The Nightmare Frontier

by Stephen Mark Rainey

  But a moment later, Copeland noticed a warm, gold tint creeping over her features. Then a brilliant glare suddenly blinded him, and a miniature sun flashed past the windshield, zooming out in front of the car and veering to the right. The fireball entered the trees at stunning speed, a brightly burning ghost unhindered by the thick, crowded trunks. Eerie gold light bathed the depths of the aberrant forest, and for a few moments, Copeland dared hope the thing would just keep going. Then the light again intensified again, and the fireball came rushing back to keep pace with the car, passing through the trees as if they were shadows.

  Debra’s eyes locked on the fireball, only a few feet beyond her window. “I can’t make out any features,” she said slowly, obviously straining to hold her terror in check. “It looks like a solid shape of some sort inside the globe. Jesus, it’s something alive, all right.”

  The road ahead appeared straight, so Copeland stood on the accelerator, winding out the engine, but the fiery ghost continued to pace them. At a loss for anything else to try, he hit the brake and sent the car into a screaming skid, throwing out one arm to keep Debra from pitching into the windshield.

  The brilliant flare shot past the car, then veered straight up, burst through the cover of tree limbs, and soared high into the sky, finally becoming the sole star in the vast black expanse above. Another curve loomed ahead, and Copeland negotiated it at a crawl, fearing what might be lurking at the other end.

  The sight of the small white church, behind which lay Rodney Lawson’s remains, shocked Copeland almost as dramatically as had the onset of the alien landscape. When he looked back, the cavern of trees and the now-distant tower remained visible; but ahead of him, the world seemed to have at least partially regained its senses.

  Not that this made him breathe any easier; and a few seconds later, any relief he might have otherwise felt evaporated when Debra turned to look back and the twin beams of distant but rapidly approaching headlights fell upon her face.

  With a weak sob, she said, “Jesus. They’re coming after us.”

  Copeland hit the accelerator again and the car shoved them back into their seats as it leaped forward. No way could they go back to her house or to Lynette’s. If they drove straight into town, surely there would be people around—somewhere. Would the Barrow brothers be brazen enough to move on them in front of witnesses?

  Why not? The whole town was already witness to their handiwork.

  “The sheriff’s office,” he said at last. When he saw Debra’s incredulous look, he added, “Damn it, Sheriff Grayson’s not the only officer in town. There’s got to be deputies—someone—we can convince to listen. They can’t very well argue—the evidence is all around us now. We need anyone we can get on our side.”

  “You don’t know these people,” she said with a sigh. “When the sheriff says jump, his people say ‘how high?’ and all that. They’re that tight-knit. If Grayson’s in on this and we go to them, we might as well just hand ourselves over to the Barrows.”

  “So…the Barrows really do run this town?”

  Debra gave him a sad look. “Unfortunately, when you’re not directly affected by what they’re doing—or think you’re not—it’s easier…safer…to look the other way. Like most people do around here. Like I have…until now. Now I don’t know if I could be any deeper into it.”

  “No. I don’t suppose you could,” Copeland said, visualizing Levi Barrow’s face and recalling the words he had written into his journal. This was a man devoted heart and soul to fulfilling his desires—one of which was to possess the young woman sitting next to Copeland—and who, as insane as it seemed, literally had the power to change the world at his fingertips.

  “They’re getting closer.”

  He sped up as much as he dared. Lynette’s and Debra’s houses lay just ahead, but neither offered a hope of sanctuary. He passed them at high speed, but the sight of them filled him with a terrible blend of melancholy and fury, and a new longing to avenge his sister’s death pushed aside concern for his own safety. Only a sense of responsibility for Debra’s well-being stopped him from turning the car to face his pursuers head-on—which would certainly kill them all.

  He was not ready to take that step yet. But before all this was over, he thought, he might be.

  They passed no other cars on the streets, although here and there a few people had gathered to gaze in obvious awe at the stone monolith towering above the northern ridge, and the magical, fiery sparks that once again danced the onyx sky.

  “I can let you out,” he told Debra. “You can mingle here, find a place to hide. They’ll never know we’re not still together.”

