her room. “See ya ‘round.”
Kat brushed by him flashing a knowing grin. “Yeah, you wish!”
Unable to turn away, he watched the swaying wisps of pink disappear down the hall. He made a mental note to admonish the association for over-heating the hallways in the winter. He was sweating.
A confused Hector Lopez appeared in the doorway.
“Oh, hi, Drew.” An unshaven Lopez greeted him with bland disinterest.
He and Lopez had exchanged small-talk dozens of times over the years in the hall, elevator, and parking garage, but Drew had never come to his apartment.
“Is that your girlfriend?” he asked, hoping the question sounded casual.
“No,” Lopez replied. “She’s a friend.”
“Oh,” Drew responded as if understanding perfectly. He was as bewildered as ever.
“What’s up, Drew?”
My girlfriend and I may have inadvertently become international smugglers.
He didn’t say that out loud.
“Can we talk inside for a second?” Drew’s hushed tone felt necessary.
“Sure.”
He was ushered into a front room filled with cheap furniture and prints of jazz musicians. A few psychology books and even more empty pizza boxes were strewn about the condo. Despite rehearsals, he had no idea how to begin.
“How’ve you been, man?” Drew asked.
“Good. Good. Excuse the mess.” Lopez acted as though Drew had been a regular visitor. “I was out late last night. My son had a game.”
“Oh, cool.” Drew nodded. It was his polite way of ignoring the fact there was no connection between the clutter and Lopez’s presence at a basketball game. “Are they still on that winning streak?”
“Yep, thirteen in a row now.”
“Cool. Cool.” Drew felt if he said “cool” one more time, he’d never get to his point.
“Hey, Hector, you used to work for the government, right? The FBI or something?” He scru
nched his face hoping his version of interrogation techniques would elicit some tidbit of useful information.
“That was a long time ago,” Lopez responded, lighting a Marlborough, his stone face revealing nothing.
“Yeah, cool.” Drew suddenly felt really stupid. “I was just hoping maybe you could give me a little advice on who we could talk to about something that happened to us in Italy.”
Drew related the lowlights of the trip. Lopez listened, showing no reaction. He must have forgotten about the cigarette, because the ashes toppled onto his jeans, causing him to brush them away before snuffing out the burning menace.
Lopez clarified the specifics of their encounters with Alfonso Simone. Then, he hit Drew with a question harder than any swinging door.
“Have you guys been having nightmares?”
- Chapter Sixteen -
Two days prior to Night of Nights – Somewhere over the Atlantic
During the private jet’s flight, the pus from Tapusscar’s wounds had dried, matting his shirt to what was left of the flesh on his back. Removing the oversized Hawaiian shirt would open up the sores again. The infections served as a reminder of his fate should he again fail his master.
He soothed himself with fantasies of the Greek islands after Luzveyn Dred’s ascension. The slaves promised to him would obey his every command.
Every command.
But first he would need to claw back into the Master’s good graces.
Luzveyn Dred had broken the normal routine, ordering Tapusscar to bring this particular medallion directly to the Spatium Quartus. He considered himself fortunate not to have to deal with that snobby elitist, Ponterosso, in this transaction. Based on many factors, none of the Sogno di Guerra soldiers would ever consider hitting the doctor, but if push came to shove, Tapusscar would have no problem beating Ponterosso to a bloody pulp.
Since there was no middleman in the medallion assignment, it made the mission all the more important. Tapusscar had never failed Luzveyn Dred before, and, after the lashing today, he vowed never to disappoint his Master again. He would go to San Diego, meet Stanley, the man that had found many of the medallions for the Sogno di Guerra, get the medallion back from the couple, and if they knew anything about the plan, eliminate them.
He looked out the window at the luminous clouds below. Orange, violet, and pinkish hues mixed together on a thick blanket that hid the earth. Heading west, the airplane continued to chase daylight, but by the time it landed, it would be night.
- Chapter Seventeen -
Drew, Nadia, and Alexis met Lopez not too far from their condo building, in a Wal-Mart parking lot. Minivans with sun-faded paintjobs clustered near the store’s entrance. Farther out, a few vacant cars dotted the massive concrete plain. The shock from their troubles in Italy had begun to fade. Drew envied the shoppers’ oblivion.
It was almost dark.
“Hop in and I’ll drive us,” Lopez shouted as they pulled up to his white van.
Drew exited his red 2008 Camaro. “Why did we meet here, and why can’t we drive back?”
“I’d rather not park your car near the condo. I want to create the impression that you’re not at home.”
It must have shown on Drew’s face that he didn’t want to leave his car in an unattended parking lot.
“Trust me on this, Drew.”
He complied, signaling to Nadia for her and Alexis to come along. Drew opened the sliding door to the van’s rear passenger area for them. There were no side windows and the back windows were covered. Alexis, hair pulled back in a pony tail, climbed in first.
“Cool, Mommy, look!”
“You’ve got more electronics than a Circuit City!” Nadia proclaimed eyeing the knobs, cables, and video cameras as she climbed in.
From the passenger’s seat, Drew started his interrogation before Lopez shifted out of park. “So, are the medallions causing our bad dreams?”
“Yeah, just being around them may give you nightmares,” Lopez said, “but that’s not the dangerous part.”
