Disclaimer: I do not, nor do I claim to own the story of The Dead Zone. I'm not Stephen King, nor am I the director of the film. I would, nevertheless, love to own Christopher Walken ^-^
This is a personal crossover with The Dead Zone (1983) with a supernatural verse.
Don't forget to review! I'd love to read your opinions, even if you think this is terrible. Thank you! 3
Hanna watched with wide eyes as Johnny crouched behind the banister, holding the shot gun close to his chest. He was shielded by the wood, by the wide red, white, and blue banner of an American flag, and a sign down the middle that promoted Greg Stillson's campaign. They exchanged a gaze at each other, and in that same instant she felt her heart begin to pound against her ribs. The look in Johnny's eyes was off, it was distant- and for a moment, even, she had gained the notion that he looked mad. For that moment, she fought back the urge to leap at him and beg with him not to go through with this madness; but it would do no good. Stillson needed to die, she knew this. Johnny taught her, and she had agreed to help him with the insane thought of assassination. It had to happen. Johnny shot to his feet and aimed in a brief, fluid motion. He cocked the shot gun and aimed, and Hanna felt the moment seeming to pause as she squeezed closed her eyes and flinched hard as images flooded her mind and overtook her.
Sarah pointed her finger and shouted- the bitch had ruined everything. She screamed Johnny's name, and John hesitated before he shot and missed to hit the podium, only to send splinters of wood flying about. Again, he took a shot and missed. Stillson panicked, he grabbed Sarah's infant child and held it before him like a shield and his bodyguard reacted in drawing his pistol to aim it at Johnny.
He aimed it at John and he shot.
The vision became real, and her eyes shot open as she forced herself clumsily to her feet, "Johnny, shoot!" She would stare up at him before shooting her doe-eyes down to the stage where Sarah sat with Danny, and Stillson continued with his speech before getting cut off. Sarah let out her scream of disbelief, brown eyes wide.
"JOHNNY!"
Johnny hesitated with the firearm, and he shot twice and missed before drawing the gun back in refusal to sacrifice Sarah's child. Splinters flew from the wooden podium, and scattered into the air and the crowd as the shotgun fired forcefully. If a bullet had entered Stillson, it would have dismembered him. The job would have been done.
Never in a million years would John dare hurt anything dear to Sarah. Never would he hurt her, never would be disobey her. Never.. "No!" Hanna's voice rang out as Sarah tore her defenseless, terror-stricken son away from Stillson's greedy hands, and Greg crouched on the ground to stare up at his assassin. It was over, he thought. This is it.. I'm finished. This is how it ends! I can't let it end this way, my destiny!
As Johnny aimed again, Sonny pulled out the pistol from being nestled in the lining of his trench coat and aimed it at the tall, brown-haired male up in the banisters. He didn't give the time to study him, to study the soul that he prepared to claim from the world forever. His reflexes were as quick as a lashing panther. His finger pulled the trigger mercilessly, as Hanna threw herself in front of Johnny to get caught in the back with a startled squeak, falling onto her hands and her knees as startled screams erupted in the crowd, and people began to flee. Two more shots were fired, one catching Johnny in the hand, and the other through his lower chest. As the first bullet screamed through Johnny, it ripped through his hand with such intensity that it flew back and burst through a light to shatter glass about- Hanna listened as the shotgun hit the wooden floor with a heavy, metallic thud. This can't happen.. Miss him!
She watched pathetically as the other ripped Johnny's white shirt, drawing blood instantly and making his balance fail him. The look in his eyes faded, and he stumbled with the look of horror and pain. He had failed, Greg Stillson would live.. He had lived for nothing, no purpose.. No purpose. A scream erupted from her chest as she watched him stumble limply over the side, tearing the flag down over with him in an attempt to keep himself from flipping over it and hitting the ground. Underneath him, a pew was crushed under his limp weight, and the flag fluttered down in a graceful manner next to him. Disbelief held her to the ground, kept her there as if every organ and muscle in her body were a ton of dead weight. The sound of the pew crashing had been loud, and it made her flinch in terror.
This can't happen.. Not this way. It has to be a dream- a nightmare. Wake up!
She didn't waste her time on trying to pinch herself, before she pulled herself to her feet and stood. Stillson was gripping Johnny by the collar of his shirt, and he screamed at him.
"Who are you? Huh?"
As if the answer was the most important thing in the world to him, Stillson glared down at the pathetic, pale skinned bloody figure that lie beneath his feet. Johnny's blue eyes had looked so tired by now, and his face had aged though he was still young. It was when the bloody, cold hand of Johnny Smith would grip at Stillson's wrist would he flinch slightly and fight the urge to draw back. Images flooded Johnny's weary mind, and he smirked warmly.
Stillson sat by his bed, in a dirty, horribly-groomed apartment, or hotel room.. It was difficult to tell. He had grown scraggly facial stumble, and his hair was matted and ragged. Beside him, on an end table lie a Newsweek magazine with the title that read "No future for Stillson" with the photograph of him holding little Danny Hazlett before him as a shield. A cigarette, never to be finished held in the ashtray and smoke rose to cloud the atmosphere of the small room. He looked down at the magazine before he shifted his gaze to the silver pistol he held in his lap.
