“What’s the problem?” I whispered, but louder than I meant to. “You didn’t say anything about needing to be armed to attend this crap-fest. What the hell are we going to do with weapons? I thought we were just going to hide out and watch. Are you planning to burst in and take hostages or something? Tasers are illegal.” This adventure had now gone from being an interesting change of pace to something that was making fear coil in my stomach.
Maxie dropped her head and stared at the ground. She lowered the weapons to her sides, then raised her eyes up to mine. “I’m sorry. I’m so used to doing these crazy things alone and I psych myself up for whatever’s going to happen. I should’ve told you, there’s always a chance some weirdo will freak out and do something violent. Let’s face it, if these were normal, healthy people, they probably wouldn’t be here, would they? You should be used to unpredictable, mentally whacked-out people.” She brought the pistol and the Taser into the space between us again. “Maybe I’m overreacting, but I need you to choose one of these, just so I can be sure you have something to defend yourself with. You could use the pocket knife, but an attacker would have to get awfully close and personal before it would be a good option.”
She held the small pistol out to me. “Have you ever fired one of these?”
I took the gun. At least I wasn’t likely to stun myself with it. “Just a few times, when an old boyfriend dragged me to the firing range. I wasn’t very good — I’ll probably shoot myself in the foot.”
In fact, I almost shot him in the foot back then.
“No, you won’t. It has a safety. Here, I’ll show you.” She demonstrated, and then handed the gun back to me. “Take it, okay? Just in case.” She pocketed the Taser and grinned. “I’ll hold onto the illegal device.”
My hand tingled when I took the weapon, as if my skin was trying to reject all the emotions trapped in the handle.
“You’re going to owe me big-time, Maxie. Crawling around in the dirt, carrying a gun, prowling through the burned-out remains of an amusement park — next time we listen to jazz and drink margaritas.”
She grinned and patted my shoulder. “Way to suck it up, gal pal. What a trouper. This will be an adventure you’ll never forget.” She strolled over to check out the back of the Jeep again. “Yep, I think we have everything we need. Let’s rumble.” She re-fastened the flap over the rear window, buttoned her jacket and trotted off toward the fence.
She shot me a glance over her shoulder. “Hey, you’d better zip up unless you want dirt and soot all over that fine rack.”
I heard her laughing as she glided to a gaping section of fence. Still walking fast to catch up with Maxie, I glanced down to zip the parka and tripped over an exposed tree root. Thanks to the foamy coat, I made barely a sound as I hit the ground. “Fuck!” I said under my breath and raised my head in time to watch Maxie crawl under the fence, stand and stride off. She disappeared behind the ruins of a building.
“Uh, Maxie?” I croaked.
Chapter 7
There was silence as I struggled to my feet, brushing off dirt, twigs and a used condom. The damn coat was so bulky it was like wearing a fat suit. I finished tugging up the zipper and jogged over to the fence. Pausing, I stared at the curled-up corner, then squatted and examined the small opening, talking to myself.
“How the hell am I supposed to cram this hot-air balloon of a parka through that hole in the chain-link? Of course Maxie’s leather jacket slid right through. What was the point of dressing me up like the Michelin Man?”
I peeled off the jacket, dropped to my hands and knees and pushed it through, then crawled under on my stomach. The ground was relatively smooth, indicating that many other people had made the journey before me.
Emerging on the other side, I stood and rotated my shoulders. I hated to put the parka back on again, but if Maxie thought it was important for me to have a gun, I probably should at least keep my hands free. I retrieved the fluffy beast, slipped it on and walked tentatively toward a maze of building remains. The full moon shone large and bright, like a cosmic lantern. It should have been easy to find Maxie, but she was nowhere in sight.
Thinking it would probably be better if I weren’t quite so visible, I detoured along a partial wall and scanned the area. This was definitely a weird place, and not only because of the scorched landscape — although that definitely qualified as creepy — but because of the ominous vibe.
