Sweet Dreams Page 9

  “I agree with that,” Maryruth said.

  “It’s gonna get worse,” Marc predicted. “I don’t know how I know that, but I do.”

  “I ... think you’re probably right, Marc,” Jerry said. “Like you, I don’t know how I know that, but I do.”

  Heather looked at the doctor. “Like I said, Doctor Baldwin, maybe you and Doctor Benning haven’t lost it.”

  Maryruth smiled at the young girl. “Whatever it is.”

  Rosanna and Harry were at the Thomases’ when Jerry and Maryruth brought Heather and Marc home. The parents were relieved, then angry.

  “We just went for a ride, Dad,” Marc said. “That’s all.”

  “At ten o’clock at night?” Harry yelled.

  “In your pajamas!” Jack yelled.

  “Don’t yell at her, Jack,” Arlene said.

  “Stay out of this,” the husband warned.

  “Why should I? She is my child, too. Remember?”

  Before husband and wife could get cranked up into an argument, Heather asked innocently, “Nothing happened while we were gone, did it?”

  “What do you mean by that, young lady?” her mother asked.

  Heather shrugged. “Nothing, really. I mean, there weren’t any earthquakes or hurricanes or anything like that, right? We just went for a ride, that’s all, mother. Just a ride. Nobody got hurt. We didn’t break any laws.”

  “Didn’t you ever do anything like that, Dad?” Marc asked his father.

  “Yes,” his father replied shortly. “And my Dad whaled the tar out of me. Come to think of it, maybe that’s what you need.”

  The boy met his father’s eyes. “If that is what you think.”

  “Oh, hell!” his father said.

  Both sets of parents looked relieved when Harry decided to back away from physical punishment.

  “May I speak with you people?” Maryruth asked. “Privately?”

  “Sure,” Jack said. He looked at the kids. “You two go into the kitchen and stay put!”

  Heather and Marc left the room, both looking the worse for wear in their dirty pajamas.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Thomas, Mr. and Mrs. Anderson,” Maryruth said. “Look at it this way: your children are very, very bright. Emotionally and intellectually they are perhaps operating on an age level of twelve and thirteen – perhaps higher than that. I’d guess so. They have both rejected, long ago, the normal interests of children of their chronological age. They are geniuses, and that is something that must be taken into consideration at all times when dealing with them. I will tell you all up front, a great many parents don’t know how to cope with exceptionally gifted kids. Heather and Marc have seen other kids riding their bikes after dark. Why not them? I realize I am oversimplifying this, but think about it.”

  The parents looked at each other. Harry Anderson shrugged his shoulders. “Yes, I know – we know. But it’s just that Marc has never done anything like this before.”

  “I would suggest, sir,” Maryruth said, “that you begin – you’ll have to feel your way – treating Marc more like a young man than a child. And the same applies to Heather. Don’t push them into adulthood, but help them find their own ways.”

  “I’m sure you’re right, Doctor,” Jack said. “It’s just that Heather has never done anything like this before. And I’ll be very honest with you, if she ever does it again, I’m going to paddle her behind.”

  “When did you discover them gone?” Jerry asked, conscious of Maryruth’s eyes on him as he voiced the touchy question.

  “Oh ... about thirty minutes ago, I’d guess,” Rosanna said.

  “Yeah, that’s about right,” Arlene said.

  “Yes,” Jack said. “We had been . . .”

  He stopped. Both Jerry and Maryruth looked at the four people. All had that same vacant look in their eyes. All sat very still in their chairs and on the couch. They seemed mesmerized.

  Maryruth stood up. “I’d like to speak to the kids, if none of you have any objections?”

  That seemed to shake them from their hypnotic state.

  “Yes!” Jack said. “The kids. Of course, Doctor Benning.”

  While Jerry kept the conversation light, and away from the events of the past few hours, Heather took Maryruth into her bedroom, Marc trailing along. Girl’s bedrooms really didn’t thrill him all that much. Too sissy. Heather showed Maryruth the dolls and teddy bears all jumbled and out of line. She lifted the pillow from the toy soldier and Maryruth picked up the harmless-looking toy and smelled the barrel of the toy gun. There was the definite odor of gunsmoke. She looked at the tiny hole in the pillow, burned brown around the edges.

