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Authors: Mark Lukens

Night Terrors (22 page)

BOOK: Night Terrors
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“Leave your phone here. I don’t want a call coming in while we’re near the house.”

Tara thought about arguing, but she didn’t. Right now the only thing she had going for her was the element of surprise. He didn’t know yet that she knew.

Or did he?
her mind whispered.

She had to believe that he didn’t know yet. She needed to use any power she had to keep him pushed away and keep the shiny black fingers of his mind from probing her and discovering that she knew the truth.

Tara set her cell phone down in the center console and then she stood back up and looked at Woods.

There was one other small advantage she still might have. She had something else in her pocket that she could use – the pepper spray that Woods had given her.

3.

Tara followed Woods through the field of weeds. They walked carefully, but the dry snapping of the dry grass sounded so loud in the darkness. Woods showed her the tear in the chain link fence which was about fifty feet down from his sedan. It looked like Woods may have pulled the piece of fence out more, creating a bigger hole for them to squeeze through.

He waited for her, gesturing at her to crawl through.

Tara bent down and squeezed her body through the tear in the fence. She felt the sharp metal burrs of the edge of the chain link tugging at the back of her shirt. For one moment she started to panic, feeling like she was stuck there in the slit in the fence – helpless in front of Woods. But then the fabric of her shirt tore free and she was inside the fence, crawling among the thick and prickly grass and weeds. At least the soil and the brush were dry.

She got to her feet quickly and turned to watch Woods crawl through the hole. He was much bigger than she was, but he seemed to have an easier time pushing his way through the tear in the fence. She thought about kicking him in the chin while he crawled through, kicking at him like a kicker punting a football. With the strength she’d built up from her years of self-defense training, she was fairly certain she could knock him out, perhaps even kill him if her kick landed precisely.

But it was too late. Woods was through the hole and on his feet in a flash. He was much quicker and more agile than she had suspected. He must be hiding a very strong and athletic body underneath his dark suit.

“We’ll walk to the house,” he whispered at her. “When we get there, I want you to wait outside. But before I go inside, I want you to try and reach out to Steve, maybe you can tell exactly where he is.” Woods stood very close to her in the encroaching darkness. “And reach out to the killer.”

Tara nodded and looked across the sea of brownish-green grass and weeds at the dark house in the distance.

She walked towards the house, pushing her legs through the brush that seemed to grab at her legs like millions of tiny little demon hands trying to drag her down into the earth. The dry, scraping sound seemed so loud. Woods walked right behind her, but he seemed to barely make a sound as he walked.

They were at the side of the house, their backs against the rough stucco; the paint was faded and stained with mildew. They stood by a large section of wall that was between two dark windows – the only windows on this side of the home. Neither one of them peeked in through the windows.

It was decision time for Tara. She had to do something soon. If Woods got her inside the house it might be too late.

She glanced at the rear and the front of the house and she noticed what looked like piles of junk near the back of the house, and another pile near the corner by the front of the house. But this side wall of the house they were leaning against was virtually free of junk – except for one thing only a few feet away from her, within easy reach, one thing that she could use: a shovel.

But looking at the shovel gave her the creeps. Why was that shovel here? Was it going to be used later to bury Steve? And to bury her somewhere among this dry brush?

She had to do something right now.

Tara dropped her hand down by her pants, rubbing her hands on her jeans like she was rubbing off the dirt and stickers from the weeds and grasses they had just waded through. She slipped her right hand down into her pocket and plucked out the small canister of pepper spray, palming it, hiding it in her hand.

“What’s wrong?” Woods hissed at her. He had his gun out, clenched in his hand. “What is it?” he asked again.

“I can feel Steve,” Tara whispered as she clutched her pepper spray, keeping it out of Woods’ sight. “I know where he is in the house.”

Woods nodded. “Okay. Where is he?”

“You should know, you son of a bitch!” Tara yelled and aimed the can of pepper spray at him. She pressed the button and for a split second she wondered if Woods had given her an empty can of pepper spray, knowing that she might try and use it on him.

