Virtual Terror

by David Bergantino

  "No police. Promise?" Mel asked dramatically. Sheesh, Keith thought. He's acting like he's on the Ten Most Wanted list.

  "Promise," he said, and hung up before Mel could speak further. He heard the phone ringing again as he got into his car.

  As he drove away, something nagged at Keith. For several minutes he couldn't identify the source. Then he realized that it was Mel's call that he found so disturbing. He had never given Mel his phone number. Or even his last name. So how had Mel known how to reach him?

  He suddenly wondered if he should have asked to meet Mel in a public place.

  Chapter 10

  Keith waited in front of the school for over an hour, but Sandra never showed. He got out and prowled the grounds, thinking maybe she'd taken a walk to work off some steam. But there was no sign of her, and the school's pay phone was out-of-order. He'd try calling her from home later, after he met with Mel.

  Half an hour later, Keith parallel-parked on a dark street in a seedy area of Springwood. The smell of rot permeated the air, and trash blew across the cracked sidewalks. The leafless trees seemed to be trapped in a perpetual autumn. Keith's instincts told him he was heading blindly into an ambush. But there was no turning back, he decided.

  Keith walked up the main drive of the trailer park. Shabby aluminum and plastic trailers lined up on either side of him like the keys of a poorly maintained piano. Strong odors of spicy foods wafted from partially opened windows. At times, the odors seemed to be trying to outstink one another.

  He finally came to Mel's trailer. It was set apart from the rest and surrounded by a larger plot of weeds and gravel. It looked like Mel had gotten himself a deluxe trailer lot.

  As Keith approached the trailer door, he heard the sound of a running shower. That was a new wrinkle, Keith thought. He never would have figured Mel for the kind of guy who actually bathed. On the other hand, maybe coincidence had brought Keith over the one night of the month when Mel did practice personal hygiene. Whatever the case, Keith was early and Mel was not ready. The feeling of walking into an ambush was still strong, and Keith decided it wouldn't hurt to stay outside and check around first.

  A good-sized storage shed sat near the back end of the trailer. It looked like a good place to start. He opened the shed door, and the weak rays of the trailer entry light illuminated a few items within. The usual assortment of tools leaned into corners or hung from hooks or a Peg-Board. He could make out a hoe, a rake, an ax, and other gardening equipment. As his eyes adjusted, he made out other shapes against the shed's back wall. They appeared to be ovals, with jagged edges. At first he thought they were shark jaws, like he had seen in movies.

  He stepped forward to look at them more closely, a spiderweb hit him in the face. Sweeping it out of the way with his hand, he realized it was a little thick for a spiderweb. Reaching up, he found a string and pulled. A low-wattage bulb lit up the shed with a sickly yellow light. Now he could see the contents of the shed clearly. Most of the debris cluttering the floor and walls seemed appropriate. But the back wall was something else entirely. Instead of shark jaws, the shapes dangling from hooks were animal traps. Large iron traps like the pioneers used to use. At least three of them were big enough to trap bear. Other, smaller ones of varying sizes hung on nails around the larger ones, like a dangerous constellation.

  But why the hell would Mel have bear traps? Keith wondered. Springwood was hardly bear country, let alone trapping country. And somehow, he couldn't see Mel stalking the wilderness in a coonskin cap. Keith half wished he hadn't seen this. His uneasiness had only grown worse. He shuddered and stepped back.

  * * *

  A strong hand gripped his shoulder. He yelled and launched himself forward, nearly landing against the largest bear trap. Laughter came from the doorway behind him, and he spun to face whoever was there.

  "Gotcha!" laughed Mel. He wore jeans and a T-shirt, and his hair was wet. Keith immediately felt ashamed for snooping. "You're early."

  "Yeah, well, I didn't meet my friend after all," Keith said, catching his breath. "So I thought I'd come straight over."

  "Did you knock?"

  "Yeah," Keith lied feebly. "But you were in the shower, so I guess you didn't hear me." And I didn't hear you turn off the water, he thought to himself.

  "Sorry about that," Mel replied amiably. He continued as if nothing were wrong. Then he gestured toward the traps. "Cool, huh?"

