Night Terrors

by Mark Lukens

  “I saw a girl,” Tara told her. “A teenager. She was murdered.”

  “Oh my God. I saw that on the news this morning. They’re not releasing her name or much information -”

  “Her name was Jen.”

  “Did you see …”

  “I saw the murder, but I couldn’t make out the killer.”

  “You want me to call my uncle?”

  Tara shook her head no. “It won’t do any good.”

  “If you don’t want to go shopping today, I mean, I totally understand …”

  “No, I still want to go. I just need to jump in the shower.”

  3.

  After a few hours of shopping, Lorie had three shopping bags of clothes and shoes. Tara didn’t buy anything. Lorie tried to get Tara to buy a pair of high heels, but Tara didn’t want them – she was fine with her sneakers. Easier to run away in, she told Lorie with a laugh.

  Lorie didn’t think it was funny.

  They ate lunch at Peretti’s Italian restaurant. Afterwards, Tara drank ice water and Lorie sipped her second glass of wine. Tara considered having a glass of wine, but then she thought about the bottle she’d drank last night and opted for water instead.

  “I can’t wait for you to meet Mike,” Lorie told Tara. “He’s tall and you should see his body. He just moved here from California where he sold his business for a lot of money.”

  Tara nodded.

  “He’s very rich,” Lorie sang out and smiled at Tara.

  “Wow,” Tara said and smiled. She sipped her ice water as Lorie finished off her glass of wine. Lorie had the ability to suck down drinks and still seem sober.

  “I showed him some properties around here,” Lorie went on, explaining how she and Mike met. Even though Lorie had studied interior design at the art school they had attended together, she had pursued a career as a real estate agent after graduation. A better chance at making money, she said. And she’d done well in only a few years, becoming one of the premiere agents in the firm where she worked. She’d built up a network of rich clientele who recommended her to all of their friends.

  “Mike looked at some houses between nine hundred thousand and one point three mil,” Lorie went on, still explaining how she’d met Mike. “I took him to a few houses at Apollo Beach and even one on Davis Island, but it wasn’t what he was looking for. He was looking for something more secluded, more rustic, out in the country.”

  Tara nodded in all the right places.

  “So I told him about a property in Pasco County. Not really my area and a little bit of a drive from here, but he seemed interested. We had a long time to talk and get to know each other. The place I showed him is on ten acres, much of it wooded. But in the middle of the property is this marvelous two story log cabin. There’s a detached garage, a storage shed, an in-ground pool.”

  Tara listened to Lorie, but her eyes wandered over to the tables near them. She watched some of the other couples in the restaurant. She saw one couple sitting close to each other. They were both in their late thirties, married, and they seemed to be in love. They were dressed casually. A day off from work? Tara wondered. Maybe they were taking a vacation together. Maybe they had flown down to Florida for the week. Tara began to make up a story about their life in her mind. And she wondered what it would be like to have someone in her life like that, someone who knew everything about her, someone who wanted to be with her, someone who loved her no matter what strange afflictions she might have.

  Lorie snapped Tara out of her mini-daydream. “And he bought it! I mean the house was in a little bit of rough shape, and it needed some cleaning – the previous owners had left a lot of furniture and their stuff behind, and it had been empty for almost a year. But he made an all-cash offer right then and there. I submitted it and the bank okayed it.”

  Lorie stopped talking for a moment, and her smile faltered a bit. “I’m sorry,” she said. “Look at me, just going on and on about Mike.”

  “No,” Tara said, feeling a little embarrassed at being caught daydreaming. “I want to hear about it. I’m glad to see you happy.” And she was happy for Lorie. Lorie had been on the never-ending dating treadmill for a while now, and no man ever seemed to meet her criteria. She could tell that Mike was a man Lorie could really fall for. But she didn’t want Lorie to get hurt; she wanted Lorie to take things slow. But she knew she couldn’t tell her that – Lorie never took anything slow.

