The Ninth Nightmare

by Graham Masterton

  ‘Come on, John!’ she said, pushing him forward. ‘Always such a klutz!’ She looked up at the security guard and said, ‘Sorry, Lamar.’

  ‘No problem, Ms Schulz.’

  The Jewish-looking woman took hold of John’s sleeve and Rhodajane’s sleeve, too, and pulled both of them along the corridor together until they reached Room 237.

  ‘What in hell is going on here?’ Rhodajane protested. ‘Who are you? What the hell happened to what’s-his-face?’

  The woman stared up at her and her eyes were glittering intently. ‘I am what’s-his-face, Xyrena. How do you think I can gain access to any place I need to? How do you think I can win people’s confidence? Whoever people trust, whoever they confide in, that’s who I am.’

  ‘And right now?’ John asked her.

  ‘Right now, John-boy, I’m a dead ringer for Lois Schulz, the Kaiser Twins’ manager. It’s an illusion, that’s all. I can look like anybody. I could look like you, if I wanted to.’

  ‘What if the real Lois Schulz is here right now?’ asked Rhodajane. ‘You’re going to walk in and there’s going to be two Lois Schulzes?’

  ‘No chance of that. Right now the real Lois Schulz is at the State Theater, making last-minute adjustments to the lighting sequences for tonight’s show. And she’s not very happy, so she’s going to be gone for some time.’

  ‘OK. I believe you. I don’t know why I believe you. I shouldn’t believe you. But I believe you.’

  Springer gave a quick knock at Room 237 and called out, ‘Hi, there, kids! It’s only me!’

  She opened the door and walked right in. Rhodajane grabbed John’s sleeve and let out a squeaky, hysterical whisper right into his left ear. ‘The Kaiser Twins! It’s really them! I can’t believe it!’

  ‘Come on,’ said John. ‘They’re only human, just like us.’

  ‘But they’re so famous! And I love them!’

  Kieran and Kiera were both in Room 237. Kieran was sprawled out on the bed in a torn red T-shirt and gray jogging pants, playing Killer Zombies; while Kiera was perched on the rococo stool in front of her dressing table, wearing nothing but a Rams football shirt, polishing her toenails with purple glitter.

  ‘You’re back quick, Lois,’ said Kieran, without taking his eyes off the TV screen. ‘Are you happy with all of those lights now?’

  ‘Actually, I brought a couple of old friends of mine to see you,’ said Springer. John was still fascinated by Springer’s transformation into ‘Lois Schulz.’ Enormous gold hoops as big as parrot perches swung from her ear lobes and she wore knobbly semi-precious rings on every finger, as well as an ostentatious sapphire brooch in the shape of a death’s-head moth. ‘This is Rhodajane and this is John. Say hi, twins.’

  Kiera looked up from her toenails and said, ‘Hi.’ Kieran simply lifted his left hand and twiddled his fingers in a wave.

  Springer said, ‘The reason I brought my friends here is because there’s been a change of plan.’

  ‘Change of plan?’ frowned Kiera. ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘It means you won’t be singing tonight. You’ll be doing something more important instead.’

  Kiera looked up from her toenail-polishing. ‘We’re not singing? Why?’

  Springer patted her shoulder in a motherly way. ‘You won’t be singing, my darling, because you can’t sing when you’re asleep, and when you’re awake you can’t fight. And tonight I need you to sleep, and to fight.’

  ‘Lois . . . what are you talking about?’

  ‘I know, I know. I sound like a meshuggenah. But how crazy did you feel when you opened up that door right over there and found yourself out in a field, and it was raining cats and dogs?’

  Kiera lifted her head and stared at Springer wide-eyed. ‘Lois? How did you know about that? Kieran – did you tell her?’

  ‘I never said a word. I swear to God.’

  Springer patted her shoulder again. ‘Kieran didn’t tell me, my darling. I knew what was going to happen even before it happened. In fact I arranged for it to happen. Why do you think I chose this particular hotel for you to stay in?’

  ‘You knew what was going to happen? How could you have known?’

  ‘You opened the door, Kiera, and there you were. You and Kieran climbed the hill to the carnival. It was raining and thundering and the tents were black and the lights were red and you met some very strange people there, didn’t you? A little man who looked more like a rat, and a bald man called Zachary.’

