Convicted for the first-degree murder of his girlfriend, Stacey, Stuart consistently denied any wrongdoing. Stacey worked at the pastry shop that Stuart owned and cheated on Stuart with Tommy, the young, handsome man that worked the counter.
When Stuart learned of the affair, he became angry and Stacey disappeared two days later. The remains of her mutilated body were found in an apartment complex trash bin by a couple of garbage men. All signs pointed back to Stuart, who had no alibi and, in his state of rage, carelessly left his DNA all over poor Stacey. He had been in prison a year before he agreed to work with me.
My dream visits to Stuart’s subconscious took place either at the pastry shop, at his home, or in transit between the two. For a while, he tried to convince me of his innocence. And then the body parts started showing up. A severed leg suddenly appeared on his living room couch. An unattached arm fell from the sky and hit his windshield as he was driving us along an imaginary road. The pinnacle came, however, when Stacey’s decapitated head appeared on display at the pastry shop between a plate of raspberry kolaches and a basket of blueberry muffins. Unable to stop the pieces of Stacey from appearing, Stuart inevitably broke down, admitted to the murder, and started the long road to rehabilitation.
“So, do we go to my parents’ house now?” asked Beth.
“Let’s not go straight there,” I replied. “I’d like to see if anything significant occurred on your way.”
“How do we do that?”
“We start driving.”
We went downstairs and to her car. I thought about the convertible we rode around in before compared to her compact, economy four-seater. As nice as the previous vehicle was, it was important to relive the events leading her to attack as close to how they really happened as possible. We drove away from the apartment complex and onto the interstate. So far, nothing seemed out of the ordinary.
“Is there anything in particular you’re looking for?” she asked.
“No. We won’t really know what it is until we see it.”
“Of course.” She looked down at her gas gauge to see that it was close to empty. “Damnit. I’m almost out of gas. Wait. I can just refill it with my mind.”
“Not if you stopped for gas in reality. We need to follow your path exactly as—”
“Okay. Okay. I don’t see how this is supposed to help. I’ve made this drive dozens of times. I’m sure nothing interesting happened.”
She took the first exit off the interstate and stopped at a gas station. She got out of the car and retrieved a fuel dispenser. She placed the nozzle in the filling inlet and set the hose to flow independently. She peeked in through the open door at me and shrugged. An old pickup truck pulled up to the pump next to ours. A man in his middle to late sixties got out of the truck holding a map. He wore a fuzzy flannel shirt and blue jeans with holes in them.
“Excuse me, young lady,” he addressed Beth. “Do you know how I get to Highway 42?”
“Well, if you keep heading north, you’ll run right into it.” She walked over and pointed to the map. “See. This is I-75. Forty-two runs parallel but intersects…” She pressed her finger on a specific spot. “Here.”
“I’ll be durned.”
“You should get a GPS.”
“Oh, no. I’m not much for technology. So where are you headed?”
“To my folks’ house for the weekend.”
“They live off of Forty-two?”
“No. South off of I-65 just outside of Columbia.”
“Well, they’re lucky to have such a friendly and helpful daughter.” He smiled at her. “You have a safe trip now.”
Beth smiled back at him and walked to the car. She nonchalantly removed the nozzle from the inlet and returned it to the holder. She got in the car, started it, and was about to drive away when she saw my face. I believe my expression was a mixture of total disbelief and immobilizing shock. I tried to hide it, but once my jaw fell, there was no pulling it up again. She didn’t seem to understand why I would have such a reaction.
“What is it?” she asked.
I finally broke out of my paralysis. “Seriously?!” I said. “You just told a man you’ve never met before exactly where you’re going! Did that actually happen?”
“I don’t know. So, what if it did?”
“Really? Didn’t your parents ever teach you about ‘stranger danger’?”
“I grew up in a small town, Max. Everybody knew everybody.” She started driving. “Besides, he was harmless.”
“You don’t know that!”
She got back on the interstate. “Trust me. I think I’d remember if some old man beat me senseless.”
