Tommy Nightmare (Jenny Pox #2)

by JL Bryan

  Darcy’s cell phone rang inside the big canvas purse. Ashleigh pulled it out. It was Tommy, using a prepaid cell phone he’d bought with cash at a convenience store, if he’d followed instructions correctly.

  “Oh, criminy,” Ashleigh said. She was getting sick of playing Darcy all the time. Being that girl was almost as annoying as hanging out with her. “That’s my parents. ‘Scuse.”

  She heaved herself up, and Seth jumped up to help her stand. Ashleigh squeezed his hand, charming him with her love. “Thank you, Seth.”

  “Anytime.” He beamed at her as she walked away. Sucker.

  She found a narrow, relatively uncrowded alley where the buildings tamped down the noise from the band. The phone had gone to voicemail by this point, so Ashleigh called Tommy back.

  “She took him to the hospital,” Tommy said. “She just now got him inside. He’s all fucked up.”

  “Good,” Ashleigh said. “And she saw the note?”

  “Definitely.”

  “Perfect. Her next move will be to get in her car and drive to Charleston to save her poor little boyfriend. She’s going to be wary, though. She’s not too stupid. Where are you now?”

  “Palmetto Bug gas station. It’s across from the hospital parking lot.”

  “Get out of there! You don’t want her to see you, or she’ll come after you instead of down here.”

  “She already left the hospital. She didn’t see me.” Tommy said.

  “She already left?” Ashleigh snapped. “That means she’s on her way here, Tommy. And she’ll drive crazy fast to get to Seth. So get moving, because I need you here first.”

  “I’m on my way.”

  Ashleigh hung up. Now it was time for the risky part.

  She’d planted the seed first thing Monday, sending Neesha’s pictures of Jenny over to that CDC doctor. She’d worried that the government would react too quickly, but they hadn’t. She wanted the information to flow around to prime the pump, but she didn’t want them acting just yet. Now, she just hoped they didn’t move too slowly.

  Heather heard the landline ring, but she didn’t move to answer it. That was what husbands and voicemail were for, on a Saturday night when she was watching Top Chef on TiVo.

  Then it stopped ringing abruptly, and she heard Tricia in the kitchen, screaming, “Hi! Hi! Hi!”

  Heather sighed and hurried into the kitchen, where Liam had apparently left the toddler alone with a plate of fish sticks. Fish sticks were scattered on the floor, and Tricia clutched several in one hand. Tricia held the cordless phone next to one ketchup-smeared cheek.

  “My mommy’s name is Heather!” Tricia shouted to whoever was on the phone. They must have been asking for her, then. “I have fish sticks!”

  “Tricia.” Heather took the phone from her, and Tricia scowled with indignation. “If you answer the phone, you have to give it to Daddy or me. Preferably Daddy.” Then she spoke directly the phone. “Sorry about that. Hello?”

  “Are you talking to me now?” a girl’s voice asked.

  “Yes, sorry, I was—”

  “Fish sticks, fish sticks!” Tricia attempted to place fish sticks into Heather’s mouth. Heather knelt beside her, wiping away the ketchup smear on her cheek with a Wet One.

  “I don’t want the fish stick, honey,” Heather said. “Especially not up my nose.”

  “Fish stick!”

  “Everything okay?” the girl on the phone asked.

  “Yes, sorry, who is this?” Heather asked.

  “It’s Darcy Metcalf. From Fallen Oak.”

  “Oh…did I give you this number?” Heather definitely hadn’t. Her cell phone, but not her home phone. Which meant Darcy had done at least some light Internet stalking.

  “I’m so sorry,” Darcy said. “But it’s a total super-huge emergency. You know how Jenny killed all those people?”

  “Don’t worry, we’re looking into that,” Heather said. In fact, the order had come down that a contingent of Homeland Security officers would go to Fallen Oak on Monday to take Jenny into custody for extensive testing. Heather was supposed to go along. She thought it was a little heavy-handed—it might be best just to reach out to the girl quietly, and only escalate to force if necessary—but that wasn’t Heather’s call to make.

