Dead Spots

by Rhiannon Frater

  She wondered if she’d get another headache. Restoring the small house earlier had not adversely affected her, but the amusement park dead spot had taken a big sip of her energy. Also, it was really uncomfortable being carried like a bag of seed slung over both of Grant’s shoulders.

  “Please, Grant. Put me down.”

  “If you insist.”

  Once he set her down, she shakily found her balance and reclaimed her purse from him. Her feet throbbed in her boots, but the pain had yet to hit fully. She wished the rest of her felt numb. Fear pricked at her and the sense of loss was acute in the aftermath of the events at the amusement park. She’d invested her heart and soul into saving Tildy, and seeing her transform into a wraith had gutted her. From her experiences with her online support community, she knew that helping others was a way to heal, but that wasn’t the only reason she’d wanted to help Tildy. The other woman had reminded Mackenzie of herself. They were both shadows of the women they had once been. Mackenzie wasn’t even sure who she was anymore, but she knew without a doubt she did not want to end up like Tildy.

  “Don’t be afraid. You can do this, Mackenzie.”

  Grant rested a hand on the small of her back, applied gentle pressure to prod her forward, and guided her toward the farmhouse. Maybe it was because her mental defenses were so battered, but Mackenzie felt it when she passed over the barrier into the dead spot. Her skin crawled with a cold static feeling for just a second. Curious, she stared at the house and wondered what it had looked like before it had fallen apart. Instantly the splintered, gray boards smoothed out and turned a pale white while the roof rose up and wove itself back together, black tar and shingles rolling into place. The glass flew up into the empty windows, fitting together like puzzle pieces to form a smooth surface. The shutters straightened and turned a deep blue while the porch leveled and a porch swing flew up to hang from heavy iron chains. The front door righted itself and turned white.

  The pain hit immediately, right behind her eyes, making her head spin. She braced herself against Grant, pressing her eyelids closed, hoping the world would stop whirling about. After a few seconds the stabbing sensation ended and her equilibrium returned.

  “Ta-da,” she said, her voice slightly cracking.

  “You’re amazing!” Grant gazed at her in awe. “But that hurt, didn’t it? That dead spot really got you. Let’s get you inside. You’re not looking well at all.”

  Grant wrapped an arm around her waist and helped her walk the last few hundred yards to the house. Each step did its part in reawakening her feet and by the time they reached the porch she could hardly rest her weight on them.

  The porch creaked when they stepped onto it, but it felt sturdy enough. The front door opened easily onto a long hall decorated sparsely but nicely with antique photos on the wall and an old Persian runner.

  “You shaped the inside, too! I’ve never seen anyone do this before!”

  How was she supposed to answer him? Mackenzie had no idea how she was doing any of it. It was as if she were Harry Potter and had no idea what she was really supposed to do.

  A parlor was through one doorway, a dining room through the opposite one. A staircase led up to a higher floor. A small office farther down the hall was decorated in paintings of farming scenes and old almanacs. The kitchen spanned the back of the house and was filled with very old appliances, though, surprisingly, a coffeemaker and microwave sat on a hutch.

  Falling into a chair, Mackenzie propped her feet on another seat, grimacing. She dreaded taking off her boots and discovering the true damage from their trek.

  The smell of coffee permeated the room and the microwave dinged. Mackenzie raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Did I do that? Or you?”

  Grant busied himself getting a cup of coffee for both of them, pulling mugs off a shelf over the hutch. “Does it matter?”

  “Not really.”

  Grant opened the microwave to reveal a bowl of chili sitting next to corn bread wrapped in a paper towel. Leaning her elbow on the table, Mackenzie forced herself to relax while Grant laid out the food, poured water for both of them, and set the table. By the time he was done, she had a serving of the chili, buttered corn bread, coffee, and water all served on someone’s chipped family china.

  In silence, they tucked into their meal. At first she wasn’t too keen on drinking the hot coffee, but it cleared her coated throat and made her feel a bit more alert. The hot chili also revived her to some degree and the corn bread had bits of jalapeño in it which stung her tongue in a pleasant way. The kitchen had a comforting aura and it made her wonder what the people had been like who had lived here.

