FACELESS TERROR

Throughout the dining area and dance floor, a harsh wind blew through the open door as Sheriff Patterson threw open the door to the Blue Whale.

"Bob? I've got the squad car parked outside. Are you ready?" Sheriff Patterson looked over the bar where Bob usually stood, but there was no one in sight. "Bob?"

"Just a minute, George. I'm just getting the money locked away in the safe. Don't want any hoodlums like that Hackett kid coming here while the store's closed and robbing me blind." a voice called from a partially-opened door behind the counter. "I'm just about finished. I have a pot of coffee still warm. Want some?"

"If it's all the same to you, I'd like to get going before this storm gets any worse. All the streets in town are closed. I've not seen it snowing like this since we were kids. Remember that year we didn't have to go to school for a whole month?" the sheriff asked, rubbing his arms together to try and warm himself.

As he came out from behind the door, Bob retorted. "Oh yeah. Shortest summer we ever had, too. All them make-up days. Say, thanks a lot for giving me a lift. I guess Mustang Sally just wasn't made for snowstorms like this. I don't like leaving her behind like this, but I don't guess I have much choice."

Sheriff Patterson laughed. "Well, if it makes you feel any better, I'll put a word out on the radio to have my men circle around and make sure Sally's okay. That's about the best I can do. That is unless you want me to put a pair of earmuffs on her mirrors and sing to her."

"Oh, would you do that? That'd be great." Bob smiled sarcastically. He grabbed his coat and turned the light off. Locking the door behind him and the 'CLOSED' sign swinging on a rusty nail above the center, Bob and the sheriff crunched through the snow and ice stacked high above their feet. The howling of the wind was as loud as it was cold, and the chill from the blowing ice stung their faces as it stuck to their cheeks and hands.

Bob was first in the vehicle, and he sat down inside the front passenger seat. He turned around so that he could now safely see how badly the winter storm was raining upon the town. He saw the sheriff making his way around the car, and suddenly he vanished from sight. Bob looked around and quickly glanced at all of the ice-covered mirrors. Nothing. He looked behind him again. Still nothing. The rear windshield was quickly being covered with ice, obstructing his view.

Bob leaned over slowly toward the driver's side window. Something wasn't right. There was something sinister about this storm. Collinsport had fallen under much evil the last few months. All the news of girls being kidnapped and cattle stolen and drained of blood drifted into the Blue Whale. He had heard it all. Something wicked was in the air. In the distance, he could hear a dog howling. Over the roar of the snow and wind, the sound was unmistakeable. Something evil was near.

Bob pressed his face toward the driver's side window and leaned down so that he was well-hidden but still able to see outside. With a loud bang, a hand pressed quickly against the outside window, causing Bob to scream in short gasps as he drew back in his seat. With the right half of his uniform covered in snow, Sheriff Patterson pulled his large frame from off the ground and opened the door, holding his right side.

"What happened, George?" Bob stared curiously at his red-faced friend. The sheriff paused and winced in pain, and finally answered in embarrassment. His eyes looked down at the crumb-covered floorboard of the car. "Slipped on the ice…"

Bob's face grew tight and burned. Grinding his teeth into his bottom lip, his stomach began twitching uncontrollably. His snickering quickly grew to a belly laugh, but it was soon stifled when he noticed a finger pointing in his face.

"You breathe a word of what happened to anybody at the bar or laugh one more second," George sternly warned. "..and Sally will be impounded as soon as the snow clears. Is that clear?"

Bob sighed, and his grin quickly faded. "Crystal."

Spinning furiously and sliding to the right, the tires of the old squad car squealed as they kicked up piles of snow behind them. Bob's head faced toward the window so the sheriff couldn't see the grin that he was unable to keep to himself.

As the car trailed off in the distance, there was another sound of a motor approaching. It sputtered loudly above the roar of the wind. An STP decal was barely visible beneath the single headlight of a second-hand motorcycle that was pulled in front of the Blue Whale. Pulling his sunglasses down, the dark-haired rider looked around and saw the entire street deserted and covered in snow.

He walked up to the door and tried to open it. "Hey! Hey, pops! Open the door, will ya? Hey!" Pounding on the door with both fists and kicking with his right foot, he shook his head and walked to the window. He wiped a small circle of the glass with his leather jacket sleeve and peered inside. No movement. The place was dead.

