Dead Spots Page 9

  “We don’t age here, Mackenzie. Time really has no meaning. The sun rises and sets, but the seasons don’t change. At least not in the way the real world works. Each dead spot is surrounded by a season, but there is no real pattern to it. I’ve been all around this country and a dead spot in Pennsylvania could be in the depths of winter, but you travel a few miles and the next one is in the height of summer.”

  Mackenzie absorbed this bit of information. “Okay, so we’re in the world of dreams and nightmares.”

  “Right. And what you did here you can only do in the dead spots. Dead spots are the bridge between the world we came from and the world of nightmares and dreams. The dream world outside the dead spots is very dangerous for us. We cannot affect it like we can the dead spots where the energy is a lot more concentrated, but this world can read us, hunt us, hurt us. Whether we die in a dead spot or out in the world, it doesn’t matter. We always come back.”

  “So if you always resurrect, why didn’t your female friend come back? What are you keeping from me?”

  “If we die enough times, we eventually become a part of this world. A wraith. My companion…” Grant paused, struggling not to lose his composure. “My companion had been in the dead spots since before the turn of the century. I mean the previous century. I believe she said it was around 1891 when she entered. She taught me all she had learned about the dead spots, tried to keep me as safe as possible. You have to keep moving in this world. Always moving forward every day, or the area you’re in becomes the very essence of your nightmares. Eventually, she died one too many times. I waited for her for two days to return. But when she did…” Tilting his head back, Grant took a moment to regain control of his emotions. When they were in check, he said, “At first I thought it was a wraith emulating her, then I realized it was truly her.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Mackenzie whispered, her heart breaking for him. She knew what it was like to lose someone dear far too intimately for her not to sympathize with his pain.

  In silence, she finished her dessert. As Grant finished eating, she carried the dirty bowl to the sink. When she turned it on, the water flowed clear and lukewarm. She found some dish soap and a dishcloth and washed the bowl. The action came normally to her and it made her feel a bit more centered. Setting it in a wire dish rack to dry, she gazed out the small window. The bizarre birds were not in the trees lining the broken fence, but the murk dwelling in the woods just beyond the overgrown backyard was unsettling.

  “They took my Xanax,” Mackenzie said aloud, though she hadn’t planned to. “It was on purpose, wasn’t it?”

  “Why do you say that?” Grant asked around a mouthful of food.

  “The pills help me fight anxiety attacks. I imagine this world and its dead spots want me anxious.” Dread filled her at the thought of having another episode and not having the option of popping a pill. She had to admit the Xanax had helped when she took it. Even now, listening to Grant’s horrific story, she was calmer than she should be.

  “Maybe.” Grant joined her and gently nudged her aside in order to wash his things.

  “But if the Xanax is working…” She was hesitant to finish the thought.

  “Then maybe this is real, huh?”

  Twisting her mouth into a grimace, she set her hands on her hips. “Placebo effect, maybe. I think I took the pill, so I’m calmer.”

  “But if you’re in a coma, or having a nervous breakdown, isn’t that a bit too rational a thought?”

  Mackenzie couldn’t think of a reply, so she opted for silence. The clinking noises the silverware made as it was being put away were joined by a more ominous thump beyond the kitchen.

  “Did you hear that?”

  Grant shook his head. “I didn’t hear anything.”

  She pivoted on her boot heel and started toward the open doorway. She walked to the edge of the tiled floor and stared into the darkened hall.

  “Can those things get inside?” Mackenzie looked over at Grant.

  “Yeah, they can if we don’t take precautions. I admit I’m hoping they wait until nightfall to try something again. That will give us time to restore the house and fortify.”

  “I think we’re too late.”

  Stepping into the hallway, Mackenzie moved her hand toward a light switch. The lights overhead flickered on as the walls shimmered to a dull yellow color. A dark green shag carpet flowed along the floor, vanquishing the dust, webs, and mold.

  “The seventies,” Mackenzie groaned. “Ugh.”

  Other than the archway to the living room and opening to the kitchen, four doors appeared at regular intervals along the hallway. Anything could be hiding in the rooms.

