Dead and Gone

by Tina Glasneck

  Just as the horse seemed to be on top of him, he darted suddenly to the right, jumping off the road and stumbling down the soft red clay that covered the hillside. Behind him, he heard the rider stop the horse briefly and turn.

  Quinn kept himself moving as he came to the bottom of the hill. He dove into the forest, desperate to put distance between him and his pursuer. The trees were a thick knot of pines and as he ran he could feel their dead branches slicing into him.

  He was cut, bruised and shaken, but he kept running. There was no time to stop, barely time to breath and he prayed he could find the right direction. He couldn’t think with the sound of his heart pounding.

  The moon’s light was obscured through the dense forest, but Quinn pushed on toward what he thought must be north. North was the bridge and his only hope for safety.

  Behind him, he heard the crash of the horse coming through the trees. Quinn didn’t know how that was possible. He only moved forward, hearing the ever louder sounds of something large hacking its way through.

  He chanced a brief glance back. He could make out a shape moving preternaturally fast toward him.

  There had to be a way out. Quinn jerked himself to the left, crouching low to the ground to avoid branches. He tripped and his hand fell onto a large branch as he tried to stop himself from falling. He stifled a scream and kept running.

  The bridge. He had to reach the bridge. He plowed on before reaching a small clearing in the woods. He looked behind him, but he didn’t see anything. Worse, he heard nothing. The night was silent.

  Where the hell was it? He tried to be quiet and just listen. But he could only hear the sound of his own breathing. There was nothing alive out here, only an endless parade of dead trees.

  “Hey Quinn,” a voice said.

  Quinn screamed.

  He had no idea where the voice was coming from. He looked around the clearing and saw nothing.

  “Over here,” the voice said, and it sounded like it was behind him.

  He whirled around but there was nothing. Just the dark forest all around him, fencing him in. All of this felt familiar, very familiar, but something was wrong. He was supposed to start running toward the bridge.

  He turned to leave.

  “Please wait a minute, Quinn,” the voice said, coming from behind him again.

  He turned and this time there was someone. A man stood at the edge of the clearing. He was dressed in a black suit, as if he had been to a formal dinner. But Quinn could not take his eyes off the man’s face. He had piercing blue eyes, which reminded him of someone. But the eyes demanded control. They demanded he pay attention.

  The man came forward. Quinn tried to step back and found he couldn’t move. This isn’t right. I’m supposed to run for the bridge. The horseman is supposed to chase me. There is no man here.

  “I am sorry to interrupt,” the man said.

  There was nothing wrong with the man’s appearance. He shouldn’t have been intimidating in the least. He appeared to be Quinn’s height and approximate build. He looked older and his face bore a small scar. But Quinn was afraid. He was almost as anxious to run away from the man as he had been from the horseman.

  “What do you want?” Quinn asked. He couldn’t run, move, or even look away. He felt trapped.

  “What do I ever want?” the man asked. “To make a deal.”

  “No,” Quinn said. It was automatic, reflexive. There were no good deals with this man. He knew it in his soul.

  “Come now, Quinn,” the man said, and his voice was gently chiding. “You didn’t hear me out.”

  “I don’t need to,” Quinn said. “This is just a dream.”

  “No, it’s a nightmare, but I grant you your point,” the man said and he continued staring at Quinn. His eyes bore right through him. “I’m not here to help with that.”

  “Then what’s your deal?”

  “Well, you will have to learn to deal with your cennad on your own,” the man said, and Quinn had no clue what he was talking about. “I can’t help you there, even if I wanted to. We all have to face our fears by ourselves.”

  “What do you mean? Who are you?”

  The man waved his hand as if it was unimportant.

  “Not the point and it doesn’t matter, at least not yet,” the man said. “I’ve come to offer help.”

  “Somehow I know I don’t want help from you,” Quinn said.