He thought to himself, "Closed, huh? If Buzz Hackett wants a beer, then he's gonna get it. Ain't no locked door gonna tell ME I can't have one." He hopped back on his bike and drove down the alley beside the bar, parking behind a dumpster so that his bike wouldn't be visible to any cars going by.

He crunched through the snow and ice, pulling his leather jacket together. To keep the ice from stinging his eyes, he left his sunglasses on. He figured that, if you're going for breaking and entering, you might as well go in style. Buzz stepped up to the door, and with a swift kick from his rattlesnake-print boots, the door flew open. He walked inside and tried to shut the door behind him. The old frame around the door had been cracked and damaged from the force of his kick, making it impossible to keep the door shut.

Buzz grabbed a chair and propped it under the door knob so that nobody could see that he was inside. He went straight behind the counter and grabbed three glasses. He opened a brand new glass bottle and poured it across the three glasses. Taking the first glass in hand, he raised it high. "This one's for me." He quickly chugged the beer until it was empty, leaving behind only a small residue of foam. He took the second and third glass together in each hand. "This one's for me….and the little blonde chick that broke my heart." He took both glasses toward his face drinking what he could, but spilling the rest down his beard and clothes on to the floor. He slammed the glasses back on to the bar, and reached for another bottle.

He poured into only one glass this time, setting the bottle back down. "I could go for some music. Need to…liven this dump up a little bit." He took a drink from the dirty glass and reached in his pocket for a nickel. Making his way toward the jukebox, he placed a nickel inside. The machine came to life as "Back At the Blue Whale" began reverberating off the old walls. Buzz danced around with the glass in his hand, "Ba-bop bah, bah, buh-bop, bop. Buh-boop boo, boo boo boo!"

He sat down in one of the chairs. "Here's to you, Miss Carolyn Collins! This would've been the song we'd be dancing to if you hadn't blown me off, baby! You could have been with me right now having a big time in this dump! Instead, you wanna be -burp- hidin' behind Mama's apron up there at that big Spook House! Ha! Stay up there for all I care! You can stay up there for eighteen years like your sweet Mama did! Ha! Know what I'll be doing? I'll be partyin' and paintin' this lousy town red! You Collinses think you own everything. Wait 'til ya see what ol' Buzz is gonna do to it." He downed what was left in the glass and stumbled to his feet.

"Did you say 'Collins'?"

Buzz turned around quickly toward the direction the sound came from. His glass shattered on the floor as the voice startled him. "Who's here?!"

Across the room, sitting at a table, sat a beautiful, raven-haired woman with large blue eyes and apple-cheeks. Wearing a sleeveless red dress with her legs crossed, her eyes met his. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you. I thought I heard you say the name 'Collins', and so I coudn't help but ask."

Buzz snapped. "Hey, how did you get in here?! There was nobody in here just a second ago. I had the door blocked."

The woman smiled innocently. "I heard the music playing and opened the door. It was so cold outside, I…I thought I should come in and warm myself for awhile. Is that so strange?"

Buzz didn't answer. Trying to save face and not strut like a drunken imbecile, he made his way toward her. "Ain't never seen you around here, baby. I've been all over this town with about every pretty girl that likes having a good time, and I ain't never seen you here before, see?"

The young raven-haired woman reached out her hand for him to come and sit with her. "I'm afraid I'm new to Collinsport. I'm here with my brother. He has his own house, but…I'll be taking care of it until he arrives in town. The storm delayed his journey here." She looked up at Buzz, who was now standing in front of her. "Would you like to sit down with me? I could use some company."

Pouring on as much charm as his dulled senses could muster, Buzz pulled out a chair and gave her a half-smile. "You're a very pretty gal, sweetheart. What's your name?"

She smiled as she spoke. "My mother…she used to call me 'Angel'."

Buzz leaned back in his chair. "Angel, huh? Already I don't like ya."

Her eyebrow raised in curiosity. "Oh? And why not? It's only a name. It doesn't mean anything. Tell me, what's yours?"

He sighed, shrugging his shoulders. "It's Buzz. That's all you need to know, baby. You tell people in this town that you talked to Buzz, they know who you're talking about."

The woman smiled. "I see. Well, Buzz…if you don't like my name, perhaps you can choose one for me. What would you like me to be called? You may call me whatever you want." Her hand slid across the table and touched his.