  Grant stepped into the hall next to her and handed her a cast-iron frying pan. It was very heavy, but she liked the way it felt in her hand. He carried a butcher knife. The sight of it clutched in his fingers unnerved her, but if he had wanted to hurt her, he could have done so already.

  Holding the pan like a baseball bat, she edged toward the archway. Again, there was a thump and it sounded as though it was coming from the living room. When she exchanged glances with Grant, he nodded, then moved ahead. The living room was just as vile as she remembered. Flinching, Mackenzie maneuvered around a pile of junk while Grant headed toward the windows. Scooting along the fireplace, Mackenzie leaned over to check the front door. She gasped when she saw it was ajar.

  “The door is open!”

  Grant sprinted past the piles of burnt furniture to the foyer. “Did you close it when we entered?”

  “I don’t remember! I think so. Is it open to the real world?” Mackenzie stumbled toward him, hope filling her.

  “No, no. No one came through from the real world.” Grant pushed the door all the way shut. “But something could be inside.”

  “They could have easily come in through the busted windows though,” Mackenzie pointed out, waving toward them with the frying pan.

  “That’s another weird quirk of this world,” Grant said, slightly grinning. “The wraiths must use doors.”

  “Huh?”

  “You know how vampires have to be invited in? Wraiths can only enter through doorways.” Grant tapped the door with his knuckles.

  Mackenzie stared at him incredulously. “That seems … dumb.”

  “Fix the door so the lock works, okay?”

  “So I just think about what it needs to do…” Mackenzie reached out to the broken doorknob and lock, concentrating. A dull throb in the back of her head occurred just as the door was restored and a brand-new doorknob and shiny bolt lock appeared. “Ugh … that felt weird.”

  “It’s because you probably added a little extra kick to the lock. Which is good. That’s added security,” Grant said. “Did your head hurt?”

  “A little.” She rubbed the spot on the back of her head with her fingertips.

  “You used up a lot of life energy restoring the kitchen. You better just restore the rooms we need then and the back door. You’re not used to being a shaper.”

  “A what?”

  “It’s what we call people who can reshape the dead spots. A shaper.” Grant flashed a very enchanting smile her way. “Let me guess. That’s lame, too?”

  “A little weird,” Mackenzie responded. “So what rooms do we need?”

  “Bathroom and bedroom.”

  “You mean bedrooms.”

  “Right.” Grant glanced out the front window. “I don’t see them anymore.”

  “With my luck they’re inside.” Mackenzie wielded her frying pan like a sword. “But this should be able to handle them, huh?” It felt heavy in her sweaty hands.

  “I can do it myself,” Grant offered.

  Mackenzie stared at the frying pan wishing she were tougher, but she was tired, scared, and afraid that she was starting to believe this world was real. She also hated how much she was already depending on Grant and how much she needed to. Tanner was the one who always killed the ugly bugs in the house, or did the heavy lifting. He treated h
er like a princess and she had felt like one. But he wasn’t here now and Grant was. It would be so easy to sit back and let him explore the house alone. If she was in a coma, or losing her mind, or really trapped in a dead spot, she had to find herself again. She had to be strong.

  “Lead the way,” Mackenzie said in a firm voice.

  “Are you sure? You look very tired,” Grant said sympathetically.

  Nodding, Mackenzie lifted the frying pan. “I’m sure. Let’s go.”

  Returning to the hallway, they trod along the fluffy green carpet, weapons raised. The first door was badly warped by the fire and the subsequent water damage. With the door already ajar, it was easy to see into the room. Tapping the door with his foot, Grant scooted it open farther. Nothing stirred within. The blackened remains of furniture were piled in the center of the room. On the left-hand side of the room, the closet doors had fallen from their hinges, exposing the emptiness within. The glass in the window was long gone and a cool breeze stirred up the smell of rotting wood and mold.

  “We’ll use this room since it’s closer to the kitchen,” Grant decided. “Care to do your magic?”

