The Nightmare People

by Lawrence Watt-Evans

  “Each time, though, the evil came back in a new and more frightening form, one that was harder to destroy. In the Middle Ages there were witches, who could only die three ways – burning, drowning, or by snapping the neck. Then werewolves, that could be slain only by silver. And in 1639 the vampires came, and they had several strange weaknesses, but what they gave up in their susceptibility to sunlight and cross and holy water, their deathlike daytime trances, they thought they had gained back in their powers – mesmerism, and the transformations, and the vast physical strength, and the immunity to all normal weapons.

  “At first the vampires, those night-stalkers, were terrifying and unstoppable, but in time people learned the defenses – the cross, garlic, running water, the stake, sunlight, all of them. The vampires took their nature from human beliefs – fear of the dark made them nocturnal, Christian superstition made them susceptible to the cross and holy water, and so forth.

  “They were powerful, but they were vulnerable, and once the knowledge of how they could be destroyed became common knowledge they were doomed. It took three hundred years, but your people stamped them out. At the end, they were helpless and hunted, just a handful of survivors hiding in corners, and the last one took refuge in Hollywood fantasies, pretending to be an actress playing vamps and vampires – but it did her no good when she was found drinking the blood she needed from the husband of a jealous wife.

  “So the last vampire was impaled and beheaded in California in 1939, and after a fifty-year hiatus the heart of evil has spewed forth its new spawn. In that fifty-year period, and the long period before it when vampires were rare, hunted creatures, you people forgot that such things had ever been real.

  “But they were real, and they are real.

  “For fifty years there was nothing, but the forces of evil were not silent, were not still; our evolution was at work.

  “And here we are, twelve dozen of us to start, and we don’t have the vampire’s weaknesses. We don’t sleep by day; we don’t sleep at all. A stake through the heart won’t kill us. We don’t have the strength of ten, nor can we turn to bats or mist – but we have our strengths, our secrets.

  “And you don’t know what they are.

  “Nobody knows anything about us, about what you call nightmare people. Nobody believes in us, nobody knows what our equivalents of cross, wooden stake, and sunlight are.”

  5.

  Smith blinked.

  “But you’re wrong,” he said. “We know how to kill you.”

  “Only the four of you,” the creature said. “And there’s plenty you don’t know.”

  “We’ll learn,” Smith said grimly.

  “You can try,” the thing said, “but I doubt you’ll live that long.”

  “Is that a threat?”

  The thing just grinned at him.

  Smith pushed the knife a little deeper, and the grin vanished.

  “So when we let you go,” he asked, “What are you going to do?”

  The creature shrugged.

  “Are you going to go on pretending to be Sandy Niklasen? Living a mockery of his life, the way those things over at Bedford Mills are going through the motions, pretending to be the people they ate?”

  “Probably not,” it said. “You’ve torn up this skin some, after all. It’s not going to heal up.”

  Khalil’s grip on the thing tightened suddenly. Smith’s eyes narrowed.

  “You mean you’ll kill somebody else, and wear his skin? Or hers?”

  “Hey!” it said, and suddenly the voice wasn’t Sandy’s at all any more, it was Bill Goodwin’s. “Lighten up!”

  “Is that what you meant?” Smith demanded through clenched teeth, and the knife cut down more deeply, pulling down through the grey flesh, opening a slit in the shirt and the skin beneath. Behind him, Annie gasped.

  “Yes, it’s what I meant!” the creature snarled, still in Goodwin’s voice. “Of course it’s what I meant! I can’t go out in the sun without a human skin to protect me – it burns, it’s like needles, like acid. And I can’t even go out at night unless I hide every time a human happens along – you know what I really look like! Bad enough that this skin doesn’t fit, it binds and itches, but it’s better than nothing, and now you’ve gone and cut it open, so of course I’ll get another. Idiot!”

  “You mean if we let you go, you’ll murder some other innocent person, just so you won’t have to worry about sunburn.”

  “If? We had a deal, Smith!”

