Nightmares Rise

by Mirren Hogan

  The creature slithered under the vehicle, its tongue flicking out to taste the air. Fear tasted so good. The liver secreted bile so much more freely, making it gamey and sweet at the same time. It lay still and waited.

  Flynn kept walking, but he looked over his shoulder every few seconds, hoping to see Makani behind him. Or in front of him. But the more he walked the further away she sounded. He considered phoning for help, but who would he call? He doubted the police would believe him, and it was unlikely there would be telephone reception out here. And the Ghost Busters weren’t real.

  He was about three meters away from the jeep when he had the feeling he was being watched.

  “Makani?” he called out softly.

  No reply.

  A sudden rustling in the leaves on the trees just up ahead made him jump. He froze in place, hardly daring to breathe. His heart pounded and he could feel his body readying for the latter part of the fight or flight reflex. He was about to turn and run when another gust of wind blew through the leaves, shaking them and pulling one loose from the tree. It drifted on the wind for a moment before joining a thousand others on the track in front of his feet.

  “Stop imagining things,” Flynn muttered to himself. He swallowed hard and took a step forward, keeping his senses alert to any sound or movement.

  Flynn’s feet were suddenly knocked out from under him. The ground was hard and rough as his face slammed into it. He saw a blur of stars for a moment and then everything went black.

  Makani had realized that the creature wasn’t following her. That wasn’t what she wanted. “Shit . . . ” She picked her way back down through the bamboo, keeping her knife at the ready. It could be hiding, but she doubted it. Cold fear took hold of her and she called out, “Flynn?! Where are you?! Flynn?!”

  She made it to the stream and crossed carefully, her eyes on the water.

  There was the jeep . . . but where was Flynn? “Oh, shit . . . ” She jumped up, and saw the salt container spilled over. Next to it, was Flynn’s camera.

  “Oh, shit!” She flew back down the trail, headed for the spot she had seen the creature.

  Suddenly, the name of the monster hit her. “Kappa!” She bounced over rocks, her feet flying as she moved over the terrain. Makani had to get to Flynn. Now.

  Flynn’s head was pounding. The blood was roaring in his ears, loud enough to be deafening. Not blood, he realized, the sound of the waterfall. He must be close to one of them. He licked his lips and tasted the fresh spray, and blood. He heard himself groan and winced at the pain in his ribs as he made the sound.

  He opened his eyes a crack but quickly shut them again, dazzled by the glare. He blinked and then squinted, trying in vain to stop his eyes from watering. His vision blurred and he blinked again. He closed his eyes and felt the tears drying on the bottoms of his eyelids.

  Over the sound of the waterfall, something moved close to him, shuffling, sliding.

  “Makani?” he groaned. He cracked his eyes open again.

  A reptilian-looking beak was a centimeter or two from his face.

  His eyes opened wide. He tried to get up as the thing pressed scaly hands against his side and started shoving him toward the water.

  The creature moved with haste. It looked back and forth, as though making sure no one was there to see. It sunk its claws painfully into Flynn’s side, and kept butting and shoving him towards the river.

  Flynn wriggled and kicked at the creature. A punch to one of its legs did nothing to slow it down. He punched again, harder this time. The creature’s skin was so tough his hand bounced off, pain lancing through his knuckles.

  “Crap.”

  Makani was so sick of seeing monsters. And she was pissed at this kappa thing for trying to take Flynn. “Hell no! You ain’t taking my man!”

  She skipped over the rocks and landed square in front of the kappa. Planting her feet firmly, she let fly a kick, and sent the monster flying back against the cliff wall.

  “Field goal!” She spat at the monster, as it tangled in the hanging roots.

  Flynn rolled away from the water’s edge and slowly climbed to his feet. “Remind me not to piss you off.” He laughed weakly. “What the bloody hell is that? I think I would have preferred a maneating croc.”

  “It’s probably where people got the maneating croc stories. It’s called a kappa.” She started to move closer to the creature, and it struggled in the vines, the last of the water sloshing from the bowl on its head.

  “They’re a water goblin. From Japan. They eat livers . . . and if all the water spills from the dip on its head . . . ”

  The creature gasped and started to desiccate on the spot.

  “They die.” She flopped down on the rock and stared at the corpse.

