Novel Treatments / The Dream Keepers (Awakenings Part 2)

4

Sonja awoke from the nightmare screaming fiercely at the walls of her nearly empty room.  Her whole body ached as if she had just run a marathon.  In her dreams, she had.  She had run through the endless tunnel for what seemed an eternity.  The monsters never caught her, thank God, but they had never ceased chasing her, either.  She ran and the obsidian little devils pursued, that’s the way it always had been.  There were never any differences in the dreams, never any great mysteries unraveled.  She never changed direction, and never dared to slow her pace.  It was like being in an endless police car chase.  Only she wasn’t driving, and the things chasing her definitely weren’t cops.  When the dream started, she was running, and she knew that the monsters were behind her.  When she awoke from the dream, she felt physically exhausted, and hoped that the monsters could not follow her out of the nightmare.

She stared at the blank walls of the room for some time and folded her arms across her chest tightly, trying to stop her body from shaking.  She began weeping softly, to herself, cursing under her breath because she was so weak.  She started damning the dreams, damning the monsters, damning everything she had ever done, everyone she had ever known and everyone she had ever loved.  She even cursed at God.  How could He be so wicked as to let her live this way, in constant fear of sleep?  How could God let her survive the horrible life she had been through, only to let her be tortured in a world where He had no influence?  She had read in the Bible that God could be vengeful, but this form of punishment was beyond cruelty.  Sure, sometimes Sonja couldn’t sleep because of the dreams, but that wasn’t the worst of it.  Sometimes she couldn’t eat or think properly after waking up, also.  She lived in constant fear of the night creatures.  Who knew?  Maybe they were real monsters, prowling in the alleys, waiting for Sonja to venture out so they could emerge from the shadows and take her down into hell?  No, it was just a dream, wasn’t it?  She had often hoped that her life was just a dream, but lately she had come to realize that there were far worse dreams that a person could have.  If all this was a nightmare, why should it affect her so strongly?  And why had she been having the same dream, over and over again, for the past two months?  Why, oh God, why could she not bear to face the demons of her dream world?  

“Because they’ll kill you, stupid,” her brain answered.  The thought made her giggle like a schoolgirl, but she was laughing out of fear, not delight.

Maybe God really didn’t have an influence on the dreams.  Maybe he just sat up in his heaven and watched.  If you survived the shit that He put on you, good, if not, too bad, nice try, we have some nice parting gifts for you.  Maybe it was all some sort of elaborate game to Him.  If you passed, “Welcome to Heaven!”  If not, “Kiss your ass goodbye, and say hello to Lucifer for me.”  

Sonja crawled slowly out of bed, her muscles screaming out in pain at the slightest movement, and knelt on the floor.  She leaned forward onto the side of the bed and folded her hands, and began to pray.  Her prayers were almost whimpers, but she knew that God could hear her now.  At least, that was what Sister Kathryn had said.  God was good, God was all-knowing and all-powerful, and most important of all:  God was forgiving.  She prayed mostly for forgiveness, especially for the blasphemous thoughts that she’d just had.  Sister Kathryn had been explaining a lot of things to Sonja over the last three weeks, since arriving at the shelter.  She’d said that God had a plan for everyone, even Sonja.  She had taught Sonja about God, Jesus, Heaven, angels, saints, and many other spiritual and biblical things.  Sister Kathryn had even told Sonja about Satan and Hell, but those were things that Sonja had been familiar with already.  When you lived on the streets, you knew about the bad things already.  

Sonja still didn’t understand exactly how God could hear her, it seemed an awful lot for one person, all-powerful or not, to be able to listen to everyone in the worlds prayers.  But she prayed anyway.  She begged God for forgiveness for the sin-filled life that she once led, the nights spent with different men, the abuse she put her body through with drugs and alcohol, the murder of the unborn children, the death of her mother and the man who had called himself father.  She prayed for God to forgive all of the sins from her past, and prayed to have the strength to stop her from committing such sins in the future.  She also prayed, most of all, for God to stop the dreams from coming.  She hoped that He really was listening, like Sister Kathryn had said, because she could try to make up for her past sins, but there was nothing that she could do to rid her nights of the dreams, or night terrors as Sister Kathryn had called them, not by herself.  The dreams were the one thing that Sonja knew that God couldn’t put an end to, but she asked anyway.  

Sister Kathryn was wrong about the night terrors.  These were not conjured up creatures from Sonja’s subconscious, not personal demons, oh no, they were much more than that.  Sonja knew it.  She could feel it.  The evil presence in the dreams was everywhere.  She could not remember exactly what it was that was chasing her.  She knew that most of the time it had been several monsters, but sometimes there was just one.  A big one.  It must have been the lord of the other demons, because the aura that arose from it was far more malevolent than the others.  On occasion, she had turned to face the other ones, the man-sized or smaller ones, but she never dared to face the lord.  The Fiend.  That’s what she called it.  The name suited the beast just fine.  

There was more to the dreams, too, things that she hadn’t told Sister Kathryn.  Always, in the night terrors, Sonja would be running down the endless tunnel, which she had told the nun, but just recently, over the last couple of days, Sonja had begun to notice changes.  There were pictures hanging on the walls of the tunnel.  Not pictures of scenery or stills.  Photographs.  Pictures of people she had never met.  Never even seen.  Sonja knew that Sister Kathryn would say that the pictures were “symbols”, not real people, but Sonja knew better.  She was absolutely sure that the people in the pictures existed.  And she didn’t want to have to try and explain all of that to Sister Kathryn, so she hadn’t told her.  