Suddenly the scene burst into flames and I stumbled back, startled. The smell of burning wood and flesh was so strong that I pressed my hand over my mouth and nose and started breathing as shallowly as I could. Thick clouds of black smoke blanketed the park, blotting out the sky, and screaming spectral people ran from the buildings as they tried frantically to extinguish blazing hair and clothing. Several of them crossed through me, causing my stomach to cramp and goose bumps to swarm over my arms and legs. I coughed, and tasted the smoke at the back of my throat. Willing my legs to move, I darted toward a cement-block building and huddled against the wall. My rational brain knew it wasn’t real, that it was yet another ghastly replay, apparitional memories that had become an unwelcome part of my freakish life. But my animal brain wasn’t listening. It was cowering in fear.
The vision was so overwhelming, it took me a couple of minutes to remember how to make it go away. I lowered my hands from my face, stood straight and whispered as loud as I dared, “Stop!”
And it did. Everything vanished, and I was once again standing in an abandoned, destroyed fun center.
“Shit, Kismet,” I mumbled, angry at myself for not stopping the grisly movie as soon as it started. But the truth was, the ghostly visitations had become more intense ever since I drank the elders’ blood, and I hadn’t had enough time yet to get used to their unexpected appearances.
And where the hell was Maxie?
I slumped against the building, forcing myself to relax my muscles and practice breathing. I threw in the mental hum for good measure, since it always calmed me.
Then everything went still — unnaturally still, not even the sound of a cricket — and I held my breath as something triggered my inner alarm. I couldn’t identify what was off, but the air hung heavy, dangerous. I waited for another horrifying memory to burst forth, but whatever this was had a different texture.
Maybe Maxie was right about whackos hiding in the shadows. I reached into my pocket and wrapped my fingers around the gun, but instead of reassuring, it terrified me. I turned my head slowly from side to side, watching for — what? Nothing else had happened to make me anxious, but my gut clenched and my breath caught, as if I was sensing something or someone I couldn’t see.
“Maxie?” I whispered, barely audible. Dread washed over me and I froze, trying to figure out where the threat was coming from. If there even was a threat. I was torn between thinking my imagination was working overtime since I was now constantly waiting for the next ghostly shoe to drop, and wanting to trust my intuition. My heart pounded and my temperature spiked so high that I unzipped the coat and used the edge to fan myself.
What was happening to me? I’d never had a panic attack before, but whatever was happening to my body fit all the symptoms. Maybe I was holding onto the energy echoes from the chaos of the fire — I’d prefer that explanation to thinking I was losing my mind.
Then I heard a groan and I gazed around, searching for the source of the low sound. I heard it again, closer this time, but still I couldn’t see anyone near me. I jumped as a hand stroked the side of my face and gasped as fingers trailed down my neck. I heard another groan and my whole body contracted in terror. I reached up to swat the invisible hand away, but there was nothing there — and yet I could still feel it, as real as my own skin, and the longer the phantom hand touched me, the more my muscles cramped.
Footsteps pounded toward me. “Kismet? Where are you?”
I must have been holding my breath because so much air escaped from my mouth that I coughed and doubled over. The unseen hand disappeare
d. “Maxie? Here. I’m over here.”
She crouched, grabbed my upper arms, and pulled me upright. “Where the hell did you go? I thought you were right behind me. What’s wrong with you? Why are you all sweaty and shaky?” She pivoted, waving the Taser she carried. “Did someone attack you? What happened?”
I closed my eyes for a moment to calm myself. Either I’d been fondled by an invisible something or I was going mad. Neither option was acceptable.
My fingers still had a death-grip on the weapon in my pocket and I forced myself to let go. My palm was so slick with sweat that the gun slid out of my hand easily once I relaxed my muscles.
I opened my eyes, took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Maxie half-turned her body so she was still able to catch anyone approaching, while whispering furtively, “Kismet? What the hell’s wrong with you? Tell me what happened.”
I certainly wasn’t going to tell her about the spectral fire. Nobody but Devereux knew the extent of my immaterial visions. My hand rose to the spot on my face where the invisible fingers had stroked me. “I don’t know what happened. Somebody touched me.”
