Tommy Nightmare (Jenny Pox #2)

by JL Bryan

And that was when things got fucked up.

  When Wooly was a little kid, there was one movie that scared him more than any other. Pumpkinhead. A witch summoned a demon to carry out revenge against some teenagers, and that demon, with his swollen wrinkled head, his evil sneer, and his blank eyes, had given Wooly nightmares and wet beds for months.

  The guy’s gray eyes reminded him of that demon’s eyes. And this guy’s face seemed to flicker a little, and Wooly could swear he kept glimpsing Pumpkinhead’s sneering face underneath.

  His grip on Wooly’s arm was definitely as tight and strong as a demon’s.

  “Okay,” Wooly whispered. “Okay. I called him. I did what you wanted. Right?”

  “You will welcome him,” the guy growled. “You will keep him with you.”

  “Okay.”

  “You won’t say anything about me to anyone.” The gray-eyed dude put a finger on Wooly’s ear, and Wooly tensed, thinking he might tear it off. “No matter where I am, I can hear when someone is talking about me. Do you understand?”

  “Yeah!” Wooly gasped. “Yeah, man, no way would I tell anyone.”

  “Good,” the guy said. He finally let go of Wooly’s arm, and Wooly cradled it in his other hand. “Do what I told you. I’ll be watching.” He stepped out onto the dark balcony, and he closed the French doors behind him.

  Wooly didn’t dare go and peer out through the glass onto the balcony, or turn the light on to see whether the demonic guy was gone. He felt like the guy was just standing out there, watching him, and might pounce on him and kill him any second. He was too scared to move.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Alexander had tracked the girl all the way to Fallen Oak, South Carolina, which made him smirk. He’d spent a previous lifetime here, infusing the place with his energy, really having fun with it. It only made sense that it would attract others of his kind. He should have checked up on this place. But he was into bigger things now, bigger experiments far south and west of here. Things he needed her to power.

  He sat inside the empty, never-sold house in Ashleigh’s cul-de-sac, watching out through the window curtains in the master bedroom. He could watch them through the side windows. He’d been occupying this house a couple of days, curious to watch the convocation underway.

  There was the fear-giver and his opposite, the love-charmer.

  And then the third person. Esmeralda, Alexander’s opposite, the one who could listen to the dead, while Alexander could command them. He watched her closely.

  She was infatuated with the fear-giver, it seemed. Alexander had watched them in the kitchen. When they’d finally gone upstairs together, he guessed they would be distracted for a while, especially with the stereo blasting downstairs.

  So he’d crept into the house and planted a couple of tiny microphones here and there. Since then, he’d sat here in the empty house and listened to their conversations. Interesting stuff.

  Tonight, the fear-giver had left town on an errand, but the two girls were here.

  He tore open a yogurt-granola bar—he’d bought a case of them, and he’d been living mostly on those and some cheese crackers while he spied on the others. He stretched out on the bare hardwood floor, closed his eyes, and listened over his headphones.

  “What’s all that?” Esmeralda asked.

  Ashleigh was coming down the stairs with a big wicker basket stuffed with lotions, gels and big, fluffy pink towels rolled up inside.

  “Since he’s off doing his thing, I thought we could really girl out tonight,” Ashleigh said. “I’ve got stuff for your feet, face, and hair, and I’ve got every single Hugh Grant movie on Blu-Ray.”

  Esmeralda laughed. “Whatever you want to do.”

  “This is what I want to do.” She dropped onto the couch next to Esmeralda and put a hand on her, and poured the love into her. “I want to thank you for bringing me back to life, and keeping me alive. I don’t even know how to say how much I appreciate it, and how deeply grateful I am to you.”

  “It’s okay,” Esmeralda said. “I’m glad I brought you back. It’s been a great time.”

  “You may not know this, but there are some real benefits to my touch, and I want to share them with you.” Ashleigh said. She stood up and unrolled one of the fluffy pink towels across the couch. “Lie down on your stomach.”

  Esmeralda looked puzzled, but she was still smiling. She stretched out facedown on the pink towel. “What are you going to do?”