  “I don’t understand any of this,” she said. “But I certainly can’t deny it happened.”

  Heather showed her the open, screenless window, the broken club on the ground. Maryruth leaned out the window and retrieved the club. The stickiness of blood stained her fingertips.

  “Now do you believe us?” Marc asked.

  “Yes,” the woman replied hoarsely. “I can’t explain it, but I certainly believe you. Heather? Tomorrow, have your father fix this window so it can’t be raised above a few inches without making a lot of noise. Two screws here and here should do it. O.K.?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “School is officially out when?”

  “Tomorrow,” Marc said. “We get our report cards then.”

  “I want both of you to come see me as soon as you get out of school. I’ll fix it with your parents, O.K.?”

  They agreed to that.

  “I’m going to tell your father, Heather, that you don’t like open windows. Until this . . . thing – for want of a better word – is over, that should settle the matter of open windows. Can I tell your father anything for you, Marc?”

  “No, ma’am. I can fix my window myself. I’m pretty good with my hands.”

  Two young adults, Maryruth thought. Mature beyond their years. But why is the light after them?

  God! she mentally berated herself. What am I saying? I don’t believe in spooks and haunts and things that go bump in the night.

  Or do I?

  No! This is some sort of mental aberration. I’ve got to find a good person who is knowledgeable in the field of parapsychology, bring that person in here.

  She thought there was one in St. Louis.

  “Come on, kids,” she smiled at the pair. “Let’s join the group.”

  Leo opened his eyes and looked up at the blanket of stars far above him. To say his head hurt would be putting it mildly. He sat up – and promptly lay back down. An empty wine bottle rolled from his side to clink against a rock in the ditch.

  “Bud?” he croaked out the one-word question.

  A Snore came from a few feet away. Leo carefully turned his head and looked at the blanket-wrapped form of Walks-By-Night.

  The old Indian was out like a light.

  Leo very cautiously got to his feet, a maneuver that took him several minutes to complete. Then he realized he did not have his shoes on. He had to sit down and repeat the entire process. By the time he once more got to his feet he was worn out.

  “Water,” he croaked. “Got to have a drink of water.”

  He staggered and stumbled toward his shack. The old Indian lived much closer to the Mississippi River than Leo, but both lived on the east side of the old railroad tracks. Leo pumped a pan of fresh well water, washed his face, and then drank at least a quart.

  Which promptly got him drunk all over again.

  He lurched back toward the copse of trees he and Bud used as a bedroom when the weather was good. He stopped when a glow suddenly appeared to his left. Leo knew it couldn’t be the mysterious ball of light he had been seeing at night for most of his life. That light always came from another direction.

  But it sure looked like it.

  Leo took several deep breaths, coughed, and, managing to clear his head just a bit, slipped into the bushes that lined both sides of the old tracks. He found the path he an
d Bud had used for years, the path worn bare from years of use, and as quietly as possible walked toward the glowing ball of light.

  He stopped abruptly as the faint sounds of several voices reached his ears. They were young voices. Leo dropped to his hands and knees and silently crawled out of the brush and up to the old embankment leading to the tracks. The old tracks had not been used in many years, and tall weeds pushed through the rotted ties. Leo made himself as comfortable as possible, then lifted his head.

  He almost fainted at the sight that greeted his old eyes.

  Half a dozen – no – he silently counted the shadowy shapes, ten people were standing single-file on the bed between the rusted tracks. The bobbing ball of light faced the group, almost as if it were communicating with them. The line of young people, five boys and five girls – Leo could tell the boys from the girls by the way their jeans fit – all stood very still as they faced the glowing, growing, bobbing ball of light.

  Leo’s eyes widened in shock and building horror as one young woman began removing her clothes.