  “Fuck our deal, monster!” Smith replied. “I’m not going to let you go out and kill someone for his skin!” The knife drove in clear to the hilt, and everyone in the room heard upholstery tear as the blade came out the nightmare thing’s back and cut into the cushions beneath.

  The thing surged upward, pulling Khalil forward, and its arms swung forward around Smith’s neck. Gleaming black fingernails, inches long, thrust out through the tips of the fingers, shredding Sandy’s skin and digging into Smith’s back as Smith dove down into the thing’s chest.

  Smith worked the knife with both hands, ignoring the pain in his back, ignoring the stink that rose up around him, ignoring the squirming, sawing it through the stubborn gray flesh until he found what he was looking for, the black slug-shaped heart.

  He cut around it and pulled it free, and the thing gasped.

  He put it to his mouth and set his teeth on it.

  The thing let out a low, keening wail. Its claws stopped digging into him.

  “Wait, Smith,” it said, “Wait, please, I’ll do anything.”

  Smith looked at its face.

  Smith looked at Sandy’s stolen face.

  It still looked exactly like Sandy, and its features were twisted in an expression of abject terror – an expression that Smith was sure the real Sandy never wore in his life. Its eyes, still falsely brown, were pleading.

  The heart he held was pulsing faintly, and a thin, clear slime was oozing from it, making it slippery and hard to hold. He set his teeth in more firmly.

  “Please, Smith!” it said.

  He opened his mouth, still holding the heart in both hands. He looked down at the thing’s chest.

  The opening had healed over, but a concavity revealed the heart’s absence. Sandy’s shirt and the skin of Sandy’s chest were ripped back, torn open like the foil and skin on a baked potato.

  “You killed Sandy,” Smith said.

  The thing nodded.

  “And Bill Goodwin?” Smith asked.

  It nodded again.

  “And Elias’s mother?”

  Another nod.

  “And if I let you go, you’ll kill someone else, won’t you?”

  “No!” it said, pleading, “No, I swear, I won’t! I’ll stay inside, I’ll let the others take care of me, please!”

  “You were the one we burned?” Smith asked.

  It nodded again. Its fingers twitched, as if it wanted to grab its heart but didn’t dare.

  “There are a hundred and forty-three of you? That’s all? Or are there others, in other towns?”

  “Just us. A hundred and forty-three. That’s all so far.”

  “So far?”

  It nodded.

  “You mean there might be more someday?” Smith asked. “More are going to just appear?”

  It shook its head. “No, there’s only one first appearance, but we’ll breed, of course.”

  “You will?”

  It nodded.

  “How? Like people? Like vampires?”

  It shook its head. “Neither,” it said. “We have our own way.”

  The depression in its chest seemed to be growing, deepening.

  “Give it back!” it wailed, looking down at itself.

  Smith lifted the heart higher, further from the thing’s body. “How do you breed?” he asked.

  “Give it back!”

  “How do you breed?”

  “Larvae,” it said, “Larvae that grow inside your people. Give it back!”

  “Lar
vae?” Smith looked from the creature’s face to the black object he held. He had thought of it as the thing’s heart, but now he reconsidered. “Like this?”

  The nightmare creature nodded. “Sort of like that,” it said, “It splits, and half of it stays with the parent, and the other half goes down someone’s throat and then eats its way out to the skin as it grows.”

  Smith looked at what he held with sudden revulsion, and almost dropped it. Khalil’s face twisted with disgust, and they could hear Annie retch.

  “You mean if I swallowed this, it could eat me?”

  “No,” the thing said, “Not… I mean, yeah, it could, you’d better give it back…”

  Khalil jerked the thing’s head back.

  “You’re a lousy liar,” Smith said. He lifted the black lump to his mouth.

  “No, no, don’t!” the creature begged. “It… I’ll tell you!”

  “Talk,” Smith said.

  “At the full moon,” it said. “And the larvae has to be intact. It’s vulnerable, it’s not like an adult. But every full moon, we can spawn, and it takes two weeks, until the new moon, for the new person to grow into its skin.”