Maybe the people in the photographs were linked to each other in some way?  Maybe they were linked to Sonja?  The pictures were of three men and one woman, all of whom appeared older than Sonja, except maybe the dark haired boy, who looked maybe only twenty, which would still make him Sonja’s senior by two years.  It was sort of funny, Sonja could never explain to Sister Kathryn exactly what the monsters in her dreams looked like, which was probably why Sister Kathryn told Sonja that the demons were symbolic of the bad things she’d done, but the images of the four strangers was as clear as day.  It was almost like they were old friends of hers.  She didn’t know any of them personally, but she knew every detail of their faces.  The really weird thing was that some of the details were too fresh and vivid to be contrived from any picture.  She could describe each one of them in such detail that if she had explained their features to a sketch artist or a sculptor, the artist would be able to create a perfect likeness from her account.  For example, she knew that even though the woman appeared to have short hair, it was quite long, that the woman just had her hair in a ponytail.  Or even though the black man wasn’t smiling in the picture, she knew that he had a gold tooth.  How did she know these things?    

Sonja had never met any of the strangers, but she knew that they were real.  She knew that if she ever saw any one of them, she would recognize them instantly.  And she knew that they would know her as well.  But she also knew that she did not want to meet any of the strangers.  For if the strangers from the photographs were real, then that must mean that the demons were real, too.

5

Benny could feel something pulling him.  It was an irritating feeling that had started the day after he had killed the old man.  At first he thought that it might be his conscience, but after two weeks, he had completely forgotten about the old bastard.  But that relentless tug was still plaguing him.  Even now, in a stolen car and being chased by two squad cars, he could feel himself being jerked west.  Why?  

He loved it in Baltimore.  He had been here for six years, and what a great six years they had been!  He had seen more action in the last couple of years than he had seen in the whole ten years that he’d been in New York.  He had been with more women than he’d ever been with, and he’d made more money than he ever thought possible.  Hell, he’d been having more fun now than when he was a teenager.  The thrills in Baltimore were far greater than any city he had ever been to, which included Pittsburgh, New York, Charlotte, Atlanta, and Miami.  Benny had applied his trade all over the east coast, but nowhere else had ever seemed like home.  Nowhere but Baltimore.  And he had friends and family here, not to mention a shitload of business opportunities.  Sure he had gotten his share of bumps and bruises, but the payoff was more than worth it.

“Shit!”  He complained as another patrol car came out of nowhere and pulled in front of the stolen Lexus.  The cop had almost run Benny off of the road, but he quickly swerved left, avoided a parked minivan, and maintained control of the car.  These boys didn’t know who they were dealing with.  Benny was capable of handling a luxury car like it was a Corvette, and this baby was responding like an ex-lover.  He maneuvered the Lexus to the right, keeping just enough distance between him and pigs, and made a sharp turn down Calvert Street.    

Benny laughed out loud.  “Four more blocks!  Four more blocks and you’ll think I became fucking invisible!”  

The chase was going quickly, just the way Benny liked it.  Speed!  Speed was what Benny thrived on, what he lived for.  He could fuck all night long, earn a ton of money or steal a hundred cars, but what really got him going was the feel of the wind on his face and the images of people and cars whipping past him as he was doing a hundred miles per hour in a sports car.  Benny would choose the thrill of the chase over the curves of any woman on earth.  After all, he had never stolen a car that complained that he was too cheap or too insensitive.  All a car wanted was for Benny to open it up on the highway and let the world see what it was made of.  Cars were made, in Benny’s opinion, to go fast.  Even little shit four-bangers.  You just had to know how to drive, which Benny did.  His brother was always joking that Benny was like Toad, from the story “The Wind in the Willows”, and Benny didn’t mind one bit.  He kind of liked the comparison, actually.  The only difference was that the Toad didn’t know how to handle a motorcar anywhere near as well as Benny could.  Benny would drive circles around the little guy, if he weren’t just a fictional character.

Benny stomped on the gas pedal.  The sound of the over-exerting motor made him ecstatic.  The Lexus was a little too small for Benny’s taste, but it had a pretty decent motor.  The thing was fast, and that’s all that really mattered to him.  Well, there was the fact that it would fetch a nice little chunk of change from Leo.  Leo paid top dollar for luxury, and Benny knew that he would get it for this sweet little baby.

“Yeah!!!”  Benny yelled as he hit his turn fast, the wheels of the Lexus screeching on the pavement.  He glanced over his shoulder and saw that the cops had missed the turn.  Benny faced forward and laughed as he saw the last of the patrol cars zip past in the rear view mirror.

Benny entered the warehouse district at about seventy miles an hour.  This was where the fun would really begin.  He sped past several of the buildings and finally disappeared into one of the smaller warehouses at the east end of the docks.  The building had three entrances, each one large enough for a small delivery truck to enter.  He pulled into the little building through the open door on the right and turned the Lexus around, so that he was facing the direction he had come in, and waited.  The other two bay doors were open, and Benny was glad for his good fortune.  He wouldn’t have to take the chance of getting caught by having to open any of the other doors.  The cops would actually think that they had Benny cornered, but he planned on showing them just how wrong they were.  