  Flynn staggered off toward the bushes. From the noises he was making, he was bringing up his lunch. After a few minutes, he returned, looking pale and wiping his mouth with the hem of his shirt.

  “Where’s my camera?” he asked, glancing around and then giving her a questioning look.

  “Uhhh . . . oh, shit! I’m sorry, I left it by the jeep! I was so worried, I just ran!” She got up and started back towards her car.

  “You left it . . . ?” he echoed. He swore profusely under his breath and took off running fast enough to overtake her.

  He was cradling his precious Nikon by the time she arrived, flicking through the photos he’d taken off the kappa.

  “What the bloody hell?” He frowned.

  “I’m sorry! Is it broken?” Although why she would be sorry, was a mystery. Not like she was the one who had thrown it down.

  “What?” He glanced up. “No. The photos I took of that thing, the kappa, there’s nothing there. I mean, there is, but it’s not in any of them. Look.” He held the camera out to her.

  She took the camera and started scrolling through the pictures. Nothing. No monster. Not a trace or blur of it. “But it was there! I saw you snap these!” She scrolled back. Makani noticed the shots of her butt, and decided to let Flynn keep those. But she scrolled to the shots of the mananggal, and it was the same story. “None of these are coming out!”

  “I could understand if one of us was hallucinating, but both of us? You did see a reptile thing with a bowl head and a dead woman, right?” he asked.

  “Yeah . . . but look! Nothing is showing up! Even the ones you took earlier today.” She handed the camera back to Flynn. Slumping against the side of the jeep, she sighed and scrubbed her hands over her face. Why was this happening now?

  “Maybe the cupcakes were laced with something? Or maybe there’s something in the water at your place? But . . . is there still a dead body up there?” He looked a little paler.

  “Only one way to find out . . . ” She stood up, brushing herself off. Part of her hoped she would find something. Part of her hoped there wouldn’t be anything there.

  Makani started back over the river, the idyllic peace that she always felt here completely gone. She turned to the north, and started toward the clearing in the bamboo where they had seen the thing.

  With a sigh, he followed. “Do those kappa things travel in packs?” he asked. “If they exist.”

  “I hope not . . . ” She stopped in her tracks. “Oh, fuck . . . ” Makani went white under her tan and took two steps back. There was a body. It wasn’t a woman, though. It was a mananagaal.

  “At least it’s not a person. One less of those is a good thing, right? Only, I guess it means we didn’t imagine it.” He raised his camera and took a photo. Bringing the camera down and looking through it, he shook his head. “Nothing.” He poked at the corpse with his shoe. “But, it feels real enough.”

  “Yeah . . . . so real . . . ” Makani looked at the corpse and sighed. “We need to get the salt and dispose of this. And then we’re going to see Aunty Elsie. This is too much.” She bit her lip and closed her eyes. But when she opened them again, the thing was still there.

  “I . . . don’t know where the salt went,”
he admitted, looking around. “I remembering throwing some on that kappa thing . . . then we ran.” He started back in the direction he’d gone. Only a few steps and he bent to pick up the bright dispenser. He carried it back, averted his face and sprinkled salt onto the corpse.

  Not wanting to be present when the thing blew, she grabbed Flynn’s arm and pulled him back onto the trail, and over the stream. “Yeah . . . this is getting too weird. Waaay too weird again.” Makani realized too late that she had said more than she should and cringed.

  “Again ?” Flynn flinched at the sound of the manangaal popping and then exploding behind them. “What do you mean again?”

  “Ummm . . . it’s hard to explain. I’m not sure if I can.” She held onto his arm, trying not to let her hands shake. Makani desperately wanted to say there was nothing wrong, that it was just a slip of the tongue. But Flynn would find out, eventually. Whether she wanted him to or not.

  “But you’ve seen these . . . creatures before?” he asked. “That’s how you know so much about them?”

  She shook her head, “Not these, exactly . . . look, Aunty explains it better. I want to talk to her about this.” This was the exact reason why she gave Flynn the chance to back out. Some things, she didn’t want to tell people. It was too hard to explain, let alone have it make sense.

  “Right, her place then?” With another sigh, he climbed into the jeep and gripped the handle.