  Smith lowered the thing again. “You mean that in a few weeks, there will be more of you?”

  It nodded. “Yes,” it said.

  “How many?” Smith asked.

  “We can all reproduce each month, if we… if we’ve eaten someone, and of course all of us, we each got someone when we first appeared, all but the one who was supposed to get you, and he got someone later…”

  “Who?” Smith interrupted. “Who’d he get?”

  “Joe Samaan – Elias’s father.”

  Smith and Khalil glanced at each other.

  “So that’s why he stopped bothering me,” Smith muttered. Then he looked back at the nightmare person. “Go on,” he said, “You were going to tell me how many of you there will be.”

  “Well, we can all reproduce, so we’ll double – from one forty-three to two eighty-six.”

  Smith shook his head.

  “No,” he said, “Not two eighty-six.” He lifted the black mass, trying to ignore the increasing flow of slime. “Two eighty-four, at most.”

  He took a bite.

  The thing screamed.

  Smith had trouble choking the stuff down, but he eventually managed it all, despite the slime and the stink.

  The screaming lasted for twenty minutes.

  Chapter Ten:

  Wednesday, August 9th;

  Thursday, August 10th

  1.

  “The sixteenth,” Smith said, looking at the calendar. “It’ll be full on the sixteenth.”

  “Today is the ninth, yes?” Khalil asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Then we have one week.”

  Smith nodded.

  Khalil shook his head. “In one week, we cannot kill a hundred and forty-two. Our stomachs would not take it.”

  Smith managed a sickly grin. He was sitting up in bed after a long night of nausea. “You’re telling me,” he said.

  “We do not even know where all of them are,” Khalil pointed out. “I do not believe that they have all remained in the apartments.”

  “I know,” Smith agreed. “At the very least, there’s the one that wanted me, that got Elias’s father. I don’t know if it’s still in the same skin, or if it moved on into someone else.”

  Khalil nodded.

  Annie stuck her head in the bedroom door. “How are you feeling, Mr. Smith?” she asked.

  “Much better, Ms. McGowan, thanks.”

  “Oh, call me Annie,” she said. “After all, if you’re going to be staying here…” She didn’t finish the sentence.

  “And you can call me Ed, if you like,” Smith said.

  She shook her head. “I’ll try,” she said, “but you don’t look like an Ed.” She stepped into the room and looked around.

  “All these computers!” she marvelled.

  “It’s just two computers, really,” Smith explained. “It’s just that the Deskpro isn’t assembled yet.”

  “Oh,” she said, staring at the clutter he and Khalil had strewn throughout her spotless guest room.

  Khalil had done most of the work; Smith had been too sick. They had gotten everything from his car and motel room and brought it all to Annie McGowan’s guest room.

  Smith had paid the bill at the Red Roof Inn, and had not been at all happy to see the total he put on his MasterCard.

  They had made no attempt to collect anything from his old apartment. From Khalil’s apartment they had retrieved only two changes of clothing, some toiletries, and two switchblades. Khalil kept one; Smith borrowed the other.

  “What about the couch?” Smith asked, hoping to distract Annie from her unwanted new housemates.

  She frowned, and Smith realized he was only making it worse.

  “That stuff doesn’t seem to come out,” she said, “And of course there are all the tears in the cushions…”

  “Ruined, huh?” Smith asked sympathetically. “Don’t worry, Annie, we’ll buy you a new one. Really. I’m really sorry about it all.”

  “Oh, it’s not your fault,” she said, waving the matter away.

  “I know,” Smith said, “but we’ll buy you a new one, I promise. Hey, what time is it?”

  Khalil glanced at his watch. “9:40,” he said.

  “Annie,” Smith said, “May I use your phone? I’ve got to call my boss, tell him I won’t be in today.”

  “Of course,” she said.

  2.

  Einar was not pleased.