  ‘I don’t believe this,’ said Kieran. ‘I just don’t fricking believe this. It was only a dream!’

  But Springer carried on. ‘Most important of all, you saw your mother. Your poor mother, who you believed was long dead, mutilated and put on show for everybody to stare at. Demi – the Demi-Goddess, the Half-Woman.’

  Kieran swung his legs off the bed and stood up. His hair was sticking out sideways, as if he had just stepped inside from a hurricane. ‘How do you know about our mom, Lois? Come on, Lois, how the hell do you know? We thought it was only a nightmare, but we believed that we were sharing it because we’re twins. I mean, we share all kinds of feelings, all the time. But how do you know all about it?’

  Springer sat down on the side of the bed. ‘I look very much like Lois, Kieran, but I’m not Lois.’

  ‘I don’t get it. Is this a joke? If it is, it’s in pretty shitty taste.’

  ‘Lois is still at Playhouse Square – the real Lois, that is. My name is Springer. I can take on the physical appearance of anybody I want to. Watch me. Who was your best friend at school? Kenny Ballantine? You remember Kenny Ballantine?’

  Kieran looked confused. ‘Of course I remember Kenny Ballantine. He broke my goddamn iPod.’

  Right in front of them, Lois Schulz began to alter. She grew taller, and her shoulders grew wider. Her black skullcap hairstyle gradually grew lighter, until it was medium-brown, and scruffy. Her face grew broader, and her eyes changed color from brown to hazel. Within less than thirty seconds, she was no longer a musical agent with dangling earrings and bright red lip gloss, but a sprawling young man of seventeen or eighteen, with holes in the knees of his Levis and a T-shirt with a black-and-white print of Kurt Cobain on the front of it.

  Kieran stared at him, stunned. ‘Kenny?’ he said. ‘Kenny – is that really you?’

  ‘No,’ said Springer. ‘It’s not really me. But you asked me what I was capable of, didn’t you, and that’s one of the many things that I’m capable of. I needed to convince you that your mother is still alive, and that you can rescue her, if you want to.’

  ‘But she was cut in half!’ Kiera interrupted. ‘Not only that, she doesn’t even know that she’s our mother! Even if we rescue her, what are we going to do with her? Her mind’s gone, her legs have gone.’

  Kieran said, ‘She’s still our mother. We can’t leave her like that, in that carnival? By the way, where the hell is that carnival?’

  ‘You were right about it the first time,’ said Springer. ‘It exists only in the world of dreams. For now, anyhow. But that doesn’t mean that it’s any less real than anything that exists only in the world of reality. You can bring your mother back, if you want to. You would obviously have to arrange for her to receive intensive physical care and psychological rehabilitation. But you’re not poor, are you? And who knows, you might even get your original mother back – or a little part of her, anyhow.’

  ‘Oh my God,’ said Kiera. ‘You’re really frightening me now.’

  ‘Well, just sit and listen,’ said Springer. ‘When I’m through, you can either tell me to get the hell out of here and never come back, or you can agree to help us save your mother, and scores of other people, too.’

  ‘What other people?’

  ‘Your mother isn’t the only one who has been taken away by that carnival. Over the years, over the centuries, there may have been hundreds of them. Men, women, children, even babies. Some of them were born freaks, but many of them were deliberately mutilated and deformed s
o that they were turned into freaks.’

  ‘That’s so terrible. But why?’

  ‘Because the man who started the carnival is determined to bring out the worst in human nature. He wants to see an end to love, kindness and charity. He wants to see nothing but cruelty and depravity and wholesale, meaningless war. In other words, he wants his personal revenge on God.

  ‘If he can bring his carnival back from the world of dreams into the world of reality, it will spread around the world like the worst contagion you can ever imagine. A moral sickness like the Black Death, only a thousand times worse.

  ‘This is why I’ve come here today. This is the time when we need to act, and fight back, or the whole planet is going to turn into a slaughterhouse.’

  Kieran said, ‘I don’t know whether to believe you or not, dude. But you sure look like Kenny Ballantine. You’re the spit of him. Even got that warty thing by the side of your nose.’