The sirens from the squad cars were getting louder.  The cops would find him soon, but then Benny would pull his best David Copperfield.  He knew how the situation would unfold:  He would speed away just as the cops arrived at the warehouse and vanish into Leo’s chop shop.  After hours (or possibly minutes) of searching, the coppers would give up, and Benny would be at least ten grand richer.  Benny had never been forced to bring a cop this close to Leo’s place, but he knew that it didn’t matter.  He would be clean and clear in only a few minutes.

The first of the patrol cars drove past the little warehouse.  The cop was going a little too fast and had to slam on the brakes when he saw the Lexus inside.  Benny shifted the car into neutral and waited.  One of the other officers, whom Benny noticed was a young guy, practically a kid, pulled his cruiser in front of the middle bay door.  He didn’t have a prayer in the world of catching Benny.  It was time to go.  Benny shifted the Lexus into drive and sped out of the door he’d come in, almost slamming into the reversing patrol car that had passed up the warehouse.  The cops gave chase.  Benny fled out of the warehouse and headed toward the west docks.  He was as excited as a child with a new toy.  His heart was pumping like a jackhammer, but the rush was well worth it.

What a life!  The adrenaline was flowing through Benny’s veins like a river whose dam had just burst open.  This was what Benny lived for:  The thrill of the chase.  Yeah, it was nice to get a fat envelope for bringing beauties like this Lexus in to Leo, but in all honesty, Benny would do it for free, if he didn’t need the money.  One good police chase could get rid of a lot of excess energy.  Of course, if you took it too far, you could end up dead, but Benny always knew just how far to push himself.  He would turn himself in if he had to, but it was always more fun to try and escape.  Once the bullets started flying, though, playtime was over.  Unless, of course, Benny had no choice.  He always tried to leave some options open, but sometimes you just had to do some really bad things to get out of some really bad situations.  Benny was lucky, though, and he knew it.  Somehow he could always get out of a jam if he really needed to.  Like with the old man.  He had to drive through some really rough shit to get out of that one.  He ended up ditching the car and crawling through the sewers to get away, but hey, there were times when that kind of stuff was necessary.  

Benny sped along the road until he reached a mammoth-sized ship manufacturing building that was at the edge of the Potomac.  He drove into the warehouse through the east entrance and drove quickly out of the building through another dock door on the south side, just as the pigs entered.  The cops followed, but it was too late.  Benny knew these docks far better than any police officer.  He ducked the Lexus behind the building next to the ship bay, and then sped across to the north side of the warehouse district.  He could see the cops in his mirrors.  They were at least five hundred yards away, which was more than enough distance for Benny to get away.  He drove the Lexus quickly into Leo’s decoy warehouse, a container storage building, and reached over to the passenger seat to grab the black box.  It looked like a garage door opener of some kind, and in essence it was.  He pushed the only button on the box, then watched as Leo’s craftsmanship exposed itself.  Two large wooden crates that sat along the south wall lifted into the air on a hydraulic pump that was hidden in a secret room on the other side of the wall.  Underneath the crates was the access ramp that led down to Leo’s shop.  It was really quite a magnificent device.  Benny had been there when Leo had it installed, and damn was that boy proud.  Leo had acted like he was a new father.  Hell, Benny had almost expected him to start passing out cigars.  It was nice, though.  And it had never failed to work, which amazed the shit out of Benny.  It always seemed to Benny that no matter what technology came up with, there were always too many glitches and bugs to be worked out for the new ideas to ever work properly.  Leo must pay a pretty penny in maintenance alone for the big contraption, as well as the other three that were situated in other buildings throughout the warehouse district.  

Benny zipped through the passageway and watched the ramp seal shut after he hit the button a second time.  He killed the engine on the Lexus and waited, listening, as the sirens from the squad cars got closer.  The cops entered the warehouse and Benny could hear them yell out to each other.

“Where the fuck did he go?”  One of the cops yelled out.  They all seemed to have different opinions on the answer, and soon after, they left to check the rest of the docks.  They would never find the stolen Lexus, though.  Of that, Benny was positive.

Benny smiled triumphantly.  “How you doin’, Hon?” he asked the snobby bitch in the back seat.   “Hell of a ride, huh?”  She was crying softly and did not answer his questions.  He started along again, riding on the road that Leo had built underneath the docks.  Another one of Leo’s truly amazing inventions.  It was quite a set up.  Leo had invested a boatload of money to ensure that the cops never found the chop shop.  He had built four separate ramps that led to this road, all in different areas of the warehouse district.  The road led back to a building on Light Street, two blocks away from the docks.  It never ceased to amaze Benny how well Leo had everything arranged.

“Don’t worry, Hon. You’re in good hands.  Ain’t nothin’ bad gonna happen to you.  I promise.  And I almost always keep my promises.  I’m a thief, not a killer or a rapist.  After all this is done, I’ll let you go.”  Benny swore to the woman.  It wasn’t entirely true, but she had no way of knowing.  Benny was a killer, if need be.  And he had raped a woman before, but that was long ago, and even if he did still need that particular power trip, he was spent.  After a run like he’d just been on, he wouldn’t be able to get it up even if he tried.  

