Sweet Dreams

by William W. Johnstone

  The first few moments of Heather’s day were almost identical to Marc’s. She washed and dressed as quickly and silently as possible. Even the thought of seeing her parents or her brothers disgusted her. The home was very quiet. Her mother walked into the kitchen just as Heather was finishing her cereal and toast and milk.

  Arlene looked a mess. Her face was haggard, her eyes red from fatigue and booze. She smelled bad.

  “You be sure and clean up your mess,” Arlene snapped at Heather. “And then get out of the house and stay out of my way.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Smart-assed little shit.” Arlene said.

  Heather said nothing. She felt contempt sweep over her. If that was the way her mother felt . . . fine.

  Arlene rubbed the back of her neck and glared at Heather. She turned around and Heather could see a red mark, with a blue circle surrounding it, on the base of Arlene’s neck.

  The mother walked out of the kitchen.

  “I’ll just ride my bike today. Me and Marc. That O.K. with you?”

  “I don’t give a damn what you and Marc do. You’ve probably already done it anyway.”

  “Mother!”

  “Oh, shut up!” Arlene walked away.

  Heather looked at her mother’s retreating back. A mixed bag of emotions swept the girl. The emotions trailed off, leaving her with this one thought: It will never be the same again. Never again. I don’t know how I know that, but my parents and brothers are lost to me.

  Forever.

  All right, she thought. I guess that’s going to have to be the way it is. Fine. I don’t know what is happening around here. But I do sense my life to be in danger. I have to – from this moment on – look out for number one.

  Me.

  She cleaned her cereal bowl and left the house. She glanced at her watch. Quarter to seven. She wondered what Doctors Baldwin and Benning were doing.

  “Oh, my God, Jerry!” Maryruth said. “Make it last and last.”

  They had just awakened in each other’s arms, sprawled naked in Jerry’s big bed. A touch here, a touch there, and both became aroused.

  Jerry slowed his strokings, pulling back to the limit and then plunging deep, bringing grunts and sighs of satisfaction from her.

  She whispered something to him. “ ’Bout time you did some of the work,” he said and laughed.

  She straddled him, taking in his thick stiffness as deeply as she could. Jerry’s hands cupped her buttocks, working with her. Her nipples were swollen with passion, fully erect. She began to shiver with another approaching climax. She cried out, eyes half closed, and frantically began working up and down.

  He brought his hands from her buttocks to cup her breasts, the nipples hard aginst his palms. They climaxed simultaneously, and with Jerry’s softening penis inside her, she leaned forward, pressing her breasts against his chest, and kissed him.

  “I was under the impression men didn’t like to touch their women after the sex act?” she teased him, slipping her tongue between his lips.

  He returned the deep kiss. “I’ve heard that too,” he said, caressing her.

  “Lucky, lucky me,” she said, running her tongue down the side of his face.

  The ringing of the phone startled them both and Maryruth jerked away from him. She lay by his side as he reached over her. Before he stilled the ringing, he kissed a nipple and she shivered, pulling his head closer to her breast.

  Jerry broke away and lifted the receiver. He listened for a few seconds, then said, “All right. No. it’s O.K. Right. Yes, I’ll see you in just a few minutes.”

  “What is it?” Maryruth asked, sitting up in bed, totally unashamed of her nakedness.

  “The police. Sounded . . . kind of odd. It’s about Sally, my receptionist and bookkeeper. They said she was dead.”

  “My God! But . . . I mean, what happened, did they say?”

  “They really didn’t say very much at all. Like I said, they sounded odd. I have to go make the ID. She has no relatives close by.”

  “Want me to go with you?”

  “You’d better not. I’ll meet you at the cemetery about nine forty-five, if that’s all right with you.”

  She kissed him. “See you there.”

  Jerry was appalled by the attitude of the police. At first he thought they found the situation amusing, but after only a few moments in the death house, he decided that was not the case at all. He realized the men were not in complete control of their actions or their minds. He was certain of that.

  They had to be under the control of that . . . thing.

