The Nightmare Frontier

by Stephen Mark Rainey

  After a minute or so, Copeland noticed one of the lights above the far-off ridge seemed to be growing brighter. A few seconds later, it swelled distinctly larger, and he realized then that it was coming toward them. He touched Debra’s shoulder. “I think we need to get out of here.”

  “Dad,” she said, “Dad, we’re in trouble.”

  He nodded, his eyes on the approaching fireball. “Take the car and go. If Levi still has any control over these things at all, it won’t kill you. I’ll try to keep it away from you.”

  “Dad…”

  Martin swiveled and glared harshly at her. “Get in the car and go. It doesn’t matter where. Back into town. Anywhere you might find help. Just go! That’s an order.”

  A moment later, Russ found himself in the passenger seat, with Debra behind the wheel, her fingers turning the key, her gaze locked on the increasingly bright object in the sky. “That thing saw us,” she whispered. “From miles away, it saw us.”

  “I hope your father was right—that it’s not out to kill you.” He glanced outside again, the glare of the thing now illuminating the white hood of the car. “Not exactly a sure bet, though. Let us drive. Quickly.”

  The engine caught on the first turn, and she put her weight on the accelerator, her eyes fearfully scanning on the road. He knew that she ached to look back, to return to her father, but her self-discipline did not waver. Nor did her eyes turn from the road when the brilliant fireball passed right over the car and zoomed toward her father, who stood his ground defiantly, as if waiting for an old nemesis.

  “Hell of a CO he must have been,” he said softly, admiringly. “Hell of a man.”

  “Yes,” Debra said, and he saw tears streaming down her cheeks. “Yes, he is.”

  In the rearview mirror, Copeland saw the ghostly globe rapidly descending toward Major Martin, bathing his body in stark white radiance. As the car sped around a curve, Copeland lost sight of him, but a vivid blue flash, like an immense electrical spark, briefly lit the sky, and he imagined that, just for a moment, he heard a short, strangled scream.

  Then darkness and silence returned to the night, broken only by the hum of the Buick’s engine and the soft, heart-wrenching sound of Debra sobbing.

  Chapter 15

  “Good God,” Copeland groaned as the headlights fell upon a throng of people gathered at the corner in front of the Allegheny Gas station, some gesticulating in panic toward the sky; others watching the pyrotechnic display above the town with apparent reverence; still others milling about holding food and drinks, their mood festive. “We don’t want to get caught up in that. I’m not convinced that Lumeras are terribly selective about their victims.”

  Debra slowed the car, taking the opportunity to wipe the last tears from her eyes. An unlit residential street branched off to the left just before the gas station, and she made the turn. “I guess we just keep moving. We can’t very well go back home. And if what Dad said is true, getting out of town is out of the question.”

  “After what we’ve seen, there’s no question,” he sighed. “Tell me. You know plenty of other people around here. Any of them have grudges against the Barrows?”

  “Russ, anyone we come in contact with could be in danger. If those things are somehow looking specifically for me…” She shuddered visibly.

  “Amos Barrow didn’t set them loose to provide a lightshow. No one is safe, with us or otherwise.”

  She reflected on the point for a few moments, then said, “You know the McAllisters, right? I saw you talking to Doug at the funeral.”

  “Yeah, he and I go back to Byston Hill.”

  “His wife Carolyn and I are good friends. He’s had a few run-ins with the Barrows in his time. Joshua once threatened to kill him for hunting on their property—except that he wasn’t on their property. They are no friends of his.”

  “Doug was up in a deer stand before he could get into a highchair. Well, he wanted me to pay him a visit while I was here. I say we go for it.”

  “They live a couple of miles from here. Let’s hope there are no surprises on the road.”