  “Forget it,” she said softly. “We’ve come this far. I’m not going anywhere.” She reached for his hand, and when she took it, all his rage and grief fled in an instant, and now he doubted he could willingly part with her even if she wished it.

  He made a couple of turns, and the headlights of the trailing vehicle vanished behind other buildings, at least for the time being. Here the street was deserted, and when he slammed the car to a stop in front of the small, squat brick building, he saw that every official vehicle was gone and not a single light burned in any windows.

  No, he was wrong. From within, a flash of hot gold briefly illuminated the glass-paned front doors.

  “Well.” he muttered, “I don’t think we need three guesses to figure out what that means.”

  The car suddenly shook as something heavy thudded into it; startled, Copeland spun his head to see a dark shape pressed against his window. After a moment, he realized it was a man, but darkness obscured his features. The figure awkwardly stumbled back from the car and attempted to walk, only to collapse in a heap on the sidewalk, his head thudding audibly on the concrete. Where the man had pressed against the window, thick streaks of blood painted a revolting, abstract composition on the glass.

  Without a second thought, Copeland heaved the door open, climbed out, and rushed to the fallen man, who wore the uniform of a sheriff’s deputy. Even in the darkness, there could be no mistaking the hopelessness of his injuries.

  “Good God,” he groaned, his stomach lurching at the sight.

  Half the deputy’s face was a black, glistening mass of blood and ruined tissue, and both his wrists ended in jagged, charred stumps. A wet hissing sound issued from a gaping hole above his twisted lower jaw, and one bright eye fixed on Copeland in obvious supplication. A luminous, gel-like substance coated his clothing, but as they watched, it gradually dimmed like moonlight vanishing behind a passing cloud.

  So this was what had happened to Rodney.

  The passenger door slammed and Debra appeared at his side, only to gasp in horror. Within moments, the poor creature breathed his last, his remaining eye gazing pitiably at the black, mocking sky.

  “This had to have just happened,” Debra said, glancing at the nearby trees and the low hedge before turning back to the body. “That glowing substance…that’s what seems to be doing the burning.”

  “Maybe this fellow didn’t jump high enough to suit the sheriff, eh?”

  A sudden screeching of tires and blaze of headlights cut off her response. As they stood frozen in the glare, a thrumming motor grew louder, fell to idle, and then a car door thumped shut. Copeland knew right away that this was not Levi Barrow’s truck.

  “Debra!” came a familiar, plaintive voice. “Debra, don’t run, it’s me!”

  Chapter 14

  “Dad!” she cried, rushing to her father and falling into his embrace. “My God, tell me what’s going on? Where is Mom?”

  Major Glenn Martin shook his head and looked at her sadly. “Get in the car. You’re not safe here.” He glanced at Copeland. “You’re not safe anywhere.”

  Click-click-clack.

  The sound was very close.

  “Get in the car—now!” Martin barked. He opened the passenger door for Debra, who slid inside quickly; Copeland hesitated, his mind reeling with uncertainty, his old instinct to preserv
e his property—his car—briefly asserting itself. Only the intolerable prospect of being separated from Debra finally prompted him to climb into the back seat of the LeSabre.

  Martin slammed the car into gear and pulled into the road just as a warm, golden light spilled over the hedge that lined the sidewalk. As the Buick sped away, Copeland saw a hellish, hideous skull-face rise into view and hover above the bushes, grinning wickedly after them.

  My God, the thing was huge—twice the size of the one at the Barrow house.

  Martin finally said, “Russ, I know you don’t trust me. Can’t say as I blame you. But thank you for helping Debra. It means a lot to me.” Then, after a long pause, the older man nearly lost his composure. “Damn you, going to the Barrows’ was the stupidest thing anyone ever did. Don’t you know what could have happened?”

  “Dad,” Debra interjected. “Tell us what’s going on.”

  “First—where are we going?” Copeland asked.

  “Going? We’re going nowhere, Russ. As fast as we can get there. As I believe you have figured out by now, this town is completely isolated. There’s no road, no trail…not even a deer path…that will lead you back to where you came from. As far as the world is concerned, this little corner of it has split off and gone somewhere else. All we can do now is buy time, wherever we can find it.”