  "I guess," Keith replied, looking them over once again. "But what are you, some kind of closet Daniel Boone?"

  "No," Mel laughed. "I guess not. Actually, I inherited them from a grandfather, if ya can believe that. Nobody else in the family wanted them. I mean, a million bucks woulda been better, but at least it wasn't a set of china. Y'know what I mean?"

  Keith nodded. "I'm really sorry about coming in here," he suddenly blurted.

  But Mel didn't seem the least bit upset. "Don't sweat it." He winked conspiratorially.

  Keith should have felt relieved, but instead he got the distinct impression that Mel was toying with him.

  "I would've done the same thing. Come on inside." He motioned for Keith to follow and led the way across a concrete patio.

  The interior of the trailer was messy and depressing, but consistent with Keith's image of Mel. "Sit anywhere," he told Keith. "And if anything's in your way, just throw it aside."

  Taking his advice, Keith tossed a pile of clothes onto the floor so he could sit down.

  "So what happened to your friend?" Mel asked.

  "She never showed," Keith answered him. "You know how that goes."

  Mel offered Keith something to drink, but he declined.

  "So…?" Keith asked, hoping Mel would launch into an immediate explanation.

  But Mel just smiled calmly.

  "Anxious, aren't we?" he said, and went into the kitchen.

  Keith felt again like he was being toyed with. "Of course I'm anxious. I saw another face — an old woman's. Somebody else may be in danger. If you know anything that might prevent something horrible from happening, I want to know about it."

  "Sit down. Relax," Mel told him as he returned from the kitchen. "Tell me something. Do you know who this old woman is?"

  "No," Keith admitted.

  "Then there's nothing we can do about it, is there?" Mel sipped his beer. "I called Virtu-Illusions' main office. After being kicked around the phones, they finally put me through to their PR department. The woman there said they have about ten guys working on computers spewing out these posters. 'Mysteria' was a joke. One of their artists is quite the prankster. It was never supposed to be distributed. This is the first one that's shown up. It may be the only one; there may be more. She didn't know."

  Keith was confused. "I don't get it. What's the joke?"

  "Apparently there is no picture in 'Mysteria'. "

  "But I saw…"

  Mel interrupted. "I don't know what you saw, but the woman said the artist created an empty picture to fool people, make them get splitting headaches trying to see a picture that doesn't exist. It's the lemming treatment, so to speak. Anyway, there's more." He paused, with a dramatically raised eyebrow, then continued. "The company wants very much to get it back," he said, his tone indicating that he thought this proved a conspiracy of epic proportions. Then, almost glibly, he added, "Of course, she told me it was only a PR concern. After all, it was a joke that was never supposed to be told. Blah blah blah."

  "But I saw two faces in it."

  "Well, she claims it's blank. And besides, even if there was a picture, they can't be made with more than one separate image. So there'd still be a problem with your story."

  "But I swear I saw them! And Skrag was murdered, Mel. Just like in the poster."

  Mel smiled slyly. "Yes, he was." Then the smile melted away. "But I couldn't tell her about that, could I? She kept asking for my name. I wouldn't give it, of course. Maybe you're holding on to some dirty secret of theirs."

  Instead of answering Keith's questions,
Mel was only raising more. What could the company have done to create a poster like «Mysteria»? And why would they want to?

  "Listen, if it bugs you that much, get rid of it," Mel said, as if that would be the easiest thing in the world to do. "I can give you that woman's number if you want. They'll mail you a postage-paid label and everything. Even pay you a reward. At least that's what she told me." Then Mel's eyes narrowed. He leaned forward, his casualness not quite masking a leap in his intensity. "Let me buy it off of you. That way, it's out of your hands, but it hasn't fallen into the wrong hands." Then he leaned back and laughed, completely casual again. "And if you miss it, I'll let you come visit."

  "I don't know," Keith replied carefully. Mel was up to something. "Wouldn't that be like cursing you?"

  Mel nodded appreciatively. "I guess so, but then, I deserve it. I cursed you in the first place. So you can get me back."

  "But you didn't do it knowingly."