  The sheriff of the county, Pat Lennox, made his appearance. He took a look around, grunted once, and spoke with his chief deputy. He then turned to Jerry.

  Dead eyes, Jerry thought. The man’s eyes show absolutely no feeling or emotion. He shifted his gaze to the chief deputy. The man had the same blank expression. He looked at the other cops. All the same. They are being used and they will remember none of this, Jerry thought. They don’t know what they’re doing. They are functioning, but without really realizing what they are doing. He watched as the men all rubbed the backs of their necks. He remembered Matt and Van doing the same thing. There it is. Whatever is controlling them is doing so by tying in, somehow, to the central nervous system, and always at the back of the neck, the top of the spine.

  Why them? he asked himself. Why them and not our little group? Why were we spared? What common denominator do we share? Damn it – why!

  But no voice thundered from the heavens in reply to his question.

  “All right, Doctor,” Sheriff Lennox said. “Let’s get it over with. I haven’t had my breakfast yet. What do you think was the cause of death?”

  Jerry looked at the man to see if he was kidding. Sally’s head was caved in. Blood was gathered in a large puddle around her. A tire iron, with dried blood and bits of hair clinging to it, lay only a few yards from her body. Sally’s breasts were bruised, and it was obvious that she had been brutally raped.

  Jerry decided to test the waters. “Well, Sheriff. I’d say she died peacefully in her sleep. Probably from a heart attack.”

  “Ummm,” the sheriff said. “Yeah, that’s the way I see it too. Very well. Put that in your report, Ed,” he said to a deputy.

  “Right, sir.”

  Jerry felt waves of cold fear wash over him. He looked at the chief of police. “You concur with that, Chief?”

  “Sure,” the man said. “Don’t nothing look out of the ordinary to me.”

  Jerry looked at the other cops. “Are you all in agreement with that? She died peacefully; probably a heart attack?”

  The other cops were in agreement.

  Jerry felt for a spinning, whirlwind moment, that he might be standing on the edge of losing his mind. Silently, desperately, he fought for control. His emotional stability regained, Jerry pointed to the body of the dead woman. “Sheriff Lennox, how would you describe the dead woman’s present physical appearance?”

  Lennox looked down. He pursed his lips. “Well, looks all right to me. Kinda pale, is all. Guess a heart attack does that.”

  Jerry asked the chief deputy. “And you, sir?”

  “I’ll go along with the sheriff, Doc. It ain’t a pretty sight, but dead folks never are.” He looked at the sheriff. “You reckon that buffet breakfast at the drive-in is any good this morning? I sure am hungry.”

  “Yeah, me too. It’s usually pretty good, Ed. We’ll try it soon as the doc gets through here.”

  “I’ll just be a few more minutes, gentlemen,” Jerry said. He spoke to the Chief of Police. “How about you, Chief?”

  “Am I hungry? I sure am.”

  “No, Chief,” Jerry said patiently, aware now that Voyles was at the door, listening. “The body. How does it look to you?”

  “How come a person that young dies of a heart attack? I never have understood that. She looks all right to me, Doc.”

  Jerry cut his eyes to the front door. Voyles had not moved.
He stood in the doorway, a look of total disbelief on his face.

  “Well, gentlemen,” Jerry said, forcing a calmness that he certainly did not feel into his voice. “I guess that’s it. If you all will excuse me, I have a funeral to attend this morning.”

  “Sure, Doc,” the sheriff said. “And once again, I’m sure sorry about your wife having that car wreck.”

  “Yeah,” the chief said. “Sometimes a little fender bender is fatal. Strange things do happen in this old world of ours.”

  “Yes,” Jerry quickly agreed. “Very strange things, indeed.”

  Voyles walked with Jerry off the porch of the small frame house and up to the sidewalk. The cop said, “Doc, was I dreaming all that I just heard back there?”

  “Would that you were. I personally thought I was going to faint listening to them talk. No, it was no dream. However it was done, Dick, whatever is fighting us – for whatever reason – has blocked out a part of reality for the citizens not taking an active part in this ... matter. It is allowing them to see only what it wants them to see.”