  Carefully and quietly, Springer explained who he was and where he had come from. He told them about Ashapola, and how the purity of Ashapola could protect every person on earth, regardless of their religion or their core beliefs. He told them about the Night Warriors, and how their mother had been Azurina, the Sky Dancer, and how, as twins, they had both inherited her powers.

  He also told them about Brother Albrecht, and how his arms and legs had been amputated, and how that had led him to set up his carnival and freak show.

  When Springer had finished, he sat back to let his words sink in. Kieran and Kiera stared at each other in complete silence, but it was obvious that they were sharing their thoughts about everything that he had told them.

  Eventually, Kiera said, ‘How could we have been these Night Warriors all of our lives and never known that we were?’

  ‘Because you weren’t needed, until now. Some Night Warriors go through their whole lives without finding out, simply because their special abilities were never called for.’

  ‘I never knew I was, not until last year,’ John told her.

  ‘And I never knew until about an hour ago,’ said Rhodajane.

  ‘So who are you supposed to be?’ Kieran asked John.

  ‘Me? I’m Dom Magator the Armorer. I carry every kind of handgun and rifle and bladed weapon that you can possibly think of, and most of which you can’t. You want a pistol that can make somebody half a mile away go stone deaf? You want a knife that you can throw through solid concrete? How about an Amnesiac Rifle, that can make your enemy forget who he is and what the hell he’s supposed to be doing there?’

  ‘This has got to be a joke,’ said Kieran. ‘Amnesiac Rifle? Who are you trying to kid?’

  ‘It’s no joke,’ Rhodajane assured him. ‘I’m Xyrena, the Passion Warrior. I can turn on anything that has a pulse, and a few things that don’t, I wouldn’t be surprised.’

  Springer said, ‘The best way for me to convince you that I’m telling you the truth is to show you what Jekkalon and Jemexxa actually look like.’

  ‘Jekkalon?’ Kieran protested. ‘What kind of a stupid name is that?’

  ‘Actually, Jekkalon is a highly-respected name amongst the Night Warriors,’ said Springer. ‘The very first Jekkalon was a servant at the court of the Egyptian pharaoh Seti the First in the year twelve ninety-one BC.’

  ‘Now I’m sure you’re kidding me.’

  ‘Not at all. The demon goddess Nepththys ambushed Seti in his dreams and took him to her palace in the dry desert. She tried to mummify him in his sleep, so that he would be powerless to act out his dreams. We all have to act out our dreams in order to stay fit and sane, but Nepththys was hoping that she would drive Seti mad and that she could turn the entire kingdom of Egypt into a barren wasteland.

  ‘But Jekkalon and Jemexxa followed her, and Jekkalon vaulted over the walls of Nepththys’ palace, which had always been believed to be impregnable. He blinded Nepththys and her priests with lightning, which Jemexxa had reflected from a distant electric storm. Seti escaped, and rewarded Jekkalon and Jemexxa with great riches.’

  ‘Well, it’s a cool story,’ said Kieran. ‘Sounds like something out of X-Men.’

  ‘Do you want to see yourself as Jekkalon?’ asked Springer. ‘All you have to do is stand in front of that mirror.’

  ‘Go on, Kieran,’ Kiera urged him. ‘You know you love looking at yourself more than anything else in the world.’

  Kieran walked across to the large oval cheval mirror in the corner of the bedroom. Springer stood up and joined him, laying a hand on his shoulder.

  ‘Be patient,’ said Springer. ‘It doesn’t take long.’

  Kieran shook his head. ‘Jesus, man. You look so much like Kenny, I can’t believe it. Remember that time you swung on that rope over Mill Creek Falls, pretending to be Tarzan so that Susan Ladenes would be all impressed, and the rope broke and you fell in head first and broke your arm?’

  ‘It was my collar bone, as a matter of fact,’ Springer corrected him.

  ‘This is totally crazy,’ said Kieran.

  He turned away from the mirror for a moment, grinning at Kiera in disbelief, but Kiera suddenly said, ‘Look! Just look at yourself!’

  Kieran turned back, and there, in the mirror, he saw a reflection of an athletic young man wearing a skintight suit made of some glittery black fabric that looked as if it had been cut out of a starry night sky. On his head he had a sleek black helmet with slanted black lenses covering his eyes and two long antennae.

  ‘Is that me?’ said Kieran. He leaned forward to look at himself more closely, and his reflection leaned toward him. ‘Shit! It really is me!’