Benny shifted in his seat.  He could still feel like he was being pulled.  He tried again to push the feeling aside, but it didn’t work.  He looked toward the girl.

“You ever feel like you was supposed to be somewhere, but you had no idea where?”  He asked the crying girl.  She didn’t answer, and Benny laughed.  If she wasn’t talking, he didn’t mind.  Just a little bit longer and he would be rid of her anyway.  

Benny continued slowly along the road until reaching the ramp that entered upon Leo’s shop.  He pulled up the ramp and sounded the horn, then watched as the metal plate on the drivers side slid down.  He looked directly into the camera and smiled, and the rolling door slowly opened up.  Beyond the door was an incredible sight, if Benny had ever seen one.  No matter how many times he had been here, it still always made him feel like a little boy.  There were more cars inside Leo’s shop than were probably in half of the dealerships in Baltimore combined.  Row upon row of vehicles extended the length of the warehouse.  If Benny took a guess, he would say there were over two thousand cars, trucks, and SUV’s in the shop.  There was everything from Honda’s to Ferrari’s.  It was a car thief’s playground.

Benny pulled the Lexus into a space next to a black Porsche.  He got out of the car and started toward the office, momentarily forgetting about the girl.

“Stay here.”  He told Blondie as he leaned his head into the open window on the passenger side.  “I’ll be back in a few, but you don’t want to let any of these other thugs see you.  They might not be as nice as me.”  He smiled at the girl, then turned and headed to Leo’s office, but saw that Leo was already heading over.

“Nice!”  Leo yelled.  “How much?”  He extended his hand and Benny shook it.

“If you’re gonna leave the price up to me, I’ll bankrupt your ass.”  Benny said, smiling broadly.

Leo laughed.  He looked the car over quickly, tapping his right index finger against his chin.  “Eight?”  He asked after his speedy evaluation.  

Benny shook his head.

“How ‘bout ten?”

Benny pretended to think it over, but he had already been expecting at least that much.  He nodded.

“Alright,” Leo said.  “Come on into the office.”  Leo looked over the Lexus again, and Benny saw his eyes widen.  “Oh, Benny, what the fuck?  Tell me that ain’t no fuckin’ woman…”

“I know, I know.”  Benny interrupted.  “I had to split fast, man.  And plus, she’s kind of cute.  So I brought her with.  No big deal, she didn’t see nothin’.”

Leo looked pissed.  But Benny knew he would get over it.  “Better not.”  He said.

“She didn’t.”

Leo turned and started toward the office.  Benny looked around the huge storehouse as he followed Leo.  He noticed only one other Lexus on the floor, which meant that he could have probably gotten more cash for the car, but such was life.  

Leo went into the office and plopped himself heavily into the black leather chair that was behind his desk.  Leo’s office was nothing what a person would suspect from a guy like Leo.  The desk, which was a huge thing, was hand made out of mahogany.  A stained glass Tiffany lamp sat upon it, next to Leo’s computer.  A crystal chandelier hung directly over the desk, sending hundreds of rainbow-hued reflections across the room.  Benny felt like he was in a museum instead of a chop shop.  There were times when he had wanted to take off his shoes, so he wouldn’t stain the Persian rug.  

Benny crossed the rug practically tiptoeing, and sat in the matching chair on the opposite side of the desk.  Leo swiveled his chair around and opened the wall safe behind him.  He withdrew a metal case from the vault, then spun back around and placed the case on the desk.  After retrieving the key to the lock-box from his pocket, Leo opened the case and pulled out a large bundled of hundred dollar bills that were banded together with a thick, brown rubber band.  He began to slowly count out Benny’s payment, making sure that he wasn’t giving the thief any more or less than what was due.  After reaching about six thousand dollars, Benny stopped him.  

“Leo, I need a car.”

Leo looked puzzled.  He looked at Benny and squinted, his trademark look of concern.  His fist tightened around the large wad of cash.  “Why do you need a car?  And for that matter, why you askin’ me?  You can steal just about anything that has wheels, and you’re askin’ me for a car?  I should be askin’ you for a car.”

Benny tried not to look desperate.  “Gotta go somewhere.”  He said nonchalantly.  

This was new territory for Benny, so he understood why Leo was so confused.  But Leo would have to adjust.  It didn’t appear that he was going to cooperate, though.  Benny had always wanted cash, and it looked like that was all that Leo was willing to give up.  Cash was easy to come by, but a nice piece of oil and steel could sometimes take weeks to find, if looking for something specific.

Leo looked at Benny skeptically, eyes still squinted almost completely shut.  “Where you goin’?”  He asked, genuinely interested.

“South.”  Benny lied.  He wasn’t exactly sure where he was going, but he didn’t want to give Leo any ideas, either.

“I thought maybe you was goin’ back to Manny-Hatty.”  Leo said, slightly raising his left eyebrow.  He looked like a caricature of his normal self.  “I thought I was payin’ you good money?  You ain’t doin’ this to try and weasel more dough out o’ me, is ya?”

Benny smiled.  “No, I’m not tryin’ to get more cash out of you.  And yes, you do pay me good.  I just got to take care of somethin’ is all.  Can’t a man have his own life?  If it’ll make you feel any better, I’ll be back in a week.  Two at most.  And if you’re really nice, I might even bring you a present back.”