  “Doc!” Voyles protested. “That’s not possible! ... Is it?” he added weakly.

  Jerry looked at his watch. He wiped his forehead with his fingertips and flipped away the sweat. The day was shaping up to be a scorcher. “I agree with you, Dick. Technically, in human terms, no, it isn’t possible. But it’s happening. None of us can deny that. Your man from the patrol made it in yet?”

  “Yeah” the cop said glumly. “But it isn’t a man. It’s a lady. Patrolman Vickie Hammel. A female patrolman, for Christ’s sake.”

  Jerry grinned. And after the events in the house, the grin felt good. “Patrolperson, Dick. Always remember that.”

  “Wonderful,” was Voyles drily given response. “Patrolperson, my ass. Anyway, she’s gonna start surveying at nine o’clock. She’s been assigned to work with me on this . . . thing. And no, I haven’t told her anything about the ghosts and ghoulies lurking about.”

  “What happened to Kowalski?”

  “Vacation. Doc? I’m gonna be honest with you; confess something. I picked up the phone last night to call Jeff City, tell them about all the weird stuff that’s been happening.” He sighed heavily. “And, well, crap! This is gonna sound awfully stupid.”

  “Say it.”

  “Well, when I put my hand on the phone, I couldn’t remember what I was going to do. I was blank. It was like . . .” He hesitated, a confused look on his face.

  “Like your mind had been wiped clean,” Jerry finished it.

  “That’s it,” Voyles said softly. “Scared me. I’ll damn sure admit that.”

  The two men stood for a few minutes while the ambulance driver and the cops removed the body.

  “How many times did you attempt it?” Jerry asked. “Can you remember?”

  “Oh, yeah. Half a dozen times. Same thing happened every time. Doc?”

  Jerry looked at him.

  “I don’t know how to fight this. I’m . . . getting scared, Doc.”

  “If it’s any comfort to you, so am I. Look. Do this for me. Let’s find out how far the aw, shit! might as well say it – let’s find out how far Sanjaman’s control extends. We can drive out into the country; travel as many roads as possible. Do you have a CB in your car?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Let’s do our talking on ... say, channel forty. Shouldn’t be too much traffic on that.”

  “Do you have a good CB?”

  “I’ve got one with a booster on it that’ll blow your doors off,” Jerry said with a grin.

  “Those are illegal, Doc.”

  “So arrest me.”

  Voyles grinned boyishly. “I can’t. I’ve got a booster in mine, too.”

  Jerry laughed. “O.K. Let’s start right after the funeral service.”

  “Done. Look, how much do we tell Patrolman . . . Patrolperson Hammel?”

  “That’s up to you, Dick. You’re running this show, not me.”

  Voyles shook his head. “No, that’s not right, Doc. I think we’re all in this together. I think whatever we do had better be coordinated. Do you agree?”

  “I agree. Tell you what. At one o’clock this afternoon, let’s all meet at my house. We’ll level with your new” – he grinned – “patrolperson.”

  “Cute, doc, cute. How about Bud and Leo? I don’t know where they live.”

  “I have a feeling they’ll be there.”

  “Then you’re going to get in touch with them?”

  Jerry shook his head. “No. But I’ll bet you they’ll both be there at one o’clock.”

  Voyles gave him a funny look, then shuddered. “That old Indian gives me the creeps. Well, this will sure be something to tell our grandkids, won’t it?”

  “If we live through it,” Jerry said, tossing some cold water on the cop’s statement.

  Voyles nodded his head. “Yeah. There is that to consider. Talk to you, Doc.”

  “See you.”

  Heather and Marc met at the shopping center parking lot. They really did not have to speak; the expressions on their faces told the whole story.

  “So how’s it going over at your house?” Marc asked.

  Heather told him, straddling her bicycle.

  “Yeah,” the boy agreed. “It’s pretty grim at my house, too.” He told his story.

  “Marc? Look around you. Everything looks normal. People are going to work, gathering over there at the café for coffee and breakfast. They’re going shopping and stuff. Nothing is wrong to them. Nothing. Marc, I don’t understand what’s happening. And why us?”

