Dead Spots (6 page)

Struggling to make sense of the dramatic shift in reality, she continued her frantic search through her purse until her fingers closed over the pepper spray tucked into a pink leather soft case. It was a Christmas gift from Estelle. Tanner had thought it was hilarious, but now Mackenzie was grateful she could defend herself. Jerking it out of her purse, she flicked off the safety. “I can hit you from here, so don't come any closer!”

Wearing a concerned expression, the man held out his hands in surrender. “I have no intention of hurting you. I'm not armed, so you can put that away.”

Estelle's voice was a raging tornado inside her head. “I'm not an idiot! You're bigger than me! So stay back!”

“I don't hurt women.”

Mackenzie heard a thump behind her. Spinning around, she aimed the pepper spray at a woman with a huge blond beehive standing at a cash register. A name badge identified her as Candy.

“Are you eating in, or taking out?” the waitress asked.

Opening her mouth in a soundless scream, Mackenzie stumbled backward. Nearly falling over a table, she yelped when the man seated there caught her and set her upright.

“Ma'am, you're looking a bit pale. Maybe you should sit down,” he suggested in a kindly Texan drawl.

Retreating from the customer, she saw that most of the booths and tables were now filled with a variety of people all gazing at her. She had to be having a psychotic break. This was impossible. The building had been derelict. There was no way it could be filled with customers.

“You're not real!” she gasped. “You can't be here! This … this place was empty!”

Mackenzie knocked into someone and screamed. A strong hand easily wrested the pepper spray from her trembling hand.

“I'll take that,” the now familiar voice of the man in the gray suit said.

Twisting away from him, she clutched the strap of the tote, swinging it about defensively. “Don't even try to hurt me!”

With a sigh, the man in the suit set the pepper spray on a table. “I have no desire to hurt you. There are worse things that will hurt you here, which is why I'm trying to help you before it's too late.”

“You're not making sense! None of this is making sense! Stay away! All of you!”

The handsome man stood between her and the front door. “I'm not going to hurt you. Please, just listen to what I have to say.” He moved as if to take hold of her arm.

Mackenzie fled through the kitchen door. The smell of cooking food filled her nostrils as she rushed past startled cooks. Shoving aside a busboy carrying dirty dishes, she ran for an exit on the opposite side of the room. Behind her dishes shattered, and startled cries competed with the sound of orders being called out by waitresses. Mackenzie hit the door at a full sprint, her hand gripping the knob, twisting and shoving. The door flew open and she tumbled down a short set of concrete steps, landing hard on her knees and hands. Somehow, she'd managed to hold on to the tote bag, but a few items scattered over the walkway. One of them was the yellow baby blanket still tucked in a roll. Scurrying forward, she snatched it up, wiped off the dirt, and shoved it back into the safety of her purse. Cramming everything else into the big bag, she fearfully glanced at the exit. A couple of cooks, their aprons stained with grease, blood, and sauces, peered out at her from the interior gloom.

Mackenzie hefted the tote onto her shoulder, got to her feet, and ran. The ground was uneven and her high-heeled boots snagged on roots and vines. Pressing her hand against the side of the building to keep her balance, Mackenzie checked behind her one last time before rounding the corner of the café.

No one was pursuing.

Her mind sifted through her jumbled incoherent thoughts, straining to make sense of what had just occurred. Could extreme stress cause hallucinations? It was the only answer that made sense.

The paint beneath her fingers was peeling and splinters poked her skin. The ragged, faded newspapers coated the windows and the structure appeared just as it had when she had arrived. The café's return to its former state was strangely calming. Maybe she was coming out of her delusion. Focusing ahead, she could just make out the edge of the overgrown parking lot. A few more steps and she would be out in the open. A few more steps after that, she would be in her car and speeding away. Her ragged breathing and wobbly heels were an impediment, but she kept moving forward.

“It wasn't real,” she mumbled, attempting to calm herself. “It wasn't real.”