She spun around, pointing the Taser in one direction and then another. “Who? What did he look like?”
I licked my dry lips. “He didn’t look like anything.”
“What do you mean? Did he have a bag over his head or something? A pointy white hood?”
“No. I mean, nobody was there at all, but I swear there was a definite hand on my face. And there was a groan — a male-sounding groan.”
She lowered her weapon and raised her eyebrows. “Lay that on me again: an invisible hand and a manly groan? Do you realize how nuts that sounds? Doc, help me out here. Get a grip. Don’t go Looney Tunes on me now. Maybe you’ve been listening to too many schizo stories from your clients.” She retrieved a small flask from one of her many pockets, flicked off the attached lid and offered it to me. “Here. A little brandy to calm the nerves.”
I shook my head. “No, I don’t want any more alcohol. I feel strange enough as it is.”
“I insist, Doc. I can’t have you flake out on me.” She stepped closer and held the flask out. “There’s nothing like a little brandy — for medicinal purposes only, of course — to set the world right.” As I continued shaking my head, she said, “Here, I’ll go first.” She took a swig, then licked her lips.
When I didn’t say anything she gave me a light punch on the arm and a concerned look. “Your turn. Trust me, you need it. Liquid courage.”
Spoken like a true addict. Well, why the hell not?
I grabbed the flask, took a small swig, swallowed and as warmth spread down my throat and into my middle I realized I was a bit steadier.
Hmm. Funny-tasting brandy. I don’t even want to think about how long Maxie must have had that in her car.
She watched me and nodded, her face serious. “Okay, that’s better. You scared me, Doc. I barely recognized you there for a minute. Under different circumstances, I’d walk you back to the car and let you wait there for me, but I’ve found the location of the main event and I need you to cover my back. Are you going to be able to be there for me? Can I count on you?”
Damn. Where in my job description did it say anything about scaring myself to death while trailing mentally defective role-players? What exactly am I trying to prove? I really wanted to crawl back under that fence and head for the Jeep, but Maxie had pressed my guilt button — and my coward button. Either she’d figured me out very quickly, or I was horribly easy to read. Regardless, she had me.
“Yeah, sure. You can count on me. Let’s go.”
“Are you okay to walk? Seriously, Doc, you looked like you were having some kind of breakdown.”
Welcome to my world.
“I’m good.” I took a couple of awkward steps before my legs solidified beneath me. My knees were still a little wobbly, but they held.
She walked alongside me, casting glances every few seconds to make sure I wasn’t going to pass out or bolt. Great. My intuition had decided to reappear. Where had it been when I was in the midst of the panic attack? Why couldn’t I read the emotions and intentions of whatever the hell it was that touched me?
“What did you find?” I whispered. The silence was especially thick again.
Speaking softly, she gave me a verbal tour of the demolished site, then pointed to the hulking edifice in front of us. Soft light shone from the broken windows. “So many people died here.”
“Sounds grisly.”
“Yeah. The funhouse had world-famous twisted mirrors, scary monsters and bloody exhibits, and a large area was left open in the center where reenactments and horror-theatre-type presentations were held nightly. People lined the upper balconies to watch the orchestrated mayhem. Performances still take place in the center circle, but the morons are in charge now. I wonder how the idiots managed to generate light in there. You don’t think they’re dim enough to light a bonfire or something?”
I hoped not, because the last thing I wanted was more fire.
Speak of the devil. Just as Maxie finished explaining, excited voices sliced the air. She grabbed my arm and pulled me behind a corner of the large building and we crouched there, watching as a group of men dressed in theatrical versions of occult chic carried a wooden box — a coffin? — across our line of sight. As they approached, I heard a muffled voice screaming from inside.
I started to stand, but Maxie tugged me down again, vigorously shaking her head. I didn’t know what I thought I could do about the person trapped in the box, but doing nothing was the unacceptable choice. I followed the goth caravan with my eyes, waiting for any helpful ideas to form in my brain, until Maxie tapped me on the arm and mouthed “per-form-ance” and flicked her thumb in their direction. My mouth formed an O, and I nodded, relieved. I’d forgotten we’d come to observe role-players. After my horrifying experiences with violent bloodsuckers, I tended to overreact — just a little Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, nothing to worry about.
