Sweet Dreams (9 page)

 

No matter how hard and fast the kids pedaled, the light seemed to pace them, sometimes on their right, sometimes on their left. It seemed to be mocking them silently, ominously.

Whenever they rode past a lighted home and saw people in their living rooms or dens, Heather and Marc would scream at the men and women and children.

But their shouts and screams fell on deaf ears. It was as if all the townspeople had become deaf and mute – as if Marc and Heather had become invisible.

“Marc!” Heather screamed. “What's happening to us?”

“I don't know,” Marc returned the shout. “Just keep heading for Doctor Baldwin's office.”

“He won't be
there.”

“I know that,” Marc panted the words. “But maybe there'll be a sign on his door telling where he lives.”

“No! We've got to find a phone booth and look up his street address. That's the only way.”

They pedaled past a teenage boy and girl standing on the sidewalk. The kids waved and yelled at the teenagers. The young couple stared at the kids in stony silence.

“I'm getting scared, Heather!”

“Getting
scared?” she panted. “I've been that way for half an hour.”

The strange humming emanating from the traveling ball of light changed into an evil chuckling. The light paused for a few seconds by the motionless pair of teenagers standing on the sidewalk. As it enveloped them in its light, it seemed to grow stronger, the glow becoming brighter and the ball enlarging in size and shape.

But those seconds gave Heather and Marc a full two-block lead. The kids turned down a side street and pedaled furiously. They could see, under the glow of a street lamp, a closed service station. But the phone stall was lighted. They rode hard for that.

Straddling their bikes, Heather hurriedly fumbled at the dangling phone book and found Doctor Jerry Baldwin's home address.

“I know where that is,” Heather said. “That's just three blocks from my house.”

Marc looked at her in horror. “You mean we gotta go back
that way?”

“We'll take the long way around. Down side streets. Maybe we can lose the light.”

“Hey!” a man's voice called to them. “What are you two doin' out here in the middle of the night in your bedclothes?”

“Mister,” Heather said, “please help us.”

The glowing ball of light appeared out of the darkness, hovering several blocks away.

“Help you do what?”

Marc pointed down the long street. “See that light down there, mister?”

The man looked. “Naw. I don't see no light nowhere. What light?”

“That bobbing ball of light right down there!” Heather said, pointing.

The man again peered into the darkness. “Ya'll funnin' me, ain't you, kids? There ain't no lights down there 'ceptin' street lights.”

“He can't see it,” Marc whispered. “I don't know why he can't, but he can't see it. Heather, we got to get out of here.”

“Mister?” Heather asked. “Can you tell us a shortcut to Doctor Baldwin's house?”

The light slowly approached them, but it was still two blocks away.

The man giggled and the kids knew then the man was not quite right in the head. “Oh, I could tell you. But he ain't there. He works fast, that Doc. Wife ain't even planted yet and Doc's got hisself another honey to play with. He's over to that head shrinker's house. Doc Benning.” He looked at the kids. “Ya'll on dope, ain't ya?”

“No, sir,” Heather said.

“Gimme some dope.”

The light moved closer.

“We don't take dope, sir,” Marc said.

“Ya'll gotta be. Both of you seein' lights and shit like that in your heads. Gimme some dope!”

“Mister,” Heather said. “We're not taking any dope. Can you please tell us how to get to Doctor Benning's house?”

The light was now a block away. It paused in its movement. It waited, hovering just above the ground.

The man giggled. “I will if you gimme something in return.”

“All right,” Heather said. “We'll give you the secret of eternal life.”

“
Naw!
Ya'll can't do that. Can you?”

“Yes. But first you have to tell us the way to Doctor Benning's house.”

“How do I know you won't try to hook me if'n I do tell you?”

“We won't. Tell us. Please?”

“Go two blocks, thataway,” he said, pointing. “Take a right, and you're there.”

The kids pushed off, pedaling hard.

“Hey!” the man shouted. “Ain't you gonna tell me the secret of eternal life?”