  Stepping into the room, Mackenzie stared at a pile of debris and wondered what types of furniture the pieces had come from. Unsure of how to summon the room into being without knowing exactly what it had been before, she knelt and touched what appeared to have once been a white post.

  “What were you?” Mackenzie whispered.

  Mackenzie gasped as a dull ache in the back of her head quickly transformed into a flash of pain. Dropping the frying pan, she gripped her head. The discomfort faded almost as suddenly as it had occurred, leaving her slightly dizzy. Raising her eyes, she shuddered.

  The room was a nursery. A white crib was tucked against one wall under a pink canopy. The walls were pale blue and someone had painstakingly hand painted clouds, rainbows, and birds. A small twin bed was made up in one corner with a filmy pink comforter over it. A white bookcase was filled with dolls and children’s books and a pink ballerina stood on an old-fashioned dresser along with a jewelry box.

  “Damn,” Grant muttered. “I didn’t realize it was a nursery. I’ll take this room.”

  Mackenzie’s knees were shaking and she felt sick to her stomach. She couldn’t even bear to look at the baby crib. “I hate this place,” she grumbled and brushed past Grant into the hallway.

  The next room was a long, narrow bathroom with many cabinets and a long counter with a double sink. Mackenzie leaned against the doorframe and touched the counter, waiting for the pain to hit. It came again, faster and harder. The bathroom had an avocado tub and matching toilet. Heavy white shag rugs decorated a green-tiled floor. The counter had splashes of orange, yellow, and avocado in a haphazard design.

  “Are you sure I can’t use my ‘shaping’ powers to redecorate?” Mackenzie asked, wincing.

  Grant chuckled.

  Mackenzie heaved her frying pan over one shoulder, ready to smack anything coming out of the next room. Grant advanced on the door, knife at the ready. This door was warped badly in the frame, and no matter how hard Grant pushed against it, it wouldn’t yield.

  “Maybe that’s where the roof collapsed,” Mackenzie suggested.

  “I think you’re right. That leaves us with this one.”

  Turning, they faced the final doorway. Grant pushed on the door and it swung open on creaky hinges. It was a large room and in shambles. The roof had fallen and two of the walls had crumbled.

  “I really don’t want to restore this room.” Mackenzie’s head was still throbbing and she felt bone weary all at once.

  “You’re okay with sleeping in the nursery?”

  Mackenzie stepped into the hallway and Grant closed the door to the final room. “No, I’m not. But I’m okay with sleeping in the hallway. There’s a linen closet in the bathroom, so I’m sure there is stuff in there I can use to make a bed.”

  Grant studied the knife in his hand. “I guess I’ll put this back. We’re both just jumpy. The banging must have been the wind catching the front door.”

  “Grant,” Mackenzie started in a hesitant voice.

  “Yes?”

  “Thank you for helping me. I do appreciate it. This is all very overwhelming, but I have to ask. Where do we go from here? Tomorrow?”

  Grant fidgeted a little, and then sighed. “I think we need to get out of this high-activity area and head south. There’s a place we can hole up so I can teach you everything you need to know to survive here.”

  “I want to get out, Grant, not just survive,” Mackenzie said, unwilling to give in to the thought of never being able to escape.

  “I do, too. But you need to be able to handle this world until you do get out, right?” Grant lifted a wry eyebrow. “I’ll teach you everything I know, then you can decide what you want to do next. But we need to get away from this area. It’s stirred up because of you entering it. Okay?”

  Mackenzie regarded him doubtfully.

  “Once you have a handle on how to survive, I’ll help you find a way out. I promise.”

  “Okay.”

  Mackenzie trailed behind Grant to the kitchen. She set the frying pan in the sink while Grant returned the butcher knife to the knife block. Movement beyond the curtains caught her eye.

  “Oh,” Mackenzie said. “There they are.”

  The black-and-red birds had relocated to the backyard. Crammed close together, they sat upon the leaning fence and filled the trees on the edge of the woods. The many red eyes stared at Mackenzie, unblinking and predatory. A few fluttered their wings, while the hooting among them increased.

