“I’ve taken you with me. You didn’t know it, but I have.”
Where have we gone? What have we done? You know, Karen, you know where you’ve gone, what you’ve done. You know what Kerr has done. Accept it. You must accept it.
“Kerr, you’re not making sense. Are you listening to what I’m saying about college?”
“Yes, I heard you. You don’t want me tagging along.”
“That’s not what I said, and you know it. You’re twisting my words. I want us to be individuals.”
“That’s not possible.”
He wasn’t going to discuss this sensibly. What could she do? Apply to several schools, choose one, enter it, and keep it secret? She sipped the hot sweet drink and started to thaw just a little. The dream had frightened her, truly frightened her. But it showed her even more that she needed to put some distance between her and Kerr. It was a dream, making her imagination run away with her. She didn’t know anything. She just knew she couldn’t depend on Kerr, be so attached to him.
If she wasn’t careful, losing Jesse and Alysia could make her hold on tighter to Kerr. He was the only person left in the world that she felt close to. She wasn’t close to her mother or father. They didn’t have any relatives that lived near, that they spent time with. Her father was an only child. Her mother had a sister, but Karen hardly knew her. The dream she’d had, the real dream was symbolic. It meant she had to let go of Kerr, stop hanging onto him. She had to let him go on his own.
“You don’t really want to spend time apart from me, do you, Karen? This is just something you think you should do, not something you want to do. Maybe that teacher told you it would be a good idea. How could he know what was good for us?”
Karen realized Kerr meant Dr. McArthur. She frowned. “Dr. McArthur didn’t tell me I needed to go my own way. That’s my idea, Kerr, and if you’ll think about it sensibly, you’ll agree that I’m right. Just the fact that we have to have this discussion says I’m right. You should want to be independent by now, Kerr.”
“I’ll think about it.” Kerr stared out the window. It was almost dark. The bushes by the window were full of juncos chirping. “The birds are cold.”
“I wonder if Mom fed them today.” Karen knew the one time a day her mother did go outside was to feed the birds. She kept the big feeder full all the time, and the birds knew they could depend on it. Automatically, numbly, she got up and went in the living room. Her mother was watching the early news.
“Mom, did you feed the birds today? It’s going to get below zero tonight.”
“That’s what the weather man says. I did go out early today. Maybe you’d better take out more. Those pesky squirrels eat so much.”
Taking an old parka from the hall closet, Karen put it on and went into the garage. In the back her mother kept a trash can full of bird seed, sunflower seeds, and cracked corn. She dipped into it with a plastic pitcher, which scraped the bottom. The can was almost empty. She would fill it for her mother. The sacks of feed weighed twenty-five pounds. Lifting the nearly full bag, she started to pour it into the trash can. The can wasn’t empty. It was low, but not empty. Karen set the bag on the floor and reached into the trash can, letting the tiny grains of millet slide, like sand, through her fingers as she pulled out the object the pitcher had uncovered. It was a small can of paint. Yellow paint. She glanced back into the deep recess. Another lid peeked up at her in the dim light. Another small can. Red paint. From the lip of each can a dollop of color had dripped down the side like a giant tear drop. She scratched at the red tear. The latex skin was soft and pliable, and she peeled it upwards, like slipping the skin off a ripe peach.
Carefully she balled up the skin of paint in her fingers and tossed it back into the bird seed. She placed each paint can back into the millet and secured both upright. She lifted the heavy bag at her feet and poured from the diagonal cut at the corner. The seed hissed out into the trash can, sending a cloud of grain dust into the air. Neatly, she placed the nearly empty bag on a shelf, covered the can with its lid, and slipped out the side door into the back yard. She shivered. Kerr was right, it was super cold, but at least the wind had died down. She filled the feeder, tossed the remainder of the grain on the ground and hurried back inside, setting the pitcher on the counter.
There was a chicken in the crock pot. Karen, Kerr and their mother sat down to eat at TV trays, watching the six o’clock news. Dad had called to say he’d be late. Karen paid little attention to what was hapening around the world. It was all she could do to handle what was going on in her small piece of the world.
