Lost In Dreamland: Whitney Powers Paranormal Adventure #3 (Whitney Powers Paranormal Adventures)

by Jason Paul Rice

  Rippling flames appeared to the left as the creeping canoe approached another dugout area in the wall. A group of nude men stood in a row facing the boat. Each man held his head in his right hand next to his knee. The necks weren’t bleeding and the hunched over men gripped the objects by the hair. The beheaded men had ivory bodies with thick tracks of blue veins around their arms and legs.

  All the lips on all the pale heads started to move, “If you do proceed past here. For your life, you must not care. If cursing ever crossed your lips or a stolen belt once graced your hips. It matters not for what you’ve done. Go back now, you better run.”

  The canoe bounced off another bloated body and floated away from the talking heads. Whitney didn’t realize that she had been gripping both sides of the wooden canoe with her sweaty fingers.

  A whisper crept through the warm, stale air. “Beware the ones with wings you must.”

  Screeching and scratching noises followed and grew louder by the second. Whitney instinctually moved back in the boat but the fist in her back prevented her from doing so. The sound increased to a fever pitch and a unified fluttering followed as the canoe drifted into darkness.

  Flying objects smacked into Whitney as she tried to feverishly swat the incoming swarm away. She tucked her hands into her sleeves and protected her face while trying to remain safely in the boat. She could feel the bats smashing into her and wanted to throw up again.

  Her back spasms from the lack of sleep in the past week made it hard to hold her arm up to deflect the flying creatures that just kept coming out of the dark. A rotten feeling centered in the painful area of her back as she could feel a couple of bats walking around on her head. Even with the hood up, it created an extremely uncomfortable sensation.

  She shook her head around but that didn’t work. A heavy hand that felt like a hammer slapped her in the back of the head. The smack stunned her for several moments as sparks streaked through her eyes in the darkness. Once the dizzying feeling relented, the bats were gone.

  Whitney didn’t appreciate the slap and flung an elbow back that landed in the middle of the man’s chest. She got a sense of satisfaction from the wheezing sounds coming from the man.

  Another light appeared ahead on the right side as the boat came to a stop. Her guide reached over the side and pushed a small body to get the canoe moving again. Whitney wondered why he didn’t have a paddle or oar to use.

  A collection of dark, raspy voices sang in harmony. “We feed our master, yes we do. We feed him the best food, and now we have you.”

  A carved-out area on the side contained three cauldrons hanging over fires. The dancing flames crept up to almost the top of the five-foot-high kettles. The big, black cauldrons stood taller than the ghoulish, dwarf-sized beasts in front of them.

  The green, purple and blue creatures, covered in uneven patches of black hair, had long, skinny arms that hung to the ground. The goblins held silver hooks in their hands. Two of them swung the hooks into the water and pierced a floating body.

  A pffftttt sound released an unimaginable odor of putrefaction that smelled like piles of raw meat that had been left out in the sun for months. Whitney instinctually tried to crawl out of the boat, but the firm hand held her in place.

  The ghouls dragged the perforated bodies up onto the ledge and used their long hands to work together to throw the bodies into two of the cauldrons. Moaning and wailing echoed around the inside of the fiery round kettles before erupting into the tunnel and attacking Whitney’s ears.

  The sound resembled sliced mushrooms going into hot oil, when they seem to be begging for mercy. Whitney’s body had been tense for the entire trip on what compared to the worst amusement park ride ever. Sweat built up on her brow as the temperature seemed to be rising substantially.

  Whitney leaned back and didn’t feel anything. She turned, expecting to see her robed guide but there wasn’t anyone there. The walls started to close in and the number of bodies in the water increased. A hissing sound caused Whitney to whip her head around to find a group of big snakes in the back just as the boat plunged back into darkness.

  She moved to the front of the canoe as it started to slide down an incline. The heat continued to rise to an unreasonable temperature and a bright light appeared at the bottom of the incline. She could hear the snakes sliding over toward her, giving her something else to worry about.