Hurrying out of the shadow of the building, she darted across the front of the café toward the spot where she'd left the car.

Mackenzie stumbled to a halt.

Heart harshly thudding in her chest, Mackenzie stared in shock at the empty parking lot. The Taurus was not in sight. “This isn't real. This
can't
be real!”

Terror gripped her in its crushing grasp, heightening her senses. The sounds of the forest amplified to an almost painful level while the brightness of the sunlight filtering through the trees nearly blinded her. Whirling about, she searched for the missing vehicle in the overgrown brush and dark woods. The wind wildly flipped her hair as she rotated in a circle, clicking the Unlock button on the car remote while listening for the chirp of the alarm.

“Please, please, please,” she chanted.

The murk dwelling in the woods might be hiding her car, but it couldn't be blocking out the keyless remote, could it?

“It's not here,” the man in the gray suit said from behind her. “It didn't follow you into the dead spot.”

Mackenzie spun about, her dark tresses flailing against her face. The café was no longer leaning dangerously, or a sad reminder of glory days. It was freshly painted, the windows sparkling, and a neon sign over the door flashed the word
OPEN
.

“No,” she whispered. “No.”

Overcome, Mackenzie felt the strength go out of her limbs and she fell to her knees on the recently laid asphalt parking lot. The smell of tar mingled with the scent of pines and cooking food. Continuing to click the remote, Mackenzie stared through tear-filled eyes at the man cautiously walking toward her. It was hard to draw a full breath and her heart pounded so fiercely, it felt like it could shatter her rib cage. The man's gray coat fluttered around him as he came closer.

“I know it is a lot to take in. I know. I've been where you are.” His voice was rich, deep, and comforting. “I know you're afraid. I know that you feel like you're going insane. I felt the same way.”

Mackenzie stared at the spot where her car had resided, willing it to appear. The area remained defiantly empty. The band of tension around her chest made it difficult to breathe. The world grew gray and dim around the edges of her vision. Her thumb persistently pressed against the button on the remote. “This isn't happening.”

The suited man squatted before her, obstructing her view, forcing her to finally look at him. “It
is
happening.”

Gasping in short, quick breaths, she struggled to draw air into her oxygen-starved lungs.

“You need to breathe,” the man urged, resting a hand on her shoulder. “Take a deep breath.”

Wheezing loudly, she nodded, closing her eyes. Concentrating, she remembered the breathing techniques to calm her nerves. She inhaled through her nose and gradually exhaled through her mouth.

In, out, in, out …

Fresh air started to fill her lungs, calming her panic. Gradually, the tight coils in her back released and her neck unlocked from its rigid position. Her chest still felt tight and her heart still beat harshly, but she didn't feel as though she was on the verge of passing out anymore.

The man in the gray suit remained next to her, his hand rubbing her shoulder gently. She considered knocking his hand away, but the gesture of sympathy was strangely comforting. She also appreciated his silence. No empty words, no empty promises, no empty reassurances.

Lowering one hand, she pressed her fingers against the ground. She could feel the rough texture of the asphalt and the heat it radiated. It felt real. Had her dreams ever felt so vivid?

“Am I going insane?”

“You're
not
going insane. The world around you is insane, not you.”

“The café was abandoned. All boarded up!” Unshed tears caught in her lashes.

“Yes, I know. It's a dead spot. A place where life once thrived. Once humanity moves on, a place like this becomes a dead spot.”

Mackenzie clenched the remote in her hand. She needed to find her car and drive away from here. Her thumb clicked the button again.

“That's useless now. Your car is in the other world, not this one. The only things in this world are the objects abandoned by people over time.”

“I don't understand.”

“You will,” he promised sincerely. “What's your name?”

Mackenzie stared into his blue eyes hoping that he was just a hallucination of her tortured mind. Yet, she also wanted him to give her answers.

“Tell me your name first.” She clicked the button again.

“Grant. My name is Grant.”

“I'm Mackenzie.”

His hand plucked the key ring with the remote from her fingers. “Mackenzie, this won't help you escape from here.”