  “You’re going to get the best thing in the world.” Ashleigh uncorked a bottle of expensive organic lotion. “An Ashleigh massage.”

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “I know. People used to beg me for these.” Ashleigh lifted the back of Esmeralda’s shirt and hiked it up to her shoulders.

  “Hey!” Esmeralda said.

  “I’m going to use my best lotion, too.” Ashleigh unhooked Esmeralda’s bra. “It’s got royal bee jelly, and like twenty South American herbs.” She spread the lotion on her fingers and began to rub Esmeralda’s back. She poured her special energy into it, infusing Esmeralda’s deep muscle tissue with love.

  Esmeralda gave a deep sigh.

  “I told you, I’m awesome at this,” Ashleigh said.

  “Yeah,” Esmeralda said.

  Ashleigh rubbed her way up Esmeralda’s back, feeling the girl relax under her fingers.

  “So, did you have fun with Tommy last night?” Ashleigh asked.

  “Oh, yeah.”

  “What did you guys do?”

  “We made chili.” Esmeralda giggled. “Vegetarian chili.”

  “Yeah? Was it good?”

  “Oh, yeah. It was hot.”

  Ashleigh moved her hands down to Esmeralda’s lower back and started over, working her way up to Esmeralda’s shoulder blades. “Then what did you do?”

  “We danced. I showed him how to salsa.” She giggled again. “He was funny.”

  “Yeah? Don’t you get scared when he touches you?”

  “Oh, yeah,” she sighed. “So scared. But I like feeling scared.”

  “Oh?” Ashleigh said. “That’s interesting.”

  “I like your touch, too. Keep touching me.”

  “Take your shirt off.”

  Esmeralda slowly tugged away her shirt and bra, moving at half-speed as if tranquilized. She dropped them on the floor and snuggled into her thick pink towel.

  “Then what else did you guys do?” Ashleigh rubbed her shoulders and neck.

  “We played around.”

  “Did you kiss?”

  “Yes.” Esmeralda giggled again, drunk on Ashleigh’s energy.

  “And he played with your tits?” Ashleigh rubbed her hands up along Esmeralda’s sides.

  “Yeah.”

  “And then you had sex?”

  “No,” Esmeralda held up a finger and wagged it. “No, no. But I sucked his dick.”

  “And then what?”

  “He came in my face and fell asleep.”

  Ashleigh snickered. “Turn over, Esmeralda.”

  Esmeralda turned over. Ashleigh looked at her old finger bone, resting between Esmeralda’s erect nipples. Esmeralda held too much power over Ashleigh to be trusted.

  “You’re so important to me,” Ashleigh said. “I can give you a massage like this every day if you want.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Esmeralda looked at her with dilated pupils and languid eyes, and gave her a drugged smile. “That would be perfect.”

  “I know.” Ashleigh tugged down Esmeralda’s pajama pants, and the girl didn’t even protest.

  Ashleigh slid a finger into the damp between Esmeralda’s legs and rubbed the girl’s clit. Esmeralda gasped.

  “Do you love me?” Ashleigh asked.

  “Yes, I love you.” Esmeralda’s eyes closed.

  Ashleigh rubbed her faster, and she turned her love-energy way up, pumping it into her. Esmeralda’s body quivered, and her hips hitched up off the couch.

  “Do you love me more than you love Tommy?”


  “Yes, more!”

  “A lot more?”

  “So much more!” Esmeralda cried out.

  “You belong to me, don’t you?” Ashleigh asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Say it.”

  “I belong to you…I belong to you…”

  “That’s right,” Ashleigh said.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  The day of Jenny's high school graduation was overcast, but the Weather Channel said it wouldn't rain, so graduation was outside on the football field as usual.

  Jenny stood in her rented cap and gown on the temporary bleachers set up on the field. The graduating class was sparse and scattered on the bleachers, as were the groups of parents watching from the permanent concrete bleachers. With so many people dead or missing, it was a gloomy day in more ways than one.

  Jenny found her father among the parents. He'd dressed in his best suit, which was a brown corduroy artifact of the 1970s. His girlfriend June sat beside him in a flowered church dress.