  “There isn’t time to just look into it!” Darcy said. “Jenny’s in Charleston now. There’s a music festival. And she bet her boyfriend, Seth, she bet him that she could kill ten thousand people this time.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Honest to God! Everyone’s even taking bets on how many people will die. It’s weird. It’s like some people are actually looking forward to it, or at least they don’t care. I didn’t know who else to call because most people wouldn’t know enough to believe me.”

  “Are you sure about this, Darcy?” Heather felt a cold, sinking feeling in her gut. This was her worst-case nightmare, Jenny going to a densely populated area. And it sounded like the girl actually enjoyed infecting people.

  “Yeah, it’s horrible!” Darcy said. “You have to do something. The police, or the Army, or something! You can’t let her get away with it again.”

  “I can’t just call up the Army,” Heather said.

  “You’d better find an army somewhere,” Darcy said. “Or Jenny is going to destroy that city, and it’s gonna be worse than 9/11. I have to go now. Please bring help, okay? Nobody else will.” Darcy hung up.

  “Jesus Christ,” Heather said.

  “Cheeses rice.” Tricia giggled.

  “Don’t swear, Tricia.” Heather took the girl under one arm, then carried her to the office. She needed to get in touch with Schwartzman, and with somebody at Homeland Security who had the power to mobilize.

  Before long, Nelson Artleby would get wind of the situation, and Heather wanted things moving well before that happened. Her first concern was public health, but Nelson’s was politics, and that could lead to some very poor decisions.

  She called Schwartzman at home.

  After Darcy walked away to answer her phone, Wooly turned to Seth.

  “Dude,” Wooly said, “What the hell?”

  “What the hell what?” Seth forked a spicy chunk of sausage into his mouth.

  “Why is she with us? Why is she with you?”

  “I told you, she’s my girlfriend’s friend, she needed a ride to Orientation—”

  “Okay, okay, that’s all good,” Wooly nodded. “But listen, you can’t bring home a sweet slice of titty-tang with the Goodyear blimp parked in your penthouse, know what I’m saying?”

  “What do you expect me to do, throw her out?”

  “Just park her ass at the Holiday Inn, S-dog. That’ll clear your way for a taste of the tang.”

  “I’m not trying to get laid this weekend, anyway,” Seth said. “I just want to get drunk and see Willie Nelson.”

  “Aw, come on,” Wooly said. “It’s Saturday night, summertime, Funk Fest—everybody’s getting laid this weekend. Am I right?” Wooly high-fived the other two guys, who nodded and “Hell yeah”d along with him.

  “Whatever.” Seth threw the empty Styrofoam bowl into a big steel drum of a trash can. “You guys are gonna pass out under one of these trees and wake up with a dog pissing in your face in the morning.”

  All of three of them laughed.

  “Damn, S-dog, don’t hold back,” Wooly said.

  “Give me that vodka.” Seth took the thermos and took a swig, probably two or three shots’ worth. It was good vodka, too, very smooth.

  They passed it around, while Wooly told a very long and meticulously detailed story about the time he’d almost hooked up with an Asian skater chick, except she barfed and passed out.

  “All right, last shot goes to my man S-dog.” Wooly passed Seth the thermos, where the vodka was nearly depleted. “I’m gonna make sure you have a good time tonight. Priority one…” He looked past Seth and his eyes widened. “Hit the brakes. New priority one. Tap that shit.”

  Darcy was
returning, arm in arm with a girl Seth didn’t know—for a moment, though, he could have sworn it was Ashleigh. Tall, blond, same build, almost the same tits, even. As if Darcy had specifically sought out someone that looked like her.

  “Hey guys,” Darcy said. “This is my new friend Allegra. We just totally bonded over some Redheaded Sluts in that bar.” She pointed vaguely behind her.

  “We totally did!” the blond girl agreed. She was smiling so wide her face was about to split. Closer up, she didn’t look too much like Ashleigh at all. She looked kind of East European or Russian, something like that. “I love Redheaded Sluts!”

  “Me, too!” Darcy said, and they burst into drunken laughter.

  Wooly stepped forward to introduce himself to the blond girl.

  “I’m Chris,” he said. “But everybody calls me Wooly. Cause I’m mammoth.”