  “Only because you aren’t thinking clearly,” the man said. “Let me tell you how it’s going to go. If you leave now, you will wake up as you always do and remember nothing but the usual nightmare. And when Lord Halloween comes after you and Katrina, he will kill you.”

  “Are you Lord Halloween?” Quinn asked.

  The man laughed at that, a full-throated belly laugh.

  “No,” he said. “I’m something much worse.”

  “Then why are you helping me?”

  “Let’s just say I’ve been in your shoes before,” he said. “And I’d like to move this little game forward. As it is, I’m a little worried my two favorite players are going to be taken off the field before we can really get moving. Lord Halloween knows all about dear Trina, Quinn, and he knows you love her.”

  “Wait a second, I mean…” Quinn started. “I just met her.”

  The man shrugged.

  “I know what I know,” the man said. “And what if I told you she feels the same way? What if I told you she is right now having a dream about you—and it’s not this kind of dream. She’ll wake up blushing, I promise you that.”

  “How do you know this?”

  “I know a lot of things, Quinn,” the man said, and he began walking around him slowly in a circle. Quinn had no choice but to follow, slowly turning around him.

  “Here’s the deal,” he said. “You won’t remember much, but keep this in mind. Don’t leave Trina alone, even while she sleeps. She doesn’t think she trusts you, she will try to keep you away, but she is in grave danger. She isn’t the only one, though. Lord Halloween will come for you first.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s his way. He has already been tracking you two and you have no clue who he is.”

  “Tell me, if you know,” Quinn said.

  “Oh, I know,” the man said. “But as with our nightmares, there are some things you have to face yourself. I can’t give the whole game away. I will give you a hint, if you accept my deal.”

  Quinn hesitated.

  “What’s the deal?” he asked.

  Suddenly Quinn found he was free to move again.

  “That’s better,” the man said. “A little bit more civilized, I think. Now you are ready to hear. Your only chance to beat Lord Halloween is by embracing what you are. You don’t understand what I’m saying and that’s okay. When the time comes, you will know. You are far more dangerous than your opponent. He is, at his core, just a man.”

  The man walked behind him now. Quinn looked up at the moon above and noticed its light wasn’t white anymore. It had turned slightly red. A dark maroon moon hung over the sky.

  “It’s never been like this before,” Quinn said.

  “No,” the man said. “And this is just the beginning. Lord Halloween is a man, but you are something else. Are you scared now?”

  And Quinn knew he should be. He could still hear a horse out in the woods somewhere, waiting for him. But suddenly the horse didn’t seem to be his enemy. It was calling to him. He could imagine being on the horse, riding through the black darkness, a blood moon guiding his way.

  “That’s it,” the man said. “You can be so much more, Quinn. You can be the thing others are afraid of. You can be the nightmare that lurks in the shadows.”

  And Quinn felt power surge through him. Suddenly, he could sense everything around him. He could count the pine needles on the ground, hear the wind whistling through the branches, the worms in the earth. This was his time. The horse was coming for him, but not to harm him. To pick him up. To set him free. This was what
he was born for.

  “What do I have to do?” Quinn asked.

  “It is your only chance to save Katrina, Quinn,” the man said. “Embrace what you are, or I promise he will gut, torture and kill you both.”

  “What do I have to do?” Quinn repeated.

  “Follow your instincts,” the man said. “If you get another chance to kiss Katrina, take it. Don’t hesitate. Face your fears. If you succeed, you will be offered a gift. Take it. It’s not free, you will find that out in time, but it is yours to take. Use it.”

  “How?”

  “You’ll know when the time comes,” the man said.

  “What’s in it for you?” Quinn asked.

  The man smiled. It was a cruel smile, the smile of someone who has lived for centuries and watched countless innocents fall into darkness.

  “Everything,” he said, and that was the only explanation Quinn was going to get.

  He shivered.

