In Your Dreams

by Amy Martin

  Chapter 22

  A few girls scream in surprise and I hear some laughter that sounds like it’s coming mostly from the guys. “Everybody start making out!” a deep voice yells, prompting giggles and whoops from the crowd.

  “No, everybody don’t start making out,” threatens an exhausted and parental-sounding female, followed quickly by an adult male voice: “We blew a fuse, folks. We’ll get a generator going in a few minutes.”

  But everything’s already falling apart. Several couples head toward the moonlight streaming in through the half-open barn door, not willing to wait until the lights and music come back on. Me, on the other hand, I’m just terrified, the only thought running through my head being It’s happening…It’s happening…It’s happening.

  “Kieran?” I whisper, panic spreading through me, taking over my voice and forcing my arms to grip him more tightly.

  “I’m right here,” he says, because I’m acting as if I can’t tell he’s still holding me.

  “Don’t let me go, okay?”

  “Not a problem.” In the faint light, I can see his eyes constrict with confusion. “Are you okay? You seem kind of scared all of a sudden.”

  “I’m…I’m good.” I force a smile. “The lights…just caught me off guard there, I guess.”

  “Should we leave, you think?”

  Yes. Yes, we should, because I don’t know what’s going to happen if we stay inside this dimly-lit barn—I never dream about what happens after the darkness falls, so I want out into the moonlight as soon as possible.

  “Yeah,” I breathe, grabbing his hand and pulling him toward the light and outside. As we walk down the hill, a line of cars passes us on their way to the main road, people honking and waving at us even though we can’t see who’s inside. A Malibu pulls up next to us as we’re about to turn off from the gravel drive to walk the several yards across the grass to my car, and Lauren’s head pops out the lowered window. “Hey—a bunch of us are headed out to the Burger Barn if you guys want to come,” she yells, the Burger Barn being the only place around Titusville open twenty-four hours.

  “Thanks,” I yell back, and Bill accelerates down the drive, Lauren’s arm waving to us as they continue to the blacktop. I slip off my heels so I can better walk through the high grass, dropping them next to my rear tire as Kieran leans up against the passenger door. “So, do you want to go meet up with everybody?” he asks, voice low.

  Once again, my fear melts into oblivion. I step forward, the ache gnawing at my insides even though I’m not yet touching him. My mind tells me we’d be safer from…whatever’s out there if we were with other people, but my heart reminds me the lights went out several minutes ago, and just like at school, nothing’s happened. So given the choice between eating burgers and fries with most of the junior and senior classes or taking advantage of some rare alone time with Kieran…

  “No,” I say, pressing against him. We watch the line of cars until the last one pulls out on the main road. The lights flicker back on in the barn and in seconds, the faint sound of music drifts down to us over the several cars still parked around the property. Whoever’s staying is staying, and whoever’s decided to leave is gone. I move back from Kieran as far as I need to so I can reach into my purse for my keys.

  “I’ll get your door for you,” Kieran says, but I grab his wrist, stopping him before he can start walking to the driver’s side.

  “I’ve got a better idea.” I open the passenger door and fling my purse over to the driver’s seat before folding the backrest forward. Kieran follows me to the back, shutting the door behind him.

  “So,” he says, flashing me that grin. “Nice weather we’re having, huh?”

  “Yeah,” I respond, willing to play the “No—I’m not nervous at all” game he’s started. “Not too hot, not too cold. Perfect weather for this time of year, really.”

  “But I’m guessing you didn’t crawl back here so we could talk about the weather,” he points out, reaching out to caress my knee.

  “Not exactly.” I start giggling, but Kieran’s mouth finds mine and the ache pulls me under, my hands moving up into his hair, the two of us sinking down so his body is mostly on mine, his legs in the floorboard. My back arches, molding my torso to his.

  “Just so you can’t say later you weren’t warned,” he murmurs against my lips, “I really don’t know what I’m doing.” He stops kissing me altogether and raises his head, his eyes shifting away from mine in embarrassment. “Like, I really, really have no idea, if you get my meaning.”

  “Me, neither,” I say, touching his cheek. “But I’m willing to figure it out as we go if you are.”