When they’d finished eating, Kerr volunteered to wash dishes.
“I’ll help you.” Karen took her tray into the kitchen. Kerr went back for his mother’s while she scraped plates and rinsed them. The dishwasher was partly filled, and this would make a load. Water had boiled while they cleaned up. Kerr made his mother a cup of coffee and took it to her.
“Want to play a couple of games of backgammon?” Karen asked. “Then I have a book to start reading for speech class.”
Kerr looked at her, surprised. He grinned. “Sure. I’ll get the board. Make us a pot of tea.”
Karen did more than that. She also scooped out a dish of raspberry sorbet for each of them. Licking the serving spoon, she opened the washer and stuck it in.
They played in the breakfast nook, a warm, cozy corner of the house at night. Kerr always had to play with the black markers, and he took an early lead.
“Kerr, did you know that Gordon Anderson left his window open at night?” She needed to ask him that, she needed to know.
“Sure. Everyone knew that.”
“I didn’t. Until you told me. You did tell me that, didn’t you?”
“I don’t know. I think it was in the paper when he died.”
“It wasn’t, Kerr. I thought it was, but it wasn’t.”
He shrugged and moved his double sixes. “Anderson was a coward. A bully and a coward.”
“That doesn’t mean it was alright that he died.” She rolled her dice, getting a one and a two. “Why can’t I ever beat you!” She took out her fear and frustration on the game.
“Because you know you can’t. Your mind controls a lot of what you can do. If you’re afraid of something, you bring it to you. You’re afraid I really will leave you, aren’t you, Karen? You’re afraid I will go off on my own. That’s why you had that last bad dream. You’re bringing your fears to you. Don’t you believe that?”
“No, I don’t believe it. I can’t believe it.”
“McArthur told us about that dream he kept having, remember?” Kerr rolled double sixes again.
Karen shook her head. “What dream? Going downhill backward in a car, out of control?”
“Yeah, that’s the one. He went off the hill backward the other night. Just like he feared.”
“How do you know that, Kerr?” Karen held her dice until he answered.
“It was in the paper. Didn’t you read the report?”
“No, I didn’t want to.” She moved automatically for the rest of the game. Was it in the paper? Had he read it there? Or did he know because—because he saw the accident?
Alysia was afraid of sharks, and in Karen’s dream that was what killed her. But she hadn’t brought the sharks to her. She’d never do that. Jesse—was Jesse afraid of getting hurt playing football? She didn’t think so, unless it was a secret fear he had. He was afraid of not getting his football scholarships, she knew that.
“Want to play another?” Kerr put down his score.
“Huh?” Karen hadn’t realized the game was over. She had lost, of course. By seven points. “I think I’d better go get to work. This is due Friday. I’ve put it off.”
Upstairs, she tried to read, but she couldn’t concentrate on the book she’d brought home, something about nuclear winter. She should have chosen better. She could have found something funny or at least entertaining.
But all sorts of possibilities were nagging he
r. She picked up the phone and dialed Captain Martin’s home number. He answered the phone.
“Karen, good to hear from you. Anything wrong?”
“No, but I have a question. Was it in the paper that Dr. McArthur went off the road backward?”
“No, it looked that way, but there was no way to tell for sure. Why do you ask?”
“No reason in particular. He said he had a recurring dream about that. It came up in a discussion I was having.”
“Our biggest piece of the puzzle is what he was doing, why he was going to town anyway—in the middle of the night.”
“I don’t know.” She didn’t know how, but she knew. But she would never tell Martin, tell him someone had forced Dr. McArthur to go to town, to get in his car.
Finally she gave up reading. She snapped off the light and lay in bed, thinking, but blocking at the same time.
You know, Karen. He can’t stay here with you now that you know. You are responsible for him. You’ve made him like he is. This is partly your fault. You are the one who has to do something about this.
She fought the fog of sleep that surrounded her. She fought, but she lost.