  The devilish smile returned. "How do you know?" Mel asked. And for a moment, Keith was certain that he had done it on purpose. But then Mel burst out laughing. "Boy, this thing has really got you going," he chuckled. "So let me have it, and you won't have to worry anymore."

  Keith frowned. He saw now that Mel had been playing on his fears, trying to frighten him into giving up the poster. Did he want whatever reward the company was offering? Or did he have some other purpose?

  "I can't give it to you," Keith said firmly. Mel was clearly disappointed. "I should follow this thing through. I could use your help, but it's up to you. I'm keeping the poster." It felt good to stand firm about something. He wasn't sure about his next step, but he knew it would not be a side step.

  "All right, I understand," Mel told him. "But maybe you should bring it here." Keith tensed up. "Don't worry, I'm not gonna coldcock you and take off with it. It'd just be easier for me to figure out what was going on with it if I could see it."

  "But you didn't notice anything strange before you sold it to me," Keith pointed out.

  "I know, but maybe I will now that it's started doing whatever it's doing."

  "I'll think about it," Keith said. Mel seemed willing to let the matter drop. After a moment of silence, Keith rose to leave. There seemed to be nothing else for the two of them to discuss.

  "Thanks for your help," he said, awkwardly offering Mel his uninjured hand. "Maybe I'll stop by with the poster later in the week."

  Mel stared at his outstretched hand with surprise. "You're not leaving already, are you? Suck me dry of information, then toss me aside?"

  Keith didn't know how to respond. Mel's agitation appeared genuine.

  "I should get home now," Keith told him finally.

  Mel shook his head. "That's pretty cold. I do this for you, offer you a beer — which you refuse — tell you what you want to know, and you're not even gonna hang out?" Keith suddenly felt very self-conscious. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised that you're just a user like the rest of them. But you came looking for me. You asked me for help. I gave it to you, now you run off. I thought you were cool, man."

  "Uh, I am cool," Keith replied stupidly.

  Mel's tense expression eased a bit. "Then why don't you hang for a bit. You don't have to have a beer. Just hang. All scary posters and no play makes Keith a dull boy."

  Keith felt guilty. While Mel's sudden shift of behavior was unnerving, it was understandable. Not only had he selfishly pumped Mel for information, he had been caught snooping. And Mel had even forgiven him. Now he was just going to take off, without regard to how accommodating Mel had been. It was rude — and stereotypical. No doubt this was how Mel had been treated in high school. So Keith sat down.

  "Glad you could stay." Mel smiled, affable again. "Don't get a chance to just hang out very often. You can guess I don't have tons of friends. Sure you don't want a beer?"

  "Yeah, I'm okay." Keith was aware he was being played by Mel. But even though he had overreacted the abandonment scene, Keith guessed it had genuine roots.

  "That dream your girlfriend had was pretty spooky," Mel said lightly. "Freaky stuff." He took another swig of his beer.

  "You were eavesdropping on us?" Keith asked, shocked.

  "Not really," he said with a little annoyance. "I mean, I heard the whole Dream Exchange thing, but I didn't plan on listening. I was in the place before you were," he explained. "I saw you, but you didn't see me. You were too wrapped up in your friends. I came over to talk to you, but Pam — is that her name? — was telling her wolf dream and I didn't want to interrupt. And after that, I never really got a chance to say anything, because right after that last dream — the one with the angry mob — the fight started. You just never noticed me standing there."

  "You should have said something," Keith told him, uncomfortable with the thought of having been watched for so long without knowing.

  "Like I said," Mel told him, "I really didn't get a chance. And I didn't want to intrude." He took a long drink from his bottle. "Besides," he admitted, "I was a little afraid you guys would want nothing to do with me. Too bad, I had a dream all ready to tell, too. I figured it'd be the price of admission."

  "Price of admission to what?" Keith asked.

  "To your group," Mel told him. "But oh, well, maybe next time." He sighed and finished the last of his beer.

  "So what was your dream?" Keith asked him. Mel's face lit up as if it were finally Christmas Day.