  Debra drove at high speed through an aging, dilapidated neighborhood, of which Copeland had absolutely no recollection. Few lights burned in the windows of the ramshackle houses, and not a soul wandered these streets. From here, the close-pressing woods blocked any view of the distant tower, so he guessed that at least some of the residents remained unaware of the changes taking place around them. Suddenly, though, as Debra turned onto a dark stretch of road, barren but for tall pines on either side, a large, sapphire-tinted globe sailed into view ahead, etching a trail of electric blue light in the black velvet backdrop. A frigid claw gripped the back of his neck, setting his nerves ringing like carillons, for the thing seemed to be moving steadily toward them. Then, to his surprise, it veered sharply into the forest, disappeared, and did not return. He released a pent-up, relieved sigh, but his entire body had begun to ache from the strain of an unrelenting fear. When he lifted a hand to massage his throbbing temples, it was trembling uncontrollably.

  As they passed a few decrepit mobile homes, a number of unseen dogs began to howl at them, their voices hollow and tremulous. The road was taking them south, away from the nexus of the Dream Frontier—the farther the better, he thought. But how far could they go before that vast, misty chasm opened in the darkness to swallow them? He regretted having dismissed the idea of taking Lynette and braving the road when they might have stood a ghost of chance of escaping.

  No; he could not dwell on might-have-beens. Lynette was gone, and that was that. For seven years, he had barely kept up with her—barely given her more than an occasional passing thought, really. They exchanged cards at Christmas and on birthdays. He usually remembered to send something on Rodney’s birthday. As kids, they had gotten along as kids did: some bickering, a few honest-to-God fights, a heartfelt expression of love for each other once in a blue moon. He remembered the time Dad had driven him to Byston Hill for the first time, at age nine—when she was still two years from entering the exclusive school. She had wanted to accompany them, but Dad had refused her, saying she would just get in the way. She had pitched a pretty good fit, which young Russ had taken for envy, crankiness, or typical childishness; he had even taunted her cruelly, calling her every name in his juvenile catalog of insults. It was only as they were driving away, and he saw her standing in the yard with tears rolling down her cheeks that he realized she didn’t want him to go—that she feared loneliness in his absence.

  In some ways, that parting had separated them forever.

  “Oh, God,” he whispered, his blood boiling as if he had personally failed her. His eyes began to burn, and he turned to stare pensively out the window so Debra wouldn’t see. Then he found himself choking back a laugh.

  Vain, even at the brink of death.

  “You all right?” she asked.

  He nodded. “Just wishing I’d done a few things differently in my time.”

  “Haven’t we all.” Her eyes were red but resolute, betraying no sign of defeat. A hell of a credit to her father. “Nearly there,” she said.

  They rounded a long curve, and a small, wood-frame house came into view on the right, set back among the plentiful trees. Lights burned in most of the windows, and as they drew nearer, he made out two figures standing on the front porch, one of which started walking toward them as the car slowed to turn into the driveway. The figure held a shotgun at the ready and leaned down suspiciously to identify the driver, but when he recognized Debra, Doug McAllister lowered his gun.

  “God awmighty,” he said as she opened her door. “I guess I’m glad to see you. Who’s that with you?”

  “It’s me,” Copeland said, getting out of the car, and McAllister did a double-take when he realized who the “me” was.

  “Damn, Russ. I didn’t know you two even knew each other. I guess you would, though, wouldn’t you? Well, come on down. I don’t suppose you’ve got a clue what the hell’s going on around
here?”

  “I’m afraid I might.”

  He raised an eyebrow, curious. “Then I want to hear it. He started back toward the house, then paused. “Where’s Lynette?”

  Copeland had already drawn a deep breath to steady himself, knowing the question would come, but saying the words sent a new, constricting pain through his chest. “She…didn’t make it.”

  McAllister froze. “What?”

  “My dad too—and probably my mom,” Debra said softly. “We just barely made it here alive.”

  “Oh, my God.”

  By now, McAllister’s wife, Carolyn, had started toward them, obviously alarmed by the gravity of the exchange. As the slim, blonde woman approached, her eyes flew from her husband to Debra. “What’s going on? Please tell us what’s wrong.”

