Dead Spots (40 page)

Lucas briefly touched her hand with his gloved one. “You're a tough
chica,
Mac.”

“Well, I
am
a Texan.”

That made Lucas grin. “And you don't mess with Texan women if you're smart.”

The Mustang was the only car on the long stretch, but occasionally murky creatures scampered along the edges of the road or lurked in copses of mesquite trees.

“You know, Lucas, he was afraid of you the second he saw you. He told me you were a human who hunted and killed people like me. I probably would have run away from you.”

“I don't blame you. Not really. People assume things when you look like me.”

Mackenzie rested her head on the back of the passenger seat, gazing at Lucas while he drove. She now wondered how she had ever thought he was intimidating or frightening. Yes, he had tattoos, his ears were pierced, and he had a strong face, but beneath it all he was one of the kindest people she had ever met. Everything about Grant had been rather elegant and charming. He'd come across as strong and dependable, yet in the end, he was the one she needed to fear.

“Mac, you're staring.”

“I was just thinking that you fit the description perfectly of the type of person my mother taught me to avoid. She would have thought Grant was amazing, but he's the monster.”

“Want me to blow your mind a little more?”

“Sure.”

Lucas pushed up the sleeve on his jacket. “See this?”

“Romans 8:28?” Mackenzie read the tattoo inscription aloud.

“‘All things work together for those who love God.' It's the verse I live by. It keeps me going and makes me not afraid.”

Mackenzie lifted her eyebrows in surprise. “You're a Christian?”

“I define myself as a Christ follower. I like his teachings. The whole be-good-to-your-fellow-man thing.”

“I thought Austin was the ‘bastion of heathens,'” Mackenzie said, quoting her mother.

“Everyone thinks that, but we've still got some Bible thumping going on in the city limits.”

“I don't know what I believe anymore,” Mackenzie confessed. “I was a Baptist, but after Joshua died I stopped believing in a lot of things. The whole God thing makes me uneasy, I guess. If God exists, I don't think I like him or her much.” Mackenzie shrugged slightly.

“If God exists, I'm sure he or she understands.”

Tears blinded her and she wiped them away with some agitation. “I'm tired of being unsure of things and being afraid. Of losing what is important to me.”

Lucas didn't give her a rote pandering response, or sympathetic look. Instead he pulled his firearm from its holster and handed it over.

“What's this?”

“If anything comes along and tries to take something you care about, shoot it.”

Laughter erupted from her, unexpected and refreshing. Holding the weapon, she ran her fingers over its cold metal surface. “Nice.”

“You know how to use it, right?”

“Mom and I used to shoot every Sunday evening.”

“A good ol' Texas girl. Where from exactly?”

“Kerrville, Texas. My mom owns a ranch there.”

“Then we're close to home, huh?”

It was painful to admit, but Mackenzie wasn't really sure she had a home anymore.

Mackenzie made sure the safety was on before tucking the gun into her purse. Lucas had recovered it after Grant died. Tugging out Joshua's rolled-up blanket, she placed it under Johnny's head for a pillow. Careful not to disturb the sleeping child, she scooted into the front of the car, plopping into the passenger seat. She lugged her purse after her and set it on the floor. Before leaving the motel, she had discarded the laptop, so it was much lighter.

The rising sun flooded the sky with pinks and purples as the night was vanquished for yet another day. A light mist drifted over the road and the scene outside the car windows was serene.

“Lucas, do you always see the world like you showed me last night?”

“Luckily, I can switch it off and on, but when I first got here, that's all I could see for the first day. It was pretty overwhelming. I found a place to hide and tried to figure out what was going on. It was like landing in a really screwed-up version of Oz. When I woke up the next day, everything appeared normal again. Throughout the day I kept seeing flickers of the reality of this world. I finally learned to use it at will.”

“Why are you a seer and not me?”

“I have no clue. It's been suggested that it's because I'm not afraid of anything. Seth and I have that in common. So maybe that's right.”