“Don't die!” Heather shouted over her shoulder.

“That makes sense,” the man muttered. He shuffled off down the street.

Marc and Heather did not turn around. Had they done so, they would have seen the light race toward the man and envelop him in its glow. The light suddenly recoiled from the man, its pulsing appearing angry.

It glowed a deep red, and then followed Marc and Heather.

Two long-denied, bruised, and wary libidos came together in a rush of emotion. They left a trail of clothing from the den to the bedroom.

Jerry cupped one full breast and began tonguing the nipple, enjoying the taste, the swelling tautness, the feel of the woman as she arched her back and pressed her nakedness against his.

She opened her legs and pulled him to her, one hand gripping his hot stiffness and guiding him into her hot softness.

Their physical needs were quickly sated, and then the M.D. and the Ph.D experienced a few moments of hot embarrassment as they reached for rumpled clothing and began to dress, trying very hard to avoid eye contact and trying just as hard to avoid bumping into each other.

Maryruth finally sat down on the edge of the bed and began laughing.

Jerry looked at her. “What? . . .”

She looked up at him and shook her head as she ran her fingers through her tangled black hair. “Jerry, do you have any idea how foolish you look standing there with your shirt buttoned wrong, wearing one shoe and no pants?”

A grin slowly split his face. “May I tell you that you are a beautiful lady?”

“And may I tell you that you are a handsome man?”

They laughed at each other.

Maryruth had managed to find her jeans and put them on, but her bra was missing and she was naked from the waist up.

“I think it's in the hall,” Jerry said.

“What?”

“Your bra.”

“Jesus!” She laughed and then sobered for a moment. “Are you sorry it happened, Jerry?”

“No. Don't be silly.”

“I'm not sorry. I've never experienced postcoital depression.”

“Nor I.” Jerry found his trousers and put them on with as much dignity as he could muster, considering the situation and his awareness that Maryruth's eyes followed his every movement.

“You have a nice derrière, Jerry.” She grinned, knowing what his reaction would be.

She was not disappointed. “Good God, Maryruth,” he said.

She laughed at him. “It's true, though. You think men are the only ones who appreciate a trim butt?”

“I really haven't given that much thought,” he said, zipping up his trousers. Then he chuckled. “I . . .”

Frantic banging on the front door put a damper on the conversation. Maryruth worked hurriedly at the buttons of her blouse and looked around the room for her tennis shoes.

“Shit!” she said, unable to find the shoes.

“I'll get it,” Jerry said. He took a closer look at her. “Love the way your nipples look under that thin shirt.”

“Get out of here,” she grinned. “Stall whoever it is for a minute, will you?”

On the doorstep, Jerry saw the kids, both dressed in pajamas, frightened looks on their young faces, but then what caught his eyes and held his attention was a huge ball of light, bobbing just on the edge of the yard.

“What in the hell is
that?”
he blurted.

“Then you can see it?” Heather asked.

Before he could reply to her question, Maryruth joined him on the porch. She gasped at the strange sight.

“You can see it, too?” Marc asked.

“Of course I can see it. But what in the world is it?”

“The other adults can't see it,” Heather said. “Please let us in before the light catches us.”

Jerry waved the kids inside and they scampered into the house, relief evident on their faces.

“We gotta talk,” Heather blurted. “You're not going to believe what's been happening to us tonight.”

“What is that . . . thing out there?” Maryruth persisted.

“We don't know,” both kids replied.

“Do your parents know where you are?” Jerry asked.

“No,” Heather answered. “They're all unconscious.”

“What!” Maryruth exclaimed.

Maryruth and Jerry listened intently, incredulous looks growing on their faces as the boy and girl blurted out their tales. The doctors exchanged glances of disbelief. Maryruth led the kids into the den and sat them down. Then she went into the kitchen and, with Jerry helping, fixed glasses of milk and a plate of cookies. While the kids snacked, Jerry had them repeat their stories.

Nothing changed during the second telling. Jerry went to the den window and looked out. The light still bobbed above the sidewalk in front of Maryruth's house.

