Dead Spots (16 page)

Mackenzie hooked one leg over the edge and pulled her body upward. A silent mourner leaned toward her, holding out its doll, tilting its head back and forth. Climbing to her knees, Mackenzie shrank away from the doll. It reeked of mold, dirt, and death. Beneath the rough fabric, something writhed.

Horrified, she dragged the knife out of the ground and thrust it toward the creatures. “Leave me alone!”

Grant hooked his hands under her arms and dragged her fully upright. Wrapping one arm around her waist, Grant shoved the mourners aside, the creatures drifting a few feet away before venturing close again. Mackenzie threatened the ones who drew too close with the knife clutched in her hand.

Arriving at the shoulder, they raced along through the wild grass bordering it. The graves filled the road in every direction and the silently screaming women trailed after Mackenzie and Grant. They were everywhere, their emaciated bodies hunched over their hideous dolls, their mouths gaping in despair.

Mackenzie ran in a full sprint behind Grant, her lungs burning, her heart thudding. Fear gave her energy and strength to keep moving when her side cramped and her knees ached. They didn't stop running until they arrived at the long dirt drive to the house they had taken refuge in the night before.

Breathless, she grabbed Grant's arm to pull him into the safety of the dead spot. “Please, I need to rest.”

“We can't.” Grant's eyes darted toward the house.

Mackenzie followed his gaze and cried out in frustration. Graves and silent mourners surrounded the house. There were so many the hems of their gowns melded into a dark mist that rolled along the ground. Reluctantly, Mackenzie pushed on, her hand holding her side. Tears dripped from her eyelashes and over her cheeks. She sobbed with anger and frustration, but terror kept her limbs moving. She didn't want to know what lay beneath the cloth faces of the dolls, or see the anguished faces of the creatures that so poignantly reflected her own grief when she had laid her baby to rest.

Grant stretched his hand toward her and Mackenzie took it gratefully. Together, they ran from the dead spots and into the world of dreams and nightmares.

 

CHAPTER 9

The water tasted like a divine elixir. Mackenzie gulped it down and then poured the rest over her hot face. The water pump she had restored was in a dead spot near an old general store that was boarded up and left to rot. Grant had determined the building was abandoned too long to yield anything useful if restored, so they had skirted around it to the old pump located behind it. Mackenzie was grateful that Grant had remembered using it during his previous travels through the area. She felt like she was dying of thirst after running nearly two miles to escape the fearsome mourning creatures and their disturbing rag dolls.

Squatting behind the bushes and trees encircling the building, Mackenzie used her hand to scoop up the water and savored a long drink. They took turns working the pump so they could both get their fill.

Mackenzie rubbed her wet, cool hands over her neck and face while studying their surroundings through the foliage that hid them. All that remained of the town was a gas station, restaurant, garage, and city hall.
OPEN
signs were tucked into windows and the lawn around the civic building was freshly cut. The structures of the living stood devoid of any activity.

“So we can't touch the other world at all?” Mackenzie tilted her head to gaze at Grant.

He shook his head, beads of water dotting his dark hair. “No. We can't interact with objects, or people. It's useless to even try. We're ghosts to that world.”

“But we can see it?” That had surprised her. For some unknown reason, she had assumed that they would not be able to see the towns and cities of the living world. That apparently wasn't the case at all.

“It's like a snapshot of the other world. A photograph. We can see it, but not interact with it. We can't see people, animals, or the moving vehicles of the other world either.”

“That doesn't make sense.”

“Who says this world has to make sense? It just is.” He shrugged dismissively. “You learn to adapt.”

Mackenzie scrutinized her surroundings thoughtfully. The more she studied the town, the more she realized it was nothing like the real world. Murky shadows moved along the sides of the buildings, probing every window and doorway. For a few mere seconds they would take on the shape of a person, or a ghastly creature, or even inanimate objects before dissolving into murky shapes again.

“Are those wraiths?” she asked in a hushed voice.