  Straight ahead was a glowing chamber of burning coals with a dark figure moving around the flames. The boat picked up speed and Whitney tried to figure out what the creature was. A square cutout in the rock looked like a barbecue pit with glowing embers on the ground, ceiling and walls.

  The distortion from the rippling heat made it almost impossible for Whitney to get a clear look at the figure. The upright person was jumping around like an angry animal. It had an extremely hairy face and bounced around on the fiery ground. A growl of epic proportions exploded as the embers cracked and rocked the small canoe.

  The intense heat on her cheeks and forehead made her move toward the back of the canoe until the loud hiss of the snakes forced her to stop in her tracks. She turned around and the radiant embers spotlighted three big black snakes.

  Whitney tried to steel her shot nerves to simply reach over and throw the snakes in the water. She gagged a couple of times just at the thought of it. She couldn’t decide if she should cover her hand with the sleeve of her hoodie or if that would prevent her from being able to grab the snake. Both options caused her to shudder at the possible outcomes.

  She decided to go with the bare hand and moved in as the heat blazed against her back. One snake made a quick head motion and Whitney jumped back as her heart jumped up into her throat, causing thick, laborious breaths. A lightheaded sensation followed and she leaned to one side of the canoe.

  The tiny watercraft almost tipped over and Whitney scrambled to the other side to even out the weight. The canoe almost tipped on that side until Whitney fell into the middle. It rocked back and forth before finally righting itself.

  Her focus shifted to the crematorium she appeared to be headed toward. The dancing dark figure got hazier as she got closer due to the extreme heat. She backed up toward the other side of the boat. She spun around, almost forgetting about the snakes.

  They were gone. She must have sent them overboard when she shook the canoe. She moved all the way to the back of the canoe.

  The craft going down the incline toward the fire beast slowed to a stop. A few moments later, the canoe started to move in reverse and go back up the hill. It seemed like whichever side of the boat she sat on, the canoe moved in that direction. She would have liked the pace to be much faster as the hysterical cries of the angered beast assaulted her ears.

  The ride came to a congested junction of oversized bodies and her stomach stirred again. She searched around the small area for something to use but came up empty. She considered her backpack for a few moments before dismissing the idea.

  Her trembling arm reached over the side and pushed the shoulder of a dead body with the heel of her covered hand. The barge of bodies shifted around but not enough for Whitney to get through. She put all four fingers of her right hand on the shoulder and pulled it to her right.

  She vomited over the side as the canoe spun in a circle and found an opening in the Devil’s Waterway. To her surprise, none of the things she had seen on the way down were in their designated areas on the way back.

  The complete darkness made for an uneasy environment and Whitney shifted around near the back of the canoe. She emerged from the venomous opening and the bright starlight dancing on the polluted water greeted her.

  She had to use her hands as paddles to get back over to the dock. She jumped out of the canoe and onto the shaky wooden structure. In all the craziness, she had forgotten about Tara and looked out into the water at the area where she had disappeared.

  She found nothing but bloated dead bodies. Luckily, none of them looked like Tara.

  The phone she
had forgotten about rang.

  She pulled it out of her pocket. “Hello.”

  The voice said, “I have your friend.”

  Whitney could hear Tara screaming and cursing in the background.

  He continued, “I’m going to send her to the Dreamland, I think. I believe she will like it there.”

  “So I guess this stupid game is going to keep going on. Why don’t you fight me one on one? You see how small I am and I am a woman. Why not just end it now with a fair fight?”

  The kidnapper told her, “That wouldn’t be any fun for me. I don’t take pleasure in women’s displeasure.” He let out a wisp of a laugh. “I won’t lay a finger on your friend even though she berates me like a sailor.”

  “So what is it then? You’re just going to keep sending me into Dankstone for your pleasure? This is really getting old.”

