Experiment in Terror 03 Dead Sky Morning (10 page)

My breath slowed as my eyes locked on the back of her head. The hair was old–fashioned, like something Betty Grable would have worn with short, perfectly coiled curls. It was the shade of the palest smokey lavender. I had seen that hair color on someone before.

I wanted to lean forward to get a better look at what she was wearing but I already knew what I was going to see. The puffed taffeta collar at her neck was enough of a hint. As were the glimpses of pom pom appliqués through the rail.

I froze in my seat. My thoughts slowed. I only had one.

She was here.

The lady shifted, subtly, like she was receiving some incoming message from me, and turned around at an excruciatingly slow pace. She really was in slow motion – the rest of the world around me continued on at its regular go.

And then her eyes were peering up at me through the space in the railing. Blank pools of darkness rimmed by a shoddy makeup job. Below them her mouth was spread wide in a disturbing grin, her face cracked by the corners of her shellacked lips. It was a mask of pure and utter derangement and it was looking at me. Looking
into
me.

Every inch of my body was telling me to run; my nerves were sizzling at their endings from the build–up of dread. I wanted to look at Jim to see if he could see what I saw, to make me feel safe, to make me feel sane, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t do anything but watch.

Time seemed to lose all meaning and I wasn’t sure if it was seconds or minutes that passed while I was under her spell, while we just stared at each other like two equally immovable corpses.

Then…

They look at you the way they looked at me.

Her lightly accented words formed in my head, much like they had on previous occasions. She had the ability to talk to me without opening her mouth.

I opened my mouth to say, “Who?” but caught myself. I don’t think I could have formed the words if I’d tried. It didn’t matter anyway because her voice continued resonating inside my skull like I was hearing someone yell underwater.

They’ll always be afraid of you.

Who?
I projected.

He’ll fear you too.

Dex?
I thought. He had already told me that on several occasions.

A different kind of fear.

What kind of fear?

I loved her so much but the fear drove her away. They put me away.

Who? Who did? Who is she?

It will happen all over again. They’ll take you too. And I won’t be able to help you. It will be too late.

Help me?
I thought, while waves of dizziness pulled at my eyes. Despite the anguish in her words, her face remained caught in that same, creepy clown–faced expression.
How are you helping me? What do you want from me? Why are you here?

I’m always here. I always have been. But you can’t end up like me.

How the hell would I ever end up like you?
I mustered.

It’s easy. You let them talk to you, you talk to them. Everyone will pull away, all the ones that you love, and you’ll realize they never loved you. Not enough. Blood runs thin. There are no ties. And they’ll take you too.

Take me where?!
Panic and frustration shivered up my spine. I didn’t know what she was talking about and it was terrifying. She was talking inside my head. She was here. She had to know something.

You’re not crazy. But I’m not here.

What the fuck?

Be there for him. He may be the only one there for you in the end. The end. When they come for you. That’s the end. Then it’s just you and me. Forever. Forever. Forever.

Her words grew louder and louder as they bounced around in my head until they were as loud as a jackhammer and as painful as a drill. I closed my eyes in pain and put my hands to my ears, vaguely aware that people were staring at me. I thought I heard Jim ask, “Are you all right?” but it was barely audible above the racket inside my brain.

Her face flashed before my closed eyes and she was inside of me. I was unable to escape her stretched, inhumane face. The darkness started to close around me like a cloak. There was no way out.

I screamed and jumped up, stumbling over my purse. The bright lights of the arena blinded my eyes but I kept them focused enough on the ground in front of me. I grabbed my purse and made a run for it, nearly tripping again over Dex’s empty seat, and then flung myself awkwardly down the steps, almost taking out a young boy who was making his way into the stands.

“Sorry,” I cried out, and I got a quick glimpse of where I had been sitting. The crowd around me was staring at me full of amusement and concern, while Creepy Clown Lady sat there, watching me. Always watching me.

I looked away before she could get in my head again, before I could hear her demonic chanting, and booked it down the hallway that lead into the rest of the building. I ran until I was out beside the concession stand we had been at earlier. It was now closed, which made me feel even more creeped out, but there were enough people milling about, leaving the game early, so that I wasn’t entirely alone.

I leaned forward, my hands on my knees. I needed to catch my breath and to lasso my brain, which was running wildly all over the place. What had just happened? And did it actually happen?

I listened, half expecting her voice to resonate in my head again, but there was nothing but the sound of my heart pounding madly and the pulsing flow of blood. I wasn’t as relieved as you would think. I was just worried. She said she wasn’t there, but I had seen her. I had heard her. Rarely do your illusions tell you they are actually illusions. Just how fucking crazy was I?

As I pondered that, my mind running over what she said, what she could have meant, I realized that Dex was standing nearby. He was leaning against the wall near the entrance to the restrooms, his back to me, his head bent over. It didn’t look like he was on the phone anymore. He looked so vulnerable in his ratty jersey, back to me, back to the things he was afraid of.

A different kind of fear.

I straightened up and walked over to him. Even if he wanted to be alone, I sure as hell didn’t.

“Hey,” I said. I still hadn’t caught my breath yet so the word came out in a whisper.

He didn’t move or flinch. I stopped in front of him. He kept his head down, staring at a spot on the floor. I followed his eyes. There was nothing there.

Did he just have the same experience as I had?

“Dex,” I whispered. “Are you OK? Did you see her too?”