Leo nodded, the confused look slowly disappearing from his face.  He smiled.  “What you gonna bring me?”  

Benny found himself squinting now, and Leo broke into a childish laugh.  Benny joined him.  “It’ll be a surprise.”  He finally answered.  He wasn’t sure if he would honor the promise that he’d just made, but he knew how to get what he wanted.  Always had.  The only thing that he was sure of was that he had to find out what the hell had been drawing him west for the past week and a half.  He didn’t even know if he would be coming back, and that possibility was actually quite exciting.

Leo looked down at the bundle of cash in his hand, then back up at Benny.  “What do you want?”  His tone of voice said that he wouldn’t give up anything too nice.

“Whatever you can spare, bro’.”  He swiveled around in his chair and looked out of the bay window, scanning the warehouse for something that would suit his tastes.  He noticed red SUV.  “Gimme that Blazer, or that Jeep over there.”  He said, pointing the vehicles out to Leo.

“Ooh, a mountain expedition.”  Leo said, smiling.  “Well, bad news, my man.  The Blazer goes out Tuesday, and the Jeep ain’t done yet.  Still gotta get a new VIN on it and a paint job.”  He got out of his chair and walked toward the window, his index finger tapping on his chin.  “I know.  How ‘bout a Explorer?  Jack brought in that white Explorer two weeks ago.  I just ain’t had no buyer yet.”  He indicated the truck that was sitting on the far side of the storehouse.  It looked like it would do the trick.

“O.k.,” Benny said.  “Gimme the Explorer in a even swap for the Lexus.  Cool?”

That brought an enormous grin to Leo’s face.  Benny knew that he could move the Lexus in a few days, and if what he said about the truck was true, then the deal made very good sense, at least on Leo’s part.  

“Deal.”  Leo said.  He walked back around to the desk and scooped up the cash.  He placed it back into the metal box, the stuffed the box back into its original location in the wall safe.  “The truck’s clean already.  Let me just get you some plates and you can take it.”  He picked up the phone and dialed four digits on the number pad.  “Yeah, Jimmy, listen up, get some plates and slap ‘em on the Explorer your brother brought in…Yeah, I got a buyer…No, don’t do nothin’ else to it.  Just the tags, o.k.?…Alright, bye.”  He hung up the phone and looked at Benny.  “You can take it in about five minutes.  Jimmy’s just gotta find some plates.”

“Thanks, man.”

“Now that business is done,” Leo said as he sat in his chair again and leaned back, folding his hands on his large stomach.  He smiled.  “How you doin’, little brother?”

Benny shrugged.  “Good, man.  But I’m still having those fuckin’ nightmares.”

6

Franklin Russell crossed Michigan Avenue and entered the building where his target was supposedly located.  The vast lobby of the high-rise was quite impressive.  There were dark gray marble pillars that stretched upward to the second floor.  The floor of the lobby was also made of marble, but it was ivory in color.  In the center of the lobby was a massive onyx fountain, which actually complemented the pillars and floor quite well.  He looked up as he reached the centerpiece and saw that the building was twenty stories tall, with a huge skylight allowing the sun to cascade its brilliant rays across the atrium.  He looked into the fountain and saw hundreds of coins:  The hopes and dreams of tourists and passers-by reflecting luminously along the sides of the fountain and, in some places, the walls.

Frank studied the building carefully, storing everything that he saw in his memory bank.  There were two escalators that led up to the second floor.  Next to each of these mechanical stairways was another that led down.  Both pairs of escalators were situated on opposite sides of two large elevators made of glass.  The elevators only went as high as the eighth floor.  Looking east, the direction that he had entered the building, Frank saw that there were three revolving doors that led out to Michigan Avenue.  An information desk, with a nice old lady dressed in a lime green sports coat and skirt, stood midway between the fountain and the revolving doors.  To the south was an emergency exit made out of polished silver that fit in well with the ultra-expensive motif that the building portrayed.  To the north was a hallway that led toward the elevators for the office complex.  A newspaper stand was directly across from the office elevators, giving everyone the opportunity to pick up a copy of one of Chicago’s many publications.  Frank noticed that even though the building was bustling with people, hardly anyone had taken a second look at him.  Everybody was so entrenched in getting to their meetings or appointments or lunch dates, that they all ignored the trivial things in life.  Frank shook his head in amazement.  He had always found that the trivial things could often be the best part of his day.  

He walked to the newsstand and picked up a copy of the Tribune.  The clerk was an attractive blonde, and he handed her his fifty cents for the paper.  She smiled a smug little “fuck you” at Frank as he checked out her body with a quick once-over.  

As he left the store to stand in front of the office elevators, Frank heard her scoff at him.  Screw you too, doll.  He thought as he pushed the call button for the elevators.  He waited patiently for one to arrive, and the one on the right side won the race.  After politely holding the door to allow three older ladies to exit, along with a suit and two brunettes, he stepped inside.  He stared momentarily after the two skirts, watching the cotton or rayon or whatever hug tightly to both of their asses.  None of them had given him so much as a second glance, which was good.

