Sweet Dreams Page 12

  Only one fatality had resulted: the assistant medical examiner.

  When notified of the fire, Doctor Finley had gone to the hospital and viewed the wreckage firsthand.

  “Any idea where the fire started?” He’d asked.

  “The cooler room.”

  “How?”

  “We don’t know.”

  “Uh-huh,” Doctor Finley replied. “And everything is destroyed?”

  “Yes, sir. The heat was so intense it destroyed the bodies in storage. There is nothing left of any of them. I’d guess some type of thermal device was used.”

  “But who in the world would do something like that?” The fireman’s voice was incredulous.

  “You’re assuming it was something from this world,” Finley muttered.

  The chief and the fireman looked at the doctor strangely. Naw! the fireman thought. The doc couldn’t have said that.

  “Interesting day, Marc?” Harry asked.

  Marc looked up and caught the odd glint in his father’s eyes. He had never seen that particular look before. He was instantly wary. Why did his father keep rubbing the back of his neck?

  “Yes, it was, Dad. Very interesting. How was your day?”

  “None of your damned business!” His father’s voice was harsh.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Yes, sir? What do you mean by that?” There was confusion on the man’s face.

  “I responded to what you said, Dad.”

  Father stared at son. Abruptly the odd light in his eyes changed. Marc felt he was witnessing a total transformation.

  “. . . and I are going out for the evening. Taking Beth and Carla with us. You’ll be all right in the house. But you’d better stay inside, young man. Understood?”

  He doesn’t remember saying those other things, Marc thought. He doesn’t remember staring at me. He thought he was talking about going out all the time. Oh, Dad, has this thing got you and Mom, too?

  “Yes, sir. I’ll stay home.”

  “Fine.”

  No play-punching with his son; no tousling his hair. Harry Anderson just turned around and walked out of the room without looking back or saying another word. He was rubbing the back of his neck as he left.

  “We’re going to the Cape with Harry and Rosanna,” Jack told Heather. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Taking the boys. Going in two cars.”

  “Yes, sir,” Heather said. “Am I going?”

  “No, you’re not. You’re staying home.”

  “I see,” Heather said. She didn’t see at all. “Am I being punished?”

  Her father grinned, and to Heather, it was not a pretty sight. “That’s one way of putting it.”

  “May I ask why?”

  Her father grinned lewdly. “I just wonder what you and Marc do all day?”

  Heather felt her face grow hot. His implication was plain. “That’s not a very nice thing to say, Dad.”

  “Shit!” Her father laughed. Then he turned around and left her sitting on her bed. She noticed he kept rubbing the back of his neck.

  Heather looked at the rows of dolls and teddy bears.

  A stuffed bear winked at her.

  “You’re not imbibing this evening, Leo?” Bud asked his long-time drinking buddy.

  “I’m off the booze,” Leo said. “I think. I don’t know for how long. But for a while, I’m gonna try to stay clean.”

  “Very well. I shall join you in your abstinence. Yes. I think that is a very good idea. A wise choice for the both of us. For I believe many events of great magnitude will soon be developing before our eyes. And I feel we shall both be playing some part in them.”

  “What events?” Leo asked cautiously. But he knew what Bud was referring to.

  “Sanjaman, of course.”

  “Fuck him. He leaves me alone, I leave him alone,” Leo stated flatly. “I tried to help, and the sheriff wouldn’t listen to me. Hell with it. That’s the way I feel about it.”

  “I told you how that course of action would be.” Bud smiled, the grin creasing his leathery face. “But neither of us can sit back and take no part in what is no longer upcoming, but is here.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The Manitou has been without women for many years. He is insatiable; his need is very strong. There will be more raping and killing.”

  “It ain’t no concern of ours, Bud.”

  “Au contraire, my old friend. It is.”

  “Bud – ”

  “Silence. I am about to impart centuries of wisdom to you if you will cease your prattling and pay attention for a moment.”