  The man said, “Really? I’m having a gas. This won’t go on much longer, don’t you worry. My plan to pull off the biggest heist in the history of the world is about to go down. With you and your stupid husband out of the way, there will be no one to stop us. I’m going to send you away like I am about to do with your mouthy friend.”

  “I guess people tend to get mouthy when they have been kidnapped.”

  “That’s not true. The only thing your husband said to me was that he was going to kill me. After I laughed for an hour, I realized he wasn’t joking. Too bad, good comedians keep a straight face. Back to the subject at hand. Why don’t you go back to your dwindling group of friends and wait for my next call? It will all soon be over,” the kidnapper said with an evil laugh.

  Whitney wondered how she was going to explain losing Tara to her friends.

  9

  “Ever had a sleepover at an execution house?” the kidnapper asked Whitney.

  She was about to answer when the line went dead. She didn’t know how much more she could handle. The scary stuff didn’t bother her as much as the kidnapper dangling Trent in front of her. She just wanted to see her man. Her body and mind ached from the tedious exercises.

  She pulled up to the motel after another emotionally draining experience. She looked at the time. 11:34 p.m.

  Whitney grabbed a few things from the passenger’s seat and walked up to the door. A steady thumping became louder as she got closer.

  No. It can’t be. A swinging dragon shifter?

  She pounded on the door and chipped red paint fell to the ground.

  “Let’s go. Let me in,” she yelled.

  The pounding sound stopped. A few moments later, Darominius opened the door in a robe. Bo finished buckling his belt and smiled at Whitney.

  “You need to control yourself too.” She threw the phone on top of her open duffle bag.

  Darominius asked, “Where’s Tara?”

  Whitney lowered her head and felt the tightness in her neck and shoulders. “She fell in the water, got knocked in really, but she somehow was captured by this lunatic. He called on the phone and I could hear her yelling in the background.”

  Bo’s jaw almost hit the ground. “Are you effing serious? So now we have to get her back too?”

  Whitney exhaled audibly. “He said that both of them are together. I guess that’s good, but I don’t have a clue as to what the end game is for this nonsense. I don’t know how much more I can deal with.”

  Darominius pulled her in for a hug. She felt the comfort, but it was incomplete.

  The dragon shifter said, “We will help you get through this. You will be much stronger when all this is over. I promise.”

  “The ghosts that called me their friend still haven’t shown up to help me out. What’s going on with them?” She rested her head on the shifter’s chest.

  Darominius patted her softly on the back as he spoke. “Oh, Whitney, I’ve told you about the parameters of helping humans. You know your friends don’t normally invade your world and if they do, they don’t go very far. I don’t think Richard’s ever been outside the library.”

  “I know. This is just so frustrating. I feel like this guy is playing with my heart like it’s a yo-yo.” She broke the hug and dug in her bag for a new outfit to wear.

  Bo leaned forward on the end of the bed. “Hopefully, this is almost over, Whit. We’ll have both of our friends back in no time.”

  She detected a crack in Bo’s voice and noticed his face had run flush when she had talked about Tara being taken. Whitney stomach was tied in knots worrying about the matter. The exhausted woman fell face first onto the bed and tried to keep talking to the guys, but quickly fell asleep.

  Whitney fanned the cigarette smoke away from her face as she waited for the waitress to bring them the bill. She had barely eaten all week and the lack of cleanliness of the diner didn’t make her very hungry. She pushed her scrambled eggs around with a bent fork.

  The small wooden structure with a white diner counter and dining tables only had seven people inside. However, every single person held a lit cigarette and Whitney even noticed one of the cooks with a cigarillo in his mouth when he peeked out from the back.

  One old man even used the end of one cigarette to light his next. The open windows didn’t help much. She waved her hand back and forth to chase away the lingering cloud again.

  The phone rang in her pocket and she pulled it out.

  “Hello.”

  The voice asked, “Are you ready for your next adventure?”

  “Is it going to be the last?” She set down the fork and pushed her plate toward the center of the table.