“Dolls and teddy bears that come alive?” he muttered. “Toy soldiers with real guns that shoot? A door that changes into gym pads?”

“Say that last bit again, Jerry,” Maryruth requested.

It was repeated.

“Van Bishop is a star athlete, right?” she said.

“That's right,” Jerry said.

“Gym pads would be firmly implanted—the thought of them—in his mind, right?”

“I imagine so, but what has that got to do with Heather
seeing
them?”

“Mind projection, perhaps.”

Jerry looked at her, skepticism evident on his face.

“I'm just looking for a way to go, Jerry.”

“That's reaching, isn't it?”

“Can you offer something better?” she challenged him.

Jerry didn't reply to that. He turned and once more gazed out the den window. “I'm not believing this,” he said. “But how can I deny it when the goddamn thing is right in front of my eyes?”

“The light by the old tracks,” Maryruth said, almost to herself.

Jerry turned away from the glowing ball and looked at the woman. “Do you know what you're saying,
Doctor
Benning?”

She ignored the slur on her profession, bit back an equally sharp retort. “Yes, Jerry, I realize what I'm saying.”

He shook his head and rubbed his face. “Accept my apologies, Maryruth?”

“Certainly.” She turned to the pair of young people:

“Matt Bradford will be coming to see Doctor Baldwin in the morning,” Marc said. “I betcha on that. I whacked him pretty good; busted his nose with my baseball bat.”

“And don't forget Van Bishop,” Heather sid. “You gave him a pretty good whack, too.”

Maryruth got up and walked to Jerry's side by the big picture window. She looked out. The bobbing glow seemed to stare back at her. She shivered. “It's . . . eerie, isn't it?”

“Yes. You realize if we call the police, they won't believe a word we tell them.”

“I'm sure of that.”

They both stared at the glowing ball.

“If other adults can't see the light,” Maryruth said, “then how can we?”

“ 'Cause maybe you both believe,” Heather said with simple youthful logic. “Maybe neither of you have lost what you believed in as kids.”

Jerry smiled. “Out of the mouths of babes,” he said. He looked out the window. The light was gone. He shook his head, blinked his eyes, and looked once more. The light had vanished.

“We'd better take the kids home,” Maryruth said.

“Do we have to go home?” Marc asked.

“You know you do,” Jerry stated. “Your parents will be worried about you.”

“If they're awake,” Heather said.

Jerry looked out the window. Cars were moving about town. He could see someone walking a dog. All was back to normal, he supposed. The light was gone. He not only saw that, he sensed it as well.

“I think, kids, Maryruth, the parents won't remember a thing about tonight. I believe it would be best if you two did not tell them what has happened to you.”

“I agree with that,” Maryruth said.

“It's gonna get worse,” Marc predicted. “I don't know how I know that, but I do.”

“I ... think you're probably right, Marc,” Jerry said. “Like you, I don't know how I know that, but I do.”

Heather looked at the doctor. “Like I said, Doctor Baldwin, maybe you and Doctor Benning haven't lost it.”

Maryruth smiled at the young girl. “Whatever it is.”

 

Rosanna and Harry were at the Thomases' when Jerry and Maryruth brought Heather and Marc home. The parents were relieved, then angry.

“We just went for a ride, Dad,” Marc said. “That's all.”

“At ten o'clock at night?” Harry yelled.

“In your pajamas!” Jack yelled.

“Don't yell at her, Jack,” Arlene said.

“Stay out of this,” the husband warned.

“Why should I? She is my child, too. Remember?”

Before husband and wife could get cranked up into an argument, Heather asked innocently, “Nothing happened while we were gone, did it?”

“What do you mean by that, young lady?” her mother asked.

Heather shrugged. “Nothing, really. I mean, there weren't any earthquakes or hurricanes or anything like that, right? We just went for a ride, that's all, mother. Just a ride. Nobody got hurt. We didn't break any laws.”

“Didn't you ever do anything like that, Dad?” Marc asked his father.