  What the hell? Leo thought. What’s going on here? I bet this is one of them sex clubs! Ever’body gonna strip down buck-assed naked and swap around. That’s what it is.

  The huge ball of light – it seemed to Leo to contain within its circle every color known to exist in the world – floated effortlessly to the head of the line. The glow began changing shape, becoming elongated until it was at least seven feet in length and close to three feet wide. It continued to change. Now Leo could clearly make out legs and arms and head. The light was no longer a circle of glowing matter.

  Sweet Jesus in Heaven! Leo thought. The goddamn thing is a man.

  But it was unlike any man Leo had ever seen – or dreamed in his worst alcohol-induced nightmares, and he had experienced a lot of those.

  This thing was more monster than man.

  From his hiding place, and Leo was damn-sure glad it was a good one, he could see the red eyes of the monster-man, the shaggy mop of black hair, the massive muscular shoulders and huge deformed arms of the . . . Christ! he couldn’t put a name to the fucking thing.

  Then it came to him: Manitou! That Indian crap old Bud had talked about. But them things weren’t real. Them things was just a bunch of Indian mumbo jumbo.

  Still, there it was, and Leo had seen it changing right before his very eyes. He rubbed his eyes and shook his head. Adrenaline raced through his body, clearing his brain. Leo suddenly found himself stone-cold sober.

  All in all, he concluded, being sober wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.

  The Manitou stepped closer to the boy facing him. The creature towered over the teenager. It began speaking in a language Leo could not understand. But the boy seemed to know what the hideous-looking thing was saying. He nodded his head in agreement. The huge monster stepped closer and put his arms around the boy. An eerie light sprang from the Manitou, completely encircling and enveloping him and the boy. After a few seconds, the light faded and the boy seemed to sag in the man’s arms. The huge man held the boy for a moment, and then blew breath into the youth’s mouth. The boy straightened up and stood tall in the moonlight, his strength returning to him. The boy then walked away, up the tracks, away from Leo. He faded into the night.

  Wonder how it did that? Leo mused. And why it did it?

  The next scene played out before the old man’s eyes shocked and repulsed him, but it held his attention.

  The Manitou stepped to the naked girl. Leo could see the girl’s bare breasts clearly in the moonlight. The nipples were swollen and erect. The huge man fondled the girl’s breasts with a surprisingly gentle touch. Effortlessly, he picked the girl up, off the ground, holding her as if she were weightless. The girl spread her legs wide as the man’s huge dangling penis began thickening and lengthening as passion flooded the creature. Another girl came to the pair and grasped the huge erection, working the foreskin back and forth, slowly masturbating the Manitou. The erection grew even thicker and longer. The second girl positioned the head of the stiffness and with a groan, the Manitou entered the tight hotness of the teenage girl. She cried out in pain and passion. He worked his hips, pushing his maleness deeper. The girl screamed into the night.

  The huge creature’s hands were under the girl’s buttocks, gripping them. The girl’s hands were holding onto the monster’s arms. Her head was thrown back, her mouth a black gaping hole; her eyes were tightly closed. Slowly the Manitou impaled the girl with his stiffness. She screamed again and again in a pleasurable mixture of pain and passion. Both beast and girl began trembling as climax drew near. The teenager began alternately shouting and crying as one climax after another shook her. The massive erection drove deeper, pain and pleasure intermingling and becoming one sensation. She threw her arms around the Manitou’s neck and kissed the wide, cruel mouth just as the man ejaculated, his flood of semen filling her.

  “Jesus Christ!” Leo whispered.

  The Manitou’s softening penis slipped from the girl and he placed her feet on the rocky railroad bed. She leaned against him for a moment, and once more that eerie light sprang from the huge creature, encircling and enveloping them. It faded away. The girl dressed and walked away, in the same direction as the boy.