  She hot wired the jeep back to life, and she sped back out to the highway. They drove in silence for a while, Makani driving more sedately than she usually did. They started through the tunnels, and she finally spoke, “Did you have imaginary friends when you were little?”

  “Yeah, but you’ll think it’s dorky if I tell you what they were like. Why?”

  She shrugged and glanced over, “Just curious, comparing imaginations. What were yours like?” She doubted that Flynn’s were anything like her’s had been.

  “Do you promise not to laugh?” he asked.

  “Promise! Now come on, spill.” She smiled at Flynn, and held her breath when they got to the second tunnel.

  “When I was a kid, I wanted to be a superhero. My imaginary friend was my sidekick.” He chuckled. “Who knew I’d end up yours.”

  “Hey, you’re not my sidekick! You’re like . . . my Watson. Or my Danno. Equally as important, and you get just as much airtime. If there were credits rolling, your name would be just as big as mine.” She smiled, biting her bottom lip to keep from laughing at the idea. “Besides, I wouldn’t jump on my sidekick. That’s a conflict of interest.”

  “That didn’t stop Batman and Robin,” he quipped. “Besides, when the credits rolled, you’d be on top. Just how I like it.”

  “I don’t know . . . I kind of like being under you. Besides,” this was another hard thing to admit, “My real name is pretty awful. It’s better if yours was first.”

  “Ok, you can’t say that and then not tell me what it is,” he said. “I won’t laugh either, promise,” he assured her.

  “Uhhh . . . ” How do you distract a tourist? “Hey, look! Kaneohe Bay!” She swerved a little just to add to the effect, and nearly hit a motorcyclist.

  He looked briefly, but then looked back. “Uh-ha. Come on, what is it?”

  She flicked her eyes at Flynn, and pressed her lips into a grimace. Mumbling between clenched teeth, she blushed under her tan, “Ruth-Ann Mei-Ling Kiyoko Makani Lau. There, happy?”

  He snorted softly. “See, I didn’t laugh. I’m sorry that I can’t share an embarrassing middle name. Mine is Andrew. I should be glad it’s not Ulysses, FUC would suck as initials.”

  “FAC is pretty bad, too. But that’s a dialect thing. Nah, my name sucks! Try learning how to write all that in kindergarten.”

  Turning down a hill, they pulled up to a neat little house with a tangerine tree in the yard. “This is it. Aunty’s house.”

  “I thought she’d live somewhere more . . . sinister.” He got out of the jeep and shut the door behind him. It closed with a grinding thunk. “Maybe a cave.” He grinned.

  Makani snorted out a laugh and jumped down, “You should see my parents’ house. It’s in the middle of suburban hell. You wouldn’t believe I’m related to those bananas.” She opened the gate and walked right in, “Aunty! Where you stay?”

  “Makani? Come inside! Did the boy find you?” A voice issued from somewhere in the house, the radio switched on to a local station.

  “I rang her when I found your phone,” he whispered. “Put the call on my bill.”

  “Just be glad she didn’t come get you to find me,” she whispered back. They stepped into the house, and the smell of stale tobacco and pine cleaner invaded their noses. It was a neat little home, everything in its place. Ashtrays were dotted over the coffee tables, and the walls were lined with pictures and bookshelves. “Yeah, Aunty! I brought Flynn. We wanted to talk to you.”

  Elsie stepped out of the kitchen, cigarette in hand. “I know. Sit down. I’ll get you a beer. You probably need it.”

  CHAPTER 12

  Flynn gave Makani a quizzical look but sat in a small but plush chair that might once have been covered in velvet. The fabric was so worn and faded now it was hard to tell. He’d have had to guess at its original color as well, possibly pink with some kind of floral pattern.

  Looking at Elsie, he had the strange feeling she knew just what they’d been through down at the waterfalls. She couldn’t have possibly known, but she was giving him a knowing look that made him want to shiver. He thought back to what Makani had said about it happening again. Maybe Elsie was a party to whatever happened before. Hopefully, she would have some answers.

  Setting a trio of beers on the table, Elsie sat in a chair, and stubbed her cigarette in an ashtray. She leaned back and sighed, turning an antique lighter between her fingers.

  “You saw something today, didn’t you? Something new?” Her gaze shifted from one to the other and back again, dark eyes intense.

  “Yeah . . . well, new to us.” Makani took a beer and started guzzling.