“Yes, they are. They manifest the creations of people's dreams and nightmares.” Grant finished with the pump and stared out at the town. “They're constantly in flux until they find a mind that is projecting their fears.”

“Someone who is sleeping.”

Grant nodded. “Or drunk, high, or just plain crazy. Or until they find one of us. The unfortunates that stumbled into a dead spot.”

“How many are there of us? The trapped ones?”

“I honestly don't know. I've traveled for months without finding another person. That was why I was so shocked to find you. But then again, you had just entered.”

Mackenzie tilted her head to gaze up at the massive buildings rising up over a farmhouse near the town. They resembled partially constructed skyscrapers from New York or Chicago. They leaned dangerously over the house. “What's going on there?”

“That's the manifestation of the fears of whoever lives there,” Grant answered, then pumped more water for her.

Mackenzie cupped her hands under the stream of water and sipped it from her palm while regarding the strange construct. “So they're afraid of big cities?”

“Or maybe what a big city represents to them.” Grant continued to work the pump, using a kerchief to wipe off his face.

“So all of that is caused by someone in a dead spot?”

“Yes. My guess is it's a shadow.”

“Someone who has gone crazy in here?”

“Exactly.”

“So we shouldn't go up and just knock and say hello, huh?”

“Shadows are dangerous. They're not completely drained of their life force like a wraith, but they're insane. Maybe it's their insanity that keeps them from becoming a wraith, but it also makes them a threat to people like us.”

Lightly running her tongue over her lips, Mackenzie focused on the general store next to her. “How long before this dead spot comes for us?”

“It's watching and waiting right now. Trying to pluck from our minds how best to attack, or waiting for us to manipulate it into the dream of the past.” Grant had removed his jacket and he wiped at a dirty spot on his shirt with his moistened kerchief.

Mackenzie couldn't help but smirk at his fruitless endeavor to stay tidy. Now that the adrenaline rush was over and the silent mourners were far away, she wanted to take a long nap. The ghastly creatures with their rag dolls had been a mockery of her pain. The anger that had filled her in the aftermath had produced a pounding headache and she felt a little light-headed.

The world was changing around them while she observed. A fire that didn't burn raged along a tree line. Strange predatory birds flitted from the electric lines to buildings. Something that resembled a dinosaur prowled around a small house, pecking at the windows.

“I hate this place,” Mackenzie grumbled.

“This isn't even the worst of it,” Grant responded with a wry smile upon his face.

“That's not a comforting thought.”

“We should move on.” Grant collected his jacket from where he had hung it on a branch. His shirt was neater than Mackenzie's muddy jeans and top. She had the terrible feeling she was not done running today, so she hadn't bothered cleaning up. “We'll head out of town on the back roads and avoid the main road completely. The area is stirred up even though it's a small town.”

“Why is that?” Mackenzie picked up her knife and purse. She noted that the knife was back to pristine condition now that she was in a dead spot again.

“People who are not mentally well draw in the wraiths.” Grant glanced toward the towering half-formed skyscrapers. “I think that's our culprit right there. The shadow.”

Standing, Mackenzie studied the tall buildings that reached bizarre heights, almost breaking through the clouds above. Unsettled by their odd appearance, she took a few steps back so that she was better hidden from the main street. There were dark shapes circling the skyscrapers, flying high above the ground. There was a dull throbbing in the air that was steadily growing. Mackenzie looked toward the street again. The wraiths were moving toward the skyscrapers, rising up to join the others swirling around the buildings.

“It's building up to an event,” Grant decided. “We need to go before we get caught in it.”

“Is that why the air feels so weird?”

“Exactly.”

Ducking behind the trees, Mackenzie followed Grant through the underbrush toward the road they had traveled to enter the town.

“So a crazy person draws them all in and then what?”

“You're about to find out.” Grant was moving faster now, ducking around branches and shoving through overgrown weeds.