  “I hate those things,” Mackenzie muttered.

  Reaching up, she drew the curtains closed.

  CHAPTER 7

  Mackenzie’s makeshift bed wasn’t too uncomfortable. The restored linen cabinet in the bathroom had contained two sleeping bags, some pillows, soft cotton sheets, and three lightweight blankets. After a nice hot shower, Mackenzie had wrapped herself in a robe she found hanging on the back of the bathroom door and hand washed her clothing. Now her laundry hung in the kitchen and she was snuggled under the covers, attempting to make a new list. She was stuck after the first entry of “stay calm.”

  The door to the nursery where Grant was sleeping was ajar, allowing a fresh breeze from the open window to drift through the hallway. Maybe she was just getting used to the burnt smell, but her nose and throat weren’t as irritated as before. She could hear Grant struggling to get comfortable on the twin bed. It creaked under his weight while he grumbled.

  The evening had passed without another bizarre incident. Grant had made a simple dinner of sandwiches from the items Mackenzie had restored earlier and they’d washed it down with cold orange sodas. Afterward, she’d nursed her aching head with some herbal tea and aspirin while he kept her company by telling stories about old Hollywood. She’d made it clear to him that she was done talking about the dead spot and needed time to absorb all the information he’d divulged. The fact that she was dependent on a complete stranger to guide her was a bit disconcerting. Safe within the dead spot she’d secured, Grant was much more relaxed and engaging. No longer worried about an impending attack, he was obviously making an effort to befriend her. It was a gesture she appreciated since it was evident that they were now a team of sorts. When they’d retired for the evening, Mackenzie had been too tired to sleep.

  Finally giving up, she tucked her journal away and pulled out her laptop. It booted despite the beating it had taken earlier in the day, but without being able to access the Internet, she turned it off. She missed her online support group and wondered if they were worried about her yet. Estelle was probably harassing every law enforcement agency in the country.

  Storing away the notebook, she dug out her cell phone. She was surprised when she plugged it into the wall outlet and it immediately started to charge. That bit of normalcy was comforting and though she didn’t have 4G, wireless, or bars, being able to play her games and
pull up the novel she had been reading on her ebook application was a solace to her fatigued mind.

  Ever since Tanner had left, her nightly habit had been to lie on the bed reading until her eyes finally closed. It was the only way she could fall asleep. Sleeping pills made her drowsy, but she’d always awaken just before entering a deep slumber. Thoughts of Tanner and Joshua always seemed to yank her back into consciousness. Reading distracted her mind, allowing her to not think about her losses. It was rather amusing that she was now using the same ritual to ignore the fact she was in another world. Whether that world was one of her imagination she had yet to determine. Just as she had accepted Joshua dying and Tanner leaving her, she had to accept that the surrounding world was her new reality. Even if she was injured in a hospital or locked up in a psych ward, the events she was experiencing were not going to go away just because she wanted them to. For now she was stuck.

  The cell phone screen radiance illuminated the length of the hallway, the darkened archway looming at the edge of her vision. It made her nervous, but her head had throbbed after transforming the bathroom. At one point, she had entertained the idea that the pain was from a head injury she’d received by crashing into the deer. That she was truly in a coma and had not avoided the accident after all. She had reluctantly pushed the thought away.

  Lying on her bed, she fought the impulse to access the picture gallery on her phone. Her finger hovered over the screen while her thoughts fought an internal war. It would only bring her pain to look at the photos she had uploaded to her phone. Yet, she couldn’t help herself. This was the torment she always inflicted upon herself. It was almost as if she couldn’t stop picking at the wounds on her soul.

  She tapped the icon.

  The first photo was of her and Tanner at a rodeo. They looked sunburned under their cowboy hats and a little tipsy, but they made a beautiful couple. The next one was of their wedding. They were running down the path from the chapel, both looking over their shoulders while rose petals showered them. When she’d scrolled through all the photos on the CD the wedding photographer had given her, this had been her favorite image. It looked as if they were rushing together into a bright future.