  ‘To be more accurate, it’s Jekkalon,’ Springer corrected him. ‘But, yes, it really is you.’

  ‘And I’m some kind of an acrobat? Is that it?’

  ‘The best. You can jump, you can roll, you can run on stilts as fast as most athletes can run on their feet. You can walk on a high wire without using a balancing pole and you’re one of the greatest trapeze artists that ever was. Double flips, triple flips, easy.’

  Keiran stood back, and spread his arms wide. ‘This is unbelievable. This is absolutely un-fricking-believable. I am Jekkalon. I can feel it. I know that I can really do all of that stuff.’

  ‘Well – you can’t quite do it yet,’ said Springer. ‘You’ll have to wait until you’re asleep, and dreaming. You don’t want to risk hurting yourself, like your old friend Kenny.’

  ‘So how do I go about making people go blind?’ Kieran asked him. ‘I don’t seem to be carrying any guns or nothing.’

  ‘Take a look at your hands.’

  Kieran raised both hands and turned them over. The palms of each hand were so highly reflective that he could see his face in them.

  ‘So I got shiny hands, so what?’

  ‘Kiera – stand beside him,’ Springer asked her. Kiera put down her bottle of nail polish and came across the room. As she stood beside her twin brother, her reflection in the mirror began to shine, and soon she was wearing a tight silvery suit as sparkling as Kieran’s, and a wedge-shaped silver helmet to match. On her back, however, she was carrying a metal grid like a hiker’s backpack frame, except that it was covered with layers of complicated copper shapes like fall leaves, each connected by wires and circuit-breakers and switches.

  ‘Jemexxa is acutely sensitive to any static electricity stored in the upper atmosphere,’ Springer explained. ‘She can almost smell it, even if it’s twenty miles away and thirty-five thousand feet high. She attracts it in exactly the same way as a lightning rod attracts lightning, and stores it up in the framework that she carries on her back. Then – when Jekkalon needs to zap somebody – like Nepththys and her priests for example – Jemexxa raises her hand and sends him a bolt of lightning. Or two bolts, one from each hand, if he needs them. All he has to do is angle his hand so that the lightning ricochets off it and hits whoever or whatever he wants it to.’

  Kiera looked at the palms of her hands and they were as highly reflective as Kieran’s.


  Springer said, ‘See – it’s as simple as shining a sunbeam from one mirror to another.’

  Kieran and Kiera looked at each other again. Their helmets gave them the appearance of two giant praying mantises, one black and the other silver.

  As they stood there, their Night Warriors uniforms gradually faded. After less than a minute, Kiera was back in her football shirt and Kieran was wearing his T-shirt and his jogging pants.

  ‘So what’s it to be?’ Springer asked them.

  ‘I just don’t know,’ said Kiera. ‘It’s all so much to take in. I can’t decide if I’m dreaming all of this, or if it’s real, or if you guys are pulling some kind of scam.’ She started to sound panicky. ‘Like, how can we cancel an entire sold-out concert? That’s two thousand five hundred seats. And we’re supposed to be on stage in less than three hours, for a final soundcheck.’

  John shrugged. ‘Like Springer says, sweetheart, it’s entirely up to you. But if you don’t come with us, the rest of us will have to go anyhow, and from my experience we’re going to need all the firepower we can muster.’

  Kiera clapped her hands over her ears in frustration. ‘Even if we say yes, Lois will be back soon, and there’s no way that she’s going to let us cancel tonight’s concert and drop off to sleep, just like that! Think of all the money that the promoters are going to lose if we don’t show! Think of all the money that we’re going to lose. And how can we let so many fans down? They’ll hate us for it! They’ll never forgive us!’

  ‘OK,’ John told her. ‘If that’s the way you feel. But what about your mom, trapped in that freak show? Are you just going to leave her there?’

  ‘She’s not real. She’s just a dream. You said so yourself.’

  ‘Right now she is, yes. But people suffer, sweetheart, even in the world of dreams. And if we don’t stop Brother Albrecht from bringing his carnival back to this world, she won’t be a dream any more. She’ll be real, and suffering for real. Brother Albrecht will put her on show, along with all of his other freaks, so that the paying public can come along and gawp at her.’