Dead Spots

by Rhiannon Frater

  “It wasn’t real,” she mumbled, attempting to calm herself. “It wasn’t real.”

  Hurrying out of the shadow of the building, she darted across the front of the café toward the spot where she’d left the car.

  Mackenzie stumbled to a halt.

  Heart harshly thudding in her chest, Mackenzie stared in shock at the empty parking lot. The Taurus was not in sight. “This isn’t real. This can’t be real!”

  Terror gripped her in its crushing grasp, heightening her senses. The sounds of the forest amplified to an almost painful level while the brightness of the sunlight filtering through the trees nearly blinded her. Whirling about, she searched for the missing vehicle in the overgrown brush and dark woods. The wind wildly flipped her hair as she rotated in a circle, clicking the Unlock button on the car remote while listening for the chirp of the alarm.

  “Please, please, please,” she chanted.

  The murk dwelling in the woods might be hiding her car, but it couldn’t be blocking out the keyless remote, could it?

  “It’s not here,” the man in the gray suit said from behind her. “It didn’t follow you into the dead spot.”

  Mackenzie spun about, her dark tresses flailing against her face. The café was no longer leaning dangerously, or a sad reminder of glory days. It was freshly painted, the windows sparkling, and a neon sign over the door flashed the word OPEN.

  “No,” she whispered. “No.”

  Overcome, Mackenzie felt the strength go out of her limbs and she fell to her knees on the recently laid asphalt parking lot. The smell of tar mingled with the scent of pines and cooking food. Continuing to click the remote, Mackenzie stared through tear-filled eyes at the man cautiously walking toward her. It was hard to draw a full breath and her heart pounded so fiercely, it felt like it could shatter her rib cage. The man’s gray coat fluttered around him as he came closer.

  “I know it is a lot to take in. I know. I’ve been where you are.” His voice was rich, deep, and comforting. “I know you’re afraid. I know that you feel like you’re going insane. I felt the same way.”

  Mackenzie stared at the spot where her car had resided, willing it to appear. The area remained defiantly empty. The band of tension around her chest made it difficult to breathe. The world grew gray and dim around the edges of her vision. Her thumb persistently pressed against the button on the remote. “This isn’t happening.”

  The suited man squatted before her, obstructing her view, forcing her to finally look at him. “It is happening.”

  Gasping in short, quick breaths, she struggled to draw air into her oxygen-starved lungs.

  “You need to breathe,” the man urged, resting a hand on her shoulder. “Take a deep breath.”

  Wheezing loudly, she nodded, closing her eyes. Concentrating, she remembered the breathing techniques to calm her nerves. She inhaled through her nose and gradually exhaled through her mouth.

  In, out, in, out …

  Fresh air started to fill her lungs, calming her panic. Gradually, the tight coils in her back released and her neck unlocked from its rigid position. Her chest still felt tight and her heart still beat harshly, but she didn’t feel as though she was on the verge of passing out anymore.

  The man in the gray suit remained next to her, his hand rubbing her shoulder gently. She considered knocking his hand away, but the gesture of sympathy was strangely comforting. She also appreciated his silence. No empty words, no empty promises, no empty reassurances.

  Lowering one hand, she pressed her fingers against the ground. She could feel the rough texture of the asphalt and the heat it radiated. It felt real. Had her dreams ever felt so vivid?

  “Am I going insane?”

  “You’re not going insane. The world around you is insane, not you.”

  “The café was abandoned. All boarded up!” Unshed tears caught in her lashes.

  “Yes, I know. It’s a dead spot. A place where life once thrived. Once humanity moves on, a place like this becomes a dead spot.”

  Mackenzie clenched the remote in her hand. She needed to find her car and drive away from here. Her thumb clicked the button again.

  “That’s useless now. Your car is in the other world, not this one. The only things in this world are the objects abandoned by people over time.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “You will,” he promised sincerely. “What’s your name?”

  Mackenzie stared into his blue eyes hoping that he was just a hallucination of her tortured mind. Yet, she also wanted him to give her answers.