  “Carolyn, this is Russ, Lynette’s brother,” Debra said, her voice a little shaky. “Lynette…and my father…were both killed today. And Mom is missing. I expect she’s…”

  “Oh, God, no.” The younger, blonde woman looked as if she might faint. “All this has got to do with what happened to Rodney, doesn’t it?”

  Debra nodded. “We’re all in danger. There’s no way to break it to you easy. And there’s more to it than you’re likely to swallow. But you have to.”

  McAllister led them to the small front porch, where a couple of rocking chairs faced the road. “Been seeing some strange shit out tonight. I might swallow more than you’d think. Anyway, come on inside. And you’d both better drink a beer. From the looks of you, I have to insist.”

  They entered a modest but well-kept living room, dominated by an entertainment center that housed an expensive, wide-screen television. McAllister pointed to it. “Haven’t been able to pick up any news for several hours now. Radio, telephone…all out. Can’t get anything or anyone.”

  “You’re not going to,” Copeland said. “I’m surprised the power’s still on. No telling how long it will last.”

  McAllister disappeared into a back room for a moment, then returned with a couple of cans of Coors, which he handed to his guests. “You’re both whiter than ghosts. Steady yourselves for a little. And then let’s hear about that clue you might have.”

  Copeland took a long, gratifying swallow of beer. “First, tell me what’s happened here. What have you seen?”

  McAllister shook his head as though he doubted his own senses. “I don’t know quite how to put it. Carolyn and I both saw them. Lights in the sky…things…spreading outward, from somewhere up north, it looked like. And sounds. Chattering, squalling sounds, coming out of the woods. Like nothing I’ve ever heard before. We tried to call the sheriff, and that’s when we found the phone was dead. Like everything else. So we’ve been watching the road for the last hour. Hardly anyone out besides yourselves. And not one car has come from the south, heading toward town. That’s beyond unusual.”

  Copeland and Debra glanced at each other. “If my guess is correct,” he said, “a few miles farther south, the world pretty much ends. At least the world as we know it.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  He held up a hand. “I’m told you’ve had run-ins with certain members of the Barrow family.”

  “Me and half the town. What of it?”

  “Well…the Barrows are behind what’s happening. At least in part.”

  McAllister grimaced. “They would be, wouldn’t they? But what is it?”

  “A bad dream,” Debra said softly. “A bad dream come to life.”

  “Literally.”

  McAllister and his wife exchanged shaken glances, and then he took a deep breath. “I guess I’m gonna need a beer too. Right?”

  “Right.”

  “I don’t know if I believe it. I wouldn’t believe it, except for what I’ve seen. You, I don’t know about. But coming from Debra…”

  McAllister and Carolyn, both looking pale and haggard, sat across from them at the small kitchen table. Carolyn had set out a bowl of tortilla chips, but despite an achingly empty stomach, Copeland couldn’t bring himself to eat.

  “We’ve been right in the thick of it, and I’m still not sure I believe it.”

  “Somehow my father was involved,” Debra said softly. “He said he had an idea how to stop them, but he never got the chance to explain.”

  “On top of it all, Levi is bound and determined to get to Debra. Amos may be the Barrow family’s brains, but Levi is the muscle.”

  “Yeah. And don’t sell his brother short,” McAllister said. “He’s one cruel son of bitch. Very nasty with a knife. He tends to wrap up what Levi starts.”

  “The lot of them ought to have been thrown in jail years ago,” Carolyn snapped. “But Sheriff Grayson is hardly any better. He’ll come down like a ton of bricks on anyone who crosses him, but the Barrows…he looks the other way while they get away with murder.”

  “Pretty much literally,” McAllister added.

  “To think Dad involved himself with them out of compassion—because Samuel was killed,” Debra said. “Until today I never knew anything about what happened in Vietnam. But I know my dad tried to do right by those people. He couldn’t have realized back then he was doing exactly the wrong thing.”