  “I don’t know,” Quinn said. The urge to say yes had been overpowering, but he faltered. Whatever he was being offered wasn’t free—the man had said so himself—and Quinn wondered if the price was too high. What he had experienced didn’t feel like something good. It felt like a weapon, one that would corrupt him.

  The man took a step forward.

  “You don’t have to make a decision yet, Quinn,” he said. “All I wanted was for you to consider the deal. And understand this: there is no other way to save her than to take what will be offered to you. If you don’t want her to die like her mother, this is the only way.”

  Quinn knew he was being manipulated. How many sources did he work with that tried to push you in a certain direction? This pitch was as subtle as a brick to the head.

  “What’s your hint? How do I find him first?” Quinn asked.

  The man looked at Quinn a long time and he looked satisfied.

  “Not every victim of Lord Halloween is among the dead, Quinn,” he said finally. “Your girlfriend is one, but there are others. Look for the one that he trusted.”

  The man turned to walk away.

  “Wait,” Quinn said. “That’s not enough.”

  Without turning back, the man headed into the forest. Before he disappeared, he said one more thing. “Look for the one like you.”

  Then he was gone, leaving Quinn standing in the forest. He looked at the moon. Had he thought it was red? It was now just a pale orb hanging in the sky. Quinn shook his head. Had he been talking to someone? Where was he?

  He heard a sound in the darkness, a horse neighing. Then he remembered. The horseman. He had to run, he had to get out of here. But he paused on his way out of the clearing.

  He couldn’t shake the feeling that something different had happened, something new.

  It didn’t matter. The road was ahead. He had to make his way back. He had to reach the bridge, or die trying.

  He moved closer to a patch of moonlight and saw that it looked like a way out of the forest—a break in the trees and then a hill beyond. He moved silently towards the clearing. He paused and looked around him. Nothing stirred.

  When he moved into the light, he could see the road lay in front of him. Emerging carefully, he glanced in both directions looking for any sign of the horse. But there was nothing, except long shadows cast by the moonlight.

  He could stay here, but it was possible the Horseman had gone back. Maybe now was his only chance. He knew the bridge was to his right. It couldn’t be that far. With an effort, staying close to the forest on the far side of the road, Quinn started jogging as quietly as he could.

  With every step, he started to feel better. The overwhelming presence of his pursuer was gone—that feeling like somehow he was just behind him out of sight. Maybe he would be free this time. Maybe he could reach the bridge.

  He saw it now, far down the road. It was approximately a half-mile away—a few minutes, he thought. That’s all I need, Quinn thought, a few minutes.

  He gathered up his remaining energy and started to run. It was a dead run, with all the energy he could manage. With every step, the bridge was closer.

  That’s when it happened. The pounding of hoof beats exploded out of the forest behind him. Quinn didn’t dare look, he just kept running. Somewhere behind him he could hear the horse kicking up the clay as he pounded his way toward the bridge. A dark hollow laugh echoed high above the trees and Quinn’s blood ran cold.

  One minute, he thought—I’m so close this time.

  But he knew he wasn’t going to get it. The horse’s gallop sounded ever closer, a noise that was pounding into his brain with every step. The laugh rang out again as Quinn stumbled.

  The horse was on top of him. Quinn could hear the blade come out of the Horseman’s sheath. Could hear it positively ringing in the cold fall air as it began its stroke. And Quinn knew where it would be aimed. He could almost feel the blade as it approached his neck.

  He could see the bridge, only yards away. But he wouldn’t make it.

  Quinn knew he was a dead man.

  He knew what it felt like to die.

  When he woke up, he was screaming.

  Friday, Oct. 13

  Quinn came in early in the morning and was again one of the first in the office. He felt tired and worn down but forced himself to start working. It was the only way to get his mind off the nightmares. He checked off several ideas on his agenda. He had to keep following up the Kilgore murder, had to write up that piece on Terry and…

  Talk to Buzz, he remembered. See if Buzz could think of anything that happened in the Chronicle building.