  She recounted the story of going to the swimming hole, and what they had seen and done. The beer was long gone by the time she finished the whole thing.

  “So . . . what do you think?”

  Elsie lit another cigarette and sat in thought for a moment. She looked at the young people in front of her, and nodded. “I think . . . this time, you won’t be able to take a pill and make this go away. The dreams are bigger, now.”

  Flynn looked at them both expectantly. Makani shifted in her seat and avoided looking at him. Elsie simply passed her bottle to her sister’s granddaughter and shook her head.

  “Ok, can someone please tell me what’s going on?” he asked finally. “This has happened before. What have dreams got to do with it? Two people can’t share a dream or a hallucination.”

  “That’s not true. You come from Australia, right? The aboriginal people believe in the Dreaming. The gods came together and made the land and all its contents with dreams. Even here, gods and goddesses created many things that way. If mankind is made in their image, why can’t we bring our dreams into the waking world, too?” Elsie blew smoke into the air, where it swirled and looped around itself like a toxic ghost.

  “When Makani was small, she would have nightmares. They were monsters from the scary stories the children tell each other. The Green Lady, Bloody Mary, Night Marchers, the Faceless Lady . . . all those things terrified her. She insisted they were real. Makani wouldn’t sleep for weeks, wouldn’t eat. She insisted that the monsters in her dreams were coming for her family. That at night, they walked through the house, watching everyone. So she stayed awake to make sure they were safe.

  “Finally, Makani ran away from home and hid out at her swimming hole for three days. When her father found her, she was bus’up, all scratched and bloody. The doctors insisted she did it herself, but she swore up and down that the monsters had followed her because she was the one who dreamed them up. Makani sa
ys she fought the monsters and made them all go away. No one believed her. I didn’t even believe her.” Elsie shot a regretful look at Makani.

  “Her parents had her put on medication, and they insist that’s why she stopped seeing things. And they sent her to live with her grandparents, thinking she needed more attention. The only thing her grandma did was believe in what Makani was saying. They even got me to believe. The dreams stopped when she got older. But I suppose this means they’re back? New dreams, worse dreams?”

  She looked at her grandniece, but Makani had shrunk in on herself, clutching the bottle in her hands, knuckles going white. “I’m not crazy.” She shook her head and drank deeply.

  Flynn reached across and put a hand on hers. He could feel her skin, cold and trembling. “No, you’re not,” he assured her. “Unless we both are. Those things were real.” He turned his hand over. The blood has dried, but the bite mark was still there. It would probably leave an interesting scar. “Unless piranha live in that water, then that’s proof that we’re not going crazy. But what do we do about it?” They might not be imagining the monsters but that didn’t mean they’d be believed.

  “I don’t know. No one knows but Makani.” Elsie looked at the girl, and lit another cigarette. “What happened the first time? Tell us, babe.”

  Makani put the bottle down, and ran a hand through her hair. She looked at Flynn, “Do you really want to be here for this? I mean, if it wasn’t for me, you’d still be enjoying your time on the beach, and not getting mixed up with . . . whatever comes out of my head. It’s not too late to get away.”

  “I was bored,” he admitted. “This is much more interesting. Besides, I’ve never been the kind to walk away when someone needed me.” He could tell her stories but now was not the time. Later. Hopefully, there would be a later. He wanted there to be one. Either way, he couldn’t, wouldn’t walk away now.

  “You’re crazy.” She snorted and half-smiled. “All right, fine. You know what it took to get rid of the things last time? I didn’t. I just kept running.” Makani shook her head, and wrapped her arms around her knees. “And eventually, they started attacking each other. It took days, but eventually, they killed themselves. That’s when I finally got to sleep, and Dad found me at the swimming hole.” By the time she finished the story, her voice had become very brittle and soft, her eyes blinking hard to clear the tears starting to well up. This was a side to her that Flynn hadn’t expected to see. The tough, strong girl he’d seen—had it only been a couple of days?—was put aside. Her vulnerability made her seem more real, more human somehow. He squeezed her hand. He wanted to put his arms around her, but he wasn’t sure she’d welcome it. She was so independent, so strong. He wanted to comfort her, not undermine her. He settled for holding her hand and waiting until she was ready for anything more.