Buzz sat back in his chair, pulling away from her. "Let's see…I'm usually good at guessing chicks' names. I would have you pegged as a Cassie…wait, no. Cassandra. That's it. Cassandra."

She smiled in delight. "Cassandra? I do like that name…unless that's the name of the girl you were just talking about."

"Nah, baby, her name was Carolyn. Carolyn Collins-Stoddard. I was supposed to marry that girl. I woulda been the richest guy in town. I coulda owned a hundred motorcycles and sports cars. All the money and booze I could ever want. She dumped me because her mom dumped the guy she was supposed to get married to. Guess it runs in the family. The Collinses tell somebody they love'em, then change their minds and leave'em out to hang. But you wouldn't know anything about that, seein' as how you're new here, Cassandra. You'll catch on quick, though."

She smled. "Some of the things I understand may surprise you…but, I really do like the name you've given me. Thank you. You know, you're the first person I've met in this town."

Buzz leaned in closer, looking into her eyes. He smiled and nodded his head, "Well, sweetheart, they just don't get no better than me."

"Oh, I'm sure you're one of a kind, Buzz." Cassandra reached for his hand again, only this time he took it. "Tell me more about this Collins family. How many of them are there?"

Looking down at the floor, he started talking to her. "Well, you've already heard me telling you about Carolyn and her mother, Liz. Well, Liz does own the Collins Enterprises now. She runs the house."

Cassandra seemed startled. "A woman running the house?!"

Buzz seemed puzzled. "Well, yeah. Why are you acting so weird about it? I thought that's what you women all wanted."

"Oh, never mind. It's not important." Her blue eyes met his again, and she squeezed his hand. "Please, go on."

Buzz continued. "Well, there's them two, and then there's this hateful drunk guy that's called Roger. He likes givin' me dirty looks, but he leaves you alone most of the time as long as you stay outta his liquor cabinet. He's a lame square, baby. Just like that other guy that lives in that Old House that's haunted. He's as old world as they come. Don't got no electricity, lights up a lot of these weird blue candles, see, and walks around with a frown on his face all the time with that creepy cane in his hand. He's a creep if I ever saw one. Only time anybody ever seen the guy was at night."

Cassandra's eyes grew wide as she stared away. Her lips quivered and her eyes began to blink as she began filling the pieces together. "This man…who lives in this Old House…he seems very, very interesting. What is his name?"

Buzz frowned, and he let her interest affect his ego. "Hey…I thought we were talking about me. Ain't nothin' interesting about that guy. He hardly ever goes anywhere. Think the stiff's name was Barnabas or sum'n. Just a weird old guy. Nobody you'd be interested in unless you like to spend your nights sitting in the dark by yourself. I'm the only guy worth getting to know in this town. Besides, he ain't interested in nobody but that dark-haired goodie two-shoes named Victoria."

Cassandra beamed. "Victoria? Victoria Winters?"

Buzz nodded as he stood up making his way to the bar. "MmHmm. That's the one. You know her or sum'n, lady?She ain't a bad lookin' gal, but I know I'd be wastin' my time on her. She's too into that Barnabas guy. She's supposed to be with some guy named Devlin, but they said his plane went down somewhere and he ain't comin' back." Buzz pulled out two more glasses. "Whaddya drinkin'?"

Staring out the window, her blue eyes danced with intense emotion. "So, Barnabas is in love with Victoria WInters…"

"Hey! I'm talkin' to you! Yeah, the good lookin' guy standing here talkin' to you, the pretty girl with the black hair."

Annoyed, Cassandra swallowed her feelings, smiling as she turned to face him. "I'll have whatever it is that you are…handsome." Her eyes looked playfully away. Bait cast.

Eyeing her suspiciously, he smiled and strutted toward her. Bait swallowed.

He set her glass on the table and looked in her eyes. "Know something? I think you're lying to me. I know when a swell chick like you wants something else. Why are you asking me about all these people on that spook hill if you already know who they are?"

Cassandra looked playfully away again and crossed her legs. "Maybe I have a secret."

"Oh? And what's that?" Buzz answered sarcastically.

Staring deeply into his eyes, Cassandra smiled playfully. "I'm a witch."