  “Tell me your name first.” She clicked the button again.

  “Grant. My name is Grant.”

  “I’m Mackenzie.”

  His hand plucked the key ring with the remote from her fingers. “Mackenzie, this won’t help you escape from here.”

  Though he seemed pleasant enough, she didn’t trust him, figment of her imagination or not. “Grant, give me back my keys.”

  With a sigh, he returned them.

  “They’re useless here, Mackenzie.”

  “So you say.” She kept clicking and hoping.

  “I know you’re afraid. I know this feels…” Grant hesitated, rubbing his brow. “I know you feel crazy, but you’re not. I promise you. You’re not.”

  “If I’m not insane, then what’s happening to me?” She wanted him to give her an answer that didn’t sound like a horror movie plot, but real and sensible even if he was just a delusion.

  Tucking his hand under her elbow, he helped her stand. “You stumbled through a doorway into a dead spot and it closed behind you. Now you’re trapped just like me.”

  Mackenzie found her balance, but she still felt light-headed and weak. “And what’s a dead spot?”

  “Where we are.”

  “That’s not an answer, Grant.”

  “Yes, it is. I know you want all the details, but I’d like to have a nice meal while I share the information with you. Okay?” A charming smile flitted across his finely shaped lips. Again, he reminded her of a movie star from the Golden Age of Hollywood.

  Mackenzie strode to where her car had once stood and stared at the ground. What she expected to find she didn’t know, but there was no sign that her car had come to rest at that spot.

  “No skid marks,” she said thoughtfully.

  “Your car was never here,” Grant called after her.

  “Right. It’s in the other world.”

  Stepping into the middle of the road, she stared in one direction, then the other. She couldn’t remember a car passing by since her near collision with the deer. The road curved away from her in either direction, empty and foreboding.

  Biting her bottom lip, she rubbed her temple. Her head was pounding from the stress. If she was in a delusion brought on by a mental breakdown, how could she fight her way out of it?

  Grant wandered into her field of vision and thoughtfully stared into the woods. Now that he was in the sunlight she could see that his suit was a little threadbare and wrinkled. Though he gave the impression of being rather clean-cut and dignified, she noted his scuffed shoes.

  Directing her attention to the restored café, Mackenzie muttered, “I’m definitely having a breakdown.”

  “No, you’re not. You need to realize that and soon.”

  “Why?”

  “Because we have a very short time before you will see the true power of the dead spot. In fact, I suggest we take advantage of this interlude.” Grant laid a gentle hand on her shoulder and lightly pushed her toward the café. “I’m trying to help you, Mackenzie, because this place is dangerous.”

  “The café?”

  “No, this world.” Grant sighed wistfully. “I’m sorry to tell you that, but I have to be honest with you.”

  “What’s going to happen?” The muscles along her spine twisted into painful knots.

  “I don’t know,” Grant confessed. “But it’s never pleasant. At least, not pleasant for long. We should take advantage of the
lull to talk about what’s happening to you. You do want to know what’s going on, right?”

  “Of course!”

  “Then let’s get something nice to eat, okay?”

  If this was all some twisted dream, did it really matter if she went with him or not? At some point she’d have to wake up. The truth of the matter was that none of this could possibly be true.

  “Okay,” she finally relented, then warily allowed him to guide her to the entrance of the café.

  Beyond the doorway Mackenzie could see waitresses scurrying around, taking orders and chatting up smiling customers. Piping-hot food, delicious in appearance and smell, was hurried out to the tables by women in beehives and pink gingham dresses.

  A fresh theory occurred to her and Mackenzie eagerly grasped at it. Maybe she was unconscious. Mackenzie raised a hand to her head to tug at her long hair in an attempt to wake herself. Her scalp protested, but the discomfort did not alter the landscape around her. She was locked into the mirage around her. “Maybe I was in a car accident. Maybe this is just a dream.”

  “In some ways it is.”

  “A dream?”