“Not necessarily!”
My thoughts went back to Leonard Feister, who, despite fabricating the whole story, fit the age range for someone who could’ve matched the timeframe between the first murder and Beth’s attack. I didn’t tell her that though. Even though it wasn’t real, I couldn’t risk her turning into the crimson creature again and veering off the road head-on into a semi. Not only would it cause a setback, but I wasn’t particularly keen on even pretending to crash on the highway.
“Look, all I’m saying is it wouldn’t hurt to be more careful,” I told her. “The world’s a dangerous place. Not everyone can be trusted.”
“You see, that’s exactly the kind of attitude I want to avoid. I want to believe that most people are inherently good and not develop some unhealthy paranoia just because there are a few psychos out there.”
“There are definitely more than a few.”
“It doesn’t matter how many. I refuse to be controlled by fear.”
There was no way I would tell her, but she reminded me of Katie again. I remembered taking her to kindergarten and walking her to the front door every day. And then one day she asked if I would drop her off so she could walk herself. For some reason, the idea scared the hell out of me, but I let her. She got out of the car and started toward the school. She turned and looked back at me to see if I was still there and then continued. She tripped and fell on her knees, but I let her get up on her own. She looked back once more and then went inside. It’s a frightening feeling when your child goes out into the world alone.
“There’s no use arguing about this,” I said, realizing I was sounding too parental. “You’re an adult. You’re entitled to make your own decisions.”
“Thank you,” she said.
“So, has anything triggered a memory yet?”
“Including the old man at the gas station?” she jested.
“Definitely.”
“Nope. It’s all still a big blur.”
We continued driving until we were out of the city and entered rural Kentucky. She took the same route Linden and I did going back and forth from the farmhouse to the hospital. I wondered how Edward was doing. I still wasn’t ready to tell Beth about him, especially since we were getting so close to the night of the attack. Everything was going fine until we turned down a two-lane highway between two fields. Beth’s hands trembled. She pulled off on the side of the road and put the car in park just as the rest of her body began to shake violently.
“Beth?” I said. I reached toward her but was met with a static electrical barrier. It felt like the one surrounding the “retirement” hotel except it was invisible. “You have to try to calm yourself down.”
“I can’t,” she said. Her face started to morph into pixilated fuzziness. “I don’t understand what’s—”
Before she could finish, her mouth, nose, and eyes disappeared and merged with a random pattern of tiny dots that swirled around beneath her hair and above her neck. Still vibrating fiercely, she put her fingers to where her lips used to be in attempt to stop whatever was happening to her. Her hands were sucked into the whirling insanity that had become her face. Her arms followed, and she let out a muffled, metallic scream.
Not knowing what to do, I leapt toward her but bounced backward off the transparent force field and slammed against the car door. I
watched in horror as the rest of her body inverted itself and got pulled into the inexplicable vortex. Her feet were the last to go inside. Once they were gone, the matrix broke up into a thousand pieces and then vanished completely. Beth had departed.
Not knowing what to do, I got out of the vehicle and began searching for her. I looked underneath the car and in the trunk. I walked out into the field on the side of the road where she had stopped, calling for her along the way. After a few minutes, I felt like I’d been there before.
And then I found her and realized why. Lying in the tall grass, bruised and bleeding, Beth was where they discovered her the morning after the attack. Her eyes slowly opened into tiny slits, and she saw me standing above her.
“Max?” she said weakly.
Chapter Twenty-Six
“Can you move?” I asked.
“I don’t think so,” answered Beth. “I feel kind of stuck.”
“Alright, listen. I need you to tell yourself this isn’t real. I need you to stand up and walk with me to the car.”
She grunted, but her body stayed still. “I can’t.”
“Yes, you can.”
“No.” A tear ran down her cheek. “I’m paralyzed.”
“It’s all psychological. You opened your eyes. Now just lift one finger for me.”
“It’s not working. Please, help me.”
“Maybe if we get away from here, you’ll snap out of it. I’m going to pick you up. Okay?”