  "I've forgotten most of the details by now, but in this dream, I'm sitting on that chair," he said, pointing to where Keith sat. "I'm watching TV — cable, actually — and every channel is showing war, murders, death, and general destruction. But I keep watching. And here's the thing: I'm smiling. I just can't stop smiling at whatever awful scene is on TV." He stopped and watched Keith anxiously. "So what do you think?"

  Keith thought a moment and said, "Well, for one thing, you're always smiling. And for another, I think you should stop watching television." Mel's face froze in horror for a moment; obviously he thought that Keith was making fun of him. Then he realized that his new friend was simply trying to lighten the mood.

  "Well, now that I've got that off my chest, there's a bunch of things I have to do right now," he told Keith. "So I gotta kick you out. I hope you don't mind."

  As Keith stood, he allowed a trace of disappointment to grace his expression.

  "I'm gonna see if I can find out anything more about that poster of yours. I'll call you if I do."

  "That reminds me," Keith said. "How did you know my phone number? I didn't give it to you."

  Mel's expression became a blend of embarrassment and pride. "Actually, I went to your school. Between classes, I sneaked into the library, found a yearbook, and looked you up. Then, I called Information. I hope you don't mind," he added, almost as an afterthought.

  "No, I guess not," Keith said.

  "Anyway, if something happens — or you just want to hang out sometime — drop by. Maybe I'll see you at the coffee shop and I can meet your friends."

  Keith nodded and left, his stomach churning.

  Chapter 11

  Early the next morning, Keith saw the glow of the stadium lights as he approached school. He wondered why they were on, since the day was perfectly sunny. Pulling into a parking space in the school lot, he noticed red lights flashing on the football field. A fire department ambulance and a hook-and-ladder vehicle were parked beneath one bank of lights, along with a black-and-white police car. A crowd was gathered around them. Keith ran to see what was going on. As he neared the scene, he noticed the fire department ladder extended toward the lights, nearly touching an object suspended before the lights. It was a body. Keith reached the edge of the crowd as two firemen started climbing the ladder.

  Someone yelled Keith's name. Looking around, he saw Carrie waving at him. She was with Pam and Mario. He pushed his way toward the front of the crowd and joined them.

  The ladder extended to just below the legs of the body. The first fireman up the ladder stood precario
usly on an upper rung, shielding his eyes from the bright lights with one hand, reaching around the body's waist with the other. In doing so, he brushed one arm against a stadium light, yelled, and recoiled quickly.

  "Will somebody turn these goddamn lights off?!" he yelled down.

  "What the hell happened?" Keith asked his friends.

  "No one knows," Mario told him. "Looks dead to me.

  "Do they know who it is?" Keith asked, not sure he really wanted to know.

  "Not yet," Mario said. "The fire department just got here."

  Finally the lights were turned off and the firemen could proceed. For the first time, Keith could see more than just a silhouette. But the view only lasted a second as the fireman wrapped a tarp around the corpse. The body had surely been that of a female. And Keith thought he had glimpsed a leather jacket. Her feet stuck out from the bottom of the tarp and he could see sneakers and the ragged cuffs of jeans. The second fireman held the body at the waist while the first cut the dark cord from which it was suspended. It looked like the cord had been tied around her neck. They slowly carried the body down the ladder.

  About halfway down, the lower fireman missed a rung and slipped. To keep himself from falling, he grabbed the ladder, releasing the body. The crowd gasped as the body swung away from him. The higher fireman was pulled off balance then, and he, too, released his hold on the body. Screams rose from the crowd as the body fell to the ground with a sickening thud. A police officer dove out of the way just in time. The tarp had come loose during the fall, and now the body was facedown and completely uncovered. Keith felt his head swim, just as it had when Mario had announced Skrag's murder. This time it was Carrie's voice that brought him back to reality.

  "Oh my God!" she screamed beside him. "Sandra!" She pushed through the crowd toward the body. Keith immediately followed.

  Carrie clawed at the police officers who tried to keep her from Sandra. "I know her, damnit!" she wailed at them. They finally yielded, also allowing Keith through. Carrie fell to her knees beside Sandra, sobbing. Keith crouched next to Carrie and put his arm around her.