The Enemy Within, Part 7

Last Time: Dawn is now a suspect in her sister's murder. Debbie's dead. And Gracie has found out that her daughter crossed dimensions and is somewhere in this world. What can possibly happen next?

Chapter 24: Day of the Dead

Dawn was sitting quietly in between Justin and Shari. Melanie was too upset to come. [I wonder if Dan came.]

“Ashes to Ashes and Dust to Dust,” Dawn heard the minister say.

“I can’t believe Debbie’s gone,” she heard Shari murmer.

Niether can I, she thought. Deborah Larson is dead. Debbie. My friend Debbie is dead. [She sounds more upset than she was at her own sisters funeral.]

“It’s a nice funeral,” Dawn heard someone say to Debbie’s mom. “Debbie would have liked it.”

“The things people say at funerals,” she said. [I'm pretty sure this next little passage is lifted from a Fear Street book.]

“Well I think people are just very uncomfortable at funerals so they don’t know what the hell to say.”

“Maybe you’re right. People said some really weird things to me at Chloe’s funeral.”

Chloe’s funeral.

Debbie’s funeral.

Two people dead already. [What about Savannah Delony from Chapter 13?] They say bad luck travels in threes. And if that’s true, who’s next?

* * * * *

That night Dawn found herself having another dream. In the dream she saw a girl. A girl that looked familiar, but not too familiar. She was saying something.

“One bright day on a sunny night, two dead boys stood up to fight back to back. They faced each other, pulled out their swords, and shot each other. The deaf policeman heard the noise, ran right over, and shot the dead boys. If you don’t believe my lie is true, then ask the blind man, he saw it too.” [What this was supposed to symbolically represent, I haven’t a clue. I’m just as lost as you are.]

Now what did that mean?” Dawn didn’t know. Not now anyways.

As the dream continued the figure of the girl changed. She was no longer the girl Dawn had recognized. She was Debbie Larson. In the flesh.

“Dawn,” she murmered.

“Debbie!”

“Yes. It’s me. I need to talk to you.”

“To me? About what?”

“About my killer.” [What else?]

“You’re killer?”

“Yes. Dawn, do you know where your mother is?”

“Yes. She’s in the master bedroom with my father.”

“No no no no no,” Debbie shook her head. “Better yet do you know who your mother is?”

“Yes, I do. It’s Joan Sullivan.”

“No Dawn, or should I [say] Julie.” [I think Julie’s just as slow as her mom, too.]

Dawn’s eyes went wide. “How do you know about that, Debbie?”

“I’m dead, Dawn. I know all.” she paused and looked down at Dawn. “Do you know what that poem ment?”

“What poem?”

“One bright day on a sunny night, two dead boys stood up to fight back to back. They faced each other, pulled out their swords, and shot each other. The deaf policeman heard the noise, ran right over, and shot the dead boys. If you don’t believe that my lie is true, then ask the blind man, he saw it too.”

“But what does it mean?” [Wouldn’t we all like to know?]

“That’s for me to know, and for you to find out.”

“But--”

Debbie cut her off. “Someone’s being murdered right this second, so expect a visit from the police.”

“But Debbie--”

“Shut up Dawn. Your cousin sela is coming to stay with you. Is that correct?”

“Yes, but--”

“How well do you know her Dawn?”

“Not real well, but--”

“Just think about what I’ve just told you. And think about Sela, and how well you know her.” [Doesn’t that fall under the category of what you just told her?]

Dawn made her way over to the corner. The blood looked fresh. Smelled fresh too. And then it hit her. It’s the body of the person who’s getting killed. I have got to figure out who it is. As she turned the corner the stench of rotted meat filled her nostrils. The closer she got to the body, the worse the stench got. And when she finally saw it. . . . . .

* * * * *

Dawn woke up screaming. She quickly stopped and got her phone on the other side of the room. Then her parents, and Dean walked in.

“Is something the matter honey,” her mother said. [One of your daughter’s was killed, and a friend of your other daughters was killed. Of course there’s something wrong!]

“There’s got to be Mom. She starts screaming blood murder two a.m and you think even for a moment that nothing’s wrong!” Dean said. Everyone just stared at him. “What?” [I hope he ends up dead, too.]

“Nice choice of words, Dean.” [You think she would be more horrified or something, considering her daughter died in a “bloody murder.”]

“Yeah,” Dawn agreed.

Jus then Liegh starded crying. “I’ll go tend to Liegh,” said her mother. And Joan Sullivan left.

Then Dawn dialed 268-1764 [I wonder who’s reversed phone number this was…] Someone picked up on the first ring. It was Shana Mallone. [Remember Clea Mallone? She was oh-so tactful at Chloe’s funeral.]

“Hello,” Shana said.

“Hi Shana, is Clea there?”