  “Do you need more, dear?”

  They both started as a woman dressed in a flowered dress entered the kitchen. She had red hair streaked with white hair and it was drawn into a long braid down her back.

  “I … uh…” Mackenzie looked at Grant for guidance, but he was staring at the woman in shock.

  “I have some apple pie and ice cream for dessert,” the woman continued. She cleared the table and set the dishes in the deep sink under the window.

  “Who are you?” Mackenzie finally managed to ask.

  “Loretta Thompson. I live here.” She gave Mackenzie a knowing smile and set about serving slices of pie topped with ice cream. “Since Wilbur died, I’m on my own. I don’t get many visitors nowadays.”

  “You made her,” Grant whispered under his breath, his eyes wide. “You made her!”

  “No, I didn’t!” Mackenzie protested.

  Loretta set the desserts before them. “I’ll get the guest room ready for you while you finish up. You both look like you need a good bath and a comfy bed.”

  “Do you have a first aid kit?” Mackenzie dared to ask. “I hurt my feet walking in my boots.”

  “Of course! Let me just get that for you right now,” Loretta answered in her Texas twang and gave her a big smile.

  Unnerved, Grant watched Loretta step out of the kitchen and into the hall. They could hear her footsteps receding.

  “We need to go,” Grant said shortly.

  “Why?”

  “You made her, Mackenzie! You shaped her like you did this house.”

  “She’s so nice though! And if she’s the memory of someone who lived here and I created her, why would she harm us? I just want us to have a safe place to relax right now,” Mackenzie answered, perplexed by Grant’s worries. “You’re not making sense.”

  “This is very different from the dead spots forming Tanner, or wraiths taking on the forms of people from your mind. Loretta is actually formed from the dead spot’s own memory.”

  “I took control of the dead spot when we entered it,” she said hesitantly, sorting out her thoughts as she spoke. “So, if I have control of it and I want a safe haven, then that’s what the dead spot shaped itself to be, right?”

  “Exactly,” Loretta said from the doorway. She carried a big plastic box with a red cross on it. “The dead spot remembers everything this house used to be and my life in it. So it re-created it because you wanted it to be this way. The dead spot just wants to commune with you.”

  “Don’t listen to her,” Grant said sharply.

  Loretta gave him a bright smile. “Worried?”

  Grant looked away, his hands clenched on top of the table.

  Loretta set the first aid kit on the table and popped it open. “We need to get these shoes off.”

  “Loretta, are you the dead spot?” Mackenzie asked, excited at the prospect of somehow communicating with the energies of this world.

  “No, no. Just a figment of a memory.”

  “But you know things,” Mackenzie pointed out.

  Loretta gently worked the zipper on the side of one of Mackenzie’s boots. “Yes, I know what you both know.”

  “So you’re telling me what Grant knows?”

  “Some of what he knows,” Loretta admitted. She gave him a furtive look. “But I can’t see everything.”

  �
��So dead spots want shapers to shape them?”

  “Dead spots want to feel alive again. To feed on the energy of the living.”

  “The headaches come from them feeding, don’t they?”

  Loretta nodded.

  “She’s a memory.” Grant bent toward Mackenzie, imploring her with his eyes. “She has limited understanding of this world.”

  “That’s true,” Loretta admitted. Freeing both of Mackenzie’s feet from her boots and socks, Loretta set about treating the leaking blisters. Her touch was gentle and careful.

  “So when I restore something, the dead spot is basically eating a piece of me.” Everything in this world was monstrous.

  “A little nibble,” Loretta assured her with a big smile.

  “Or a big one like when that one dead spot created Tanner to torment you,” Grant added.

  “Or did I make Tanner back at the house we stayed in last night?” Mackenzie stared at Grant intently. The thought terrified her. What if she was creating her own hell?

  “I don’t know,” Grant answered.

  “Did Tildy make the Clown up? Or was he real? Or did I make him?” Had her own fears created the perfect killing ground to snag Tildy?