  “The Barrows,” Debra said, her eyes begging her father to say she was mistaken. “They’re responsible, aren’t they? How? How is it possible?”

  “They are, and they aren’t. The Barrows are a catalyst, I guess you’d say. More specifically, Amos Barrow is the catalyst.” With a sigh, he added, “His sons and his grandson are simply opportunists.”

  “Where is Mom?”

  Martin’s face appeared corpse-like in the glow of the instrument lights. He shook his head. “I don’t know. I don’t know if she’s still alive.”

  “You must believe she is,” Copeland said. “That’s why you were at the Barrows, isn’t it?”

  He nodded, but for a time his voice eluded him. Finally, he managed, “Levi Barrow wants an exchange, of sorts. Debra for Elise. He’s obsessed with you, honey—but you know that too. He told me he would return Elise unharmed if I convinced you to give yourself to him. He’s sworn to treat you like royalty, that no harm will come to you. If you refuse, he will offer Elise to those things, and then, chances are, he’ll just catch up to you anyway.”

  “And you’ve thought about doing what he asks, haven’t you?” Copeland said. “Is that where we’re going now? To hand Debra over to Levi?”

  “No!” Martin threw a look of fury back at him. “Do you think I would willingly give my only daughter to someone like him?” His shoulders slumped over the steering wheel. “Of course I thought about it. What would you do? Elise is my wife. And he’s threatening to have her killed in the most horrific way possible. Jesus Lord.”

  Martin drove at a steady speed, heading east, away from the business district, on Hopeman, a sparsely developed, two-lane road. Just trees, empty fields, the occasional mobile home. Desolate. For a few minutes, none of them spoke, lost in the enormity of their predicament. Finally, Copeland asked, “What did Amos Barrow do? How did all this happen?”

  In a strained voice, Martin said, “I am responsible. It all comes back to me, Russ.”

  “Tell us.”

  He heaved a long sigh. “Well. Nearly forty years ago, Amos Barrow’s son, Samuel—Levi’s father—served in my outfit. Echo Company, First Battalion, Second Brigade, First Infantry Division. Tay Ninh, South Vietnam. Just a routine patrol one day, and Samuel Barrow found something inside a temple we had raided. A valuable-looking jewel, he thought. I thought. But he ended up dead that day, and I ended up with the jewel. Except I didn’t keep it. I knew he came from a poor background, and at the time, I had little use for life in general. So I sent the thing to his family, hoping it would do them some good. And that’s how they ended up with it.”

  “What does that have to do with all this?” Debra asked.

  “Pretty much everything. From day one, I could tell there was something odd about that rock. I’ll go so far as to say it made me nervous. It seemed to have a kind of awareness or something. That’s one reason I sent it to the Barrows rather than keep it for myself. Out of sight, out of mind, you know. Except it didn’t work out that way. Quite the opposite, actually.”

  Copeland said, “That glowing blue stone we saw Amos with…”

  Martin nodded. “It’s called Zuso Xhan Mat. That roughly means ‘the Blue Terror.’ Where it came from, nobody knows. But it interacts with an individual’s consciousness. It makes a person dream. Or have nightmares, I should say. The more you dream, the more real they become, until finally they take on physical form. And they begin to alter space.” Then, almost to himself: “Which explains some of the things that happened on that day at the temple.”

  Debra said, “You mean to say these ‘Lumeras’—and these changes around town—come straight from Amos Barrow’s dreams?”

  “In a way. The dreams don’t actually originate in Amos’s subconscious. I guess you’d say they are…implanted. From everything I’ve been able to gather, they come from some place independent of the Barrows or anyone else. The Zuso Xhan Mat is an intermediary. Once activated, it induces the dreams, which are like doorways…or bridges…to what I call the ‘Dream Frontier.’ The things on the other side cross over, bringing pieces of their reality into ours.”

  Debra stared at him, aghast. “Dad, if I hadn’t seen what’s going on for myself, I’d think you were certifiable. How on earth do you know these things?”