“I don’t know where she is. Why don’t you talk to my Devon. He might know where Clea is.” Dawn heard Shana call to her brother. And she herd the phone being exchanged to Devon. I pray to God she’s not dead.

“Hello,” he said. His voice sounded raspy and strained. As if he had been crying!

“Hi, do you know where Clea is?” she asked casually, just as if she didn’t know what was coming.

“Look, Dawn,” he paused as if he were gaining the strength to tell her what she didn’t already know. “Clea’s dead.”

“What?” Dawn said surprised. Even though she has known that this was coming, it still surprised her to hear the words being spoken out loud. Then she hung up, and looked up to see that her father Jake had gone. [What a caring dad.] Only Dean remained.

He walked over and sad next to her on the bed. “Is something bothering you Dawn?” He asked, concerned. [Do you mean besides the death of your sister and her friends?]

“Yes.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Yes.”

“Well go ahead. I’m listening.”

“I’d just like to warn you. My story is a little far-fetched. And I don’t think that you’ll believe very much of it.”

“Try me.” [I wonder if he’s a weird dimension transporting evil spirit too.]

“Well. . . . . . There’s so much to tell. I don’t know where to being.”

“Why don’t you start at the beginning?”

“But it’ll take all night.”

“So, I’ve got all night.”

“Well first of all, for you to even partly understand you have to deal with one little fact.”

“And what’s that Delta.”

“I’m not your sister.”

“What are you talking about? Of course you’re my sister. We’re fraternal twins.”

“Yes I know. You and Dawn are fraternal twins. But you and I aren’t.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“You’ll understand in due time. My real name is Julie Marie Deck. I was born in the year 1897. I am the only daughter of Frank and Gracie Deck. [Awww. It wasn’t asexual reproduction after all.] And my mother--Gracie--had a best friend named Lauren Sanders. I always called her Aunt Lauren.”

“Okay.” [You’re effing nuts…]

“Well one day my mother went out with Aunt Lauren for some reason, and I got bored, so I followed them. I heard then arguing about something in the rose garden. It was something about me I think. I can’t remember. It happened ninety-seven years ago. Well, there was this thing--this gateway. It was just there. I can’t explaine it. [Which is probably why I never tried to give it a real description.] It was greyish-whitish, and blackish. It was so weird. It looked like the inside of a twister. Know what I mean?”

“No, not really. But keep going.”

“Well, after they went through, I followed them. When I got to the other side, they weren’t there. I had no idea where I was so I just wandered around for two years. It’s a miracle that I survived, really it is. One day this childless couple found me and took care of me. I guess I forgot what had happened to me, so I forgot my name. [Never mind the fact that you were, you know, two!]

“They named me Roberta. Called me Bobbie for short. I got married when I was twenty-three. We had no children. I died when I was sixty-one. In the year 1958. But you see, you can only truly be dead if you die in your own dimension. You see, Chloe and Debbie [Never mind Clea…] are truly dead because they died here in their own dimension.”

“So you can’t die?”

“Yes I can. But not by a mortal. No, it has to be a being--like me--to kill another being--like Gracie or Lauren. [Ummm…no? Gracie and Lauren have been trying to kill each other for ninety-seven years and it hasn’t worked yet.]

“As my travel through the century went on, I realized on little fact.”

“And what’s that Delta?”

“Anyone in the world could be like me.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well you see. There’s another dimension every two feet. [How does she know all this? She wasn’t in purgatory when the dude in charge of all this explained all this crap to Gracie and Lauren. And she doesn’t seem intelligent enough to figure it all out on her own.] And if you really think about it--that’s one hell of a lot of dimensions. So that means that if a gateway could open up in a world that was as significant as mine [So are all the other dimensions insignificant?], a lot, more could open up in a different dimensions. Get it Dean?” [Fuck no.]

“I think so. [He’s taking this way way too well. Or maybe he’s just humoring her.] But where are Gracie and Lauren now?”

“Gracie’s in Jenni’s body.”

Deans eyes went weide. “Jenni’s body?” He said surprised at the idea that sweet innocent little Jenni could possibly have a monster like Gracie in her. [I think he wants to bone Jenni.]

“What about Lauren?”

“I don’t know. I have tried tracking her down. [When?] But I just haven’t been able to.”

“Wow,” Dean muttered. “That was on hell of a story.” [Was this my sideways compliment to myself for coming up with this convoluted piece of crap?]

“Yes, I know Dean, but you must realize that that wasn’t just a story. That was the god damn truth. I didn’t make it up. I told you exactly how it all happened.”

“It’s just that it’s strange.”

“I agree completely. My life is Indeed a strange one.” [Indeed.]

And as she said that she couldn’t bear to overlook the strange feeling that had suddenly crept over her. Did she know what that feeling was? No. But it would come to her. It would come to her. It would come to her. In her darkest moment of despair.