Echoing throughout the empty room of the Blue Whale dance floor, a loud laughter erupted from Buzz. "Baby, I like you. First, you're an angel, and now you tell me you're a witch." He gazed at her and leaned in closer. "I like that."

Cassandra, unaffected by his drunken advance, laughed along with him. She smiled as she asked. "Oh, you do? You're not afraid of a witch?"

His smile faded as quickly as it formed. Buzz quickly leaned forward, grabbing her arm. His look was one of sudden anger. "I ain't afraid of nothin' and nobody. Got that?"

Cassandra never blinked or shook from his sudden outburst. "Everyone has something they're afraid of. Will you tell me what yours is? I told you my secret, now it's your turn to share one with me. Tell it to me, Buzz, and I'll make you a very special drink. Or are you…afraid?"

Buzz, irritated that he was losing a game of wits with a woman, stared at her as he answered. "Getting old. Getting old and turning into an old corpse like all the other lame-o's in this town. I live the life of the party, sweetheart, and I'd rather die young than get old like those people up there on that big hill in that fancy big house."

Cassandra's eyes twinkled with delight, and she spoke softly. "Was that so hard, Buzz? Now that we know each other's secrets, we must drink to this moment. We'll drink to…getting to know each other better. Will you join me?"

Buzz stood up as straight as he could, his speech beginning to slur. "Exactly what I had in mind, baby. Exactly what I…(burp) had in mind."

She took his hand and led him to the bar. Buzz watched her as she pulled out two more glasses from underneath the bar. From inside her left dress pocket, she removed a tiny bottle and pulled off the cork.

"Hey, what's that?"

"Something I've been saving for the right moment such as this one…to share it…with the right person." Cassandra poured a bottle of bourbon into the two glasses, emptying the contents of the vial inside each one. She took one glass in her hand and gave Buzz the other. "Now, what shall we drink to?"

Buzz raised the glass and clinked it to hers. "To what scares us to death." He laughed as he quickly downed his. Cassandra barely touched the drink to her lips, pretending to sip. Buzz stumbled back, dropping the glass on the floor. He began coughing and choking. "That's…that's good stuff…whoo…what is that?"

"Just a special blend of herbs. A recipe I learned from my mother." Cassandra replied innocently.

Buzz leaned over again, coughing furiously. From out of his pocket, a shiny metal object hit the floor. Cassandra leaned over to pick it up. "What is this? It's very pretty."

Buzz struggled to form his words as the coughing fit was still getting the better of him. "Cigarette…lighter. Ain't you ever…seen one…be…before?"

Cassandra's eyes were fascinated by the sleek shine of the object. "Not like this…" Sliding her thumb down the flint, a bright flame came to life. Its colors swirled and danced around the dark empty room. Shadows moved across the walls as Cassandra turned in wicked fascination to face Buzz. "Have you ever noticed how beautiful the flame is? Keep looking at it. Do you see all the colors? Aren't they beautiful?"

Not making a sound, the coughing fit ceased and Buzz's eyes became centered on the flame. He was unable to look away. "Yeah…they're…I see them…"

"Good," Cassandra's voice resounded with a quiet echo as her tone became more stern. "Now look into my eyes. Deeply into my eyes…and tell me…what do you see?"

The fire began to glow within his eyes. "I….I…see…I can't see…the room is…getting…darker…I feel…so…ex.. exhausted…I can't…move…" his voice droned in a melancholy tone.

With a loud scratch, the juke box came to life:

"Dream…dream, dream, dream,

I need you so, that I could die, I love you so, and that is why

Whenever I want you, all I have to do is dream….dream, dream, dream…"

As the sound of the music faded out, the room and Cassandra's face followed suit into total darkness. Finding himself lying on the floor, Buzz opened his eyes again, and Cassandra was gone. He was all alone inside the Blue Whale again, but there was a thick fog covering the floor. The room was ice cold, and a foul stench permeated the air. He wasn't sure if it was from whatever he drank or from the smell of something rotting inside the room. He saw the door across the room opening and a light shining from within. He froze as a familiar feminine voice broke the silence.

"Through endless corridors by trial and error…ahead a blazing light does burn…and one door leads to a point of return…"

"Cassandra! Where are you?!" He looked around in panic. This had to be some kind of hallucination from whatever Cassandra had given him. "Where are you hiding? Where am I?"