But the spray came out in a steady stream and hit him right in the eyes.

Woods howled and dropped his gun. He brought his fists up to his eyes, trying to knuckle out the burning liquid from his eyes.

Tara didn’t hesitate – she grabbed the shovel that was leaning against the side of the house and she swung it at Woods like a baseball bat.

He never saw it coming. The flat part of the shovel hit him right in the side of the head – if she had turned the blade to its sharp edge, it probably would’ve killed him immediately. The blow knocked Woods to the ground; he fell like a dead weight and made a loud crashing sound, and then his arms and legs splayed out limply. He was motionless.

Tara spotted the gun on the ground. She picked it up and aimed it down at Woods with trembling hands.

But Woods wasn’t moving. He didn’t even seem to be breathing. And now she could see blood pouring out of the side of his head and along the hairline of his forehead. The blood looked almost black in the night.

Oh God, did I kill him?

She kept the gun pointed down at him, her hand shaking, her index finger on the trigger. She was ready to pull the trigger; she
wanted
to pull the trigger. He had killed her parents. He had tried to kill her. And he killed so many others.

But she couldn’t do it.

She ran down the side of the house to the front. She climbed up onto the front porch and hurried up to the door. She tried the door handle – it was unlocked. She pushed her way in through the door, not worrying about making too much noise now.

She hoped to God that Steve was still alive.

“Steve!” she called out.

She hesitated in the doorway for a moment, listening for any sounds as her eyes adjusted to the darkness inside the house. Something felt wrong here. She could feel the first tentacles of the dark evil reaching out for her and caressing her skin.

Something’s not right about all of this.

But she had to find Steve. It was her fault he was here.

If he’s still alive.

Tara ventured deeper into the front room of the house, which looked like it used to be the living room. There were piles of junk against the far wall of the house where it looked like there might be a fireplace hidden beneath the trash. The floor was made of wood, but it looked splintered and warped in some places. She would have to watch her step.

She saw the remnants of a dining room and kitchen off of the living room. The appliances were all gone, just dark stains on the linoleum floor marking where they used to be. Cabinet doors barely hung by their loose hinges. She made her way through the darkness to an archway that opened up to a wide hallway with closed doors on each side and a closed door at the far end.

“Steve,” she hissed in the darkness, gripping the gun tightly, her finger still on the trigger. She knew that holding the gun should make her feel safe, but it didn’t. The feeling of fear and dread was getting stronger; it was like a tingling feeling on her skin and a buzzing in the back of her mind. She kept glancing behind her, expecting Woods to rush at her through the darkness.

She heard a moan from the first room down the hall on her left. A moan like someone was crying out into tape.

Tara hurried down the hall and entered the first room on the left. And she immediately recognized the room from the photograph – it was exactly the same. Steve sat in the wooden chair at the other end of the room, his hands behind him and the back of the chair, the strips of gray tape plastered across his mouth, his eyes wild with fear and panic. She even saw the camera on a tripod a few steps away from the door, the same camera used to take the photo of him.

“Steve,” she whispered and she couldn’t help smiling. “You’re alive.”

Steve struggled in the chair, kicking his feet, nearly toppling the chair over. He screamed something unintelligible into the tape, his lips trying to move underneath the strips of tape, trying to form words. His eyes were wild as he gestured with his head, like he was trying to point with it at the doorway behind her!

Tara felt the unmistakable tidal wave of fear rise up behind her and she spun around to face the doorway which was just a black rectangle now. She aimed her gun at the darkness, her hands trembling. She waited for Woods to enter the doorway and try to finish the job he’d started. But she had a surprise for him.

This time she wouldn’t hesitate. This time she would pull the trigger and kill him. She would end all of this.

Behind Tara, Steve stood up without a sound – his hands had never been tied. He gently peeled the strips of tape away from his mouth as he crept towards her with a smile.