“Okay.”
I put my hands underneath her and lifted her up into my arms. She weighed less than a feather. I carried her over to the car and, still holding her with one arm, opened the back door with my free hand. I set her down gently, letting her lie across the back seat. Her body looked tense as if had been restrained by invisible rope. I went around to the front of the car and got in on the driver’s side.
“How’d you get so strong?” she asked, her voice muffled.
I smiled and started the car. “It’s just a trick I picked up over the years,” I explained. “I can manipulate weight with my mind.”
In actuality, I learned the skill out of necessity. An inmate named Arthur Casey didn’t particularly like the idea of me going into his dreams so he’d try to force me out of them.
More specifically, he had worked in construction and came at me with a wrecking ball as soon as I entered his mind. At first, I retreated, but then reminded myself that the rules of gravity didn’t apply. I walked right up to him, and he swung the ball straight at me. I lifted my hand and stopped it with my pinky finger. After that, he must’ve thought I was some kind of wizard because he ceased the defensive strikes and cooperated.
“I’m going to your parents’ house,” I told her. “All I need you to do is tell yourself this isn’t real.”
“This…isn’t…real,” she said and then became quiet.
I drove along the highway until we arrived at the farm road that led to her childhood home. As I turned at the intersection, two zebras raced past, nearly sideswiping the car. I hit the brakes as two elephants thundered by in front of us, followed by two lions and two horses. I sat and watched behind the wheel as more animals ran down the highway in pairs. Hundreds of them hurried off in the opposite direction of where we were headed.
“I take it you went to Sunday School when you were a kid,” I said.
“Yeah,” she said sleepily. “Why?”
“The passengers of Noah’s Ark just bolted.”
I continued down the farm road and, apropos for the Old Testament motif, it began to rain. The closer I got to the farmhouse, the harder it came down. By the time I reached the Martins’ home it was pouring. I stopped the car as close to the front porch as I could. I considered willing the rain to stop but remembered that manipulating someone’s mind can cause a backlash. If Beth needed it to storm, so be it.
I quickly got out of the car and went around to the back door. I opened it, picked Beth up from the seat, and hurried with her through the torrent to the shelter of the porch. Once we were under cover, I knocked on the door with my free hand. Beth opened her eyes slightly and looked at me. I didn’t know in that moment if it was stranger for her or me standing there with her in my arms.
The door finally opened, and Allie peeked her head outside. “Oh, heavens!” she said when she saw us. “What on earth happened?”
“Beth’s a little beat up right now,” I answered. “Do you mind if we come in?”
“Of course not.” She opened the door. “Come inside out of that mess.”
I carried Beth into the house and laid her down on the couch in the living room. Edward was sitting in a rocking chair and staring at a television screen. Only there was no show on, just static. He focused on the black and white dots despite our arrival. Allie stepped out for a second and came back with a bowl of chicken noodle soup on a silver platter, the same one, in fact, that she served pie from when Linden and I first visited their home.
She laid the platter down on the coffee table and sat next to Beth on the couch. “Did you know that chicken noodle soup fixes everything?” she asked me and then dipped a spoon into the bowl.
“I did not,” I replied.
“Oh, yes.” She held the spoonful of broth an inch from Beth’s mouth. “I bet if Hitler’s mother served him chicken noodle soup more often, World War Two would’ve never happened.”
“Is that so?” I played along, opting to not point out the illogic of her statement.
Just then, Teenage Beth came into the living room from a hallway leading to the back of the house. She was wearing a Pink Floyd t-shirt and, with her hair mussed up, appearing as if she had just gotten out of bed. She saw me and winked at me. Allie noticed her and frowned.
Meanwhile, Adult Beth wasn’t accepting the chicken noodle soup. Her eyes were wide open, but it was as if she were in a trance.
“What’s for dinner?” asked Teenage Beth, evidently oblivious to the presence of her older self.
Allie sighed. “Same thing we always have,” she replied, placing the untouched spoon back in the bowl. “Ham hocks and pigs’ feet.”