  Kieran exhales, seemingly relieved, and I pull him to me once again. Maybe I should be nervous or scared or something over what might happen here, but my want for him controls me to the point that I’m not aware of my emotions at all, the only thing I feel besides Kieran’s hands moving on me being a breeze blowing through the car, as if the door’s still open or the window’s rolled down. The chill lifts me from my trance in time to open my eyes and notice a hand on Kieran’s shoulder, yanking him backwards. My body involuntarily follows his at first, but whoever or whatever wrenches him off me with such force that I fall back on the leather seat, and his eyes wide with terror are the last things I see before he disappears.

  The door slams, shaking the car, and I’m so in shock I let a few precious seconds pass. My first thought—a totally irrational one—is that my mom found us and at the moment she’s threatening Kieran with the full force of her maternal wrath. My mom being here, however, makes absolutely no sense.

  But I know what does make sense. I know what could be happening right now that would awaken every fear I’ve stuffed down inside me all night long.

  I climb out of the Camaro, my head whipping around a few times before I catch sight of a man in the near distance sprint-walking away from the barn and the house in the direction of the Stanley’s cornfield. Moonlight bounces off his shiny bald dome, and Kieran’s slung over his shoulder like a wet towel. “Kieran!” I scream into the night, but he doesn’t raise his head, which I take to mean he’s passed out. Frank Dozier’s pace picks up slightly as I turn toward the barn and yell “Help!” at the top of my lungs. Even as my voice echoes back to me, I realize the barn’s too far away and the music’s too loud, and I don’t want to risk Frank disappearing with Kieran while I run up the hill to get help.

  I’ve got to handle this on my own.

  Frank and Kieran are turning into human specks against the night as Frank trudges further away through the ankle-high plants, so I take a deep breath and break into a sprint even though Frank Dozier’s got a pretty good head start on me.

  But people don’t call me “Zip” for nothing.

  In seconds, I’ve made up half the ground between Frank and myself, my feet barely registering on the grass and the dirt of the Stanley’s recently planted cornfield. Once I see that he’s headed for an old Dodge Charger parked at the edge of the field bordering the county road, I will myself to speed up. By the time Frank hears the sound of my footsteps in the dirt, I’m almost on him. He whips around, one arm holding Kieran’s legs to his chest, and he gives me that sneer from the Diner, stopping short of a laugh as my momentum nearly causes me to crash into him.

  “Whataya think you’re doin’, little girl?” he taunts in his New Yawk accent, extending his free hand toward me to do…to do…what?

  I don’t plan on finding out. My adrenaline, already spiking after my run, kicks up another notch and before I realize what I’m doing, I’ve reared back, hand balled into a fist, all the strength in my body propelling my arm forward. The knuckles of my right hand strike Frank’s nose with such force I crumple to the ground as he does, Kieran sliding to the dirt in a heap next to him. Tears spring to my eyes as I try to shake the sting out, but the action just makes the pain worse, and I can already feel the throbbing sensation that means my hand is starting to swell. I get up from my knees
and stand over Frank, his face a bloody mess, what consciousness he has only allowing him to moan and roll his head back and forth in the dust. Kieran, meanwhile, shaken awake from the fall, pushes himself up on an elbow and looks around, confused. “Zip?” he asks.

  I reach down with my good hand to help him up as Frank raises his left hand to his nose to wipe away some blood, revealing a sunburst tattoo on his inner wrist I’ve never noticed before, an orange circle with matching orange squiggly rays, all outlined in black. Shifting my eyes to Kieran, I can tell by his bewildered expression he’s seen the tattoo as well. Frank continues to brush his bloody nose and struggles to sit up, while I figure we probably shouldn’t be standing around waiting for him to come to his senses. “Run!” I yell.

  Kieran and I take off in the direction of my car, Kieran panting as he tries to keep up with me. I stop about halfway and look behind us, both so Kieran can rest and so I can see what Frank’s up to, which isn’t much. He struggles to his feet and takes a few steps forward, bobbing and weaving like a punch-drunk boxer before crumpling to the dirt again. I surrender some precious seconds waiting for his next move, but when he begins crawling toward his car rather than heading in our direction, I elbow Kieran and the two of us speed-walk the rest of the way to the Camaro.

