Twisted (22 page)

71

Donny Ray has been emptying out Loveland.

But how?

You already know.

“Know what?”

I told you. It’s an inside job. He’s got an underground army at Loveland. They’ve been helping him yank all those people out, and they’re going to keep helping him. You have to do something, fast.

I have to do something fast, have to figure out a plan. I’ve got to stop him.

I begin weighing options. My first priority is to keep Devon safe. I can do that, so long as I keep Donny Ray locked inside these walls.

Wrong.

“What?”

You can’t keep him inside Loveland. You never could.

“Why not?”

Because you built these walls in your mind. He can penetrate them whenever he wants. Do you honestly believe he can’t walk right out of here himself?

“That’s nonsense. He would have already left.”

He hasn’t left
because he doesn’t want to, yet.

“Why not?”

I’ve already told you that, too, and he just confirmed it. Donny Ray didn’t come here for the evaluation—he came here to destroy you. The Big Plan. Now that the job’s almost done, he can split whenever he wants.

“Oh, God. You’re right.”

Donny Ray has the power to leave
now
and go after Devon. I have to regroup, figure out a strategy to stop him. I sprint down the hallway, fear and urgency chasing after me like a pack of wild dogs with the taste of fresh blood.

Better run faster.

“SHUT UP! JUST SHHHH . . . SHHHH.” I try to complete my sentence, but it’s fighting me. A sound I’ve never before heard bursts from my lips—a high-pitched, pulsating squeal, followed by a deep, throaty laugh that barely sounds human.

“WHAT’S HAPPENING TO ME?”

I know what’s happening—my mind is breaking, that’s what. I’m losing it. I’m one step from the edge, but I’ve got to stop Donny Ray first.

You can’t stop him.

“I have to!”

But you can do something else.

I punch the gas pedal. My tires squeal with fury as my car peels out of the parking lot. Donny Ray and his underground army may have their Big Plan in place, but I’m about to sling my own scheme right back at them.

I’m drastically outnumbered, ridiculously handicapped, but there can be no underestimating the fierce determination of a father set on keeping his son out of harm’s way. I may not be able to stop Donny Ray from leaving Loveland, but I can make damned sure he never gets anywhere near Devon. I know my work is cut out for me, that my plan will require monumental skill, rigorous planning, and extensive calculation. It may take most of the evening to get this job done, maybe all night, but sleep deprivation offers no challenge. I’m driven by fear and doggedness, my determination not only fierce but unbreakable.

So, we have our plan. How are we going to work this?

“First, I have to secure our home, then make sure that Devon is watched around the clock. I’ll need to gather plenty of information in advance so I can predict Donny Ray’s movements before he makes them.”

“You mean like this one?”

My lungs go airless. My world tilts sideways, everything in it swimming rapidly around me. I look into the rearview mirror, and Donny Ray sneers at me from the backseat. I split my nervous attention between him and the road, gradually easing onto the brakes.

“It’s okay,” he says, motioning forward with a hand. “No need to stop now. I’ll talk. You listen.”

Oh, God. He’s with me
.

“I’ve always been with you, Christopher. You just couldn’t see it. But I’m glad. You needed to take me out of Loveland.”

You have to take me out of here!

The exact demand he made the day we met, now with horrifying significance, because I’ve just done the one thing I was trying to prevent. I’ve indeed taken Donny Ray out of Loveland. I’ve aided in his escape.

But is this real?

“Reality can be a strange thing,” he says, “you know? Daddy taught me that. He used to say it’s not about what you see, but what you choose not to. Of course, that didn’t work out so well for Miranda. Never could stand the little whore, so I chose not to see her, and
poof
! She was gone!”

No, I refuse to believe this is real. He’s not here. Now I’m having paranoid delusions that Donny Ray is following me. He’s finally infiltrated my mind.

“The reflections in your mind have been blinding you, Christopher. They’ve been pushing you closer to the edge.” He looks out at the road ahead and nods as if agreeing with his own thought. “But that’s the plan. We’re moving in the right direction now. We’re getting close.”

Bit by bit, Donny Ray has been dismantling Loveland. Now he’s moved into my mind, so he can tear that down as well.

“I’m tearing down the walls, Christopher. I’m rocking your world.” His grin is glib; so, too, is the small laugh he exhales. “And my work is nearly complete.”

“I won’t let you have my son!” I shout. “You’re not taking Devon away from me!”

“Really? Because it looks like you’re driving me right to him.”

I slam on the brakes, veer off the road, then pull to a screeching stop along the shoulder. “Why? Why are you causing me all this agony?”