  “Oh, is this the boy you were telling me about?” Allegra asked. Her eyes flicked up and down Wooly’s body.

  “No, Seth’s over here.” Darcy tugged Allegra past Wooly, closer to Seth. She lay a hand on Seth’s arm. “Isn’t he way foxy?”

  “Oh, yes.” Allegra’s dark eyes looked into Seth’s. “Yes, he is.”

  Seth felt something like a surge of heat and light in his chest, which spread like molten gold through his body, filling up his head. The incredibly beautiful Allegra seemed to sparkle and glow in front of his eyes. She was everything to him. The past and the future, any other thoughts or concerns, all fell away before her. Every cell in his body cried out with an aching need for her.

  “Allegra,” Seth whispered, his voice full of awe.

  “Yes,” she whispered back. Her eyes were locked onto his, and their bodies seemed to drift together, until her hand rested on the back of his neck, and he was embracing her around the hips, drawing her close.

  They kissed, and the air around them seemed to ignite. Seth was lost in her smell, her taste, the warm shape of her body against him. He was barely even aware of Darcy’s hand still gripping his upper arm.

  After a long time, they came back up from the kiss, and their faces parted enough so Seth could admire her eyes, and nose, and cheeks…and those perfect lips…

  “Come on, lovebirds,” Darcy said. She took one of Seth’s hands, and one of Allegra’s, and led them away like slow, stubborn horses. They couldn’t stop looking at each other.

  “Go on, get it on, S-dog!” Wooly shouted behind them, and the two other guys gave drunken cheers. “Daaaaamn, that pregnant chick is a tang magnet. Hey, pregnant chick, come back and hang!”

  Darcy looked back over her shoulder and winked.

  Chapter Forty-One

  Heather drove toward the airport, where the CDC’s leased plane was waiting. It would ferry her, Schwartzman and a group of first responders. Homeland Security was sending in a flood of people, too, and coordinating with South Carolina state police, Charleston police, and it was rumored that the National Guard had been put on alert. Someone had decided, thankfully, that this was a full-scale emergency in need of strong prevention.

  It looked like Darcy Metcalf was going to get her army, after all. Heather just hoped they had biohazard gear.

  The situation was volatile and chaotic, which was good, because it meant things were unfolding fast. Heather had been worried that she wouldn’t be able to summon a strong enough response, but apparently the picture of Jenny Morton infected with the unknown pathogen, the results of Heather’s extremely unorthodox lab tests, and the as-yet-unexplained huge body count in Fallen Oak had made their way to the right decision-makers, despite the rush to cover up the event.

  She’d heard that state police had been dispatched to Jenny Morton’s house, but they found nobody home, which wasn’t exactly reassuring. Heather had called Darcy Metcalf’s house, and Darcy’s parents said she had gone to the beach.

  Heather couldn’t help imagining the city of Charleston with thousands of bodies in the street, diseased and contorted like those in Fallen Oak. She shook the image away, but it kept creeping back.

  She stepped on the gas.

  Tommy looked out at the crowd of people five stories below. From the balcony, he could see the bandstand, which had been temporarily expanded to accommodate the bands and their walls of speakers.

  He'd arrived about twenty minutes ago and stashed his motorcycle inside the tall picket-fence dumpster enclosure behind the hotel. He'd rolled the bike behind the dumpster itself, in case any hotel staff took the garbage out. Getting the bike out would be a little trouble if he had to leave in a hurry, but the nearest parking spot was blocks away, and you couldn’t make a quick exit when you had to hoof it half a mile and then wind your way out of a parking garage.

  He looked back inside the hotel room, where Esmeralda lay on the bed, watching music videos on TV. She had a drugged, detached look to her face that bothered him.

  “Esmeralda,” he said.

  Her gaze drifted in his direction.

  “What do you think of all this?” Tommy asked.

  “All of what?”

  “Ashleigh.” Tommy stepped back into the room and sat on the edge of the bed. He looked at the piece of bone hanging on the gold chain around Esmeralda's neck. “I'm not sure about this thing she's asking me to do.”

  “You've been practicing,” Esmeralda said. “You'll do fine.”