  Grant didn’t answer, but stepped inside the café. He held out his hand to her, his blue eyes filled with worrying compassion. It was as if he knew something terrible was going to happen and he pitied her.

  “What happens when I go inside?” Mackenzie asked warily. Her grip on the purse strap tightened.

  “We eat a nice meal before this all fades away,” Grant answered.

  “And when it fades away, what happens?” Mackenzie licked at her dry lips nervously.

  “We run.”

  CHAPTER 5

  The cozy atmosphere inside the café was as unsettling as its ruined interior had been scant minutes before. Guardedly, Mackenzie studied the faces of the people tucked into the booths or around tables, eating and chatting. The voices of the customers mingled in a miasma of accents, some Texan, some not. Families, couples, workmen, and a giggling group of teenagers barely glanced her way.

  Candy, the waitress with the big blond beehive, motioned toward an empty booth. “Take a seat. I’ll be right with you.”

  Grant touched Mackenzie’s arm lightly, signaling for her to follow with the jerk of his head.

  Remembering her phone, Mackenzie fished it out of her tote and stared at the screen. She still didn’t have any service.

  “That won’t work here,” Grant said. “Really, we should eat now. I’m starving.”

  Mackenzie ignored him. She approached the counter and waited for another waitress, this one with a huge Afro and gold eyeliner, to notice her.

  “Can I help you?” the waitress asked, lifting a finely sculpted eyebrow. Her name tag read: DEVONA.

  “Can I use your phone?”

  Devona tilted her head, glancing toward Grant as a serpentine smile spread on her lips. “Of course you can!” She reached under the counter and pulled out an old black rotary phone. Plunking it down on the counter, she said, “Be our guest.”

  Thick dust covered the phone and spiderwebs decorated the dial. The cord was twisted into a knot and covered in grime. Mackenzie lifted her eyes to see Devona watching with a coy smile on her face.

  Becoming aware that the diners at the counter were also observing her, Mackenzie shifted on her feet uncomfortably. If she was having a breakdown, none of this was real. There was nothing to fear. Apprehensively, she reached toward the receiver to pluck it from its cradle.

  “Don’t,” Grant said sharply, his hand covering hers. His blue eyes glowered at the waitress.

  Devona tilted her chin upward, smirking.

  “We should eat first.” Grant’s tone was almost angry, but his belligerence seemed squarely aimed at the pretty waitress watching Mackenzie with an intensity that was unsettling.

  “I just want to call…” Mackenzie’s voice trailed off. Who did she want to call? Tanner? Estelle? 911? What would she even say? That she had gone insane and was trapped in a mirage?

  “Just … let it go for now,” Grant urged.

  Reluctantly, she withdrew her hand.

  Devona’s smirk faded slightly, but then she shrugged. “I’ll leave it right here if you need it.”

  Mackenzie uttered a subdued “thank you” and followed Grant to a booth. She hadn’t even been aware of the din of the café disappearing until the silence was broken. The jukebox restarted, Jim Morrison’s voice rising above the returning chatter. The rustle of many bodies turning away from observing her interaction with the waitress sent fresh shivers through her body. Gripping the tote ever more tightly, she trailed Grant, her gaze steadfastly resting on the spot between his shoulder blades. Dread flitted through her when she caught a few furtive glances from the people clustered around the tables.

  Grant slid into the booth on the side where he’d be facing the door while Mackenzie sank onto the bench across from him. Her view was of big-pane glass windows bordered by pink gingham curtains, the jukebox, and a corner table where a lone customer sat waiting for her order. The young woman was probably around Mackenzie’s age, with gleaming blond hair that was brushed to perfection around a sweet face with slightly rounded cheeks and big brown eyes. The woman’s immaculate appearance—from her pink sweater to her white lace blouse and carefully manicured fingernails—resembled an ad in a magazine more than actual reality.

  But then again Mackenzie’s grasp on reality had obviously faltered in the last fifteen minutes.