  A few rows away from them, she spotted Seth's parents. Mr. and Mrs. Barrett were dressed quite a bit better than Jenny's dad, but they all looked equally miserable.

  “Hey, Jenny!” Seth called to her as he climbed up the bleachers toward her. “Did I miss anything?”

  “Just a lot of standing around.” Jenny welcomed him with a hug and a quick kiss. She noticed his eyes glance warily towards his parents.

  “Have you talked to your dad about Clemson?” Jenny asked.

  “I wish I could go there, Jenny. But he's like iron on this one.”

  “But you know I can't live in Charleston.”

  “You can!” Seth said. “It's not even a big city like Atlanta.”

  “Charleston has too many people,” Jenny said.

  “My dad’s insisting. I have to go there because they ‘have the right focus on global market integration.’” Seth jabbed a fist in the air as he imitated his dad’s voice.

  “Ooh, are we talking about Charleston?” Darcy asked. She'd joined them on the bleachers, and now stood on the far side of Seth from Jenny. “I can't wait! Can you?”

  Jenny shrugged.

  “When are you guys going for orientation?” Darcy asked.

  “I'm supposed to go in a couple of weeks,” Seth said. “Meet up with some of my friends from Grayson Academy.”

  Jenny didn't like the sound of that. Before high school, Seth had attended an all-boys private school with a bunch of other rich kids. He’d only come back to Fallen Oak for high school because of his parents’ weird ideas about tradition. Jenny had met a couple of Grayson types at the Barrett Christmas party, and they were jerks.

  “Ooh, nifty,” Darcy said. “Do you think I could hook a ride with you guys? My parents won't take me. They're still mad about the precious miracle in my belly. I'm giving it up for adoption, so it's not like it's gonna matter, but....” Darcy shrugged.

  “You can ride with Seth,” Jenny said, and Seth gave her a sharp look. “Right, Seth?'

  “Well, yeah...” Seth said. “It's just, there's the big music festival that weekend. Lots of drunk people, crowds...”

  “Ooh, yeah,” Darcy said. “I want to go to a music festival.”

  “Really?” Seth asked.

  “Hell yeah. I never have any fun,” Darcy said.

  “Darcy Metcalf,” Jenny asked, in a mock-scolding tone. “Did you just swear?”

  “Fuck yeah I did!” Darcy said, and Jenny and Seth laughed. “I'm graduating. I can do what I want.”

  “So you're taking her, Seth?” Jenny asked. She smiled. How much trouble could Seth get into with Darcy Metcalf up his ass?

  “Uhhh...” Seth said.

  Darcy beamed at him.

  “Yeah, okay,” Seth sighed. “It'll be fun.”

  “Bet your bumpers it will be!” Darcy said.

  When the students were assembled, Assistant Principal Varney approached the loudspeaker podium on a little platform in front of the students. She addressed the parents and other audience members.

  “Parents, students, and members of our Fallen Oak High community,” she said. “We all know this has been a difficult year for our town. But today is a happy day, when so many of our young people move forward to begin their lives in the world...” After a few platitudes, she introduced Reverend Bailey for the commencement address.

  “Brothers and sisters in Christ,” he began. The man looked a little stooped, and much grayer than Jenny remembered. His daughter Neesha was among the missing—and Jenny knew that all the “missing” were really dead. “In this time of need, let us remember and celebrate those we have lost. And let us also remember that, wherever they are, the Lord watches over them...Let us pray for understanding. Let us pray for hope. Let us pray.” He bowed his head, and everyone else in the stadium did the same.

  The Reverend's prayer referred to the Book of Job and trials and tribulations. When he mentioned Job's affliction of boils and disease, Jenny peeked open one eye to see if anyone was looking at her, but nobody was.

  Then Mrs. Varney returned to introduce the class valedictorian, Raquisha Higgins, who said things like “now we move on into the springtime of our lives, like butterflies hatching from the high school cocoon...”

  At least I saved us from one last speech by Ashleigh, Jenny thought.

  Mrs. Varney called the students to receive their diplomas.