Earlier that day, after Drew had filled Lopez in on the events in Italy, he and Nadia had gone to pick up Alexis. Before they left, his mysterious neighbor demanded that they stay in public places and keep the medallions with them. His final warning rang in Drew’s ears all afternoon.
“Above all else, do not fall asleep.”
Drew barely kept a straight face. “What is this, Invasion of the Body Snatchers?”
Lopez hadn’t smiled.
Now, keeping time to unheard music, Lopez tapped out a rhythmic beat on the steering wheel. He stopped the van at a traffic signal and looked at Drew. “Being involved with the medallions, in other words having them in your possession, puts you at risk of being transported to a dimension called the Spatium Quartus, which is an ancient place, hence the Latin name which means, ‘Fourth Dimension.’ However, wearing the medallions as you sleep protects you from the Spatium Quartus and the ruler of that dimension, Luzveyn Dred.”
Nadia leaned between the front seats and pointed back at the video equipment. “Are we on one of those reality programs where someone jumps out and says, ‘Gotcha?’”
Lopez shook his head. “Look, I know this is coming at you pretty fast, but open your minds. The Spatium Quartus is as real a place as this van, as this road, as that tree.”
The hum of the large van’s tires on asphalt lent his words an other-worldly quality.
He continued, “I believe the dimension is a prison of sorts for Luzveyn Dred, and he wants to escape.”
Drew felt more frustrated and confused. Lopez gently tapped at the air between them, the calming motion indicating that further explanation was forthcoming. He took his time in formulating it.
“During nightmares, people’s brainwaves can be pulled to the Spatium Quartus. Creatures there inject their victims with visions of torture and torment. The tortured might remember nothing of the experience or they might wake up with vague recollections they believe are just dreams—which they are not. Unbeknownst to them, like children porting grains from the sandbox into the house, they bring back little bits of the dimension. These bits of the Spatium Quartus they bring back in their brains grow more powerful with each nightmare these people have. These tiny elements could eventually lead to our world’s destruction.”
“Have we been pulled to the Spacious whatever?” Nadia asked.
“It’s Spatium Quartus—and there’s no way to tell for sure,” Lopez said.
Lopez exited the freeway and headed east toward their condo complex.
“So, how can coming back with these elements lead to the world’s end?” Drew asked.
“A colleague of mine conducted studies in the 1980s on individuals who recalled such events occurring in their ‘nightmares.’”
Lopez waited as a late model, convertible Mustang in front of them made a left-hand turn. The car ahead proceeded and Lopez followed.
“What did he find?” Drew asked.
“She” Lopez corrected, “was able to detect a distinct pattern of cloudiness, or maybe dirtiness, is the best description of it. You know the way that an unwashed window gets dirty over time?”
“Sure.”
“Well, it was the same thing with these infected brains. She found tiny lesions and microscopic tumors in the pons. Basically, without getting too scientific, the pons are parts of the brain which produce the images seen while dreaming. Anyway, these tiny tumors very well could be elements of the Spatium Quartus. Her results indicated that, over time, these tumors spread. As they did, the affected individual became more violent, more self-destructive and obviously more dangerous. Many who were infected ended up in prisons and mental institutions. It’s clear there is an ongoing seepage of the Spatium Quartus into this world via the brains of affected people.”
“What did the government do about it?” Drew asked.
Lopez made a right-hand turn and they were almost home. Lopez shrugged, then glanced at the pack of cigarettes in the drink-hol
der between them. The expression on his face seemed sardonic, almost resigned.
“When the government discovers a problem with no proven solution, it leads to one, inevitable course of action.” Lopez sighed. “Denial. They shut her program down.”
Nadia put her hand on Lopez’s shoulder. “You said the medallions protect us from this Luzveyn Dred?”
“Yes, he and his henchmen cannot seize someone wearing or holding a medallion to the Spatium Quartus. You can choose to go there of your own accord, but not against your will. Several years ago, before I knew what the medallions were for, Dred tricked me into entering while I was in possession of one.”
“Why would anyone want to go there?” Drew asked.
“To rescue others who have been brought there against their will. That’s why I go.”
They had arrived at the condo building, but Lopez pulled past it and carefully surveyed the street, peering into the parked cars as he passed them. He swung around the block and parked the van in the underground lot.
“So what happened? The time you got tricked into going?” Drew asked.
Lopez killed the engine and went silent for so long that Drew wondered if he was ever going to answer. Then, his neighbor turned and looked him in the eye. “The medallion saved my life. You can’t bring weapons to the Spatium Quartus. You fight solely with non-electrical, non-mechanical, hand-held weapons you create by learning to bend the dimension’s rules. A medallion allows its wearer to bend other physical rules much like we can in dreams. Most importantly a medallion allows its wearer to escape from the Spatium Quartus.”
*****
“Step into my office,” Lopez said after they had planted Alexis in front of the living room television.
Up the hall, the twelve-by-twelve converted bedroom more closely resembled a Las Vegas casino security outpost than an office. Three walls of the dark room contained dozens of small video monitors, most switching to various angles of the building. It displayed the lobby, hallways, and then flashed to stairways, and various angles of the parking lot. One even captured the view inside the elevator.
“Holy moley,” Nadia said with amazement. “What kind of private investigator are you?”
Lopez said nothing, pursed his lips, and began checking some of the digital readouts spread out on the control panels beneath the video displays.
Dream War Page 13