As the elevator door closed, Frank saw that the three old women had gone into the newspaper stand.  The blonde was occupied now, and with any luck, she would have already forgotten what Frank had looked like.  In this line of business, you didn’t want anyone to remember your face, and Frank found that just by gawking at most women made them forget you faster.  The people that remembered what you looked like were usually people that you didn’t pay attention to.  So Frank paid attention to everybody.  Particularly women, because if you didn’t look at an attractive woman, they tended to think that there was something wrong with you and tried to study you closer to see if they could determine what your problem was.  Gay or married was what they usually figured, so they would look for a feminine sway of the hips or a wedding band.  But if you stared at their curves, they shrugged you off as a normal guy, put you out of their mind, and went about their business.  On occasion they returned the look, and sometimes that could be trouble too.  As long as Frank wore dark glasses, though, no woman ever paid any mind to his average looks.  Without the sunglasses was another story.  His eyes could spark a fire in the heart of any woman, from a nun to a porn star.

Frank pressed the button for the nineteenth floor, two floors above his actual destination, so he could surveillance the layout of the building.  The information that he’d received was that all the floors from sixteen to twenty had the same floor plan.  He would pretend to be lost if anyone had questioned him, but according to Kevin the offices in this building were quiet.  He was assured that nobody would question him.

Frank walked the floor and found the suite that he was looking for:  1920.  Exactly two floors above his target.  He entered the office and found that there was no receptionist on duty.  Perfect.  He could walk through the area and pinpoint precisely where the target’s office was located.  It was supposed to be in the same location as the office of “Howard Stummel, V.P. of Research”.  Frank found Mr. Stummel’s office and knocked on the smoked glass door.  Nobody answered.  He waited a moment before knocking again, and then tried the door after not receiving an answer a second time.  The door swung inward, and Frank quickly scanned the office, noting that the office was rectangular-shaped, and approximately 12 ‘X 18’.  There wasn’t a door leading to an adjacent office, which was good, and no other possible exits other than the one that Frank had entered.  He closed the door and made his way back to the elevators.  Kevin had been right so far.  

He stepped into the elevator on the left when an older man and a younger woman emerged from it.  Neither of them had even noticed Frank, not even having enough courtesy to hold the door for him, and he’d had to rush to catch the lift before the doors closed.  In spite of their rudeness, Frank smiled at the duo.  Neither of them would ever be able to describe what Frank had looked like.  He pushed the call button for the seventeenth floor.

The elevator stopped on the eighteenth floor to pick up a bike messenger and two good-looking ladies that were chattering away about someone named “Katie”.  Apparently, they didn’t care too much for the girl.  But their conversation kept them occupied, and Frank stepped off on floor seventeen without being noticed.  There were many women in this building, and most of them were easy on the eyes.  Frank hoped that none of them would be able to remember him.  

He took a direct route to his destination.  His reconnaissance had proven to be true.  He walked to the door which had “Marilyn Cole, V.P. of Design” painted on the glass.  He didn’t knock.

Ms. Cole was seated at her desk, dictating a memo to a pretty brunette.  Both of the women were startled upon Frank’s intrusion, and the brunette jumped to her feet.  She walked toward Frank.

“Excuse me, sir…” She began, but Frank cut her off with a right cross that sent her sprawling across the carpeted floor.  Ms. Cole started to scream, but snapped her mouth shut when Frank produced the .380 from its holster.

“Oh, my God!”  Ms. Cole gasped.  Tears began welling up in her eyes, and she began to visibly shake.  She collapsed into her chair and covered her eyes, looking very much like a scared child.

“Look at me.”  Frank said.

Marilyn Cole let out a sob that sounded like a dog whimpering, and looked up at her assailant.  She slowly raised her hands above her head, as if she was being arrested by a police officer.  Frank however, had no intention of cuffing her.

“Do you know why I’m here?”  Frank asked the petrified woman.  She did not answer him, choosing only to gape at her intruder.  He wanted to smile.

“Well, Ms. Cole, let me enlighten you.”  Frank began.  “You’ve been a very bad girl, Marilyn.  People don’t like trade secrets being tossed around to competitors.  Did you know that?  For the three hundred thousand that you pocketed, I got a call.  Do you know what that call was, Ms. Cole?”

She stared at him with a blank, uncomprehending look on her face.  Her expression didn’t even change when he removed the silencer from his inside coat pocket and screwed it into the muzzle of the Smith and Wesson.  Her eyes did widen, though, when he took two steps forward and pointed the gun at her head.

“The call, Ms. Cole, was to exterminate you.  Like a fucking bug.”

She broke down, blubbering great sobs of desperation.  She tried to speak, but her words were indecipherable.  

“You have one chance.”  He told her.  “Answer my question right, and I let you live.  Answer wrong and I put a bullet through your conniving little brain.  Understand?”

She looked around the room, possibly for an escape route.  After finding that there was nowhere to run, she nodded.

Frank smiled.  “Good.” He said, “Here is the question:  Do you believe in God?”

Marilyn Cole fixed her eyes upon the crucifix that hung from the chain around Frank’s neck.  He always made it a point to wear the cross outside of his shirt, even over his tie, to confuse his victims.  No matter how they answered the question, he had a job to do, but the faith of his victims was something that Frank needed to know.  He needed to know if he was saving them or condemning them to damnation.

“Yes!”  She almost shouted.  She sounded like a newly healed parishioner at a television evangelists’ congregation.  “Yes, I believe in God.”