  Grant lowered his head, his fingers sliding through his hair. “I don’t know.”

  “What do you know, Grant?”

  “That I’m trying to protect you, Mackenzie! I’m trying to keep you safe and to keep you away from people and things that will hurt you! But you keep fighting me! Over and over again!” He slammed his hand on the table, making it jump.

  Loretta ignored him, applying bandages to the balls of Mackenzie’s feet and the backs of her ankles.

  “That’s not true!”

  “It’s very true, Mackenzie! I warn you and you don’t listen. When I saw Tildy I knew she was on the verge of becoming a wraith. I even told you that when you wanted to save her from the Clown. But did you listen? No! And now that wraith is going to be hunting you just like the ones who took on the forms of Tanner and your mother earlier today. I’ve told you over and over again to listen to me. I have lived here long enough to know how to survive!” Grant looked up at her, his eyes blazing. “I want to help you, but you fight me. It makes no sense to me! You look like a lost doe, but then this angry mountain lion comes roaring out. Things go wrong, and then the doe is back, just as lost as before and usually wounded.”

  Grant’s words shocked her into silence. Mackenzie was well aware of the fact that she was broken into pieces and wanted nothing more than to be whole again, but no one ever seemed to understand that truth. When she was a little girl, her mother had instilled fear of the world inside of her, and then scoffed when Mackenzie needed her most. Estelle always blamed Mackenzie for every misstep her daughter took in life, never allowing her to forget her many mistakes. Her mother had a list in her head that she could rattle off at a moment’s notice, even reiterating things Mackenzie had done as a small child that she had no memory of doing. For a while embracing her anger had been the only way Mackenzie could find her voice or fight back. Even Tanner said she was as sweet as pie as long as she wasn’t angry. In this new world, it was anger that helped her fight fear. Anger had helped her stand up to the wraiths that had taken on the forms of her ex-husband and mother and given her the fuel to charge in to the amusement park. She was actually happy to feel anger after only feeling despair for so long.

  “Mackenzie, if you would listen to me, let me guide you, let me protect you, surviving in this world would be so much easier. Trust in me. Believe in me. Let me save you.”

  Was he right? Mackenzie reflected on the day. Her determination to go to the café had resulted in her attack by the mourners. Her insistence on saving Tildy had resulted in Tildy’s death and new incarnation as a wraith.

  “I don’t like to be told what to do,” Mackenzie confessed.

  Loretta sat in silence, tucking away the bandages and ointments in the first aid kit.

  Grant sat back, watching her, waiting for her to continue.

  “My whole life people have told me what to do, how to behave, what to fear, what to love. It wasn’t until I met Tanner that I actually felt I had a say in my life. I chose him. I chose to be his wife and to have his child. I was really happy with those choices. And then it all went wrong. I messed up somehow and Joshua died and Tanner … left.” Mackenzie stared at her bandaged toes, not really wanting to see the pity in Grant’s eyes. “Then everyone started to tell me what to do again. My mother, my friends, my in-laws … Tanner. Do this. Do that. I didn’t even get a choice to stay in my house after I lost my job. I just—” Mackenzie faltered. “I’m tired of people telling me what to do.”

  “I understand, Mackenzie. I do. But I need you to listen to me. To obey me—”

  She bristled instantly, but he continued.

  “—when I tell you there is danger. I don’t want you to become what Tildy was. Or what she is now. I can take care of you if you let me. I know what is going on in this world. You’re still learning. Trust me, Mackenzie.”

  Mackenzie closed her eyes and rested her head on her hand, her elbow pressing into the top of the table. She was being foolish and hardheaded, just like her mother always accused her of being. Slowly, she nodded her head. “Okay.”

  The silence that answered her surrender prompted her to open her eyes. Loretta was gone.

  “Where—”

  “She vanished when you agreed to let me take care of you,” Grant answered.

  “Oh.” Mackenzie slumped in her chair, unnerved by her capitulation.

  Grant slowly closed the first aid kit, popping the latches in place. “We need to get cleaned up and rest.”

  Wincing, Mackenzie set her feet on the floor.