“Jesus Christ!” exclaimed Teenage Beth. “Can’t we ever eat anything normal?!”
“You watch your language, young lady!” said Allie. “Don’t you ever use the Lord’s name in vain in this house!”
“Fine!” she said. “I’ll leave then!” She went to the front door and opened it. It was still raining heavily outside. “On second thought, I’ll go back to my room.” She slammed the door and disappeared down the hall.
“You’ll have to excuse her,” Allie said to me. “She’s going through one of those phases.”
She placed her hand on Adult Beth’s forehead and quickly pulled it away. “Oh, my.”
“Is she hot?” I asked.
“She’s freezing,” she answered. “Pretty soon, she’ll be dead.”
“Well, that’s concerning.” I leaned forward and put my lips next to Beth’s ear. “I’m not sure what’s going on here, but I need you back with me. Remember, you’re the one in control.”
Little Beth came in through the back door, soaking wet and crying. “There’s a man outside!” she screamed. “He tried to kill me.”
“Don’t be so dramatic,” Allie told her. “And change out of those clothes before you catch a cold.”
“I’m telling you the truth!” cried Little Beth.
I got up from the chair and went to her. “Show me,” I told her.
She shook her head. “I’m not going back out there,” she said, sobbing.
“Tell you what. I’ll go look. How does that sound?”
She nodded and wiped away her tears. “Be careful.”
I opened the door and stepped out on the porch. The wind was blowing so hard I could barely stand still. I looked out across the land behind the house. At first, I saw nothing, but then a man dressed in a tattered, black suit appeared in the cornfield. His eyes glowed red. His face was covered in soot, and his thick, dark hair was
slicked back. The rain pounded him, but he did not move. I willed an opened umbrella into my hand and held it over my head. Despite my better judgment, I descended the porch steps toward him.
I walked across the grass as the water pelted the top of the umbrella. Evidently, I posed no threat to the strange man because he made no sudden movements as I got closer to him.
About halfway to where he was standing, I turned back toward the house. Little Beth was standing at the edge of the porch, shaking from the cold. I stopped about three feet from the man.
He stared straight at me, unflinchingly.
“Who are you?” I asked.
He grinned and showed rotten, yellowing teeth. “I am the harvester of souls,” he said. “I’ve come for the girl.”
“I’m sorry. You can’t have her.”
He laughed, and the earth shook below my feet. Before I could react, he brushed past me and sprinted toward the porch. Little Beth screamed. The man leapt up onto the porch and grabbed hold of her. I ran after them, but it was too late. Once he had her, they both disappeared into a cloud of black smoke. At a loss, I willed the umbrella to vanish and went back into the house.
I quickly made my way to the living room and was glad to see that Adult Beth hadn’t moved from the couch, not so much so to discover that she was still paralyzed. “Okay,” I told her close to her ear. “I really need you to come back to me now. Things are getting super freaky.”
Edward, who hadn’t budged from his chair in front of the television, turned his head and looked at me. “Ain’t no use now,” he said. “They all go away some time.”
Just when things couldn’t have gotten worse, Beth’s body began to tremble. Her eyes still transfixed on nothing, she shook as if she were having a seizure. I tried to hold her down, but it was no use. Edward, of course, was no help at all. As Beth continued to vibrate, lights shot out of both of her pupils like laser beams and onto the ceiling. More spontaneous illumination escaped from various orifices, causing her to appear as if she were a human disco ball.
Allie was nowhere to be seen. I took a step back from Beth as a crack suddenly appeared in her forehead and slowly crept its way down her face to her stomach. I shielded my eyes as the brightness emanating from the opening became blinding. Through a small sliver between my fingers, I watched as the familiar crimson creature pushed its demon hands out of the crevice and pushed open Beth’s body. The beast climbed out of Beth’s lifeless shell and leapt onto the coffee table. As soon as it was freed, Beth’s split carcass vanished, blinding light and all.
When Beth Wakes Up Page 17