  “I don’t know if anybody knows what’s happening,” Marc countered.

  “Whoever is doing this does. Marc? I gotta say this, and don’t get mad at me.”

  “I’m not gonna get mad. Say what?”

  “I’m scared of your father.”

  Marc nodded his understanding. He looked at Heather, an odd glint in his eyes.

  “What’s wrong?.”

  “I’ve got an idea, that’s all. Something . . . look. Let’s find a place to sit and talk, kind of hide out for a few hours. Until after the funeral. Then we can go over to Doctor Baldwin’s house.”

  “Why not go over there now? He won’t mind us staying inside his house. I betcha.”

  “Let’s go.”

  They left, pedaling hard, both of them conscious of being watched.

  But they didn’t know if the eyes on them were human. . . .

  5

  Jerry felt nothing as the minister intoned his final pleas for Lisa. It seemed wrong that he could not muster up even a tiny modicum of emotion for his dead wife, but he concluded they both had been dead to each other for a long time. As it was, for all he knew; they might be burying a total stranger that morning, no one knew what ashes belonged to whom after the fire.

  Very few people were in attendance, and those who had come left hurriedly immediately after the service, mumbling a few hellos and I’m sorrys, their eyes downcast. Fearful, frightened eyes, Jerry thought. Confused and uncertain eyes. They know something is happening around this town, but they don’t know what. They have retreated to the safety of a sanctuary; back to the fire in the cave; primitive emotions have taken precedence; their brains tell them danger is near, and to survive they must stay out of sight.

  Jerry lifted his eyes to meet Maryruth’s gaze. She nodded her head in understanding.

  Very sharp person, Jerry thought.

  Even the minister seemed to be in a great hurry to depart the scene. In a very short time, only Jerry and Maryruth remained.

  Maryruth came to his side. “Strange, stranger, and strangest,” she remarked. They were the first words she had spoken to him since her arrival at the gravesite.

  “Wait until you hear the stories Marc and Heather have to tell you,” Jerry said. “Those two kids are badly scared, Maryruth – just scared.”

  “I can empathize with them, Jerry,” she admitted. “Believe me.”

  Briefly,
Jerry told her what Marc and Heather had experienced the previous night, and what he and Voyles were planning.

  “Is that safe?”

  “I don’t know, Maryruth. But we’ll soon know.” He glanced at his watch; ten-thirty “Why don’t you go on over to the house, stay with the kids? I’m going to drive around and stay in contact with Voyles. I’ll be back in about an hour or so. We’re all going to meet there at one.”

  She touched his face with her fingertips. “You be careful.”

  “Bet on that.”

  “You copy this, Dick?” Jerry spoke into his mike.

  “Ten-four, Doc. You ’bout blew me out of the car.”

  Jerry adjusted the volume. “That better?”

  “Five by five, Doc.”

  “Where are you?”

  “I’m on a county road heading due west. Just crossed over the interstate. Everything O.K. so far. I . . .”

  The silence seemed loud in the car. “Voyles! Can you hear me, Dick?”

  “Who is this?” Voyles questioned, his voice hard-sounding.

  “Doctor Jerry Baldwin. Dick, do you remember anything about this?”

  “Baldwin? What are you talking about? What’s going on?”

  “Listen to me, Trooper. And don’t interrupt. Turn around. Repeat: Turn around. Just do it. Come back toward the interstate. It will all clear up for you in a minute.”

  “Baldwin, what are you trying to pull? I don’t take orders from you. What’s going on?”

  In desperation, Jerry shouted into the mike. “Voyles, you big lard-assed dipshit! I’m goin’ to whip your fat ass, you stupid pig.”

  “What’s your ten-twenty, you bastard!” Voyles roared, rattling the speaker in Jerry’s car.

  Jerry grinned. “Turn around and find me, you prick.”

  “On my way!”

  In less than thirty seconds, Jerry’s speaker blurted out, “I lost it, didn’t I, Doc?”

  “You sure did. I had to threaten to whip your ass to get you to turn around.”

  Voyles chuckled. “I don’t think I want to mix it up with you, Doc.”