He blinked, a sign that he had heard me, and lifted his head. He looked horrible. His eyes were dull like they had given up seeing anything, his lips were raw and chewed on. His hair was messier than normal, as if he had been pulling it out. I forgot all about clown lady and immediately wanted to embrace him, to smooth down his hair with my hands, to make everything OK. If only I had that power.

“Oh,” he said listlessly. “I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Neither are you. You look spooked.”

“I am spooked. About you.” And Creepy Clown Lady but for some reason I didn’t feel like I should bring it up, lest the attention get diverted to me. I wanted to know what happened to him. I needed to know.

“Who was on the phone? Who called you?” I asked, carefully placing my hand on his shoulder. He stared at me. From that angle, with the way that his arched brows connected with the bone, he was as unnerving as she had been. I thought he was going to kill me.

I took my hand off of his shoulder. That action broke his concentration. The hate left his eyes, his forehead relaxed.

He came off of the wall and stretched his arms above his head. He groaned, holding the pose for a few seconds, then let his limbs flop to the side. He shook out his shoulders, pursed his lips and said, “You want to get out of here? Game’s almost over. We have this one in the bag.”

There was nothing I wanted more than to get the hell out of there, but I wasn’t going without an answer of some kind.

I sighed and stood rigidly, hoping I conveyed business. It was hard to feel authoritative at my height.

“We’ll go when you tell me what the hell is going on,” I said sternly, keeping my eyes as hard as steel.

He gave me a wry look. “No offense Perry, but some things are a private matter.”

Oh.

“I’m sorry,” I said feebly. “I’m just worried about you.”

He shrugged. “It’s fine.

“Was it Jenn? Is she OK?”

“It’s
fine
.”

I could tell he didn’t want to talk about it. And after all, why should he discuss personal problems with me? I didn’t discuss personal things with him.

“Now, are
you
OK?” he asked, taking a step closer.

I quickly nodded. If that’s how he was going to be, I didn’t have to share my fears either. My fears that I might be going insane.

“Then we’re all good,” he stated. “Do you want to come with me to a strip club?”

“Say what?”

“Come on.” He took my arm and led me towards the doors just as the buzzer from inside went off, signaling the end of the game. “Game’s done. The rest of the night awaits.”

* * *

It probably won’t come as much of a surprise to you but I had never been in a strip club before. I wasn’t sure exactly what to expect, yet it still met my expectations. I’ve never blushed so hard before in my life.

After we left the hockey arena, beating the throngs of excited and drunk fans by milliseconds, we walked quickly through the brisk night air until we got to a strip club/hotel past our hotel, just at the foot of the Granville St. Bridge.

It was apparent that Dex had been here many times before. It wasn’t like the barely–dressed waitresses knew him by name or anything, but he knew his way around the place all right. For a minute I was certain he was going to make us sit at the foot of the stage where the bare–breasted strippers danced but I think he could tell I was feeling as awkward as anything and led me to a dark, small booth in the corner. We still had a nice view of the stage anyway. Well, nice for him.

“Look at it this way,” he said to me as the waitress gave us our drinks (he ordered us both Jack and Coke, big surprise). “You pay cover going into any other bar nowadays. Might as well get a show with it as well.”

He raised his glass at me. I held up mine.

“Even though these drinks are probably $10 each?” I mused.

“Oh, it’s worth it.” And then we clinked glasses.

I looked around us warily. The place was half full. The creepier guys were as close to the dancers as possible, as were your usual Ed Hardy–wearing douchebags. On the stage the last stripper was just stepping off and another one was coming on. She was dressed in a flurry of sequins and sheer clothing. Having just seen the previous girl exit bare–ass naked, I knew it wouldn’t be long before this one would be as well. She was tall, beautifully crafted (by God and her plastic surgeon) and had a thick wave of ravishingly red hair.

“I guess we’ll find out soon if the carpet matches the drapes,” I said underneath my breath.

“Ha,” he remarked, leaning back in his seat. “There’s not a carpet in this place. All hardwood.”

The music came on and the stripper started her artful grinding.

“Marla always has the best moves here, doesn’t she?” he said, his eyes enraptured with her, as if I’d know. I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy at the way he was looking at her.

“You know her name?”

“You always remember the best ones. That’s not saying much,” he said. I never really took Dex for a stripper sort of guy. In fact, I never really thought of Dex as much of a guy in many respects. But why not? He played video games. He liked rock music. He probably watched a lot of porn as well. And like most guys, it didn’t seem to matter that his own girlfriend was a million times hotter than any of these girls.

I remember finding out my boyfriend in college, Mason, had a nasty porn habit. It wasn’t even that nasty; I was just so shocked. Why did he need porn when he had me? Looking back, I don’t blame him one bit for it. Maybe it’s because now that I was older, I kind of understood. And maybe it would have disappointed the old me to learn that Dex was a frequent customer of strip clubs, but now it didn’t at all. If it hadn’t made me feel deathly insecure about my own appearance, it would have been a turn on. Not that I needed another reason to find my partner attractive.

He shot me a sly look, and asked, “Is this making you uncomfortable?”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“You think less of me now.”

I laughed at the mock hurt look on his face. “If anything I think more of you.”

He smiled and reached over for my glass, lifting it up to my face for me to drink. “Good,” he said. “You’re learning.”

I raised my brow but slurped back on the drink. I didn’t need all that much encouragement, though my tiny voice of reason piped up that getting drunk around Dex, at a strip club, was not the best idea. It was only a matter of time before my insecurities starting spilling out of me, leaving me as exposed as Marla, who, at this point, had no hair down there to verify that she was a redhead. Dex was right. All hardwood.