“Good.”  Frank said, then stepped toward her and took her by the hand.  “Now, if you believe whole-heartedly in the lord, you’ll know His prayer.  Kneel down.”

Ms. Cole was frightened beyond belief, but she did as she was told.  She knelt in front of Frank, and even though she was weeping uncontrollably, she joined him as he began to say the “Our Father”.  She knew it, too.  Word for word.  

Frank walked around behind Marilyn Cole, and just as she finished her prayer he fired two rounds into the back of her head.  Blood and bone sprayed upward from the wound, and then the woman slumped forward onto the carpet.  The blood immediately began to seep into the rug.  She may have been misguided, but it seemed that she had been innocent nonetheless.  No nightmares for Ms. Marilyn Cole.

Frank turned and walked over to where the brunette lay, unconscious.  “I’m sorry.”  He told her, sincerely.  He could not chance it.  She had gotten a good look at him.  She looked quite innocent, lying there on the floor.  Hopefully, she was.  Better him than The Darque.  At least this way, her soul would belong to God.  

He fired two rounds into the woman’s forehead, and then turned to leave.  “Go with God.”  He told both of the dead women before exiting through the door.

Looking around, Frank saw that not even one person in the mind-your-own-business mentality of the building had even noticed anything wrong.  People were still walking back and forth at a quick pace, none paying Frank the slightest bit of attention.

He took the elevator down to the ground floor.  After exiting the elevator, he approached the fountain and fished two quarters out of his pants pocket.  Tossing the coins into the well, Frank made two wishes.  Both of the wishes were the same:  He wished that his victims both actually had been innocent.  

7

Dakota Carson, “Cody” to his friends, wasn’t exactly sure why Charlie had insisted that they go on a road trip, but he went along anyway.  He was always in the mood for a long drive, and the fact that it was going to be with Charlie made it even better.

Dakota and Charlie had packed up the old Thunderbird with only a couple changes of clothes and some snacks.  They had left the college town of Athens, Georgia only a couple of hours ago, at eleven this morning.  Matt and Dennis were pissed off, and they had every right to be, complaining that they would miss the gig in Jacksonville this weekend, but Charlie had told them that the show was bullshit anyway.  “Rite” was too good of a band to play at some good-old-boy shit-kicker bar, and if Matt and Dennis wanted to find someone to fill in for them, feel free.  That really sent Matt off the handle, but he knew that without Charlie, the band had no voice.  So just before they had left, Charlie had promised Matt to scout the Midwest for decent clubs.  Clubs worthy of the message that “Rite” was trying to send out.  It sounded kind of silly, the group wasn’t even close to being signed yet, just an up-and-coming band really, but they did have a message.  It was just that most people had to be seriously stoned to get it.  Maybe this trip could be the break that they needed.  Maybe they could get noticed.  Charlie was a real smooth talker, so who knew?  Maybe Charlie could land a big gig in a place like St. Louis, Milwaukee, or Chicago.  A big city.  One that was worthy of “the message”.  That had eased up Matt a little, not much, but when Matt asked if he and Dennis could come, Charlie had said no.  That particular answer was not the one that Matt was looking for, and he got pissed all over again.  He had stormed out of Charlie’s dormitory and neither Dakota nor Charlie had bothered to chase him down.  He would get over it, eventually.  If not, so be it.  

An hour later, after packing up their meager belongings, Dakota and Charlie were speeding across U.S. Highway 28.  Dakota had packed even less than Charlie, electing to bring only two pairs of jeans and the tee shirt on his back.  But most importantly, he brought his bass.  He would never dream about going anywhere without his guitar.  Charlie had brought a few more clothes than Dakota, but all of their belongings didn’t even fill up the right side of the back seat.

Charlie mumbled.  Another restless sleep for the lead singer of “the best band on campus”, according to the Banner-Herald.  Charlie had gone to sleep after only a few minutes on the road.  Cody had looked at his companion several times in the past few minutes, anticipating that his friend would awaken.  But Charlie stayed in the Sandman’s embrace, but not peacefully.  Hell, Charlie never slept peacefully.  On the rare occasions that Dakota and Charlie had slept together, Dakota would have nightmares too.  It was like his lovers’ dreams were so bad that Dakota’s subconscious could tune in on the dreams and broadcast them into his own mind.  He had told Charlie about the dreams once, but his friend just shrugged him off in typical fashion.  They had never spoken about the dreams again.  Dakota would always try to find a way to ask about the horrible nightmares, but then he would remember how Charlie had blown it off the first time.  They’d known each other for two years now, but Charlie was still as much of a mystery as when they had first met at Matt’s “Beginning of the Year Bash!!!”, which was usually held during Thanksgiving break or after midterms or finals.  Every party that Matt threw was the “Beginning of the Year Bash!!!” because of the huge banner that hung along the wall in Matt’s apartment.  Matt and a couple of friends, since graduated, had made the banner when Matt was a freshman some six years ago.  Cody thought of the banner as a landmark, a Lincoln Memorial to all parties past.  Come to think of it, Matt never took the damn thing down.  It really was a memorial, and it would probably be on that wall until Matt graduated, whenever that would be.  Or maybe it would be passed along like the Olympic torch to whoever took over the apartment when Matt finally left.