  “But I want you to be happy, too,” Lorie said and pouted.

  “I am happy,” Tara insisted, but her voice didn’t sound happy to her own ears – she was doing a lousy job of faking it. “I really am,” she added and smiled.

  4.

  They left the restaurant and walked down the sidewalk in front of newer shops and stores that had been designed to look like quaint, old buildings. Lorie’s car was a few blocks away (she refused to ride in Tara’s Jeep).

  “You should go talk to him,” Lorie said. Her shopping bags swung back and forth a little in her hand as she walked.

  “Who?”

  “You know who. Steve – your hunky new neighbor.”

  Tara shook her head no, smiling, not even answering Lorie.

  “What’s wrong? Is someone moving in with him? A girlfriend? A boyfriend?”

  “No,” Tara answered, still smiling, “I haven’t seen anybody else with him.”

  Lorie laughed and pointed at Tara. “So, you’ve been spying on him.”

  Tara looked at Lorie, shocked by her words. “Uh, no, I’m not spying on my neighbors.”

  They walked along a little farther, Lorie’s high heels tapping on the sidewalk, Tara’s sneakers as silent as a cat.

  “You should bake something sweet for him,” Lorie said.

  “You just won’t let this go, will you?”

  “I just want you to be with someone. I just want you to have what Mike and I have.”

  Tara didn’t point out to Lorie that she and Mike had only been together for a week and a half now.

  “Take him some cupcakes or something,” Lorie went on. She was like a bulldog about things, she wouldn’t let anything go. Ever. “It could be like a housewarming present, or a welcome-to-the-neighborhood present. Who knows where it could lead?”

  “You know where it leads to.”

  Lorie sighed. “There has to be a man out there somewhere who could learn to cope with your … your condition.”

  Tara was about to say something but her words were cut off as a homeless man jumped out from an alleyway right in front of them. The man grabbed Tara’s upper arms in an iron grip; he was face-to-face with her and he stared at her with wild eyes.

  “He’s coming for you,” the homeless man said in a low, gravelly voice.

  The man’s face was only inches away from Tara’s face. She could smell his sour breath, and something underneath that sour breath smelled like rotten meat. His face was mostly grayish-black beard with those dark and wild eyes staring out from the dirty skin above his beard. He was dressed in layers of clothing even though it was nearly eighty degrees outside. But what caught Tara’s eye the most was the large, homemade cross that hung from his neck on a string of leather. The cross was two pieces of rough-hewn wood, maybe hand-carved from some pieces of scrap wood, tied together with a dirty string to form a crucifix.

  “Get out of here, you psycho!” Lorie screamed.

  The homeless man didn’t even seem to notice that Lorie was there – right now Tara was his whole world. His fingers were still clamped on Tara’s arms and his wild eyes were still locked on to hers.

  “He’s coming for you,” the man said again. “He can see you. He can feel you.”

  Tara didn’t fight back; she only stared at the man with wide eyes. Something about his words brought back the feelings from last night and this morning, the feeling that hadn’t completely gone away, the sense of dread and fear that pressed down on her, trying to crush the breath and life out of her.

  Lorie dropped her shopping bags on the sid
ewalk and rummaged through her six hundred dollar purse for her cell phone. “I’m calling the police!” she shouted at the homeless man.

  But the man still didn’t look at Lorie; he focused on Tara like a laser beam. And then his eyes widened in shock as he stared at her, like he’d just realized something.

  “You already know, don’t you?” the man whispered. “You already know he’s coming for you. You’ve already seen him.”

  He let Tara’s arms go, and his wild eyes cleared slightly like he’d just woken up from some kind of dream (or night terror). He looked around like he didn’t even know how he’d gotten onto this sidewalk and this street by these shops.

  Lorie pulled her hand out of her purse and clutched a small can of pepper spray. “Back off!” she yelled. “I’ve got pepper spray!”