“What you can see is beautiful, but terrifying.” She purposefully banished the image of Grant's true face from her mind.

“It's rough to get used to at first and I had to figure out what certain things meant. Differentiating between wraiths and apparitions was a little tough at first.”

“‘Apparitions'? That's a new one. You used it last night.”

“Apparitions are made by wraiths and the nightmare realm based on your fears.”

“Those aren't wraiths?”

“Wraiths are people who have totally lost themselves to this world. Like Grant. Their life spark is gone.”

“And shadows are people who are crazy?”

“That's one of the terms for them. People make up their own words for them until they're corrected by someone else.”

Mackenzie pressed a hand to her torso. “The mark he put on me … Can you get it off?”

“I'm not sure. Though I have talked to a lot of others trapped here, I still don't know it all. I keep notes, but sometimes what I'm told is contradictory. But we'll find a way. My friend Seth may be able to help us.”

She nodded, swallowing nervously.

“So you want a shaper lesson?” Lucas asked.

“Yeah. Teach me.”

“First off, normal rules don't apply here. Most humans trapped here try to enforce the rules of our world in this one. That's why things are pretty boring.”

“Right, boring. Sure.” Mackenzie rolled her eyes. “Did you forget the whole shark-swimming-through-the-ground thing?”

“Well, look around right now. Most of the world looks exactly like ours. Except that way. Cities are always messed up. I've seen everything from terrorist attacks to people going naked to work.” He gestured to the horizon dotted with a few dream constructs. Burning buildings, terrifying castles, and what appeared to be a flock of huge bats were in the distance. “Three things affect this world: sleepers, shapers, and wraiths. Dead spots are nodes of concentrated energy and somewhat sentient, like wraiths. Shapers and wraiths can both manipulate them. Dead spots are pretty neutral unless they've been seriously corrupted by wraiths. Did Grant tell you any of that?”

“To some degree. He definitely told me I couldn't shape outside a dead spot and that I was powerless out here.” Mackenzie felt vastly uncomfortable talking about Grant. The image of how he had violently slammed into the café door kept replaying in her mind. She now realized he'd been pretending to be upset that the door was closed when he had actually trapped her inside the dead spot. The rage she felt at the thought slithered through her like molten lava.

“Well, that was so you'd feel dependent on him, handicap yourself, and he could gain power over you. So the first thing you have to tell yourself is that you can do whatever you want.”

“I have to admit I find that very appealing.”

“It's like magic. Kinda fun. So my theory is that the reason this world has the mask of our world is because those trapped inside it have made it this way. When the dreamers start affecting it, things get crazy.”

“Most of the bad things I experienced happened during the day.”

“You were with a wraith. He was stirring up as much activity as he could to keep you afraid and depending on him.”

“Okay, that makes perfect sense. Now I really want to shoot him with a bazooka.”

“You could actually do that. Because, remember, this world fashions itself to the will of the dreamers, or in our case, the shapers.” Lucas flashed a grin in her direction before raising his hand. “I need sunglasses.” The air shimmered briefly before a pair of aviator glasses appeared in his grip.

“It hurts when I shape. Does it hurt you?”

“Part of that may have been Grant eating bits of you. But it does take some practice. Try shaping something you really want right now.”

For one sharp, crazed moment, she thought of Joshua.

“Start simple. With something you used every day,” Lucas suggested.

Licking her lips nervously, Mackenzie finally settled on summoning a diet soda. She had one every morning. In her mind she saw the drink in her hand, the shape and the color of the can, the condensation clinging to the aluminum, and the sound of it fizzing in the container. A little yelp of surprise slipped from her when she felt the can solidify in her grip.

“See? Piece of cake.” Lucas gave her an approving smile.

“Great. Now I want cake.”

“And you can make that, too.”

“I just don't understand how the food and drinks or really any of this works? Are we real anymore?” Mackenzie stared at the can of soda thoughtfully. “If we're trapped in this world, are we made of the same stuff we were in the real world? Or are we now the stuff of dreams?”