  What if she was in the dilapidated café seated on a torn vinyl bench, its rotting stuffing filled with dead insects? What if the table was really strewn with dead leaves? What if there was no one actually sitting across from her? The barrage of terrifying thoughts produced a slight, frantic gasp from her lips and she covered her mouth with one hand.

  “Don’t, Mackenzie,” Grant said firmly, yet kindly. “Hold on. Don’t break down.”

  “I’m imagining you,” Mackenzie protested.

  “No, you’re not.” Sliding his hand across the table, Grant clutched hers. “You’re not imagining me.” He squeezed her fingers until she cried out and tugged her hand away. “See. Could a hallucination do that?”

  Rubbing her hand, she grimaced. “Maybe. I don’t know. I’ve never lost my mind before.”

  Mackenzie almost had on that awful day when she’d stood next to Joshua’s grave, her mind fragile, fractured, and ready to explode into a million shards. A scream had clawed its way from her soul to her mouth and only Tanner’s comforting arm around her shoulders had kept it silent. She felt that same madness starting to build within her and knew it was time to take back control of her mind. Resolved, she scrounged around in her purse. Withdrawing the bottle of Xanax, she fished one out and swallowed it dry. For a second, she wondered if it would work or if it was imaginary, but she forced the thought away. Her mind needed to believe the pill could make her better so she could regain control. Maybe then she would wake up, or shake free of the delusion.

  “What did you take?” Grant asked, concerned.

  “A pill for anxiety.”

  Cocking his head, Grant scrutinized her. “Do you suffer from it a lot?”

  Mackenzie hesitated, then nodded. “This year I have.”

  “Just order lunch and don’t…” Grant wavered. “Just think about eating lunch and nothing else.”

  Candy paused at their table. Her long fake eyelashes fluttered flirtatiously at Grant. “What can I get for you today?”

  The menus were tucked behind a wire basket filled with condiments. Grant snagged two and handed Mackenzie one. The waitress remained paused over their table, pad and pen in hand.

  “Uh…” Mackenzie was starved, but what would she end up eating? An acorn? Dirt? The food on the menu looked amazing and her stomach rumbled. “I will take … the chicken fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and fried okra. And a diet soda.”

  “The same,” Grant said swiftly. “We’re in a hurry if you could make that a rush.”

  Candy’s pink
lips spread into an almost fiendish smile. “Of course, darling. Anything for you.” She strutted away on obscenely pink glittery high heels.

  Mackenzie glanced toward the perfect blonde finishing her meal. Picking up the napkin on the table, the woman lightly patted her mouth and signaled for the waitress.

  “Look away,” Grant directed, tapping his finger on the table to get her attention.

  “Excuse me? I don’t care if you’re a figment of my imagination; don’t tell me what to do.”

  “You’re a very exasperating woman,” Grant groused. “I wish you would just listen to me.”

  The remark was similar to Estelle’s complaints about Mackenzie’s stubborn nature and she bristled. “Why should I listen to you?”

  “Because I know what’s going on and you need me.” His earnest appearance reminded her of Tanner and appealed to her more than Mackenzie wanted to admit. As Grant fastened his blue eyes on her, she noted the thick fringe of lashes that added to their beauty. He was the sort of handsome you didn’t find much outside the silver screen, and it was a little disconcerting. “Mackenzie, I need you to pay attention to what I’m saying. We’re very short on time.”

  “Why?” Mackenzie looked at him incredulously.

  He leaned forward, elbows on the table. Her mother would have had a fit. “Because all of this is your doing.”

  “My epic breakdown,” Mackenzie sighed. “Gotcha.”

  Lowering his voice, Grant said gently, “No, because the dead spots are traps. And like all traps, they have a lure. A lure is something the prey wants or needs. We both need food. We’re both hungry. That’s why this café reshaped itself. To lure us inside.”

  “The dead spot?” Mackenzie couldn’t wrap her mind around what he was saying. It just sounded so bizarre. But then again the chances were very high that he was nothing more than an illusion her mind had created. What was the possibility of him making actual sense?

  “Dead spots respond to the people they lure into their traps. They read our minds.”