CHAPTER TWENTY
1.

Tara aimed Woods’ gun at the doorway, waiting for him to pop out of the darkness of the hallway at her, running at her, screaming like a madman. Maybe he would even have the blood-stained shovel with him. But she still had her finger on the trigger; she would be ready for him.

But something seemed wrong here.

She could feel someone right behind her in the room, a sudden dark and suffocating presence. She noticed a little too late that the sound of Steve’s struggling and moaning into the duct tape had ceased. The room was quiet. The whole house was quiet. She could feel breath on the back of her neck.

“Hello, little sister,” Steve whispered from right behind her.

Tara whirled around with the gun in her hands, but Steve was ready for her. He chopped a knife-edged fist down onto her wrists and for a moment her hands went weak and numb and the gun slipped from her fingers.

Before she could react, Steve grabbed her by the throat and threw her against the wall, knocking the camera and tripod down in the process. She hit the wall so hard the breath was forced from her lungs. The back of her head had slammed against the wall and she saw motes of bright dots floating in front of her half-closed eyes.

“I knew you’d find me, Tara,” he whispered into her face, his breath foul and sour, his eyes wide with insanity. “I knew you were finally ready.”

Tara struggled in his iron grip, but she couldn’t get away. He threw her across the room into the wooden chair that he’d been “tied” to. She tried to catch herself, but she had been flung too fast and she felt the sharp wooden edges of the chair crack into her ribs and one of her shins. The pain was instantaneous, and she couldn’t help crying out.

She collapsed down onto the wood floor with the chair clattering around somewhere near her. She could only lay there for a moment and stare up at the ceiling, trying to slow all of this down; everything was happening too fast.

Tara had sparred with people before during her self-defense and karate classes, even men twice her size. But nothing had prepared her for the insane strength this man possessed, the quickness and agility of his movements, the precise delivery of his punches.

It was like he knew what she was going to do before she even did it.

And now she could feel that blanket of darkness all around her, pressing in on her, just like it had in her night terrors all these years, it was the fear that had driven her out of her bed in the middle of the night to run for safety, anywhere away from this dark presence.

But she couldn’t run now. All the years of trying to be ready for the inevitable meeting with this darkness hadn’t prepared her for him.

She heard his boots stomp across the floorboards, coming right for her. She felt his hands grab her, his fingers clutching at her hair, holding her tight. She tried to jerk her head away, but his hand gripped her hair too tightly, intertwined in it.

“Thanks for taking care of Woods for me,” Steve whispered at her, and his voice sounded pleasant, almost conversational. “He’s been a pain in my ass for quite some time. Did you like the shovel I left for you?”

Tara tried to drive a knee into Steve (he wasn’t Steve – he was Jeremy), but he turned to the side as her blow glanced off of his hip, already prepared for her attack.

“You still don’t understand how powerful I am, do you?” he told her through clenched teeth. He jerked her head with the handful of hair he still held, and she felt a sharp pain knife through the side of her neck.

“But I need more power,” he told her as he jerked her head again. She was afraid he was going to break her neck – it was all she could do to hold her neck muscles rigid to fight his violent twists. “I’ve been devouring souls, taking their power, getting stronger. All for you.”

A thought pierced Tara’s mind – the pepper spray! Did she still have it? Hadn’t she stuffed it back down into her pocket after she’d sprayed Woods with it?

She patted her front pants pocket frantically with her fingers and felt the bulge of the small can in there. She slipped her hand down into her pocket and pulled out the tiny canister, her thumb already on the little lever, ready to spray it into this monster’s eyes.

But as she raised it towards him, he slapped it out of her hand easily and it flew across the empty room and landed on the floor.

“Don’t be afraid,” he told her. “You’re not going to die. You’re going to live forever inside of me.”

He wrapped an arm around her throat, nearly cutting off her breathing and his other hand was still tangled in her hair. He dragged her out of the room easily even though she thrashed and kicked.

BOOK: Night Terrors
7.15Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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