  The man said, “Oh no. Don’t tell me you are getting frustrated. That will just make me want to keep going forever now. Think of this from my side. I get to watch someone who wronged me and messed up my life struggle for once.”

  “How did I mess you up for life? What are you even talking about?”

  The kidnapper spoke in a defensive tone. “I meant people like you. Law enforcement. Those scumbags who think they are better than everyone else. Not you personally. Back to the matter at hand. You have a beautiful two-night deluxe stay coming up at Hanging House.”

  “Hanging House?”

  “I could be considered guilty of a great many things, but stuttering isn’t one of them. Yes, Hanging House. The place that supernatural enthusiasts can’t even spend five minutes inside without running out in madness. That Hanging House,” the kidnapper explained.

  “Fine. I’m not scared. So I just have to stay there for two days?” Whitney got up from the table as Bo paid the bill.

  The kidnapper answered, “You and a friend if you wish. Once inside, you both have to stay the entire time. If either person sets foot outside the building, a man will die. And I think you know who that will be. I will call you and provide instructions about how to get there when the time is right. Don’t you go anywhere.”

  He hung up the phone. Bo and Darominius were already at the car as Whitney walked up.

  She said, “So who wants to stay with me in a so-called haunted house for a couple of days?”

  An awkward silence ensued and Darominius finally broke it. “I’ll go with you, Whitney.”

  Bo spoke up. “No. I’ll go this time. It’s my turn.”

  Bo still had that spooked look on his face. Whitney debated on whether to tell him thanks, but no thanks and take Darominius up on his offer. She wasn’t sure what to do.

  “Alright, Bo, we better get some snacks and meals and drinks so that we can make it for two days. He said once we are inside the house, we can’t come out. You cool with that?” Whitney jumped into the passenger seat.

  Bo stopped in front of her open window and wiped some perspiration from his forehead. “Sounds pretty easy. Go stay in a house for a couple days. No big deal.” He opened the back door and got in.

  “I really need to make sure you aren’t going to run out of this house.” Whitney wasn’t sure if he was trying to act tough for Darominius, but she could tell he was nervous.

  Bo forced a smile. “Whit, I’ll be fine. We’ll be fin
e. It’ll be like an old school sleepover party.”

  They spent the rest of the day picking up supplies and getting everything together. The trio found a local supermarket and returned to the motel to pack up everything for the next leg of the journey.

  The phone rang.

  The kidnapper told her the time was now.

  Whitney and Bo said goodbye to Darominius and put all their stuff in the car. The kidnapper gave them directions and the creepy pressurized atmosphere surrounded them as they drove into Dankstone. Bo’s face turned bright burgundy and she kept peeking over to make sure he was alright.

  She drove to the end of a dirt road that just stopped. They grabbed the backpacks, duffle bags, pillows and blankets and started to trek for the house as the kidnapper told them where to go. They moved into a dense forest that drowned out the summer sun and cut back on the heat.

  The bugs kept biting her, but Whitney had her hands full and could only try to fend them off with the phone. The best friends kept moving through the woods until an opening appeared straight ahead. A tightness attacked Whitney’s chest like two powerful hands, choking her heart.

  Bo was shaking so badly that he looked like he was about to drop the pillows under his right arm. Whitney knew he didn’t really like the supernatural anywhere near as much as she did. He was more of an international spy hero.

  The apple tree appeared on their right and Whitney wondered how many women had been hanged from those branches. It was the only tree she had seen in Dankstone that had green leaves clinging to the branches. Small green apples littered the yellow grass below the tree.

  The total number of deaths involving this tree would have been around one thousand if all the reports were true. The air became harder to breathe as Whitney could almost taste the dark spirits in the area.

  About thirty yards from the apple tree stood the rickety, eighteenth century one-room wooden structure that looked like it could topple over at any second. The rain had stripped the red paint away many years ago to expose the weather-beaten lumber. There were two busted out windows, one on either side of the front door. The building was extremely unimpressive; even the cross on top of the house had been broken off long ago and lay over by the apple tree.