  The man backed away, but he still didn’t look at Lorie; he never took his eyes off of Tara. “You have no idea what you’re dealing with,” he whispered to her. “You’ve never seen evil like this before. He’s not a man. He’s not human. He’s the devil.”

  The man turned and took off down the sidewalk, one shoe flapped on the concrete as he ran. He half-shuffled/half-ran down the block and then slipped into the next alley between the buildings.

  Lorie stood on the sidewalk, her shopping bags down by her Prada high heels, her can of pepper spray clenched in her manicured hand, and a look of astonishment on her face. “You better run, you bum!” she called after the man.

  Lorie looked at Tara. “You okay? You want me to call the police?”

  Tara shook her head no, still staring down the sidewalk even though the man was gone now. “No. It’s okay.”

  “You want this pepper spray?” Lorie asked Tara. “I’ve got more at home. A real estate agent always carries pepper spray with her.”

  Tara looked at Lorie and smiled at her, hopefully reassuring her. “It’s okay.”

  “Why didn’t you kick his ass?” Lorie asked. “You do all of that martial arts stuff …”

  Tara just shrugged and shook her head – she didn’t know. It had happened so fast. And he hadn’t been trying to mug her or hurt her – he’d been delivering a message to her; that was all. He’d been trying to warn her.

  A shiver ran its way up and down Tara’s skin on little spider legs.

  Lorie sighed again as she picked up her shopping bags.

  “God, that was strange,” Lorie said.

  “Story of my life,” Tara replied.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  1.

  As the afternoon sun slipped down towards the horizon, the Shadow Man walked through the woods until he came to the abandoned house at the edge of the trees. There had been a trail through these woods once, but the Florida vegetation had nearly overtaken it in a short amount of time. Spikey palmetto plants and vine-like vegetation had grown over the trail and it was nearly unrecognizable now. But the Shadow Man knew where the trail to the house was.

  And he knew he wouldn’t need this place much longer.

  Nestled among the choking brush and pine trees was the abandoned house. The house had been full of neglected junk left behind by previous owners; it looked like the house had been vacant for years. He had spent a whole day cleaning the place up, hauling junk outside and throwing it among the brush, getting the house ready for the ritual.

  Soon it would be time.

  Everything had to be perfect for this to work; every piece had to be in its place.

  He climbed the chain link fence and hopped down into the knee-high weeds and grasses. He trudged through the vegetation that seemed like it tried to grab at his pants legs. He approached the back of the house and then walked down the side of the house and entered through the front door.

  He stood just inside the living room and looked at the rest of the left-behind junk and garbage that he had stacked against one wall on the far side of the living room. Now there was a clear path through the living room to the hall that led back to the three bedrooms.

  He walked through the living room and down the hall to the bedroom at the end of the hall, the master bedroom – that’s where the ritual would take place.

  He stepped inside the master bedroom. He had already set up a long wooden table with ropes tied to each leg. He had collected candles in the corners of the room, some of them on stands, some of them on plates. There were red candles, white candles, and of course black candles.

  Just inside the door to the bedroom, he had installed a strong metal ring in the ceiling; it was bolted to the trusses above the ceiling. There were ropes tied to the metal ring. He pulled on the ropes, testing the strength of the metal ring. This was for the witness to the ritual.

  He took another look around the room, and then left. He walked back down the hall to the next empty bedroom. The only thing in this room was a wood chair at the far end, it sat facing the door.

  Everything was ready.

  It was almost time.

  He had waited so long for this. And soon it was finally going to happen.

  He entered the nearly empty bedroom, crossed the wood floor and sat down in the plain wooden chair. He rested there for a moment, waiting for night to fall, waiting for the moon to rise. But the moon wouldn’t be quite full tonight, not yet, not for a few more nights. A full moon was another critical element to the ritual. You had to be very careful, it was a dangerous ritual – the most dangerous of all rituals – and everything had to be followed to the letter, every detail perfect, no instructions misinterpreted.