“Your agony started a long time ago.” Donny Ray’s expression shifts into what looks like pity, or compassion, or whatever warped and phony mask his mind is wearing at the moment. “That’s why you called me here, to rid you of it.”

“I don’t want your help! Get out of my car . . . or my head . . . or—”

“And now that you’ve let me in, I’ll never leave you.”

“You’re evil!”

“I am truth.”

“You’re a lie!”

“That’s how I am—The Truth. Once I’m exposed, you can never bury me.” He nods toward the road ahead.

I aim my vision through the windshield, but before it can find focus, the glass shatters, and the white light explodes.

72

I jerk my head up and gasp.

What in God’s—?

I’m still in my car. I check the clock and realize that time has again escaped me, to the tune of about . . .

An hour?

More minutes stealing away when every second is golden.

My mind untangles, vision settles, and up ahead, I see . . .

Oh, hell no.

I’m parked directly in front of the Evil Tree, its gnarled branches woven together and looming overhead like a giant black web, trapping me.

A strong wind blows, and as if awakened from restless sleep, the Evil Tree comes to life. Leaves hiss venomously. Swaying branches throw shadows across my car like toxic vapors. And from the most cellular level of my being comes the purest of truths. That I’ve unwittingly landed at the hub where every evil in this world intersects.

I’ve got to get out of here.

I crank the ignition key, but abrupt and rapid movement outside the windshield distracts me. I turn my head just in time to see an object catch light, then disappear into darkness—darkness that still holds my attention as I question whether what I just saw was more than a reflection on the glass.

Another movement, this time to the right. I swing in that direction and find my answer waiting there.

Holy—

At about ten feet, the rubber ball wobbles to a stop, then a brilliant streak of crimson blazes into view.

No freakin’ way.

Standing before my car, bathed in the glow of headlights, is the teenager in the red hoodie.

Staring at me, stricken with abject fear.

At just a few feet away, I can see his face clearly. I’m positive that up until the accident, I’d never seen this kid before in my life.

“Who are you?” I shout at him.

He snatches up the ball and takes off running. Just as quickly, I sling my door open and clamber from the car.

“Not a chance!” I yell and chase after him. “You started this! You’re not getting away from me this time!”

Still clutching the ball, he beats a path toward the lake as if his life depends on it. I follow on his heels, but the kid’s a speed demon, covering ground at a rate that makes it difficult to keep up.

Several feet ahead, he dashes into a cluster of scrub oak, but I stay on him through the tangle of jagged twigs that poke and scratch and snap into my face. I claw my way out, but all I find past the clearing is more mystery. There’s no sign of the boy, not even the sound of his footfalls. I look to my left, then to my right. On each side, tall and sturdy boulders surround me, far too steep and slick for him to climb. Clamping a hand to each side of my head, I look out at the lake and observe the undisturbed water, smooth as glass.

Gone. Again.

“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TRYING TO TELL ME?” I shout out to the boy. But the only answer I get is my same question, reverberating back as a whispery echo.

A thunderous crash goes off, and my stomach sucks up into my throat, because I recognize the sound of metal crushing on impact.

“Oh God, my car!”

Then the glass shatters, and then the blinding light explodes.

73

It takes less than two blinks to realize that I’m flying up the road.

The road? What in God’s name is going on?

It’s not only the minutes taking leaps—so, too, are circumstances and events, quickly eddying into the path of utter disorder and confusion. With my mind decomposing so rapidly, any effort to keep track of reality is a job unto itself. I have to get this plan into place before my world collapses.

I jam a foot onto the gas pedal and feel my body jerk back as the car shoots forward, reeling me at unforgiving speed toward home.

I drive recklessly up my street, careen into the garage, then pull to a screeching halt. Jenna’s car isn’t here. She’s probably picking up Devon from school, which will work in my favor. I’ve got no time to talk right now, no time to explain, just plenty of work to do.

I burst through the door and into the house. I rush up the staircase and toward my office. Inside, I get busy logging on to my work account to extract the information I’ll need.

An hour later, I have at my ready—scattered about the floor and pinned to the walls—a full-blown paper arsenal of facts, figures, statistical data, and maps, detailing Loveland’s infrastructure, along with anything else I could gather to track Donny Ray’s daily patterns. I’ve also gathered the blueprints for this house and marked all points of vulnerability in red. In effect, I’ve got a war room equipped with information I’ll use to keep Devon safe.