  Something in the old Indian’s voice caught and held Leo’s attention. He nodded his head in the waning light of day. “All right, Bud. What is it we have to do?”

  Claire heard the lock click. She lifted her head as the closet door slowly swung open. Beyond the confines of the small closet, the locker room loomed, black as midnight velvet. Something was out there, but she could not see it, only sense it.

  Claire’s mind was already strained by the hours she’d spent locked in the dark closet, surrounded by what she feared most. She was very close to a mental breakdown.

  “I will not allow that to happen.” The hollow-sounding voice reached her ears. “For I have a need for you.”

  Claire’s voice was reduced to a slight whisper. “Who are you and what are you going to do to me?”

  “Let us say, for the moment, that I have returned after too long a time.”

  “Returned from where?”

  “I have been resting, gathering strength for my final reincarnation.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Yes, you understand. It is only the mortal part of you that refuses to comprehend.”

  “Why are you standing in the dark?”

  “Because you fainted the first time you saw me in the light, remember?”

  Claire remembered. She said nothing.

  “You may come out of the enclosure. You are free.”

  Claire scooted out on hands and knees. She was so grateful to be free of the closet, she paid no attention to her nakedness. She tried to stand up, but her legs just would not support her. They were cramped from the hours she’d spent in such a small space. She looked up. She could see red eyes piercing the darkness, staring at her.

  “Come closer,” the hollow voice ordered. “I want to see you.”

  Claire crawled closer to the source of the voice. She could dimly make out the shape of the huge man, with long muscular arms; deformed limbs. He was naked – and she could see what dangled between his massive legs.

  He was a freak.

  “I am not a freak,” the voice said. “I assure you, I am very real, as you will soon discover.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You will see.”

  A faint light began glowing around the giant of a man. Although the light was not bright enough for Claire to fully make out his features, what she did see distressed her.

  Sanjaman laughed, the laughter rolling like thunder through his wide cruel lips. “Do you find me offensive to your sight?”

  Now Claire could see a broad harsh face; red savage eyes; a wide fanged mouth; the bulk of him. Her eyes kept returning to the genital area of this huge man. “Yes,” she said. “I find you hideous. Grotesque.”

  Sanjaman chuckled. “You give honest answers to questions. That is good. For I require total honesty as well as total devotion. How badly do you want to live?”

  Claire laughed, but her laughter contained a note of madness; a touch of panic; a bit of fear and confusion. “I don’t know what you are or whether I’m dreaming all this. I think I have probably lost my mind. Yes. I cannot envision myself, in my right mind, squatting naked on the floor of a darkened room, conversing with something as terrible looking as you. But yes, I want to live as much as anyone. Does that answer your question, whatever you are and if you are real?”

  “I am real. And you have not lost your mind. I told you; I w
ould not permit that. There will soon be many changes in this town and the area immediately surrounding it. Those who have disturbed me have done a great favor for Sanjaman. Already many changes have taken place, but those who now serve and those who will serve do not realize this.”

  “Serve? Serve whom?”

  “Yes, how correct you are. That is good. A spokesperson for me. Serve? Serve me!”

  “Those boys who . . . who raped me. Did you send them?”

  “No. They disobeyed my orders. They will be punished. And the girl is mentally deficient. I cannot have that. All will learn the power of Sanjaman. No one disobeys me.”

  “Sanjaman. That’s Indian, isn’t it?”

  “You’re very astute, Claire. Yes. From a tribe that died out centuries ago. You also have the blood of the Nations coursing in your veins. Did you know that?”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “It’s true. From many, many years ago. Your great-great-grandmother was raped by a white man. She was Cherokee. That is part of the reason I have chosen you.”

  “You have chosen ... me!” Claire began laughing. She laughed until tears rolled from her eyes and no more laughter could escape her raw and swollen throat. She lowered her head to the concrete floor of the locker room. “Oh, God!” she wailed. “Let me die. I just want this nightmare to end. Please!”