He beckons to her, motioning for her to come. She shakes her head no. Come on, come on, he insists. No, no. She pulls back. She doesn’t want to go. Yes, you do, you know you do. Dress warmly.
Chapter 19
She is all mine now, but she is confused. I don’t Know if I can trust her. I love her so much, but love is not enough. I must be sure that she will always love me, only me.
Come, Karen. Come to me.
I know what I have to do, Karen. I’m sorry. I don’t really want you to be afraid. But you must come with me. It’s the only way you can be mine forever. It’s the only way I can guarantee we will always be together.
Suddenly she was awake. Sitting up in bed, she shivered. It was cold, so cold, but now that she was awake, she’d stay awake. It wasn’t safe to sleep anyway. Getting out of bed, she dressed in long underwear and her wool skating slacks. She put on a long-sleeved knit shirt, a wool ski sweater over it, and two pairs of socks.
Softly, she tiptoed downstairs. At the back door she pulled on her snow boots and slipped into her parka. There was a wool knit hat in one pocket. She tugged it on. Mittens peeked from the other pocket. They were warm on her hands.
Her mom’s car started right up. It slipped and slid down the snowy roads to the lake as if it had a mind of its own.
At the lake he put on her shoe skates and laced them. “I knew you’d come,” he said. He lifted her over the fence, then pulled her over the bumps. She laughed as her feet jarred, vibrating over the rough ice.
The rink ice was polished like a huge diamond, the surface slick and clean. They flew over it, racing each other at first. He let her win, then grabbed her hands and swung her into position beside him. Around and around and around they whirled, two gliding as one, steps synchronized, matching their perfect rhythms so that no one would have been able to tell, from a distance, who was Kerr and who was Karen. She felt that they were one, that they belonged together. She was glad she had come. Glad he had made her come.
On the corner he made an abrupt move and turned her loose, swinging her around, so that she was halfway across the ice before she could spin turn and look back at him.
He was gone! She stopped, skates rasping with the maneuver.
“Kerr, where are you? Stop that, you hear? Stop teasing me.” Her sudden fear turned to laughter, as she realized he must be hiding.
She zipped back around, aware of the awkwardness of skating clockwise. There was no place for him to hide.
A gust of wind brought her to her senses. She looked around. She was on the lake. She looked down. Skating. How had she gotten over here? She didn’t remember coming to the lake. Was she here alone? No, she was here with Kerr. Where was he? She heard the splash before she saw him. “Karen, help me. Come here, help me.”
Skating slowly, as if she couldn’t believe her eyes, she headed for the dark hole at the edge of the rink. It was beyond the boundaries of where they were supposed to skate.
She ducked under the rope that marked the edge of the rink. Carefully, she slid forward, closer to the hole.
“How did I get here, Kerr? Did you bring me over here?” She ignored the fact that he was in the water, calling for help.
He held to the edge of the ice. When it broke off in his hand, he grasped it again. “You wanted to come. You know you did.”
“How? Why? I was asleep, Kerr. I was dreaming about you again.”
“Again?” He laughed. “Haven’t you caught on yet, Karen? I went into your dream and got you. You wanted to come over here, so I brought you.”
She stared at him. “Am I dreaming?”
“Not now. I can stay in your dream, I can take you into mine, or I can bring you here, like tonight. I thought I’d let you return to your dream, but I changed my mind. I have a new plan, one I think you’ll like once you get used to the idea. This afternoon, I wanted to scare you. I wanted you to know what it would be like to lose me like you lost Jesse and Alysia. I no longer want you to be afraid. Come closer. Help me get out of here.” He laughed again, as if it didn’t matter, or there was no hurry.
The wind rose, howling through the trees behind them. It whipped and tore at Karen, trying to steal her hat, trying to push her over, into the open water with Kerr. She grasped the fence post that held the rope barrier. Anchored by a circle of concrete, it was secure.
Another icy gust cleared her mind completely. She wouldn’t help him until he had answered all her questions.
“You killed Gordon, didn’t you?”