“Yes,” his father replied shortly. “And my Dad whaled the tar out of me. Come to think of it, maybe that's what you need.”

The boy met his father's eyes. “If that is what you think.”

“Oh, hell!” his father said.

Both sets of parents looked relieved when Harry decided to back away from physical punishment.

“May I speak with you people?” Maryruth asked. “Privately?”

“Sure,” Jack said. He looked at the kids. “You two go into the kitchen and stay put!”

Heather and Marc left the room, both looking the worse for wear in their dirty pajamas.

“Mr. and Mrs. Thomas, Mr. and Mrs. Anderson,” Maryruth said. “Look at it this way: your children are very, very bright. Emotionally and intellectually they are perhaps operating on an age level of twelve and thirteen – perhaps higher than that. I'd guess so. They have both rejected, long ago, the normal interests of children of their chronological age. They are geniuses, and that is something that must be taken into consideration at all times when dealing with them. I will tell you all up front, a great many parents don't know how to cope with exceptionally gifted kids. Heather and Marc have seen other kids riding their bikes after dark. Why not them? I realize I am oversimplifying this, but think about it.”

The parents looked at each other. Harry Anderson shrugged his shoulders. “Yes, I know – we know. But it's just that Marc has never done anything like this before.”

“I would suggest, sir,” Maryruth said, “that you begin – you'll have to feel your way – treating Marc more like a young man than a child. And the same applies to Heather. Don't push them into adulthood, but help them find their own ways.”

“I'm sure you're right, Doctor,” Jack said. “It's just that Heather has never done anything like this before. And I'll be very honest with you, if she ever does it again, I'm going to paddle her behind.”

“When did you discover them gone?” Jerry asked, conscious of Maryruth's eyes on him as he voiced the touchy question.

“Oh ... about thirty minutes ago, I'd guess,” Rosanna said.

“Yeah, that's about right,” Arlene said.

“Yes,” Jack said. “We had been . . .”

He stopped. Both Jerry and Maryruth looked at the four people. All had that same vacant look in their eyes. All sat very still in their chairs and on the couch. They seemed mesmerized.

Maryruth stood up. “I'd like to speak to the kids, if none of you have any objections?”

That seemed to shake them from their hypnotic state.

“Yes!” Jack said. “The kids. Of course, Doctor Benning.”

While Jerry kept the conversation light, and away from the events of the past few hours, Heather took Maryruth into her bedroom, Marc trailing along. Girl's bedrooms really didn't thrill him all that much. Too sissy. Heather showed Maryruth the dolls and teddy bears all jumbled and out of line. She lifted the pillow from the toy soldier and Maryruth picked up the harmless-looking toy and smelled the barrel of the toy gun. There was the definite odor of gunsmoke. She looked at the tiny hole in the pillow, burned brown around the edges.

“I don't understand any of this,” she said. “But I certainly can't deny it happened.”

Heather showed her the open, screenless window, the broken club on the ground. Maryruth leaned out the window and retrieved the club. The stickiness of blood stained her fingertips.

“Now do you believe us?” Marc asked.

“Yes,” the woman replied hoarsely. “I can't explain it, but I certainly believe you. Heather? Tomorrow, have your father fix this window so it can't be raised above a few inches without making a lot of noise. Two screws here and here should do it. O.K.?”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“School is officially out when?”

“Tomorrow,” Marc said. “We get our report cards then.”

“I want both of you to come see me as soon as you get out of school. I'll fix it with your parents, O.K.?”

They agreed to that.

“I'm going to tell your father, Heather, that you don't like open windows. Until this . . .
thing
– for want of a better word – is over, that should settle the matter of open windows. Can I tell your father anything for you, Marc?”

“No, ma'am. I can fix my window myself. I'm pretty good with my hands.”

Two young adults, Maryruth thought. Mature beyond their years. But why is the light after them?

God! she mentally berated herself. What am I saying? I don't believe in spooks and haunts and things that go bump in the night.