  Sanjaman stood patiently and let the woman sob. When she could cry no more, he said, “Rise and come to me, Claire.”

  “I can’t,” she whispered. “I don’t have the strength.”

  Sanjaman laughed.

  Claire felt herself being lifted off the floor. She looked around her. The huge man had not moved from his original spot. She was hanging suspended in the middle of the room. Claire’s mind reeled under the impact of what was taking place. The impossible was occurring. She wanted to scream, but her throat hurt so badly.

  Then she was standing in front of the creature. She could feel his maleness pressing against her naked flesh. She felt it begin to grow as blood gathered and thickened his organ. Her now-erect nipples – when, she wondered, did I become sexually excited at the prospect of sex with this creature – pushed against Sanjaman’s nakedness.

  “No.” She whispered the weak protest.

  “Yes,” Sanjaman said.

  He picked her up effortlessly, both hands under her buttocks. She opened her legs. “Guide me,” he ordered.

  Her hand found him and positioned him. Wrapping her legs around his waist, she groaned as he pushed against her, spreading her, entering her.

  “I can’t!” she said. “It hurts!”

  “You will,” Sanjaman said.

  A light sprang from the huge man, enveloping both man and woman in its eerie glow. Claire hissed as Sanjaman moved his hips, driving deeper. A screaming groan escaped her lips as she was impaled on his huge penis.

  The light became more intense. Now she could truly view the hideousness of this man-creature.

  But now she no longer cared.

  She kissed his cruel mouth as he filled her, working in and out. She felt his body begin to tremble, felt a sudden gush of hot liquid.

  Then ...

  Did it really happen? she asked herself.

  When she came to her senses, she was fully dressed and sitting in her car, in the school parking lot.

  She looked around her, found her purse. She opened it and looked in, turning on the dome light. Everything was there. She looked at the outline of the school complex, looming dark in the night. She smelled a foul odor and realized she was smelling herself. Hours of nervous and fear-induced sweat . . . and sex.

  But was the smell from the rapes or from that creature? Was that thing real? She couldn’t believe it. She had to have imagined it all.

  Her mind replayed the scenes: her legs spread wide, taking the . . .

  Yes. Sanjaman existed. He was real. He ...

  Her mind went blank. The last thing she could remember was sitting at her desk, cleanirig out nine months of accumulation.

  “God! What happened to me?”

  The back of her neck felt . . . odd. She put a hand to her head and felt a lump on her forehead.

  “I must have fallen,” she said, her voice raspy in the closed car. Her throat hurt her. “My God! No telling how long I’ve been out, and what has been done to me.”

  She could not understand why she ached so in her groin. Could someone have come along while I was out and raped me? She became very angry as she nurtured that thought in her mind.

  Yes, she concluded, that’s probably what happened.

  “The bastard!” she said. “Only a dirty bastard would do something like that to an unconscious woman.”

  “I must go to the police,” she said.

  Then she rejected that idea. What proof did she have?

  None.

  Wearily she cranked her car and drove off. She longed for a long, hot bath. Strange, she thought, glancing at the clock on the dash. I’ve been out for almost nine hours. I’ve lost one entire day. Incredible.

  She rubbed the back of her neck.

  Marc thought the house was certainly quiet with everybody gone. Too quiet. And it was very dark out. He sat in the den and flipped through the TV channels. Nothing was on that he wanted to see. He rejected most shows others his age watched. He thought they were stupid. He rose from the couch and walked through the silent home. He went from room to room, looking in each. Then he returned to the den and sat down. He was determined to obey his father. He would not leave the house.

  His father.

  Marc sighed. What was wrong with his father? Marc knew – at least sensed – that something was out of whack with his Dad. Not just his Dad, his whole family. They were all treating him like some sort of outcast.

  Maybe he was.