“He choked to death. I scared him a little. That was my first experiment. To tell the truth, I only wanted to see if I could do it.” His teeth chattered. “You didn’t think it was possible, did you, Karen? You watched that movie and thought it was fantasy. You’re pretty smart, but you don’t have a lot of imagination, Karen. You didn’t want to think I could go into your dreams. I’m in your head anyway. It was an easy step to take. But your dreams are boring, Karen. That’s why you don’t remember them. So I took you into mine. You know my dreams aren’t boring. Didn’t they fascinate you?”
“Did-did you kill Jesse?”
“He didn’t want to share you, Karen. He was going to take you away from me.”
“And Alysia?” She knew, but she had to ask, had to hear him admit it.
“She hated me. I told you she hated me. I frightened her. I knew that. She always wanted to be with you, but she never wanted me around. We came as a package, though. So what could she do? She tolerated me, but I finally got tired of her.”
Karen shivered and hunkered down, grasping her knees to stop shaking. This wasn’t happening. She’d wake up soon. Laugh at this idea. Laugh at the possibility that Kerr could ever do this, much less that he had. “And Dr. McArthur. Kerr, why?”
“I was afraid he would figure out what was going on. Maybe I gave him too much credit. He would never have believed I could get in his dreams.”
“You made him go to town.”
“Sure. It was easy. I told him he was awake. He didn’t know how to handle insomnia. He’d never had it before. I didn’t want to take a chance on the rest. I didn’t want to leave the accident to chance, so I fixed the brakes. He was really scared. It was funny.”
The imagination Kerr said she didn’t have was working overtime. But the fact was, her brother was a murderer. He had killed and killed and killed again.
“Karen, I’m cold. I can’t feel my legs. Pull me out now.” Kerr struggled onto the edge of the ice. It broke off as soon as he put any weight on it. “Lie down and stretch out your hand. Or break off a tree limb and slide it over here to me.”
She stood and took one step backwards. “I—I can’t, Kerr.”
“What do you mean, you can’t? Karen, don’t be silly. Help me.” The moon shone directly on Kerr, like a stage spotlight. His face started to change as her word
s sunk in. “You have to come closer. You have to!” He managed to hoist himself out of the water and onto the ice. But it cracked and splintered, the sound unnatural in the darkness, and he was plunged into the water once more. “Karen!”
“I’m sorry, Kerr. I’m so sorry.” Slowly she backed away, still not wanting to believe his words, but knowing it was true. There was no other explanation. As terrible, as impossible as it seemed, it was the truth.
His hand, stretching toward her was naked, his gloves in the water with him. It reached, long fingers bony like the bare limbs of the aspen on the shore.
The part of him that was also in her reached out to him, wanted to throw herself flat and grasp his hand. Even if he pulled her in with her attempt to save him, she had to try.
The part of her that had kept her separate knew she had to back away. She couldn’t continue life with him, knowing what he had done. Neither could she tell on him. But would anyone believe her if she did tell them? She didn’t think so.
This was the only way.
“Karen.” His voice was weaker. “I can’t move. I’m so cold. Karen, help me. You can help me. You’ve always helped me.”
“No more, Kerr. I’m sorry. No more.” She bit her lip and let the cold wind freeze her heart so that it was without feeling.
She stood watching, as if this was another funeral, a memorial service for another of her friends. It seemed to take forever for his hand to slide under the darkness. With a ripple across the surface, the last finger disappeared, until there was nothing but black water, frosted by moonlight.
“Karen! What happened?” A familiar voice came up behind her.
“My brother drowned. I let him drown.”
“When—how long? You let him drown? I’m sure you couldn’t help him. It was an accident. But what are you doing out here this time of night?” Captain Martin stared at the broken ice and the black water.
“He wanted me to come. He wanted me to skate with him one more time. I’m glad I did. I’ll always remember it.”
“Take her to the car,” he instructed someone. “Call for help. I’m going to see what I can do.” Martin stepped over the rope.
The Dreamstalker Page 12