  After a moment, he found a note stuck to his desk keyboard.

  “Don’t forget about the dog story,” it read.

  Quinn crumpled it up and threw it in the trash. He didn’t even look at the signature—a loopy giant H. The dog story? He had written the lead of the paper this week and Helen was still forcing a story about dog shit. It was enough to drive you nuts.

  He was also surprised to find his voicemail light blinking. Surely Helen hadn’t decided to leave a voice message as well?

  But it wasn’t Helen. Instead it was a message from an old source of his asking for a meeting.

  Quinn wondered what it meant. Why was Dee calling him now?

  He would have to wait until school was out to go meet him, so he spent the remainder of the day working on his Terry story and making calls to find an update on the Kilgore case.

  He barely saw Kate, who came in before lunch, but then was off again. Janus told him it was for some profile that Laurence wanted.

  At about 2:00 p.m., Quinn left to head over to Loudoun County High School.

  Janus grabbed him on the way out.

  “You need me to come?” he asked.

  “Nah,” Quinn said. “A source asked for a meeting. Don’t know what it’s about. I’ll be back in a minute.”

  Quinn shook his head as he walked down the stairs and out the back door of the building, glancing into the printing press room as he passed by.

  He arrived at Loudoun County High School near the edge of town five minutes later. He tried to imagine what it would have been like to go there, but couldn’t. The building was smallish and dull-gray, with a football field and bleachers not far behind it. It had little to distinguish it from countless other schools.

  Quinn walked around the edge of the parking lot and entered a back door. Technically he wasn’t supposed to go into the high school, not after the story he had written last summer about its growing marijuana problem. But he also had recently written a glowing profile of the policeman on duty at the school and figured that would ease any complications that might arise if he were caught. It was also after school hours and he thought it unlikely anyone would spot him.

  Dee was in the appointed place.

  “What’s up?” Dee said, leaning against a locker near a science lab.

  “You called and I came,” Quinn said. “How have you been?”

  “I’ve been all right,” Dee said. �
��But I’ve got something to tell you. It’s important.”

  Quinn nearly laughed. Dee somehow always had a serious look on his face, like any minute the sky was going to collapse on top of him. Quinn liked him, but it was damn hard to take the kid with anything but a grain of salt.

  “Sure, what is it?” Quinn responded.

  “Not here, man,” he said and gestured inside an empty classroom.

  Quinn sighed. This was probably a waste of time. When they got into the room, Dee shut the door.

  “I can’t be seen talking to you,” he said.

  “The marijuana article was over a year ago, Dee,” Quinn replied, smiling. “I’m sure they've forgotten about it.”

  “No, it isn’t that,” Dee said. “They haven’t forgotten about it either, but that ain’t the point.”

  “Then what is?” Quinn asked.

  “I know something about that murder,” Dee said, still looking nervously at the door.

  “Mary Kilgore?” Quinn said, suddenly taking the entire conversation a lot more seriously.

  “Yeah, the chick from Middleburg,” Dee said.

  “What do you know, Dee?”

  “Like who killed her, man,” he said.

  “Everybody knows that,” Quinn said. “The police arrested her husband.”

  “It wasn’t him, man,” Dee said. “No way it was him.”

  “Look, Dee, just calm down and level with me. What the hell are you talking about?”

  “I saw him,” Dee said. “Two weeks ago. Jacob and I saw him.”

  “Saw who?”

  “The guy who killed that woman,” Dee said. “He was dressed up, but I’m sure it is the same guy. I’m sure of it.”

  “How do you know he did it?”

  “Shit,” Dee said. “I’ve seen some weird things in my time. But I saw this dude try to take Jacob’s head off.”

  Quinn was lost.

  “Just tell me what you saw,” Quinn said. He wasn’t sure if Dee knew anything at all, but the kid was obviously nervous. He sure thought he had something.

  “Jacob and I were out near Purcellville the other week,” Dee said.