From the tension in his jaw, Mackenzie realized she'd hit on something that bothered Lucas, too. He drove in silence for a few long beats, then finally shrugged. “Does it matter? We're obviously alive in some form. If we got in here, we have to be able to get out, right? These doorways can't just go one way.”

“But what if they do?”

“I can't let myself think that way,” Lucas admitted. “I'm going to find a way out for all of us. We're not going to stay in this world filled with things like Grant.” He looked over his shoulder at Johnny. “He's already been in here too long. His family is already destroyed.”

Mackenzie peeked into the backseat at the sleeping child. “If we get out, what happens to him?”

“I don't know. But I'll figure it out,” Lucas vowed.

Gently tucking the bigger blanket around Johnny's feet, Mackenzie smiled slightly. “I believe you will. You're a good guy.”

“I am, but I can be scary, too.”

“Maybe we need to be a little scary to survive in this world.”

Once she had a clear idea of how to fashion things into being, it became easier. She was even able to alter the heels of her boots so they were much lower and more comfortable.

Flat, lifeless, and empty, the landscape was eerie. Mackenzie caught a few glimpses of creatures lurking in the shadows, but as the sun climbed higher the more bizarre creatures and constructs disappeared. Within the hour they were speeding along an empty interstate under a bright, sunny sky. The marked difference in the atmosphere today in comparison to her travels with Grant was startling. Now she could see how much Grant had made the world dangerous and terrifying to keep her close to him.

Johnny woke up with a loud yawn and asked for a glass of water. When Mackenzie produced it out of thin air, he was thrilled. A bowl of cereal and cornflakes with bananas followed and the little boy crunched happily on his breakfast while staring out at the countryside.

“We've got a little over an hour still to George West. I have some dead spots to check out there.”

“That sounds fine,” Mackenzie said, sipping her soda.

“You sound off. What's bothering you?”

“Heading away from the café feels wrong. I guess I thought I could find my way home through there and that idea hasn't quite died yet,” Mackenzie confessed.

“Your best chance to make it back through that door was when Grant stopped you.” Lucas rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “But if you feel we should go back, we could give it a try.”

“Grant might be waiting for us.” Mackenzie squirmed in her seat, trying to get comfortable. For a second, out the window, she glimpsed several women dressed in flowing white dresses, then they were gone. The vision made her shiver, unsure of what it meant.

“I'm bored. Can I have toys?” Johnny asked.

“Of course! What do you want?” Mackenzie asked.

For the next hour, she amused Johnny by making toy cowboys. She tried to explain that the Indians were really Native Americans and the true history of the Old West, much to Lucas's amusement.

“He's just reenacting the episodes from the show, Mac. Next thing you know he'll have them fighting dinosaurs.”

“Nope. Zombies. I don't like them. The cowboys need to kill them.” Johnny ran Silver along the backseat, a grim air about him.

Mackenzie let out a startled gasp when the terrain around the car abruptly altered. Instead of flat ranchlands full of mesquite trees, it transformed into an endless black-and-white graveyard filled with the shambling undead. The highway melted into a narrow path that sliced through the cemetery. Lucas reluctantly brought the car to a full stop.

“Hey, Johnny. You don't need to stop playing or anything,” Lucas said in an even, calm voice, “but could you not think about zombies right now? Think about cowboys and the Lone Ranger, okay?”

The little boy didn't even look out the windows as he played. His bottom lip was slightly trembling. “I was just remembering how that one always tries to bash my head.”

The first zombie from
Night of the Living Dead
ambled out from among the gravestones, clutching a piece of a tombstone in its hand. Mackenzie spotted it and quickly fished the gun out of her purse.

“Johnny,” Mackenzie said in a very gentle voice. “Why don't you think about good things? I don't want to remember the bad things from yesterday.”

The cemetery shimmered, briefly replaced by the Texas landscape, then returned to grainy black and white. The zombies continued to trudge toward the car, their blank, lifeless faces making Mackenzie shudder. It was only a matter of seconds before the first zombie from the movie would be upon them.