  “Speaking of the sheriff,” Copeland said, “he’s been noticeably absent today. You know, those things were at his office….”

  Carolyn wrapped her arms around herself and shook her head in disgust. “From the way you describe them, I couldn’t wish them on anyone. Even Sheriff Grayson.”

  “They’re awful,” Debra said, gazing vacantly into the distance. “Awful.”

  McAllister gave Copeland a long, thoughtful look. “You’ve seen them. Up close. For real?”

  “For real.”

  “Those lights in the sky. They the same things?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t know what they are. Except that they come from the same place.”

  “The Dream Frontier.”

  “Yes,” Debra said. “That’s what Dad called it. He must have known so much more than he was able to tell us before they…oh, God.” She began to weep again. Copeland laid his hand upon hers. “I’m sorry,” she whispered at last.

  “Way I see it,” McAllister said, “if Levi’s after you, we need to keep you out of sight. You’re welcome to stay here. ’Course, I can’t offer any guarantees.”

  “That’s appreciated, Candle. We need all the help we can get. But you’d better understand—just by letting us in here, you’ve opened yourself to greater danger. You say the word, and we’re gone. I’d never have you risk your family.”

  “Hey. I’m with anybody who’d cross the Barrows. And this is you and me. Sometimes it don’t seem that long ago that we were damn close.”

  “Sometimes.”

  Debra shifted restlessly in her seat. After a moment, she asked, “May I use your bathroom?”

  “This way,” Carolyn said, taking her by the arm. “I’ll come with you.”

  Copeland looked after them, and sighed deeply. Debra was a little unsteady on her feet, and for the first time, she looked as if her reserves were beginning to wear thin. As were his own, for that matter.

  “She’s tough as nails, Candle, but after losing her parents like that…”

  “You lost somebody too. I can see it, Russ. You’re in shock. You just don’t realize it.”

  “Can’t afford to. Things are changing around us. There’s no telling what’s going on out there, right now. Where’s it going to end?”

  “It ends where it ends, I reckon. And all we can do is whatever it takes.”

  “I don’t like to think about what it’s going to take.” He took a deep breath to steady himself. “I have a feeling I’m going to have to kill Levi Barrow. Or die trying.”

  McAllister leaned across the table and said in a low voice, “I’ll tell you something, Russ. Just a little while back, I had a bad encounter with his brother, Joshua. I was out deer hunting on Hickory Ridge. Great spot; a good many miles away from their land. But th
at bastard appeared out of nowhere, told me I was trespassing. When I disagreed, he let his knife fly. Damn thing sliced through my coat sleeve and stuck in a tree. You think he gave a shit I had a rifle in my hands?”

  “I’m guessing not.”

  “He knew up front that I wouldn’t shoot him.”

  “You play by the rules.”

  “It’s more than that. Anybody else had done that, they’d be lucky if I didn’t blow ’em to kingdom come. But if I’d shot Joshua, I’d be nailed up like a trophy to a tree. You cross one, you’ve crossed them all. And they’ve got old Grayson in their pocket.”

  “Not to mention a few hordes of Lumeras in the family.” He fell silent for a few moments, too stressed, too exhausted to think very clearly. He studied his old friend’s face, the decisive firmness of his jaw, the brilliant spark still alight in his amethyst eyes, undimmed after all these years. McAllister had never been much for talking; just action. Finally, Copeland said, “So, Candle. Is it just you and Carolyn? No kids?”

  “Got a boy up at Byston Hill. Like father, like son, and all. He’s sixteen. Name’s Dan. You and what’s-her-name never had any kids, did you?”

  “No. When you’re married to a lunatic, having no kids is a good thing. Megan was my one big mistake in life.”

  “Sorry to hear it.”

  “Until I came here, things seemed to be working out for the best.” He glanced toward the window that faced the dark backyard, half-afraid he would see something moving—a light in the trees or a pair of sapphire eyes watching them. There was nothing. “Well. Your wife is very nice.”