A loud laughter pierced his ears. He thought his eardrums were going to burst. Falling to his knees with his hands covering his ears, he screamed out as the shrill laughter cut deeply into his brain like knives. "Come find me, Buzz…go through the door…come to me…come to me .."

He ran as fast as he could through the open door and found himself standing inside the very room he had just left. He went through the door again, and he stood in the same room he had started in. "Where am I? What is this?" He felt a deep panic stirring within his chest. He ran to the window and looked outside. There was nothing but a black void outside. He grabbed a chair, slammed it into the window, and it did nothing. He repeately slammed the chair against the window, panting for air as the panic within him burned deeply inside his chest. He threw the broken chair across the room in disgust with a loud cry of despair. He ran again through the same open door, finding himself entering the same room every time.

His chest felt like it was caving in. Buzz tried running back the way he came, but each time he entered the room again, the door would shut and lock behind him. He kept moving forward. There was no escape from the room he was entering into repeatedly.

With each time he re-entered the room, the smell of something rotting grew stronger and more pungent. He felt sick inside his stomach. There was something gnawing inside, and the pain was growing more and more intense as he ran through the door each time. Should he stay or should he go? He had to keep moving. The cold was too much to bear. The only way he could keep from freezing was by running through each door, each time, in vain, hoping that a way out would be waiting for him on the other side.

The smell grew unbearable, and Buzz felt his body becoming weak. He fell to his knees, catching himself on his hands. As he picked himself up from the floor, he screamed out when he looked at his hands. They were turning wrinkled and sagging with excess skin. He felt new wrinkles forming in his face, and his cheeks felt as if they were beginning to sink in. He struggled to pull himself up, staggering across the room to a mirror hanging on the wall behind the bar.

The reflection showed a man who was at least fifty years his senior. His skin was sagging and drooping down. He ran his hand through a thin streak of white hair that barely covered his head. With the slightest touch, it fell to the floor. He screamed as he turned away, scuffing his feet across the room through the next door. With each passing through the door, the room became colder, the stench more unbearable, the pain greater, and his body weaker.

With what little reason he had left, he paused and stood still. He tried to think aloud, "The smell…something rotten…every time I went through…it was worse. Me…it was me! Everytime I ran through, my body began aging and decomposing more…I've got to make it back…maybe…maybe I can…undo…this…"

Buzz turned around, his body weak and frail. His senses began to dull, and he became disoriented. The room began spinning and he lost his way. He couldn't tell if he was moving forward or backward. He trudged along through as many doors as he could, stopping when he could no longer get his feet to move. Minutes seemed to pass like hours.

He turned his head, feeling the crackling of bone as he turned to face the mirror. Inside the reflection, a bare skull with only the eyes remaining could be seen. He tried to turn, and the bones in his legs crumbled, causing his skeletal remains to collapse backwards to the floor. With the tinkering sounds of scattering dry bones rolling acoss the floor, all that was left of Buzz was a dusty pile of bones underneath the mist.

With a chilling echo, Cassandra's laugh echoed throughout the icy, mist-filled room. She appeared and walked toward the bones in wicked delight. She looked over at the skull lying in the floor. Leaning over and picking it up. she turned the eyes that were still inside to meet hers.

She stared, and the bottom of the skull's mouth opened allowing one last hideous scream to escape from what was left of him. Cassandra held the skull in her hands, carrying it through the next door like a trophy. However, when she passed through, the room was different. Inside, there were many doors lined along the corridor.

Stopping at the first door, she smiled, holding the skull out at eye level. "I know just where you shall go." With a loud creak, the door was opened, and only darkness stood behind it. "There…that's much better." The skull was suspended in mid-air, its mouth permanently opened, screaming silently. The eyes, however, remained in tact and wide with fright.

Cassandra turned around and walked back through the entrance door. Blowing a kiss to the lonely skull, she spoke. "Pleasant dreams…" Her laughter sounded once more throughout the room, and the open door where the skull was hanging slammed shut.

There it would remain for all time, and would forever be seen first by anyone whom Cassandra cursed to enter this nightmare. Until the end of eternity, the identity of Buzz Hackett would be forever lost.

He would now only be seen as "Faceless Terror".

(I do not own the rights to DARK SHADOWS. My fanfiction was only written for the enjoyment of the reader. DARK SHADOWS is a Dan Curtis Production)

THE END