Maxie jerked her head toward the rear of the building, signaling me to follow her as she crept through the shadows to an old-fashioned fire escape hugging the wall of the colorful funhouse. The bottom rung was only about six feet from the ground. Maxie examined it, then bent over, lacing the fingers of both hands together to form a foothold.
“Put your foot here and I’ll boost you up,” she said, her eyes constantly scanning the environment for unexpected company.
“Hold it! What do you mean? Boost me up where, Lucy?”
Maxie straightened. “You’re such a stick in the mud, Ethel. Put your fucking foot in my hands, get on the damn ladder, and climb to the top floor.”
We grinned at each other for a few seconds, enjoying the old I Love Lucy joke, then I remembered where we were and that I really did want answers to my questions.
“Why do we have to climb to the top floor? I thought you were invited to this thing. I didn’t volunteer for a black-ops assignment. What’s the purpose of hiding?”
“I told you. I like to sneak up so I can see the things they don’t want me to see. That’s how I’ve gotten my best stories.” She laced her fingers together again. “Jesus, Doc. Do all psychologists have to know every fucking detail all the time, or is it just you? Has anyone ever mentioned that you’re a bit... controlling?”
Why yes, they had, as a matter of fact, but I wasn’t the one doing all the bossing around. In this case, Maxie made me look like a slacker.
“Me, controlling? Hey, you’re the Dominatrix from Hell today, not me! I think I’ve been very polite and accommodating, while you—”
She put her hand over my mouth, leaned in and whispered, “Somebody’s coming. Either climb the fucking ladder or run over there and hide in those bushes while I go up.” She removed her hand from my face, laced her fingers again and waited a heartbeat.
Now I could hear the footsteps approaching too, and almost without thinking, I put my boot in Maxie’s hands, she gave me a boost and I grabbed a rung an
d scurried up the ladder.
Maxie was athletic, or at least in good shape, because she quickly moved up close behind me.
We’d climbed almost to the top before I peered down to check on our visitors. It was hard to make out details, even in the light of the full moon, but it looked like two guys had sneaked off for some private time and were in the midst of shucking the lower portions of their costumes in preparation for some... deeper... intimacy.
Maxie hadn’t realized I’d slowed and her head smacked into my rear, causing me to lose my grip on the bars. I almost yelped as she grabbed my legs and whispered, “Keep going!” Thankfully, we were high enough that the small sounds we made hadn’t carried. Besides, the guys sharing body fluids below weren’t paying any attention to us.
We made it to the top floor and stepped across the six feet of iron grating leading to a heavy metal door, which was locked. After I’d tugged fruitlessly on the handle Maxie shoved past me, extracting a set of small tools and a miniature flashlight from her pocket. She held the slender light between her teeth. I peeked over her shoulder as she worked on the lock with a small knife-like tool. “Hmm. Breaking and entering. Should I ask what other illegal activities we might be undertaking tonight? Maybe next time we can hit an ATM, rob a gas station, maybe knock over a convenience store? Or perhaps we could freelance as drug mules.”
She let the flashlight drop into her hand. “Shut up, Ethel. Yes! Am I awesome, or what?”
The door creaked open.
Maxie stuck her head into the crack, then stepped inside, gesturing at me to follow. I pulled the door closed behind me.
We’d gone to hell.
In the total blackness, glow-in-the-dark paint depicted demonic scenes, with rivers of blood, and zombies feasting on the bodies of the previously living. The ghoulish displays had been demolished and the remnants of their wood and glass littered the floor.
My eyes adjusted to the darkness and I noticed there was a path under my feet dusted with glowing sparkles. Remembering the last time I’d been in a funhouse as a kid, when I’d slammed into an invisible glass on my quest for an exit door, I put my hands out in front of me.
Crimson Psyche Page 10