It's over.. I'm finished, everything that I have lived for is gone. I'm ruined.. What is there to live for? Stillson took a breath before holding the pistol up, under his chin before he closed his eyes.
Quickly then, without hesitation Stillson pulled the trigger. Blood splattered against the cover of the magazine.
The image faded away, leaving Johnny with a smirk of victory and Stillson with a look of horror. "It's over," Johnny whispered gently. "You're finished."
Greg threw Johnny out of his hand with disgust, and he whipped about to glare at Sonny,
"What about that kid, he was taking pictures!"
Sonny stared at him blankly- respect for this man had drained from him. "I didn't see him-"
Stillson shoved him ignorantly, "You asshole!" Quickly he exited, fleeing from his fate. Sonny stared down at Johnny for a moment, who was sprawled across the wooden floor, the flag banner, and the remains of the pew he had crushed. Blood was seeping from his shirt, and he was staring at the ceiling with only gentle pained squirming. He had seen this man before, if not but at least twice. This image would forever stay with Sonny Elliman, and he exited slowly after Greg.
The flesh underneath the bullet hole that tore itself through the thin cotton of Hanna's t-shirt had been physically pushed from her flesh as it healed, and all that remained of the wound had been the blood that soaked a spot in her shoulder. With a fluid motion, as graceful as a feline she launched herself over the banister, twisting in the air to lean hard on her bare feet- they slapped against the wooden floor as she ran over to where Johnny lie and leaned beside him with tears in her eyes. Her heart pounded hard against her chest as she looked down at him, who looked dazed and pained. He was looking at Sarah, whom had been making her way tentatively over to him. "Johnny..?"
Hanna's gentle voice rang with a muffled sound in his ears, and he turned away his gaze from Sarah to her before he held out his hand to have it taken without hesitation by the golden-haired female whom wept. She held it to her chest and sat on her knees close against him, with the hand that did not hold his she slipped it gingerly under his neck and pulled it up to where she held him to the crook of her shoulder. The motion was difficult for him, and he let out a hard breath as he moved and felt the pain in his chest shoot through him sharply. It burned, and he almost felt as the bullet scraped against his rib though he didn't whimper or scream about it. He nuzzled his head into where she held it, feeling tears welling in his own eyes not only with the pain, but with the knowing of the needed goodbye. Hanna had begun to weep harder now, and she held his head firmly under the back of his neck while he wrapped his free arm around her to hold her close. Where their hands met and held, there was a firmness- as if she held tight enough he wouldn't drift away from her. The scent of his blood had began to get to her, to taunt her, but she forced away her urges and held onto him tight, entangling her fingers into the back of his thick brown mane to hold him close to her. He was so innocent now, so fragile.. She could feel his slow, gentle, receding breaths against the skin of her shoulder. "Oh Johnny.. It'll be okay. You'll be okay."
Her voice began to fade from him as he closed his eyes and held onto her hand strongly. Images and memories flooded both of their minds, quick flashbacks from the past. When the two had met...
Johnny gazed over at the golden-haired female whom sat on the stairs of the bandstand whilst Greg Stillson gave his speech. She had been dressed in a pair of jeans that clung to her legs, and a scarf hid her neck from the bitter winter wind whilst her black wool coat hid her torso and her arms. She stared down at her own nails in total disinterest whilst she picked at them before she combed a pale hand through her hair to brush it back from her face. Her skin was deathly pale, and her eyes had a strange glow to them.. It was unnatural. She had walked over to him after he had met hands with Greg Stillson, when he had seen the end of the world- and with the look of horror in his hues she had asked him if he was alright and invited him to coffee. She had said that maybe the cold had gotten to him, and stirred with his mind. Her humor had caught his attention right from the start, along with her natural flowing energy, and her beaming smile. They had continued to meet up for a few days- and because of her he had smiled again for the first time in years.
It was Hanna who had become the closest woman to him since Sarah, and she had been the first serious relationship that he had involved himself with since he had discovered that Sarah left him during his five year coma to marry another man. To marry a man that should have been him, and to have a son and daughter that should have been his children. He had swore to himself that he would never let another woman into his heart, that Sarah was the only one.. But Hanna had been so easy to grow feelings for; and even to love. It may have been partly because of her secret, but her personality shined.. She was different from modern society, like him. It had been easy for them to relate. It had been unintentional for him to fall in love with her.