  “Even after I got rid of the jewel, I couldn’t get it out of my mind. Obsessed with it, I suppose. So for many years I traveled all over Southeast Asia, looking to learn everything I could about the thing, about the place we originally found it. For starters, I discovered that the temple it came from was older than recorded history. No was ever able to trace its origin.” He cracked a grim smile. “And I had it blown up. That day Samuel Barrow died. There was quite the furor over that among…certain people.”

  “You say the jewel had to be ‘activated,’” Copeland said. “What do you mean by that?”

  “None of this happens overnight. My understanding is that one must build a rapport with some consciousness that exists on the other side. That part is exceedingly difficult. Hell, it’s taken Amos Barrow nearly forty years.”

  “This all started before I was born,” Debra said. “You settled in this town, where the Barrows lived…why? Did you even understand what could happen?”

  “Naturally, I was skeptical of the accounts I’d uncovered. They were all very vague, very old. Still, I’d seen enough evidence to know there had to be something to them. Yes, I originally came because the jewel was here. I thought of myself as something of a watchdog. Back then, though, I had no idea how pervasive the Barrows’ influence was in this town.” He paused to take a deep breath, to measure Debra’s reactions. “For many years, I played nice with them, hoping I might one day have a chance to take that thing from them and somehow do away with it. I had even contemplated killing them, if necessary. Now I rather wish I had. Because, somewhere along the line, Levi discovered, or figured out, that I wasn’t quite the benefactor they originally thought I was.”

  “How could they even think they’ll benefit from what’s happening here?” Debra asked.

  “You don’t understand. Amos—he believes this is all his own doing. He’s actually proud of it. To his mind, he possesses the ultimate power.”

  “What about Mom? How much does she know?”

  Martin shook his head disconsolately. “This has always been my own personal secret. I had hoped to carry it to my grave.”

  Debra choked back a sob. “Then she has no idea why she was singled out. Why they might kill her.”

  “No.”

  “And you never felt you could tell me any of this?”

  “What do you think? Even now, with hard proof in front of yo
ur eyes, you can barely accept it. But you’re right. I should have given you better guidance…some kind of warning. Instead, I sheltered you. Well, I did try to make you see the Barrows for what they are—small, petty people who will take advantage of you the first time you show them any kindness. As you now know all too well.”

  “What about my sister?” Copeland asked softly. “What happened to her?”

  “I don’t know for certain,” Martin said with a sad shrug. “Lynette was a wonderful person, Russ. Levi probably had her eliminated just to hurt you. To him, you are an obstacle. He intends to kill you.”

  “So the Barrows have some control over this dream world?”

  “Perhaps. More likely, it’s the other way around. If the Barrows’ plans do not conflict with those of the others, they give the Barrows some latitude.”

  “The question is…how do we stop them?” Copeland said. “What if we do manage to kill the Barrows? Will that put an end to it?”

  “Only if it’s done while Amos’s dreams still form the bridge the others are using to cross over. That gigantic tower you’ve seen, which appears intermittently…that’s the true bridge between worlds. Once it has anchored itself here, Amos and the Barrows become superfluous. Then they will find out how little they mean in the larger scheme. By then, though, it won’t matter—to any of us.”

  “How far will it spread? Beyond Silver Ridge? Everywhere?”

  “I have no way of knowing.”

  “What about destroying the jewel? Is it possible to do that? Would it make any difference at this point?”

  Martin looked at Copeland in the rearview mirror and raised an eyebrow. “I have some ideas. But there’s no guarantee they will work. This is the great unknown, Russ. I need time to figure some things out. Time, though, is in short supply. Look there.”

  Martin had driven the car up a long hill that overlooked Silver Ridge from the east, and from this vantage point, they could see the monstrous, faintly luminous tower in the distance, its apex hidden by swirling clouds, the black sky speckled with tiny, zigzagging balls of flame. Martin parked beside the road, and the three of them got out, their eyes arrested by the spectacle. The lights of town glowed like embers in a field of darkness, and occasionally, the faint sounds of traffic wafted from far below—the low rumble of engines, sharp blasts from car horns, the shrill screeching of tires. By now, everyone in the community would be aware that they were, in effect, under siege, even if they could not understand by what or by whom.