I move to the window and part the curtains to see if the security patrol has arrived. Not yet, but I expect them shortly. From the office closet shelf, I pull down a metal lockbox. After opening it, I reach for my gun and slide out the magazine. If Donny Ray does manage to make it to this house, that bastard won’t live past our driveway.

Things are going smoother than expected. I’m pleased. All that’s left to do now is study up on the information I’ve gathered, make certain it’s ironclad.

A car pulls into the driveway. I spring from my chair, then relief gives me a dose of calm when I hear Jenna’s and Devon’s voices coming from the kitchen. I can’t talk to them right now, can’t afford any interruptions. With so much work to get done before morning, the clock is banging double time inside my head. I scramble to the door, turn the lock inside the knob, then get back to work.

About ten minutes later, I hear the pitter-patter of Devon’s feet on the staircase, accompanied by Jenna’s steps, firmer and more anchored. My son scurries off to his room, and shortly after, two raps hit my door.

“Chris?” my wife says. “You in there?”

“Hi, honey.” I shuffle some papers, more for effect than actual purpose, then the doorknob jiggles.

“What are you doing in there, and why’s the door locked?”

“Oh, that.” I force a laugh and hope it sounds casual enough. “I’ve got a big project starting up tomorrow. At work. It’s extremely important. I have a lot of research to get done this evening. I didn’t want Devon busting in and disturbing me.”

“But what about dinner?”

“Too busy. Can’t come down right now.” To evoke further credibility, I hit the print button, and the machine rattles off pages. I slam a desk drawer. “Just go ahead without me, and I’ll grab something later.”

“I can bring you up a plate.”

“No, that won’t be necessary. I’m fine for now, really.”

Finally, some peace, and I’m relieved, but then Jenna knocks once more.

“Honey, please!” I yell at the door. “What is it? I’m trying to work in here!”

“Sorry to bother you again, but I forgot to tell you something earlier,” Donny Ray says. “You’re wasting time with all that bullshit. Loveland is history. The war’s right here.”

Wood cracks and the walls around me boom into a powerful quake as Donny Ray violently and repeatedly slams his body against the door.

74

I snatch up the gun from my desk, then charge forward, shouting, “GET OUT OF MY MIND! I’LL KILL YOU, GODDAMN IT! YOU HEAR ME?”

With gun aimed high and ready to fire, I yank open the door, but when I see what’s on the other side, my stomach clenches.

Jenna stands in the hallway, face blanched by shock, staring at the gun in my hand. She doesn’t speak, but her quivering lips tell me all I need to know.

I lower the gun to my side and say, “I’m sorry . . . I thought—”

She looks past me and into the room, and her expression cascades into wide-eyed fright. She drops a hand to her side, and the globe that I stole from Adam’s house falls, shattering into pieces on the floor.

“Honey, I can explain that. It’s not what you—”

Jenna shoves past me, then takes unsteady steps toward the center of the room. She scans the walls, papered with a plethora of charts, of graphs, of floor diagrams, a peppering of pushpins holding them all up. Red-scribbled markings everywhere. Arrows and special symbols, discernible only to me. Directives scrawled like graffiti:
P
OTENTIAL
E
SCAPE
R
OUTE!
P
RIMARY
S
TAGING
A
REA!
S
TOP
D
ONNY
R
AY!

“This probably looks a little strange to you,” I say, taking long strides toward her, “but it isn’t what you—”

Jenna stops me in my tracks, because riding through her eyes, on her face—everywhere—I see things I’ve never before witnessed. I see naked fear. I see heartbreak.

I see my wife looking at someone she doesn’t know.

“Please just listen to me!” I say with hands raised in the air, swallowing hard against my distress and agitation.

Jenna studies the walls again, then turns back to me. With tears welling, she says, “Chris, we need to get you help right away.”

I stare at her for a few seconds, then start pacing the floor, vision fixed there as I talk. “No. You have to hear me out. I’m very sorry if all this looks frightening, but you’ll understand much better once I explain.” My body involuntarily and abruptly jerks. “Now, please listen very carefully when I tell you this. A flagrant evil has descended over Loveland. People—scores of them—are vanishing. The employees, the patients,
everyone
. They’re being transported to some secret place. I don’t know where yet, but I do know who’s behind it all. Donny Ray is doing it. He’s moving them out.”

I stop pacing to look at Jenna, and now she appears more frightened. I can’t blame her, and I hate being the one to bring this frightening news, so I come back, reach for her hand, and get full confirmation of that fear. With her arm so stiff and unyielding, I’m now fully aware how unsettled all this is making her.