  A slight noise jerked Marc’s head up. He sat very still on the couch for a full half minute, listening. The noise was not repeated. He looked toward the window at the rear of the den. The curtains were closed.

  But did they just move? He wasn’t sure.

  My imagination, the boy thought. Maybe everything is my imagination?

  But he didn’t believe that at all. Not for one minute.

  Something scraped against the side of the house. Marc froze. The sound came again, louder this time. He got up, his heart beating a bit faster, and walked to the fireplace. He picked up a poker and slowly walked to the rear of the den.

  He thought he heard someone whispering his name, over and over. Then the voice changed. It sounded like someone calling for help.

  Marc stood staring at the curtains. He heard that scraping sound once more. Someone, or something, was definitely out there.

  He put his hand on the curtains, ready to jerk them apart. The poker was in his right hand. This time, Marc thought, I’m not going to mess around with a stick. I’m going to bash someone’s head in.

  He jerked open the curtains and fought back the scream that built in his throat.

  13

  “You’re very suspicious of that fire at the hospital, aren’t you, Jerry?” Maryruth asked.

  “Yes,” Jerry said. “I talked with Dick just a few minutes before you came over. He told me the firemen had never seen anything like it. The fire was so hot, so intense, it literally melted the coolers where the bodies were stored. I called Jimmy at the funeral home; he said the best thing to do is to have a small memorial service at the graveside. No one can be certain what ashes belong to whom. The service is scheduled for ten in the morning.”

  “Do you want me there?”

  “Yes,” he answered quickly. “But I think it best if we don’t enter or leave together. That all right with you?”

  “Of course. Probably enough talk around town as is. But . . .” She frowned, hesitating, as if deep in thought.

  “What is it?”

  “Not nearly as much gossip about us as I thought there would be. None of my friends has even kidded me about us. And Judith is a real cutup and an avid gossiper.
She would have called me if she’d heard even one word. It’s, well, odd.”

  “Like people don’t care, maybe? In a small town I would find that very odd.”

  “Well, yes, that. But more like . . . people don’t know.”

  “How could that be possible, Maryruth?”

  Her only reply was to look at him as he began rubbing at the back of his neck.

  “God!” Marc hissed the word.

  Someone had hung a Halloween mask on the screen. The hideous face of a monster glared at Marc through the window. Marc pulled the curtains closed and took several deep breaths.

  The door chimes sounded.

  Fear clutched at the boy, gripping his heart in a clammy fist.

  Still carrying the poker, Marc ran to the front door. He couldn’t look through the peep hole; he wasn’t tall enough. He called, “Who is it?”

  “Heather, Marc. Let me in.”

  He flung open the door, almost giddy with relief at seeing Heather. He waved her inside and closed and locked the door.

  She looked at the poker in his hand. “You always answer the door carrying that thing?”

  He shook his head. “No.” He told her about the noises and about finding the Halloween mask.

  She said, “The phone kept ringing at my house. I’d pick it up and some man would start saying filthy things to me. I finally took the phone off the hook. Then a car started driving up and down the street. There were two men in it. They kept looking at my house and grinning and pointing. I got scared, Marc. I didn’t know what to do.”

  “How come our folks left us at home this evening?” Marc asked.

  “I don’t know. Something funny – no, not funny – weird is going on.”

  “You can say that again. Come on. Let me show you the mask.”

  But when Marc drew the curtains apart, the mask was gone.

  Marc’s shoulders slumped in defeat. “But it was there. I saw it!”

  “I believe you, Marc. Look, let’s talk about our parents. We’ve got to figure out what to do. Way my daddy is acting, I’m getting scared.”

  The kids sat on the couch. Marc said, “I don’t know what’s wrong with them. Dad is looking at me kind of, well, ugly-like, I guess is the way to say it. He picked up a sentence right in the middle, like he didn’t know he wasn’t talking to me all the time. I don’t know, Heather. But it’s weird. You’re right about that.”