  “No, I mean I'm wondering whether I should do it at all. Ashleigh tells us that this Jenny girl is so evil—”

  “She is,” Esmeralda said. “She killed all those people.”

  “But more could die tonight,” Tommy said. “All to capture one girl? And bringing in all the cops and feds makes me nervous.”

  “Ashleigh knows what she's doing,” Esmeralda said. “That's what you kept telling me. We had to bring her back because she understands us, and what we are. You said that. You were obsessed with it.”

  “I still think that, but she's not honest. Watch how she manipulates everyone else. How do we know she's not manipulating us?”

  “Because we're her soul family. She told me. We always help each other in all our lifetimes. The three of us belong together.”

  “I thought you didn’t believe in reincarnation. What if she’s lying about—”

  “She is not lying to us!” Esmeralda sat up and hugged a pillow. “Ashleigh loves us. I know it. And I love her, too.”

  “Making people feel love is her power. She only has to touch you.”

  “But it doesn't work on us,” Esmeralda said.

  “It doesn't work on me,” Tommy said. “But I think she cast a spell on you. Has she been touching you a lot, or in any unusual way?”

  Esmeralda blushed and turned her head.

  “She has, hasn't she?” Tommy asked.

  “We have fun together. We both enjoy it.”

  “You didn't even like her at first,” Tommy said.

  “I just didn't know her.” Esmeralda scowled.

  “I know her better now, too,” Tommy said. “And maybe I'm wrong, but...”

  “You are wrong.”

  “So…if I wanted to duck out of this whole thing, and hit the road...would you come with me?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Tommy took her hand. Fear leaked into her, but he tried to hold it in as much as he could. “I've never been happier than that moment when you first got on my bike. And then riding through the desert with your arms around me. You don't know what that meant to me. Didn't it seem like something good was about to happen?”

  “Good things have happened.” She squeezed his hand. “We found Ashleigh. She has brought so much into our lives.”

  “She’s using us, I think,” Tommy said. “She has her own agenda, and she's using us—”

  “We are her agenda!” Esmeralda said. “We're only getting rid of this Jenny person so she doesn't kill us. So the world will be safe for the three of us. We can all be together after that, with nothing to fear. Ashleigh is really smart and she knows what needs to happen.”


  “And what if you had to choose between her and me?”

  “I would choose her.”

  He took her words like a sharp belt lash across the face. Tommy let go of her hand and walked back to the open balcony. “Then the only way I can be with you, is to be with her.”

  “The three of us, Tommy. Nobody left out.”

  Tommy looked out at the crowd of smiling, dancing, drinking, kissing people, and he thought about the horror he had to unleash on them.

  Jenny sped down the highway towards Charleston as the night grew dark around her. She’d called Seth and Darcy several times as she drove, and left each of them panicked voicemails, but nobody had called back.

  A mile marker told her she was thirty miles from Charleston. The further she drove, the slower she seemed to travel, though she kept the needle between eighty and ninety in the countryside. She slowed as she passed through the little towns, where police might be lying in wait for a quick buck.

  Doubt gnawed on her guts. She felt horrible for leaving her dad in that condition, when he was acting so confused and lost. Maybe she’d made the wrong choice. Seth had brought himself back from the dead before. Even if Ashleigh’s opposite really did kill him, Seth might be able to bring himself back, as long as his body wasn’t too destroyed.

  And somebody was waiting up ahead for Jenny, using Seth as bait, expecting stupid little Jenny Mittens to take the hook in her mouth. Jenny was doing exactly what Ashleigh’s opposite wanted.

  She thought about turning back. It was stupid to walk into an ambush, and she needed to go take care of her dad.

  Then her phone rang. Darcy, finally calling her back.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Ashleigh sat in the antique French arm chair in Seth’s room at the Mandrake House. The chair was 19th century, the back and arms carved with images of a woman and gargoyles. It felt like a throne to her. She ate from silver room-service trays: shrimp and grits, sliced heirloom tomatoes, a cheeseburger, a waffle, pecan pie, orange juice and sweet tea. The pregnancy made her crave everything. Besides, she needed to load up on calories to charge up her power, because she’d zapped her latest two victims pretty hard.