Prologue
Beck
The Dream
I pull up to the house, surprised to find all the downstairs lights off. Looking up, I note the same upstairs. Nothing on anywhere. The murky darkness renders the ordinarily imposing home even more sinister. There’s a distinctly haunted house on the hill vibe about the place.
I shudder. Then I mentally chastise myself being a pussy and letting the horror movies my best friend Kyle loves to watch affect me so much. I am confused, though. It’s late, but not so late that everyone should be in bed, without a light on anywhere.
Even weirder, when I approach the stairs, the sensor-activated security light I know is fitted at the front of the house fails to trigger. Odd. Unperturbed by the unusual and eerie darkness, I approach the house anyway.
I rap confidently on the front door, using the old fashioned brass knocker, and wait expectantly. I steel myself for the confrontation ahead, certain there will be one, and prepared for the fact that it’s likely to be ugly. Very ugly.
I don’t care. No, that’s not right. I do care, but not enough to be put off by the thought of facing the man who stands between me and my future. It takes more than some draconian control freak to scare me. He might be king of his sinister castle, but I’ve faced bigger and worse in my life, and lived to tell the tale. Just.
Besides, even if I was scared, it’s now or never. I do this now, and we’re free to live the rest of our lives together. I pussy out, and we’ll never be free, so no matter what awaits me on the other side of the door, I’m going to stand my ground.
He can come out all guns blazing, and I won’t budge an inch, until I get what I came for. He’ll have to blow my head off if he wants to see me leave without my girl. Even then, if there are nerve endings still firing, I’ll drag her out of there with my severed head tucked under my arm. Real talk.
I wait, but nothing happens. No sounds inside the house at all. This time I pull the faux old-fashioned iron handle that triggers the equally faux old-fashioned ‘Ding-Dong’ of their doorbell. Not that I would know, of course, seeing as I’ve never actually been allowed to ring it.
In fact, I’ve never been officially allowed within even a block or two of her house. Let alone to step foot on the property. Not that I haven’t ‘casually’ and ‘coincidentally’ driven past hundreds of times on my way to or from somewhere completely unrelated—and sometimes in the opposite direction—and just happened to ‘glance’ over on the way past. I have. Still no response.
The sound of that bell was loud enough to wake the dead, and if not, then surely the family dog, Peanut? I was told he’d lose his mind barking if someone clanged two plates together too loudly, let alone rang the doorbell.
Even weirder, the sound ricochets off the other houses in the scarily quiet neighborhood. It’s like the land that time forgot out here. It’s only then that I note that not only is there no sound or movement from anywhere else on the street, but there’s also no light. Not streetlights, nor in any of the homes. What the fuck?
Something doesn’t feel right. Big time. A heavy sense of foreboding cloaks me in the darkness. It’s clear nobody’s coming to answer the door, so I try the handle a couple of times. Predictably, it’s locked. I give up on the front of the house altogether, instead, following the paved pathway around back.
I knock on the back door, although I’m fairly sure nobody’s coming to answer there, either. I wait a little while to have my suspicion confirmed. Nada. I try that door, too. Surprisingly, the handle gives under the gentle pressure, and the door creeks open noisily, again piercing through the silence hanging thickly in the air.
I step inside the kitchen, using my phone as a flashlight in the gloomy darkness. It’s empty. Not just free of people, but completely empty. Not a stick of furniture, not an electrical appliance, nothing. I have no idea what the fuck is going on, but it’s creeping me out completely. I swing my phone around, affording me a better view of the whole area. Nothing. Anywhere. “Hello? Hello? Is anybody here? Hello?…Hello?” Nothing except my own voice echoing back at me.
I rush around the house, speeding from room to room, with only the light on my phone to guide me, repeatedly shouting out, although it’s clear the entire house is completely empty. Nothing anywhere. No signs of life. In fact, no sign that anybody lives, here, or has recently lived here.
Completely freaked out now, I run into the yard again, and down the pathway back to the front of the house. Approaching my car, I realize it’s the only one anywhere on the darkened street—either at the curb, or in any of the driveways. I can’t even begin to fathom what in the hell is happening here. I rush into the road, frantic now.
“Hello? Hello? Is anybody here? Anyone? Is. There. Anyone. Here? Hello! Hello! Hello!”
I scream at the top of my lungs in the all-consuming darkness, met only with my own voice as it rebounds of the (presumably) empty buildings, in reply. If I was scared before, a potent mix of panic and terror creeps over me now, like ivy consuming the trunk of an otherwise healthy tree, taking root, circling it tighter and tighter, choking it until it eventually succumbs, and dies.
Beck
Mary mother of all fucks.
The elevator swished open on the sixth, and never had I wanted to find a “rewind” button for life more than I had in that moment. If I’d had one, I swear, I’d have set it back to the previous night, and instead of climbing into bed hoping to get a good night’s sleep before D-Day, I’d have sat awake all night—pinned my eyelids to the top of my head and snorted enough coke to fire up a herd of elephants, if I had to—just to ensure I didn’t wake up to The Dream. Then I’d get on a plane with a one-way ticket to somewhere hot, tropical, and off the grid, and never fucking come back.
Back in the real world, it was all I could do to put one foot in front of the other and exit the elevator without puking up my guts. I came close, though, the sting of bile rising in the back of my throat, searing my windpipe as it went. My eyes watered, and I coughed and swallowed forcing the bitter liquid burning like fire, back into my churning stomach. To say I couldn’t believe what was happening was the understatement of the millennium.
The strangulated coughing sound drew the female client’s gaze—and everyone else’s—to me. Not the entrance I had been hoping for. We locked eyes, and it was some small consolation that she looked as much of a deer in the headlights as I felt. As the other gods strode out of the elevator behind me, ready to do battle, bringing on the charm offensive in their own inimitable ways, for me, the world seemed to go into slow mo.
The air around me thickened, reducing the hubbub of our rich voices to an indistinct yet monstrous rumble. Our movements slowed to a turtle’s pace. The light seemed to dim, and everyone faded to soft focus, with no distinguishable features, or solid edges. Everyone except her.
The light from the rest of the room had somehow been harnessed to shine a dazzling spotlight on her, throwing her features into relief. She seemed almost hyper-real. Even the tiniest of facial movement blared at me like it was being projected from a ten foot multiplex screen. I always could read her like a book. At that moment I saw fear, shock, confusion. You and me both, Mel.