  The whole experience was surreal. Jenny was the reason so many people were gone, but nobody knew except Seth and Jenny’s dad. Seth was adamant that she shouldn't turn herself in—but if he was moving away from her, how much could he really care?

  Out in the audience, half the people were crying. So were some of the students around her. The short list of graduates made it clear how many people they had lost.

  She looked at her dad. He didn't look happy, either.

  Then she looked at Seth. What kind of person was she, if she could kill so many people and still worry about her own happiness? So what if Seth moved away? She deserved far worse. She was a monster.

  Seth took her hand and gave her a small smile, but Jenny wasn't feeling it at all.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Heather got to work early Monday morning, which was her new habit. The CDC had continued testing the bodies, and still failed to come up with anything that might explain their horrific demise. Heather couldn't leave it alone, so she kept checking the data for any developments.

  Fallen Oak presented her with two big anomalies: the day of death and the teenage baby boom. Heather had crunched the numbers on that and determined that most of the conceptions must have happened in late October and early November, almost as if a single event were responsible for the whole thing. She wondered what had been happening in Fallen Oak on Halloween.

  There was no more information on Ashleigh Goodling, or her parents. They hadn't been identified among the bodies. The whole family seemed to have vanished in a puff of smoke. She found that extremely suspicious, but it was getting her nowhere.

  There was, of course, no explanation for the magical disappearing pathogen, either. Over two hundred people had simply developed extreme symptoms for no reason. That was good enough for the White House, so long as the event didn't recur. It wasn't good enough for Heather. She came in early and worked late to crunch the numbers collected by the lab techs. The government was keeping the bodies in frozen storage now, presumably in case some new information or investigative technique turned up, and fending off inquiries from the families. Most of the bodies currently in storage were officially “missing” instead of deceased, in order to downplay the scale of the event.

  That didn't sit right with Heather, either, but it was beyond her control. The White House, no doubt, had no interest in her opinion. Not in an election year.

  The phone rang, which surprised her. She wasn't officially here for another half hour. She thought about letting it go to voice mail, but then she noticed the area code: 803. That was South Carolina, maybe Fallen
Oak.

  “Dr. Reynard,” she answered.

  “Um, hi.” The voice on the other end was young, female, and very nervous. “Is this, um, Dr. Reynard?”

  “Yes.”

  “Um, hi,” the voice repeated. “You were in Fallen Oak when all the stuff was happening?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay, I think I met you. My name is Darcy. Metcalf.”

  Dr. Reynard tried to put a face with the name, but couldn’t. She had screened a lot of the girls in town. She wrote “Darcy Metcalf” on a Post-It pad.

  “Yeah,” the girl said. Her voice fell to a whisper. “I tried to tell you about Jenny. About the witchcraft, or whatever it is.”

  Dr. Reynard remembered a mousey-haired pregnant girl pushing her angry father’s wheelchair.

  “Oh, Darcy!” she said. “I remember you.”

  “Okay, good,” Darcy said. “Now, I’ve thought about it a lot, and I think maybe it’s not witchcraft.”

  “I’m sure it isn’t, Darcy.”

  “No, there’s gotta be some science involved. Like she carries the disease, but it doesn’t hurt her, but she can infect other people. Is there a word for that? You know, like how mosquitos can infect you but they don’t get sick themselves?”

  “An immune carrier?”

  “That sounds right! She could be an ‘immune carrier.’”

  “Who are we talking about?” Heather didn’t know what to make of this phone call yet.

  “Jenny Pox. I mean, Jenny Morton. Jenny Pox is just what people call her.”

  “Why do they call her that?”

  “Because, like I said, she can infect people and make ‘em sick. But she doesn’t really get sick. She can suck it back in when she’s done.”

  “Darcy, you’re whispering too low. I can barely hear you.”

  “Okay, sorry. It’s just, I don’t want my dad to know I’m talking to you.”

  “Why not?”

  “Cause he’d get mad. Cause he doesn’t want me to get involved. Nobody wants to get involved. But I think you should know about it.”

  “Well, thanks for calling, Darcy. Is there anything else?”