Though he seemed pleasant enough, she didn't trust him, figment of her imagination or not. “Grant, give me back my keys.”

With a sigh, he returned them.

“They're useless here, Mackenzie.”

“So you say.” She kept clicking and hoping.

“I know you're afraid. I know this feels…” Grant hesitated, rubbing his brow. “I know you feel crazy, but you're not. I promise you. You're not.”

“If I'm not insane, then what's happening to me?” She wanted him to give her an answer that didn't sound like a horror movie plot, but real and sensible even if he was just a delusion.

Tucking his hand under her elbow, he helped her stand. “You stumbled through a doorway into a dead spot and it closed behind you. Now you're trapped just like me.”

Mackenzie found her balance, but she still felt light-headed and weak. “And what's a dead spot?”

“Where we are.”

“That's not an answer, Grant.”

“Yes, it is. I know you want all the details, but I'd like to have a nice meal while I share the information with you. Okay?” A charming smile flitted across his finely shaped lips. Again, he reminded her of a movie star from the Golden Age of Hollywood.

Mackenzie strode to where her car had once stood and stared at the ground. What she expected to find she didn't know, but there was no sign that her car had come to rest at that spot.

“No skid marks,” she said thoughtfully.

“Your car was never here,” Grant called after her.

“Right. It's in the other world.”

Stepping into the middle of the road, she stared in one direction, then the other. She couldn't remember a car passing by since her near collision with the deer. The road curved away from her in either direction, empty and foreboding.

Biting her bottom lip, she rubbed her temple. Her head was pounding from the stress. If she was in a delusion brought on by a mental breakdown, how could she fight her way out of it?

Grant wandered into her field of vision and thoughtfully stared into the woods. Now that he was in the sunlight she could see that his suit was a little threadbare and wrinkled. Though he gave the impression of being rather clean-cut and dignified, she noted his scuffed shoes.

Directing her attention to the restored café, Mackenzie muttered, “I'm definitely having a breakdown.”

“No, you're not. You need to realize that and soon.”

“Why?”

“Because we have a very short time before you will see the true power of the dead spot. In fact, I suggest we take advantage of this interlude.” Grant laid a gentle hand on her shoulder and lightly pushed her toward the café. “I'm trying to help you, Mackenzie, because this place is dangerous.”

“The café?”

“No, this world.” Grant sighed wistfully. “I'm sorry to tell you that, but I have to be honest with you.”

“What's going to happen?” The muscles along her spine twisted into painful knots.

“I don't know,” Grant confessed. “But it's never pleasant. At least, not pleasant for long. We should take advantage of the lull to talk about what's happening to you. You do want to know what's going on, right?”

“Of course!”

“Then let's get something nice to eat, okay?”

If this was all some twisted dream, did it really matter if she went with him or not? At some point she'd have to wake up. The truth of the matter was that none of this could possibly be true.

“Okay,” she finally relented, then warily allowed him to guide her to the entrance of the café.

Beyond the doorway Mackenzie could see waitresses scurrying around, taking orders and chatting up smiling customers. Piping-hot food, delicious in appearance and smell, was hurried out to the tables by women in beehives and pink gingham dresses.

A fresh theory occurred to her and Mackenzie eagerly grasped at it. Maybe she was unconscious. Mackenzie raised a hand to her head to tug at her long hair in an attempt to wake herself. Her scalp protested, but the discomfort did not alter the landscape around her. She was locked into the mirage around her. “Maybe I was in a car accident. Maybe this is just a dream.”

“In some ways it is.”

“A dream?”

Grant didn't answer, but stepped inside the café. He held out his hand to her, his blue eyes filled with worrying compassion. It was as if he knew something terrible was going to happen and he pitied her.

“What happens when I go inside?” Mackenzie asked warily. Her grip on the purse strap tightened.

“We eat a nice meal before this all fades away,” Grant answered.

“And when it fades away, what happens?” Mackenzie licked at her dry lips nervously.