A massive wave of heat slammed into Mackenzie, tossing her off her feet before a thunderous explosion ripped through the air. Mackenzie landed painfully on an outcropping of rocks and winced. Raising her head, she saw the skyscrapers on fire, raining debris on the small farmhouse. The dark shapes whirled faster and faster, fanning the flames higher and higher.

“It looks like the building in
The Towering Inferno
or 9/11,” Mackenzie grunted, climbing to her feet.

Huge fireballs blasted out of the windows and Mackenzie screamed, covering her face just before another shock wave hit them. Smoke, dust, and ash filled the air in a rolling wave that washed over them.

Grabbing her arm, Grant tugged her along. “We need to keep going. This place is very active.”

Mackenzie dodged around fallen branches and tried to avoid the more uneven patches of ground. Air sirens sounded while more explosions rocked the town and made the earth tremble. It was difficult to maneuver through the trees: the smoke, ash, and heat made it difficult to see or breathe.

“What the hell?” Mackenzie cried out.

“Just keep moving!” Grant called out. His tall body was a dark shape wading through the thick cloud of dark smoke.

They finally crashed through the last of the trees and darted onto the country road. To her surprise, the air was clear, refreshing, and slightly cool. The air sirens and explosions fell abruptly silent. Looking over her shoulder, Mackenzie was stunned to see the skyscrapers returned to their former appearance. The sky was clear and there wasn't any sign of the thick billowing smoke. The sinister forms still circled the towers, careening wildly in an aerial dance. Mackenzie had the impression they were waiting for the explosions to begin again.

“What was that?” she demanded, rubbing the grit from her face with the edge of her shirt.

“That person's fears manifested,” Grant answered in a neutral tone.

“That was insane! One person's fears do that here?”

“I was told about what happened to New York and Washington. That sort of event will have a terrible effect on already sick minds. And that's nothing compared to the nuclear explosions I witnessed near New York. Someone's Cold War fears.” He wagged his head. “You don't want to experience those.”

“This is insane!” Mackenzie exclaimed. “Simply … insane!”

“Since when do dreams, or nightmares, make any real sense?” Grant handed her his damp kerchief. “You have soot all over your face.”

With a weary sigh, she took the cloth and wiped at her face. She didn't point out that Grant's suit had taken yet another beating. His hair was covered in ash, and his shirt was far from white.

Handing it back, she hauled her purse over her shoulder and waved toward the road.

“Lead on, fearless leader.”

“Is that sarcasm?” Grant lifted his brows, amused.

“No, not really. But seriously, let's get out of here before that happens again.”

Strolling alongside Grant, Mackenzie glanced toward the houses tucked into the woods. They looked like regular homes, but strangely stagnant. Grant was right. It was as though she were walking through a snapshot of this road. Everything appeared oddly flat and empty.

As she continued to peer at the houses through the dappled light, she realized that her assessment was not entirely correct. Strange creatures lurked in the murk dwelling beneath the trees and bushes. She couldn't clearly make out what they were, but she doubted she truly wanted to discern their appearance.

“Don't look at them too long. We don't want any coming after us,” Grant warned her. “Wraiths are usually attached to just one location unless they become aware of one of us. Even the wraiths of the dead spots won't follow us from one area to another.”

“But those … mourners followed us. They were at the house, too,” Mackenzie protested.

Grant shook his head. “All that energy you used to shape the house last night was manipulated by your fears today. You were afraid of the graves and the … uh … mourners, so that is what it created to feast off of you.”

Incredulous, Mackenzie shook her head.

Grant lightly touched the small of her back, a fleeting gesture she was sure he meant to be reassuring. “You're doing okay so far, Mackenzie.”

“If you call being nearly buried alive by my ex-husband and haunted by a bunch of creepy women clutching dolls doing okay, I don't like the sound of that. What do you consider doing badly?”

“Dying,” Grant answered simply.

“Not comforting.” Mackenzie frowned at him. “When can I go back to the café?”

“Not for a while.” Grant's gaze constantly shifted to scrutinize their surroundings.