  “No, no. I’ll carry you,” Grant said, standing.

  She started to protest, but stopped herself. Her feet hurt too much for her to endure climbing up the stairs.

  Swinging her up into his arms, Grant carried her to the second floor.

  CHAPTER 16

  There were gigantic creatures beyond the walls of the upstairs bedroom. Curled up against the wrought iron headboard of the bed, she huddled under the covers listening to the booming thumps of something very big passing by the house. In the distance eerie high screeches sent shivers racing along her spinal cord. Nervously chewing on her thumbnail, Mackenzie fervently wished that the creatures would ignore the farmhouse and continue on their way. She could hear them wandering through the fields and woods around the house. The loud fluttering of wings filled the night and she worriedly stared at the window on the far side of the room. The curtains were drawn and she had earlier shoved a dresser in front of it. The soft luminescent light cast by the lamp beside the bed played along the edge of a butcher knife she had brought up from the kitchen. The presence of the knife was no longer comforting as the noises increased. Regardless of Grant’s assurances that they were safe in the dead spot she had fashioned as a safe haven, Mackenzie was still afraid.

  After a long nap, Mackenzie had taken a long bath, redressed her sore feet, and brushed out her damp hair. Soon after she’d started to hear bizarre noises. She’d crept to the bedroom window and peeked out, afraid of what she might see in the fading light of the day. In the field behind the barn, balloons were tethered to a tattered scarecrow. Her hysterics had brought Grant running and instigated an hour of moving furniture in front of windows and barricading the doors.

  Grant had finally started to lighten up after they’d secured the house and had another small meal. Mackenzie had been surprised to find that the television worked and they had ended up watching shows from the early eighties. It was strange watching what appeared to be a live broadcast, full of local commercials, breaking news, and trailers for movies Mackenzie had long forgotten about.

  Now she regretted telling him she wanted to sleep alone after they’d decided to go upstairs. They could’ve easily dragged another mattress into the room, but she had felt vulnerable after relenting to his in
sistence that she allow him to take charge of their survival. She needed some time alone to sort out her thoughts and get her bearings after admitting some uncomfortable truths about herself in the last twenty-four hours. It wasn’t difficult to realize her spurts of defiant anger were definitely tied to her difficult interaction with her very paranoid mother.

  Grant hadn’t been too pleased with the idea, but he’d finally relented. She hadn’t been surprised when he’d set up a bed for himself right outside the bedroom door. The fact that he wanted to protect her was rather touching and it made her feel safe. It was an added comfort that he had armed himself with a rifle he had found earlier in the downstairs office.

  Another loud crash sounded, this time much closer. The noise continued, building in volume. A low rumble was accompanied by a sharp resounding crack. Sliding out of bed, she set her heavily padded feet on the floor and ventured to the window. The din quieted outside and with a trembling hand she tugged at the edge of the curtain to peer outside.

  In the glow of the waning moon, the barn lay in ruins. The remains of the rafters poked out of the wreckage. The thick planks were snapped in half, their ends splintered. Whatever had destroyed the building had to be nearby, yet she saw nothing lurking in the dark. She couldn’t imagine what could have done such damage.

  A loud bellow made her jump, the fabric of the curtain slipping from her fingers. Hobbling to the bed, she forced herself to take a few deep breaths, trying to calm her frantic heart. All night she had been struggling to fight off a crippling anxiety attack. She knew it would eventually take her into its depths, but she was determined to fight it as long as possible.

  “Mackenzie,” Grant’s voice said at the door. “Are you awake?”

  “Duh!” Mackenzie grabbed the rail at the end of the bed and pulled herself around it onto the mattress. “Godzilla is busting stuff up out there.”

  A low chuckle of amusement on the other side of the door made her smile. “Can I come in?”

  “Sure.” She was clad in a faded flowered nightgown, several layers of socks, and a bathrobe that had belonged to Loretta. It felt odd to be wearing someone else’s clothes, but her own attire had needed a good wash. She was shivering despite the warmth of the blankets and another howl in the distance had her scrambling to get under the covers.