  “Look, Ed,” he said into the phone, “You’ve missed a week already, and you didn’t call yesterday, and when I called your motel you weren’t there, and you weren’t at your apartment, either. And when you were in on Monday I think you did more damage than good. Just what’s going on? Where are you now?”

  “I’m staying with friends,” Smith said. “I was sick enough that I didn’t think I should be alone. The name is McGowan, and the number is 948-8332.”

  “Uh-huh,” Einar said. “Have you seen a doctor?”

  “No.”

  For a moment neither of them spoke; then Einar said, “Look, Ed, I don’t want to pry, but are you sure there’s nothing else? Something you aren’t telling me?”

  “I’m sure,” Smith said.

  Again, neither spoke. Finally Einar sighed. “Listen, Ed,” he said, “You’re a good programmer, when you’re on the job, but this isn’t college or something, and you’re not a freelancer. You’re supposed to be here during working hours, working. If you’re not back on the job tomorrow, I want to hear that you’re sick from a doctor, not just from you, and I want you to be somewhere I can get hold of you.”

  “Sure, Einar, I understand. Did you get the number here?”

  “No. Give it to me again.”

  Smith gave it to him again.

  “All right, I’ve got it,” Einar said. “Do you think you might come in this afternoon? Will you be in tomorrow?”

  “I don’t know, Einar. Really, I just don’t know. I’ve been throwing up all night, and I’m not sure I’m over it.”

  “Uh-huh. All right, Ed, but remember, I warned you.”

  He hung up.

  Smith grimaced, and hung up as well.

  “I think I’m about to lose my job,” he told Khalil.

  “Seriously?” Khalil asked.

  Smith shrugged. “I don’t know. Hey, don’t worry about it; it wasn’t that great a job to begin with. I’ve got some money, I’ll be okay for a couple of months if I’m careful. Besides, if we don’t kill those things off, I think I’m going to want to get the heck out of this part of the country.”

  Khalil nodded agreement.

  “If they double their numbers every month, however,” he pointed out, “Soon no place will be safe.”

  Smith shrugged. “That’s if. And if that happens, my job isn’t going to matter a whole hell of a lot, is it?”

  “No
,” Khalil admitted. “I am sure they will try to kill us.”

  Smith blinked. “Do you think that’s what the fake Sandy was supposed to do?”

  “He said so, didn’t he? That he was to send us out alone, where the others could get us?”

  Smith nodded.

  They sat silently for a moment.

  Annie was in the living room, fussing with the ruined couch again. They could hear her bustling about.

  “Maybe we should have asked that thing more questions before we killed it,” Smith said. “Like where they’ll be going next, after Diamond Park.”

  Khalil shrugged. “You did not think of it.”

  Smith nodded agreement. “There’s a lot I didn’t think of,” he said.

  3.

  “If we can’t kill them all,” Smith said, “Is there some way we can stop them from breeding?”

  Nobody answered. Khalil shrugged, and Annie just looked down at her knitting, her fingers working busily.

  “What if we just cut their hearts out, but didn’t eat them?” Smith suggested.

  Annie dropped a stitch and frowned. Khalil tapped his fingers quietly.

  “And how exactly do they breed? That one we questioned said that the larva goes down someone’s throat – how does it get there?”

  “Perhaps a bite, the way it happens when one takes a new skin, but it sends only the larva down, instead of eating its own way in,” Khalil suggested.

  Smith nodded. “It’s probably something like that,” he agreed. “But if that’s how it works, I don’t see how they can do it. People aren’t going to just let it happen, let strangers walk up and stick their heads in their mouths.”

  “Wouldn’t be strangers,” Annie said, looping yarn around the needle. “All those folks over there have friends and family, don’t they?”

  “I guess so, but I still don’t see…” Smith began.

  “And,” Annie said, “It’s not too much to ask for a little kiss now and then, is it?”

  “A kiss?” Khalil’s fingers stopped tapping the table. Smith blinked and looked over at Annie.

  “That would do it, wouldn’t it?” Smith said. “At least, it would let ’em get their mouths up against the mouths of their victims.”