  When night came, he would go find the man he’d seen in his dreams lately, a man who had the same gift he had – the same gift Jen had possessed before she died. The man would be able to sense him when he got near, he would be able to tell something was wrong, but by then it would be too late. The Shadow Man would already be a step ahead of him. He had already scouted the man’s property, and he knew the perfect time to strike.

  The Shadow Man needed something from this man tonight. He had to take something from him, another ingredient in the recipe for the ceremony.

  He closed his eyes.

  He smiled.

  Everything was working out perfectly.

  And why shouldn’t it? This was destiny. Higher powers at work. Gods and angels and demons conspiring with each other, making everything come together.

  2.

  Tara sat in front of her easel with the large drawing pad on it. She was trying to work, she had a lot that she needed to get done, but she was distracted. And the distraction was coming from her kitchen.

  She tried to get back to work. She was still working on the series of illustrations for the children’s book. She sketched a little more and then tore up the piece of paper. Nothing was coming out right. No matter what she drew, it just didn’t seem right.

  She sighed and got up.

  She went to the kitchen and stared at the distraction on the kitchen counter: a plate of cupcakes.

  After Lorie dropped her off earlier, Tara went to the store and bought the ingredients for cupcakes. They were chocolate cupcakes and she bought creamy white frosting to spread on top. She even bought a package of brightly-colored sprinkles. She got home and followed the directions on the package. Even though these weren’t homemade cupcakes, she was sure they would be tasty.

  And now she stared at the plate of cupcakes.

  She grabbed her car keys off the counter and stuffed them down into her pants pocket – they had her house key on them – and then she grabbed the plate of cupcakes and marched to her front door.

  She unlocked her door and stepped out onto the front porch that led out to the walkway in front of the parking area. She glanced up at the early evening sky where baby pinks and blues were turning purple on the horizon as night slowly crept over the world. She didn’t close the door all the way; she just stood there for a moment. Steve’s blue pickup truck was parked in front of his apartment so she knew he was home.

  She was going to walk next door to Steve’s apartment. She was going to knock on
his front door with confidence. She was going to smile and welcome him to the neighborhood with a plate of (nearly) homemade cupcakes.

  But she didn’t make a move towards Steve’s apartment. Instead, she turned around and ducked back inside. She closed her door and locked it. She took the plate of cupcakes back to the counter and set it down.

  “This is stupid,” she grumbled.

  She picked up one of the cupcakes and took a big bite.

  3.

  As Tara went back inside with the plate of cupcakes, she didn’t notice the sedan parked at the far end of the parking area. It was a dark sedan, a common car, only a few years old, and it blended in with other cars easily.

  The man in the car watched Tara stand there for a moment with the plate of cupcakes in her hand. And then he watched her go back inside.

  He watched the front door of her apartment for a long time.

  After starting his car, he put it in drive and left the parking area. He’d be coming back soon to visit her.

  4.

  Tara managed to get some more work done that evening. She had only eaten one of the cupcakes and she left the others on a plate next to the stove. Maybe she would change her mind tomorrow about giving them to Steve.

  But she didn’t think so. Why even bother? What if she brought the cupcakes to him and they hit it off? What if he asked her out? What if they went out on a few dates? What if they really started to like each other? Maybe it would start off okay. A few more dates maybe. But eventually she would have to tell him about her night terrors. She could just picture herself explaining to Steve that sometimes she walked in her sleep, and there might come a night when she might accidentally beat the shit out of him in the middle of her sleep. I hope you’re okay with that.

  Yeah, right.

  After she finished two more drawings she called it a night. She changed into her flannel, non-sexy pajamas and settled down on her couch in front of the TV. The TV was one of the things she’d spent some money on – and a comfortable couch. Many nights she fell asleep in front of the TV, it seemed to calm her nerves as she watched some kind of reality show about rescuing bars or buying storage units or fixing up houses, and then she would drift off to sleep in the safety of the flickering TV light.