“Sweetheart,” I say, trying to temper my voice, looking at her with compassion, “our son is in grave danger, but please don’t be scared right now, okay? You just have to trust me. I’ve been giving this a lot of thought. I have a plan. I’m going to save him from—”

“Chris,” she says and starts backing away from me. “Please. Stop.”

“Stop what?”

“Stop doing all this.”

“I don’t understand. I’m trying to tell you right now what’s been—”

“I know what’s been going on.”

“Wait . . . What? You already know? About Donny Ray? And about Devon?”

“Adam told me everything.”

“Damn it!” I shout and look away with an angry smile. “I should have known he’d get to you first!” I turn quickly back to her. “But don’t believe him. Don’t believe anything he says. He’s lying to you. Adam is in on it!”

“Adam is trying to help you!” she says, tears rolling down her face. “Chris, I’m frightened of you.
We’re
frightened of you.”

“You’re—of
me
?” A loud and frenetic laugh escapes through my lips. “How could . . . I don’t understand this at all. I’m trying to protect you!”

“Please, you have to put a stop to all this, to what you’re doing to yourself . . .” She takes in a shaky breath. “. . . To everyone.”

I launch forward, then spin back toward her. “But it’s not what you think. I’m doing it all for a very good reason. I have to save Devon, because—”

“Chris!” she yells. “Listen to me! Devon is not the one who needs saving. He’s never been the one!”

“Yes he does!” I grab hold of my hair, shake my head vigorously, then through clenched teeth, “He needs it! He needs it very badly! I have to protect him!”

“No, baby . . . ,” she says, voice cracking. “The problem isn’t happening at Loveland. It never was. All this time, it’s been happening in your mind. You’re trapped inside it, and now everything is falling apart.
You’re
falling apart.”

“That’s not true! It’s just not! You have to believe me! Devon will die if I don’t do something! Look, I know”—my body jerks again but harder this time—“I know I’ve been having some problems lately, but this part is actually real.”

“None of this is real,” she says, sadness so plain. Sadness I can’t at all comprehend.

“You . . . You don’t believe me?”

“Not because I don’t want to. Because I can’t.”

“Please . . .
Please!
Don’t do this to me, not now. Don’t abandon me. You’re the only one left who can help me. I need you!”

The sound of tiny footsteps interrupts us. Jenna gives the open doorway a wary glance, then rushes toward the wall and starts pulling down my papers.

“Wait!” I shout at her. “Don’t touch those! I’ve been working all afternoon! It’s extremely important!”

I leap toward my wife. She startles and lets out a shriek so appalling that it knocks me off-balance. I stumble forward, try to regain footing, and grab hold of Jenna’s arm, but she shoves me away. Her breath is heaving. Her cheeks are soaked with tears.

Devon screams.

I turn around and the blood drains from my face.

My son stands in the doorway frozen by terror, sobbing to the point of hyperventilation.

Directly behind him, I see Donny Ray Smith, a smarmy smirk spreading across his face.

“Nothing in this world can hold me, Christopher,” he says. “Nothing at all.”

“I’LL FUCKING KILL YOU!” I shout and vault toward them.

Donny Ray lowers his hands, but before he can touch my son’s shoulder, I crash into him. We fly backward onto the floor. I land on top of him, and we wrestle for control, but the man is so much stronger. In one powerful move, he flips me over and slams my back against the floor.

Jenna screams.

“Give up the boy!” Donny Ray says, legs straddling me. “I’m taking him!”

I can’t see anything, can’t even feel my own body. I only feel rage—rage so powerful that it explodes within me like a thousand bottle rockets. In a flash, I spring upward. Donny Ray flies into reverse and smashes into the wall, but before he can regroup, I’m on him again, hands gripped tightly around his neck.

“Daddy, stop! I can’t breathe!”

The sound of Devon’s voice startles me. I see my hands clutched around his neck. I see him choking for air.

I see his shock and horror staring me in the face.

“Oh no . . .
God
. . . OH, NO!” I shout, instantly releasing my hold on him, unable to fathom what I’ve just done, or for that matter, how. But I don’t get a chance to figure it out, because something heavy and hard hurtles into the back of my neck. The room swarms into a spin all around me, and my vision blurs as I drop to the floor.

I lift my head in time to catch Jenna racing through the doorway with Devon draped over her shoulder. My son’s frantic, sobbing screams echo down the hall—soon after that, I hear the sound of tires as they burn rubber on the driveway, and the walls of my once-unyielding world, cracking, crumbling, and falling all around me.