The image faded to their first kiss- it had been when they were huddled on the couch, and he had been reading Edgar Allan Poe to her by the fire, at about ten thirty at night. He could still feel himself glancing up at the clock to check the time. It had been after The Raven that she had huddled close against his side, and for moments they had began to discuss nothing in particular except for little, small things that had pushed itself into their mind to make small talk- to keep away from silence. She had began to play gently with one of his hands, before she pulled her big blue eyes up from them and met his. Tension had moved to claim the room, and she had hesitated with her lips only inches from his; they could feel each other's cool breath. Her eyes drifted closed with slowness, and her mouth had parted only slightly while she nudged her lips gently and hesitantly against his. At first, it was almost as if she had been afraid, or too nervous.. But he had been nervous too. He returned her gentle and hesitant, teasing nuzzles, and at first he had an urge to pull away and forbid it. This shouldn't happen.. he thought. Though they had both had a sense of tension around each other for weeks- something that drew them to each other. Every time it had gotten close to a kiss, he would have broken it away. Something had held him down now; had made a hand trail to hold tenderly against her back, and to lean into her with a kiss that caused both of their heads to spin, and their hearts flutter against their rib cages. The kiss that left them both breathless and dazed. Johnny's own eyes had closed on their own accord as he leaned into the kiss at the same time she did, and the kiss had deepened to the point of him losing his wits, and taking her to bed only days later.
Even to this day, he would never forget that kiss. The feeling of breathlessness. The times she had made him smile, when all happiness seemed too far away for him to even think about. Those moments of contentment- and the morning he had awoke with her curled up on his chest. It was now that he could feel her tell him she loved him, and he heard him echo her.
"I love you too."
The memories faded, he had been gripping into a fistful of her shirt and she had been clinging to her hair. The memories had flashed in the matter of seconds, and they had made her weep even more against his shoulder. She gripped onto his hair, nuzzling into his neck gently with a whimper. He let out a shaky breath against her shoulder, loosening his grip on her shirt. He sucked in a breath to keep himself from crying,
"Goodbye.."
The words made her wince, and she sniffled to try and speak without sounding hysterical. "No.. No you're gonna be okay. Don't say goodbye to me."
Her voice was stern, but they both knew. It was time. The brief silence hurt her more, "I've watched all I love die around me Johnny, don't do this. Please don't leave me.."
Johnny silenced her with a gentle shh,
"I love you, Hanna." he whispered into her ear, causing her to heave a breath. She forced herself to be real, forced herself to face Johnny's fate. Not even getting him to a hospital would be quick enough to keep him here with her.. Not even a bite would keep him. He was ready now. "I love you too."
Sarah watched this event in dismay, in disbelief. Johnny was dying right before her eyes, on her account.. She didn't even get to say goodbye. Johnny was weak, he had only held himself up long enough to whisper again to Hanna before he lost his strength and could no longer hold onto her. She lie him down against the wood with tenderness while she cried on his chest, still holding his hand until she felt his firm hold give- until she felt his heart stop beating. His blood was warm on her chest and belly as it soaked through her shirt, and she sobbed hysterically against his chest. After a moment of this, she pulled up her face to stare down at his eyes, which had shed a tear before he had passed from her. She held his hand close to her chest, while using the other to gently stroke the side of his face. She sniffled again, and whimpered gently before she closed her eyes and took in a sigh. "Goodbye Johnny.. Goodbye."
She had trailed her fingers down over his piercing blue eyes, which had clouded over with the cloak of death, to close them and release him to peacefulness long since needed. "Goodbye," She repeated, before she leaned down to place a kiss upon his forehead. She let go of his hand, and rest it at his side. She took a deep breath before she walked away from her love, over to Sarah whom had been standing there in silent weeping mourn. Hanna's eyes were an odd bright neon color, but pain was clear in them. Johnny's blood had smeared slightly on her cheek, and it had soaked through parts of her shirt. Tears stained her pale face, and she stared at Sarah now without hate. The expression Sarah Hazlett held as she stared at the woman who had masked the pain of her leaving Johnny, at the one who had kept him from loneliness for the last few years of his life. The two women did not think of verbal violence now, but only of comfort for each other- though as Sarah would reach over to place a hand on Hanna's thin shoulder, the golden-haired female pulled away and swallowed hard. She paused before she spoke, her voice shaken and heavy with tears.
"Johnny's last words were to ask me.." She paused, she swallowed. "He told me to tell you goodbye."
With this, Sarah felt as if someone had launched a heavy piece of steel onto her chest. She struggled for breath before tears began to again flow from her eyes like a river, and Hanna nodded to her before turning back and walking from the doors of the church to leave Sarah to fall to her knees and sob into her hands as she stared at Johnny. He was sprawled across the floor, and life breathed through him no more. Not even Walt Hazlett would try to comfort her within those moments of hysterical sobbing at her lost past-love. He would never understand, and even better, he was aware of it. Eventually, the dark-haired woman would crawl over to Johnny and take her own turn to cry onto his chest.
When the police, and paramedics had arrived they had to pry Sarah Hazlett off of Johnny Smith's body. She hadn't attended his funeral, nor had Hanna. It was at Johnny's grave where Sarah would soon stand, and she sighed quietly after lying down flowers. It was then, that the feeling of a hand on her shoulder caressed her and comforted her. The feeling was familiar- warm and loving. She knew he was with her then. There had been a contentment added to the atmosphere that soothed her to the point of almost crying, but another thing kept her from such action. She would reach a hand up, as if to keep the feeling there forever.
"Hello Johnny."