Cody didn’t even know where Charlie was from.  He assumed Louisiana, because of the Cajun accent, but he knew that there were Cajuns in Florida and Alabama, also.  He really couldn’t determine where Charlie was from, and Charlie wouldn’t say, all the time asking, “Why the sudden interest in my past?”  Cody always said that he was just curious, but the truth of the matter, why he wanted to know anything at all about the Cajun, was that he was in love with Charlie.  That was the reason he had come along in the first place.  He didn’t have to come with, but when Charlie asked, he’d said yes, not because Charlie had wanted him to go, well, o.k., there was that, but mostly it was because there was no timetable on how long Charlie would be gone.  Dakota didn’t want to be left at home in Athens, wondering if Charlie was all right.  He didn’t want to have to worry if they would ever see each other again.  So he had come along.  Charlie didn’t know exactly where they were headed, just that they had to go to the Midwest for some reason.  When Dakota had asked “Why?” his friend didn’t have an answer.  It had been the first time that Dakota had ever seen Charlie speechless.  Just another mystery.  That was o.k. with Cody, though.  He knew next to nothing about Charlie, so why should this matter?  He was just glad that spring break started on Monday.  Cody wasn’t a very studious person, so his parents would only pay for his tuition if his attendance was good.  They knew not to expect great grades, but they demanded that he at least attended his classes.  So he did, but in his freshman year, he almost didn’t make it.  He was partying too much, drinking too much, smoking too much pot, and of course, missing a lot of his classes.  His father was furious when the school (good ol’ Dean Carpenter) had put Dakota on academic probation.  Cody didn’t even care, he was just goin’ with the flow.  Even when his father threatened to pull him out of the University of Georgia, Dakota hadn’t thought much of it.  Hell, who cared if he turned out like his brother Larry, he was having fun.  And fun was the name of the game.

Then he met Charlie.  That changed everything.  Charlie was the most unbelievable human being he had ever met, and he wasn’t going to screw it up just because he wanted to party.  Dakota begged his father for another chance.  He wasn’t sure if his dad would go for it, but convinced him with hours of pestering and sincere promises.  In the end, he had surprised everyone by keeping up his end of the bargain, showing enough effort and determination to raise his grade point average to a C-plus.  He thought that his dad would have a stroke when he showed his final grades at the end of the year.  After coming home with such a good report, (Cody had felt like a third grader who had gotten straight A’s for the first time) his father had no choice but to allow him to return to school the following semester.  

Nobody, not even Charlie, knew the real reason why he had fought so hard to stay in school.  In fact, if Charlie ever found out, Cody thought that their friendship would be over.  His parents hoped that it was because he had finally realized the value of an education.  He had actually heard his mom telling his Aunt Grace that that was it. Yeah, right!  The real reason that he had busted his ass to stay in school was because he had fallen in love.  And if he hadn’t straightened out his academics, he would have either been kicked out of school by Dean Carpenter or pulled out by his father.  And that have meant that he would have never gotten the chance to be close to Charlie.

Just before going to sleep, or “passing out”, like Matt always called it, Charlie had told Dakota to head the big T-bird toward Milwaukee, Wisconsin, but during the restless sleep the singer had mentioned Chicago twice, so Cody figured that they were off to the “Windy City”.  He kept the car pointed in the same direction, noticing in the road atlas that he had borrowed from Dennis that he could take Interstate 65 all the way into Northern Indiana and catch Interstate 94.  I-94 cut straight through the heart of Chicago, and it also led to Milwaukee.  Cool.  If he was wrong about Chicago, they could just pass through and be in Wisconsin in no time.  Charlie could figure out where to go from there, and maybe they really could set up a few gigs for the band once they knew why Charlie had been drawn there in the first place.  

Dakota tightened up in his seat as Charlie began speaking in a strange language.  It sounded almost like Spanish, but it was more complex than the language that Cody had been trying to learn for the past four years.  He had taken Spanish in his junior and senior years in high school, under the expert tutelage of Mr. Lopez, and had attended classes the past two years at the university, and he still couldn’t really master it.  But there was an eerie feeling about the words that were coming out of his friends’ mouth.  It reminded Dakota of a scene in “The Exorcist”, where the little girl flipped out and started speaking in tongues.  A shiver danced its way up his spine.  He almost pulled the car over to the shoulder of the highway, but quickly changed his mind.  He was scared that if he pulled over, he would bolt from the car and hitchhike back to Athens, which he knew he couldn’t do.  He couldn’t leave.  Charlie needed him.  Otherwise he wouldn’t have been invited to come along in the first place.  Charlie never asked anybody for anything unless it was beneficial to both parties.  It had to be a “two way street”, was what Charlie always said.  But Cody knew that there had been many times when Charlie had gotten the better deal.  Everything was an ulterior motive to Charlie.  Even sex.  Dakota understood this, but he still couldn’t help falling in love with the olive-skinned, blonde-dyed, green-eyed Cajun.

Dakota looked in his rearview mirror, noticing for the first time that he had already driven through Atlanta.  The Thunderbird was speeding along Interstate 75, toward Chattanooga and Nashville according to the signs.  Nashville was only 196 miles away.  

As they passed the road sign that read “Calhoun Next Right”, Charlie’s eyes flew open.

“Frank!!!” screamed the weary Cajun.

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