head back suddenly and cried, “NO! PLEASE! Noooooo!”
The sound following the words was an unintelligible, raw scream, and it set a new benchmark for horrifying.
“Felicity!” I called her name, my voice raised sharply in both pitch and volume.
There was enough feeling left in my fingers for me to know that her nails were now biting deeply into them. I watched her through watering eyes as she struggled to move her head against some unseen restraint. The way she was postured, it looked as if something- or someone- was pressing her head back into the seat and twisting it to the side.
Suddenly, the sickly-sweet odor of singed flesh filled the cabin of the van, and as I looked on, a roughly circular, dime-sized burn appeared on her cheek.
“You sonofabitch!” I cried out. “Stop it! STOP IT!”
“What’s happening?” I heard Constance ask.
“Turn or straight, Rowan?!” Ben called back to me again.
“I don’t know, dammit!” I barked. “Just go straight… no, turn… Straight… Gods! I don’t know!”
A second burn began to eat into my wife’s ivory skin, and out of reflex I reached for her cheek with my free hand. My anger was seething and I had become blind to everything. Control was no longer a conscious option for me. Overwhelmed with the intensity of my emotions, I was no longer concentrating on the ground I had been attempting to maintain.
My fingers brushed Felicity’s cheek, and there was the thin sound of sizzling flesh once again. I yelped in surprise as a blistering divot appeared on the back of my hand.
Constance’s voice sounded again as she exclaimed, “Oh my God…”
“What the fuck is goin’ on back there?!” Ben asked, confused urgency in his tone. “Mandalay, what’s happenin’?!”
“Rowan!” Constance called out.
Her voice hit my ears as a pounding echo. My body was beginning to tense in a mirror image of my wife’s as I inadvertently plugged myself in to her ethereal connection with Kimberly Forest. I forced myself to move against the constricting tendons, feeling them burn with the resistance.
“Heee’sss looosssiinggg itttt, Sstoorrrmmmmmm!” Mandalay’s voice stretched through time, a languid stream of sound.
Ben’s words rumbled through the van, following hers in a repeat performance of the elastic speech. “Sssstaaayy wiiittthhh usssss, Rooowwwwaaannn!”
I struggled to keep my eyes focused on Felicity as I sought a new ground. I jerkily pulled my hand away from her cheek and saw a new burn forming. I reached for her again, but it didn’t matter. I was no longer simply brushing through the ethereal sphere; I was joining with it. Hot pain lanced my own cheek as I became yet another surrogate victim.
“Roooowwwwaaaannnnn!” Mandalay’s voice flowed around me.
I tried to turn toward her as agonizing pains began helping themselves to every inch of my body.
A low thrum was starting in my ears, driving and rhythmic. As it grew louder, percussive beats fell in with the heavy tune, slamming mercilessly against my eardrums.
When my eyes finally fell upon Mandalay’s face, I could see that it was painted with fear. She was moving in slow motion, her mouth making shapes I was unable to decipher. I knew she was trying to say something, but I could hear only the angry music.
I started turning back toward Felicity and saw darkness beyond the windshield. In a flash, I caught a glimpse of dull green and reflective white, as the exit sign for Route 3 was struck full by the headlights. Then, as quickly as it appeared, it fell from sight.
I continued to twist until I once again faced my wife and saw a grimace of pain still warping her features. The pounding, heavy metal thrum drove through its crescendo, reaching a deafening climax.
Felicity’s head was tilted back and her mouth stretched open wide. I could tell by the cramping muscles in my face that mine was doing the same.
I think we were both screaming, but I couldn’t be sure, because a moment later, my consciousness escaped, leaving me to a world of peaceful darkness.
“Row! C’mon, white man, wake up!” A man’s thick voice filled my ears.
I was drifting in a dreamlike stupor, somewhere between partially conscious and just plain dead. At least, that is what I assumed. All I knew is that I was no longer in pain.
“She’s breathing.” I heard a woman’s no less frantic words nearby. “Strong pulse, but she’s unconscious.”
The sound of an approaching car filled in behind her voice, growing louder with each second. This was odd to me, but I endeavored to ignore it. I was comfortable, and I wanted to stay that way.
After a moment, the speeding vehicle seemed to be right behind me, and then just as suddenly, its sound began to fade in the opposite direction. A burst of cool wind whipped around my ankles, reaching cold tendrils up my pants legs.
“Felicity?” the woman’s voice was calling behind me. “Felicity, can you hear me?”
“C’mon, white man!” The male voice hit me again and was immediately followed by a palm slapping hard against the side of my face.
As soft as I’m sure it actually was, the blow was magnified by my disconnected state. I jolted into a semi- awake funk, snapping at least partially back into the land of the conscious. When I opened my eyes, I saw Ben’s concerned face staring back at me. He was hunched over in the darkness, arms outstretched to steady me. I looked around and found that I was sitting on the floorboards in the open door of the van with my legs hanging out.
“Rowan, talk to me,” my friend said.
I was confused. I didn’t remember stopping nor could I understand why I was sitting here in the door. And, if Ben was standing in front of me, then who was driving? Things had made more sense when my eyes were closed, so I decided that’s what I should do.
“No way,” Ben said as he shook me. “Wake up, Row. Talk to me.”
I opened my eyes again and blinked, then tried to concentrate as my brain wandered through the murky fog that was overwhelming it. I started catching bits and pieces of mental impressions as they flashed to the forefront of my mind. Before long, they became fleeting images and feelings- darkness, fingernails biting into my hand, Constance trying to say something to me that I could not hear, a burn appearing on my wife’s pristine cheek…
“Felicity!” I immediately yelped, looking frantically about.
Lucidity struck like a mallet to the back of my head, and I tried to leap up from where I was sitting. My brain was starting to work, but my motor reflexes were still a few steps behind, so I stumbled as I tried to stand.
“Whoa, Kemosabe!” Ben steadied me before I could fall onto the asphalt shoulder.
I twisted away from him, turning toward the van. Seeing my wife still belted in her seat, I climbed in through the door. Hunching down on my knees, I scrambled across the floorboards, almost knocking Constance over in the process.
“She’s not coming to,” Mandalay said to me as I pushed my way in next to her.
I reached out to Felicity and brushed a tangle of auburn curls from the side of her face. My still somewhat jangled brain was hoping that everything it was remembering had been unreal. Nothing more than a frightening product of an unchecked imagination left alone to play with the contents of a tortured subconscious, namely mine.
Unfortunately, it knew full well that the sadistic nightmare had been all too real. When my eyes fell on my wife’s uncovered face, I saw that the circular burns were still there, horrific blemishes standing out against her pale skin. I noticed my own cheek tingling and began to remember even more. I looked down to see a charred divot in the back of my hand and suddenly felt very ill. If these stigmata were appearing on Felicity and me, I didn’t even want to imagine what was actually happening to Kimberly Forest.
My wife rolled her head to the side, whimpering quietly as if struggling with yet another nightmare inside. She murmured something unintelligible and then turned her face away from me.