  Then the Manitou walked to each boy and girl standing in line. When he wrapped his arms around one of them, the enveloping light sprang forth. He went to each person in line. When the light faded, and he stepped away each person, boy or girl, silently turned and walked away. When the last youth had departed, the Manitou began to dissolve as it stood between the old tracks. Flecks of electricity popped and surged around the creature as it once more became a ball of bobbing, glowing light. The orb of light began moving up the tracks, picking up speed as it traveled. It shot past Leo’s hiding place at incredible speed.

  Then it was gone.

  Leo looked up and down the tracks. The light was nowhere to be seen. He slumped on his hands and knees as sweat dripped from his face; his clothing was damp from nervous perspiration. He didn’t want to believe what he had just witnessed. God, he didn’t want to believe it had happened.

  But he knew what he had witnessed was real.

  When Leo could trust his voice, he said, “Jesus God in Heaven.”

  “Neither one of them can help you,” the voice came from the darkness behind Leo.

  Leo almost pissed his pants.

  It was the old Indian, Bud.

  “Goddamn it, Bud!” Leo said. “You like to have scared the shit plumb outta me. How long you been standin’ there?”

  “I’ve been here long enough to witness the appearance of the Evil One.”

  “The who? And what do you mean, neither God nor Jesus can help?”

  “The Evil One is not of their worlds; not a part of your God’s scheme of things. Your God did not create the Evil One.”

  “That don’t make no difference. My God can do anything.”

  The old Indian smiled. “Then call on Him. Gather up all your statues and crosses and group together all your priests and preachers. Tell them to pray and sing and shout and cajole. It will all be for nothing. Their power is useless against the old Evil One.”

  Leo thought about that for a moment. Something in Bud’s voice made him believe the Indian was telling the truth. “Then . . . what I saw a few minutes ago – it was real?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  “What is it?”

  “The greatest Manitou that was ever birthed. Sanjaman. That means All-Powerful in a language that died a thousand years ago. The tribe lived near here. They were hunters and mighty warriors. Sanjaman had a normal birth, just about the time of your Christian person, Jesus Christ. I rather doubt they knew each other,” he added drily.

  “Don’t be a smart ass, Bud. What caused this San ... Sandman to turn into a Manitouy?”

  “Sanjaman! Sanjaman traveled widely. He knew the Big Muddy long before any white eyes ever saw it. He was welcomed by all tribes, for they recognized his power and his
destiny. He was the greatest warrior who ever lived.”

  “You sound like he’s something to be proud of?”

  “No,” the old man corrected. “Not proud of. Feared. Sanjaman fell under evil spirits. The story is when his earthly flesh died – he was a very old man, and had sired many, many children – the Owl Woman refused to allow him to cross the bridge into the land that lies thereafter. She refused because she detected something evil within Sanjaman.”

  “Owl Woman?”

  “She is the keeper of the passageway into the land after death. Heaven to you.”

  Leo sighed. “Bud, I don’t know about this here Sanjaman or the Owl Woman or the Batmobile, or really, most of what you babble about. But-”

  “Walks-By-Night does not babble.”

  “ – I do know what I saw tonight. And at first light, I’m goin’ into town and tell the sheriff about all this.”

  The Indian shook his head. “That would not be a wise thing to do, Leo. Think about it. He will not believe you. He will laugh at you and the story will get around that you are crazy. Then men will come for you and take you away and put you into a place for people who are cuckoo, and I shall never see you again.” Bud thought about that for a moment. “On second thought,” he said with a smile, “perhaps you should tell the sheriff.”

  “Very funny, Bud. Hysterical. Well, hell, I gotta do something!”

  “I might know a way. And I stress might. In a vision the other night, I witnessed two little people locked in combat with an evil spirit. Perhaps you could find them.”

  “Little people? Midgets?”

  “If I had seen midgets, I would have said midgets. Did you hear me say midgets? No, you did not. Because I did not say midgets. I said little people.”

  “Dwarfs?”

  “Leo!” Bud looked at him. “I said little people.”

  “Well, goddamn, Bud!”

  “Children, Leo,” Bud said patiently. “Children.”

  “Kids!”

  “Miracles never cease to amaze me. I got through to him.”

  “You want me to go look up some kids and ask for their help?”