  Once at the car, I yank my purse from the seat where I’d thrown it what seems now a million years ago and slide behind the wheel. Hands shaking, I reach for my keys and fling the tiny bag behind me while Kieran buckles himself in. “What now?” he wheezes, as I start the car and back out of the grass to the gravel drive, the barn on the hill behind us lit up and oblivious to all we’ve been through.

  I cast a brief glance over at Kieran shaking in my passenger seat, arms crossed around himself. Obviously, any romantic spells we were under were broken long before my fist connected with Frank’s nose, so hooking up is out of the realm of possibilities for the night. “I don’t know what we should do,” I answer, eyeing the swollen hand I have no idea how I’m going to explain to my Mom. When I take my hand from the steering wheel and try to flex at the knuckles, the pain from the tiny bit of movement I’m able to muster makes me wince. “Maybe…maybe we should drive around for a while, clear our heads,” I suggest. “We need to figure out our next move.” I look sideways at Kieran again, his tuxedo coated with a light sheen of dust, sweat mixing with the dirt on his cheek to create a muddy smear. “You’re a mess, my hand’s swelling, and I don’t think Frank’s leaving town. We need some kind of a plan.”

  I have no idea how right I am until I reach the blacktop and accelerate, checking my rear view mirror to find a Dodge Charger gaining on us. In seconds, the headlights are practically in my backseat, lighting up the Camaro’s interior. I floor the gas pedal, thankful I know every twist and turn in these country roads but not convinced I can keep control on them at over eighty miles an hour. The headlights behind us recede a little as we pick up speed, and I draw on upon every action/adventure movie I’ve seen in my lifetime to try to come up with a plan.

  Right now, we’re headed back toward town. Two cars racing through downtown Titusville at nearly four times the speed limit would definitely draw attention, but I’m not sure I trust the county cops to get out here fast enough to be of much help. Plus, I can’t stomach speeding through Titusville and hitting someone else’s car, or worse. In the movies, people are always jumping out of the way or cars not involved in the chase end up crashing into buildings or into each other, but the movies never show what happens to the people on the sidewalk or in those anonymous cars. Does anyone care about the hero causing multiple injuries, death, and destruction before conquering the bad guy? No. Not in the movies. But here, in real life, I care, so leading Frank Dozier to town is out.

  My mind races with possibilities. I could get on the four-lane state highway near school and call the cops from there. There won’t be too many people out this time of night, so I can drive like a maniac without causing much damage. I glance into my rear view mirror to see Frank’s lights on my tail, and I decide we should call the cops, tell them we’re being chased to the highway, and they can intercept us out there somewhere.

  But I can’t reach my phone because it’s in my purse—in the backseat.

  “Kieran,” I yell, but all I get in return is a faint moan telling me he’s out of it. “Kieran!” I shriek louder this time, and he snaps awake.

  “Yeah?”

  “Call the cops. Tell them we’re headed for the highway—exit nineteen.”

  A billion seconds go by and I don’t hear Kieran’s voice, don’t see anything reflected in my windshield resembling light from a phone screen. “My phone’s gone,” he tells me finally. “It must’ve fallen out of my jacket back there.”

  “Okay,” I say, amazed at how calm I am right now. “My purse is in the backseat somewhere. Do you see it?”

  He lifts up and twists his body around as much as he can with his seat belt still on. “No.”

  Okayokayokay. A microscopic black purse against black leather seats—of course, he can’t see it. And with our luck, the tiny bag’s probably in the floorboard somewhere or stuck under one of our seats, and I’m not going to ask Kieran to go fumbling around without a seat belt on while I’m busy re-enacting scenes from The Fast and the Furious movies. I’d really like to get out of this evening without either of us getting killed.

  I’ve got almost a full tank of gas. Wonder how much Frank has? Maybe I can get on the highway and just drive until one of us is empty? But that never happens in the movies. Somebody always crashes into something or the car blows up or goes off a cliff or…

  No. I’m not getting on the highway. I’m ending this. Right now. And I think I know how I’m going to do it.